FROM A NEW ENGLAND HILLSIDE. 29! 



LVII. 



THE scene changes. I am again at Un- 

 derledge. And after making allowance for 

 all that is sordid and mean in our life, for 

 the selfishness and self-seeking, for the 

 ignoble ambitions, for the waste of thought 

 and precious hours upon petty things, for 

 the prevalent crude materialism which 

 takes little note of the higher matters of 

 the imagination, for the dull aesthetic sense 

 which leads to the most frightful mon 

 strosities in omission and commission, at 

 which you will bear me witness that I have 

 not hesitated to grumble, I am bound to 

 admit that I approach my home with an 

 assurance that there are degrees in degrada 

 tion, and that we are not at the lowest 

 depth. Industry is a good thing, and we 

 are more industrious. Thrift is a good 

 thing, and we are more thrifty. Extended 

 knowledge is a good thing, and we know 

 more of the world. Neatness is a good 

 thing, and we are more neat. Beauty is a 

 good thing, and we strive in a way for 



