It Is A Great Pleasure To Escape Sometimes From The Restless
Class Of Reformers.
What if these grievances exist?
So do you
and I. Think you that sitting hens are troubled with ennui these
long summer days, sitting on and on in the crevice of a hay-loft,
without active employment? By the faint cackling in distant
barns, I judge that dame Nature is interested still to know how
many eggs her hens lay. The Universal Soul, as it is called, has
an interest in the stacking of hay, the foddering of cattle, and
the draining of peat-meadows. Away in Scythia, away in India, it
makes butter and cheese. Suppose that all farms _are_ run out,
and we youths must buy old land and bring it to, still everywhere
the relentless opponents of reform bear a strange resemblance to
ourselves; or, perchance, they are a few old maids and bachelors,
who sit round the kitchen hearth and listen to the singing of the
kettle. "The oracles often give victory to our choice, and not
to the order alone of the mundane periods. As, for instance,
when they say that our voluntary sorrows germinate in us as the
growth of the particular life we lead." The reform which you talk
about can be undertaken any morning before unbarring our doors.
We need not call any convention. When two neighbors begin to eat
corn bread, who before ate wheat, then the gods smile from ear to
ear, for it is very pleasant to them.
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