Show WITH tl e simple life when the great cogwheels ot tha city catch my coat tails and try to eat me alive I 1 knolt te leave the caudal appendage ot my coat in the iron jaws of the mon ster and strike out for home in ohp country close my ears to the clamor ol 01 gongs the curses of teamsters and the alith of the streets an I 1 speed away into the land god made where the lilac buds are swelling and the earth Is belnac sponged and soft ened by the ele mants tor tha great spring iran mitlon some might call it cowardice on part to flee from the haunts ol 01 tame and success and riches to atie 1 pastoral quietude of the simple alte others might call it a mere touch ol 01 the spring fever I 1 do not clarize I 1 feel the grinding of my heart and sniff at moiling mart and its prizes I 1 want to forget fame and fortune and sue cess I 1 want to breathe pure air and feel the springing resistance of leal mold under my feet arriving home I 1 get into a pair 0 tall lace boots that reach to my knees tuck my trousers into the boots don a decidedly disreputable soft bat and oil my heart and my hinges by walk ing through the woods and over the meadows I 1 locate trees for trans planting think out plans tor beautify ing Se and steal renewed en ergy tor the next day down town and while I 1 am restoring rest what the city has torn down I 1 plan things about my business about my real work and about s access to be sure I 1 haven t exactly a double hitch on success but I 1 have flirted with the fairy fay and I 1 know what her face looks like when I 1 am worried and ened down town I 1 know exactly what will put ginger into my anatomy and my spirit I 1 know where the violets bloom and the spotted adders wave gracefully in the woodland breeze I 1 know where the rivulet sings and the lake laps affectionately on the shore I 1 know where tt e wild tangles are and where the bittersweet and the woodbine twine their tendrils I 1 have learned without suffering tor the ex per lence that poison ivy and poison sumac thrive on the hills about my home and speaking of the sumac what a glory it Is in the fall when the frost has touched it the hills are aflame with fire and after I 1 had learned the difference between the common sumac and the poisonous variety I 1 went out with a spade and dug up a clump of the showy shrubs and placed them near my workroom window where I 1 can look on them in the flaming sea son all about me are things that I 1 may plunder and preserve well I 1 know that the oncoming toot of civilization will tread to death the shrubs and the flowers that nourish on these hills soon every hollow and every hilltop will bear a cottage or a mansion the days are numbered when I 1 may have a great park all about me and some of the beauties of the park must be transplanted to Se think of it you who slave in the cogging mart I 1 can walk across the street from my home and bring in hands ful of violets in season and I 1 shall always have violets tor I 1 have transplanted them in quantities in my yard and given them the run of a nook where they can be as wild as they please it does not do to disturb the wild flowers too much they cannot stand civilization hence my will that they be left undisturbed aing my fence ah the tonic of tl e woods and the meadows the songs of the birds and the winging of he clouds this Is freedom and life but it Is sweeter to take it as I 1 do as a tonic for the greater work down town the work that strives to build and create and make glad and comfortable isn t it too bad cried a fine ger man friend who dwells in a cottage across the lake from me that every body who works in the city cannot live in the country it Is indeed I 1 replied and my heart was true to the acquiescence on the wing do not try to please everybody else you will soon be a worn out weather vane there Is never an excuse for a man saying he cannot do a thing until he has tried no man ever lived who was able to break cupid and reason to the same double harness I 1 love the good will of my fellows not for what it may bring me but be cause it Is their good will As the stream Is always purer at its source so Is the man most innocent in childhood the test comes at the mill WILLIAMS |