Those Who Live in the Country 19 



HOMESICK FOB THE COUNTRY 



Meeting an old chum, a former country lad, 

 from a big city the other day, he inquired kindly 

 about former country friends. Among other 

 things I pictured, with all the poetic eloquence I 

 could command, what was going on in the country 

 in this, the blithest time of the year — the sap run- 

 ning in the sugar bush, the syrup thickening in 

 the evaporating pans, the brooks babbling music 

 on their way to join the brimming river, the boys 

 getting muskrats along the creek, the young lambs 

 running races along the hillsides, the wild flowers 

 appearing in woodland places and the birds 

 a-singing in the trees. 



He listened for a while and I could see a tender 

 look steal over his features. Then he broke in : 



"Say, old boy, those folks back in the country 

 are the kings and queens of the earth. They've 

 got moving pictures in natural colours all day long 

 before them and they don't have to jar themselves 

 on granolithic pavement every time they move 

 about. Wish I'd stayed among them. Please 

 don't tell me any more or you'll have me shedding 

 tears. ' ' 



I knew just how he felt about it and could sym- 

 pathize. My little talk had set him thinking back 

 and he 'd had quick visions of hawthorns a-bloom, 

 old swimming-holes, babbling brooks and wood- 

 land ways carpeted with wild flowers and the thou- 

 sand other delights that crowd into the life of one 



