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Show Common Longings Henrv Tord one of 'the world's richest men, finds his greatest joy in a simple little old inn, gray with age, mossy with time, in the hills of Massachusetts. Few picture of the maker of pigmy cars have been taken in the late months that did not find him in the inn. Sitting in an ingle nook surrounded by warming pans, blowers, and all the insignia of a fireside's past, walking over silent paths about the inn, or eating simple fare from a cneck- Cl0thHentry1Foi'd's return to the life simple is no strange thing Listen to the talk of any group of rich men lunching lunch-ing at their club on guinea breast and mushrooms, smoking dU"a,Vve' got my eye on a simple little place in the country," says one. , , , "I'm trying to buy back the old farm, swimming hole 'n' everything," says another. "What do we get out of this sort of life, anyway.' snys the third. "Did you ever wade a creek when you were a kid and pick apples in an orchard?" Now that spring is here, Sunday ofter Sunday a steady pilgrimage of cars, rich, glistening, high powered, flying cars glide on to the common Mecca the country. Rich man, potentate, Mogul fly on m an aura of dust and gasoline to find the symbol of happiness the country the simple life, a world where apple blossoms fall like coral from fresh-leaved trees, where sun and moon and stars shine cleaner, where just on into the land where things seem not what they are. The farmer laughs. What do these folks know of this lifeof its gruelling toil, its risings, groggy with sleep into dark mornings, its days a round of toil and more toil to wrest a living from the soil, little time, little thought tor blossom and bird, sun and moon. . . Just the old story of the quest eternal for happiness in the lot we do not own. Just the old story of regret for the thnig that was, the realization when the old swimming hole days are over, that after all they were the only days. Then they were days of longing for the big city and the "world outside." , , , , . But now the president of the United States and his wife will summer in a tiny, little simple cottage hugging the slopes of the Adirondacks above Lake Placid. ! And the dwellers of the mountain and lake look with envy upon a man who comes from a great white house in a great city. |