172 



How shall a man in these new-fangled days, 

 Go back to the pedestrian's homely ways? 

 Where is the five-mile Inn to greet his sight 

 With promise of a home at noon and night? 

 The Inns are out to-day their day is o'er 

 That institution can return no more. 

 Roll back the tide of time and haply, then, 

 You may get back the old Inn-life again. 

 Where railroads come the inns must disappear ; 

 No man can stop to taste their homely cheer. 

 The old time-colored house whose aged frame 

 Leaned fondly to the earth from which it came, 

 That oldest settler that might seem to be 

 Coeval with the soil and scenery 

 Is gone ; the pilgrim will behold no more 

 The old stone fire-place and the sanded floor- 

 Will hear no more the well-sweep's cheerful creak 

 No more the faded sign-board's rusty squeak 

 Nor "cloy the hungry edge of appetite" 

 With berries, milk and brown bread morn and night, 

 'Tis gone with the old times and the old men, 

 And could it, in this rushing age, again 

 In its old place and ancient form appear, 

 Its wayside welcome who could stay to hear ? 



No, I do not forget what Solomon says 



To him who asks, Why were the former days 



Better than these grumbler ! he replies, 



Wilt thou the ways of Providence despise? 



Pur-blind laudator acti temporis I 



Rise to a better, broader view than this ! 



All things are moving towards a blessed goal, 



Descried afar by them of generous soul. 



The rumble of the steam-car seems to say : 



Make in the desert for the Lord a way ! 6 



Bring down that which is high exalt the low 



He to all flesh His wondrous works will show. 



Well, since accept we must both speed and steam, 

 Enough to live old times an hour in dream. 

 Be thankful for the Present and the Past, 

 Nor vainly sigh for that which could not last ; 



'This thought is borrowed from a striking and sublime sonnet of Jones Very's. 



