32 WHAT THE SISTER ARTS 



say, " Why am not /, too, at liberty to cross the Rocky Moun- 

 tains and gather my share of the golden harvest f To these I 

 would earnestly say, " Believe not, repining friends ! that Cali- 

 fornia and fortune are inseparable, nor forget that there were 

 broad avenues to success and competence before Fremont un- 

 furled his Bear standard in the valley of the Sacramento." Nay : 

 be assured that, right here in Indiana, are ample placers for all 

 who will resolutely and wisely work them placers, whereof the 

 yield may be less per pan or day than that of some of the richest 

 " gulches" on the Feather or the Yuba ; but then it is certain, 

 inexhaustible, and sure to prove more and more abundant with 

 each returning season. The deeper these mines are worked, the 

 more ample is the return ; they require no outlay of skill or 

 labor in " prospecting ;" for every arable rood will reward the 

 digger's efforts, and from the Ohio to the Missouri he will find 

 hardly any other than " pay-dirt." 



As for me, long-tossed on the stormiest waves of doubtful con 

 flict and arduous endeavor, I have begun to feel, since the shades 

 of forty years fell upon me, the weary, tempest-driven voyager's 

 longing for land, the wanderer's yearning for the hamlet where in 

 childhood he nestled by his mother's knee, and was soothed to 

 sleep on her breast. The sober down-hill of life dispels many 

 illusions while it developes or strengthens within us the attach- 

 ment, perhaps long smothered or overlaid, for " that dear hut, our 

 home." And so I, in the sober afternoon of life, when its sun, if 

 not high, is still warm, have bought me a few acres of land in 

 the broad, still country, and, bearing thither my household trea- 

 sures, have resolved to steal from the City's labors and anxieties 

 at least one day in each week, wherein to revive as a farmer the 

 memories of my childhood's humble home. And already I real- 

 ize that the experiment cannot cost so much as it is worth. 

 Already I find in that day's quiet an antidote and a solace for 

 the feverish, festering cares of the weeks which environ it. Al- 

 ready my brook murmurs a soothing even-song to my burning, 

 throbbing brain ; and my trees, gently stirred by the fresh breezes, 

 whisper to my spirit something of their own quiet strength and 

 patient trust in God. And thus do I faintly realize, though but 



