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AROUND AN OLD HOMESTEAD. 



with bells tinkling, the city seems to be a horrible mael- 

 strom. Why is it that men should live thus, aroused 

 to an abnormal energy, and enveloped in great clouds 

 of smoke and dust? Sometimes, when a south wind 

 strikes the city, there comes floating out across the hills 

 what appears to be a dark fog. It is the smoke from 

 the city. Viewed in our clear, pure air, it is seen in its 

 real density and murky blackness, as if just belched 

 from the pit. Yet in the city it is the normal atmos- 

 phere which men breathe, and they do not know it. 

 And so we turn from the sordid, restless, nervous life 

 of the great city to the calm and beautiful quietness of 

 the fields; and we have found peace, and are ashamed 

 that we have known the city. 



The tinkling of sheep bells, the bark of a dog, the 

 neigh of a horse, the moo of a cow, the crowing of 

 old chanticleer — why, morning in the country is the 

 "Pastoral Symphony" in daily repetition. Do you re- 

 member how the sounds of the country are so pleasingly 

 and wonderfully reproduced in that piece of music? 



Give me the country, with an open hearth, and 

 you can have an entire city in exchange, with all the 

 intricate and over-studied refinements and complexities 

 in it, and you will not be half so happy. I can, here 

 in the country, before an open wood fire, with but one 

 or two utensils, and with vegetables and fruit fresh 

 from the garden, prepare in a few moments a meal fit 

 for the gods : you, at your hotel or luxurious residence 

 (and surely not in a hovel), will not have one a whit 

 better, and you will have paid a dozen prices for it, 

 and the china and the service will have cost you no 

 little. Men go to the cities to escape the so-called 



