H ipoet of tbe poor 



attractiveness to the average healthy mind, 

 that Arcadia is not wholly a myth. Per- 

 sons now living will tell you that the 

 pioneer days of log cabins, a pumpkin- 

 patch, and abundance of wild game, 

 afforded all the prime elements of the 

 perfect life. Among the mountaineers of 

 our Southern States, the naked factors of 

 existence, the stark essentials, food, breath, 

 traditional habits, a direct and narrow flow 

 of passions, and a specific, almost perfunc- 

 tory round of experience, suffice to brim 

 the cup of life. 



It seems that necessity born of heredi- 

 tary indigence is perforce picturesque, and 

 that want, when not self-conscious, rises 

 easily to the dignity of a natural attribute 

 of freedom — that it is, indeed, a part of the 

 unconditioned original dependence of man 

 upon Providence. In the traditions and 

 legends of Arcadia we recognize what is 

 but ancestral poverty and simplicity robed 

 in the azure mist of distance. Imagination 

 cannot have to do with contemporary life ; 

 it must have perspective, either to the rear 

 or in the future, by the lines of which to 

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