University of Virginia Library

Randolph.

My Dear Timon:—Though your paper has rarely
reached me, yet I have seen enough of its spirit,
to believe that some little account of my country
life will serve your turn, and give you some hints,
that you may possibly work over to good account. I
had made in town, by dint of jobbing, what they
call hereabouts a fortune; and not having gained
much footing in genteel society,—partly because
we didn't care about it, and partly because wife is
principled against low necks, and the opera, I determined
to set up in the country.

So I bought me a place of ten acres, in a handsome
square lot, cut down the scrub oaks, and
hired an architect to put up, what they call a cottage
ornée. It's a pretty affair, I suppose, though
the chambers are uncommon hot, and though there's

not much room to stir about. But a traveled
friend tells us it's very English, so we bear it as
patiently as we can. Besides, the young girls in
the town, think it uncommon handsome; and the
boys have an eye for it, and amuse themselves in
the fall, with throwing potatoes at the turtles. Of
course, I set up a carriage, and built a barn in
pretty Greek style with pilasters, which many
mistake for the house.

Wife, who is romantic in her way, proposed to
call the place Sunny Dell; but as the grounds are
remarkably flat, with the exception of a rather
deep kitchen drain, we settled upon Gooseberry
Park;—which, as we cultivate gooseberries, seems
quite appropriate.

A short time after coming here, I was waited
upon by two or three of the elders, to become a
committee-man at a temperance celebration; as we
keep our wines, and small stores in a private cellar,
and as wife has a little political ambition for me,
we thought it best to accept. And a very warm
July session we had of it, and I should have suffered
exceedingly, hadn't my wife, who is a most
exemplary, and prudent housewife, had a cool
punch mixed for me, against my return. But unfortunately,
our `help,' whom we got in the country,
scented the punch, and even expostulated with my

wife. The next day, our `help' told it to the
neighbor's `help,' who of course told it to our neighbor's
wife, who is a `sterling woman,' and who
put on her shawl and bonnet to run into the Deacon's,
and mourn with the Deacon's wife, who is a
highly respectable old lady. I have great fears, in
consequence, of losing my election to the next
Assembly.

Wife at first, had her dresses made in town; but
the old mantua-makers who have have been established
these ten years in the village, set up such an
outcry about city-pride, that she was obliged to
give it up. Though between fitting-on, and scandal,
and eking out four or five days at the cottage,
during which I am obliged to give up my wine,
it's an infernal bore. These milliners, by-the-by,
are the quickest observers you can possibly imagine;
and will report, as I am told, with the utmost
accuracy, how much mustard I eat to my
beef, and how many times I use my napkin.

As wife is anxious to give character to our
grounds, we have put up a Chinese pagoda, which
is recommended I believe by writers on Landscape;
and we are now thinking about a rustic alcove.
The pagoda we thought would be a nice place to
take our tea; but the musquitoes are very thick,
and wife can't abide spiders, so we were obliged to

give it up. The boys, too, about the village, though
very well brought up, are inclined to amuse themselves
with drawing very awkward-looking figures
about the fences, and on the pagoda, so that I have
been obliged to paint them all, a dull brown. To
give a little rural air, I had the walk to the gate
laid out in a circle; which doesn't seem after all so
much in the rural taste, since the country people
are sure to tramp across the grass;—whereupon the
gardener proposes to set out some briers as a sort of
defence, which seems to me a pretty idea, and very
practical. The hedge that I put out in front, has
been so cruelly cropped by the cows that run in the
road, that I fear it will never `come to.'

As I wanted to get some credit with the farming
interest, I concluded to buy Liebig's Chemistry,
a few Berkshire pigs, and a Durham heifer.
The Chemistry I don't find of much service, as
some salts it recommended, nearly killed the prettiest
spot of grass upon the lawn. The heifer, between
cash paid out for rape-seed cake, and provender,
has proved a sorry venture; and the first
day, the pigs rooted up all my wife's auriculas and
hyacinths. As for the sub-soil plough, three yoke
of my neighbor's oxen were put to it early this
spring, and snapped the coulter at the second bout.

I am inclined to think the sub-soil plough is not intended
for rocky land; do you think it is?

Being in the country, I have determined to revive
a little, the rural literature, so to speak; and
as I had a good Academic education, I bought a
Virgil, to see what I could do with the Georgies. I
found them very hard reading; and could scarce
get farther than the quœ cura boum, which, as the
Durhams were not introduced about Mantua, is
probably without much applicability to the `improved
stock.' Thomson's Seasons is pleasant in
its way, and so is Somerville's Farmer's Boy. Yet
after all, these writers, and Theocritus among them,
seem to me a little antiquated, and don't touch
much upon the pith of the times. Can't some of
your town writers give us a little country literature?
for it does seem to me that the books are full
of nothing but town gossip; even the papers are
puffed up with heathenish terms about the opera
and theatres. As the country-people generally are
not very particular about beauty of style, or anything
that looks like superior education, I should
think some of your town writers might turn their
wits our way, without much danger of being
abused.

I make it a rule, as well as a virtue, to go twice

to the church on a Sunday, which, as our preacher
is an old-fashioned Calvinist, requires some self-denial.
But with all his frightening words, he is
over timid, and very much under the thumbs of
three or four of the elders, against whom I observe
none of his remarks are ever directed; I suspect
they lay down for him from time to time a sort of
platform of opinion, which, if it is not altogether of
the old Saybrook mechanism, is at least as steady,
and makes as good a stand-point. The poor man
I find is subject, not only to a sort of moral direction,
but a regimen of dress, and household action
is laid down for him, against which, as he loves his
place and pittance, he don't dare to offend.

Even the old ladies of the parish take a motherly
interest in him, and by their gossip, mould him,
even to the cut of his hair. In short, he is as much
the village property, as the hay-scales or the sign-board;
and though he points always in one direction,
it is only under favor of the elders, and of the
gossips, that he can safely point at all. Let me recommend
his case through you, Mr. Timon, to some
of the town reformers, to see if they cannot relieve
him from his cooped condition, and set him fairly
on his own legs.

As for enjoyment of the country, wife is beginning
to doubt about it; and Dorothy, who is just

turned of fourteen, is absolutely pining. If not up
for the Assembly the coming spring, I think of
abandoning Gooseberry Park forever.