Village Life Essay

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The village stands far inland; and the streams that trot through the soft green valleys all about have as little knowledge of the sea, as the three-years' child of the storms and passions of man hood. The surrounding country is smooth and green, full of undulations, and pleasant country roads strike through it in every direction, bound for distant towns and villages. On these roads the lark in summer is continually heard, nests are plentiful In the hedges and dry ditches, and on the grassy banks smile the bide harebells. On these roads you may walk for a year and encounter nothing more remarkable than the country cart, troops of tawny children from the woods, laden with primroses., and, at long intervals, a black funeral creeping in from some remote hamlet, and to this lust the people reverently doff off their hats and stand aside, Everything round one is calm, quiet, moss-grown, and orderly. Season follows in the track of season and one year can hardly be distinguished from another. There is an old house here, inhabited now by pigeons and parrots, and said to be haunted by ghosts. It has a tradition connected with it. A great noble riding by the house one day, several hundred years ago, was shot from a window by a man whom be had injured. The houses are old, and remote dates may yet be deciphered on the stones above the doors; the apple-trees are mussed and ancient; countless generations of sparrows have bred in the thatched roofs, and thereon have chirped out their lives. In every room of the place men have been born, man have died. On the village centuries have fallen, and have left no more trace than have last winter's snow flakes. After all, in spite of every argument, city life is still hurried and nervous, and village life lone and peaceful. We should pay attention to the contrast. Every town has its peaceful, untroubled people, and every village has

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