Joseph and His Friend: A Story of PennsylvaniaTaylor, Bayard
General
Joseph and His Friend: A Story of Pennsylvania
Taylor, Bayard
Pennsylvania -- Fiction
The fields belonging to the property, softly rising and following the
undulations of the hills, limited the landscape on three sides; but on
the south there was a fair view of the valley of the larger stream, with
its herd-speckled meadows, glimpses of water between the fringing trees,
and farm-houses sheltered among the knees of the farther hills. It was a
region of peace and repose and quiet, drowsy beauty, and there were few
farms which were not the ancestral homes of the families who held them.
The people were satisfied, for they lived upon a bountiful soil; and if
but few were notably rich, still fewer were absolutely poor. They had a
sluggish sense of content, a half-conscious feeling that their lines
were cast in pleasant places; they were orderly, moral, and generally
honest, and their own types were so constantly reproduced and fixed,
both by intermarriage and intercourse, that any variation therein was a
thing to be suppressed if possible. Any sign of an unusual taste, or a
different view of life, excited their suspicion, and the most of them
were incapable of discriminating between independent thought on moral
and social questions, and "free-thinking" in the religious significance
which they attached to the word. Political excitements, it is true,
sometimes swept over the neighborhood, but in a mitigated form; and the
discussions which then took place between neighbors of opposite faith
were generally repetitions of the arguments furnished by their
respective county papers.
To one whose twofold nature conformed to the common mould,—into whom,
before his birth, no mysterious element had been infused, to be the
basis of new sensations, desires, and powers,—the region was a paradise
of peaceful days. Even as a boy the probable map of his life was drawn:
he could behold himself as young man, as husband, father, and
comfortable old man, by simply looking upon these various stages in
others.
If, however, his senses were not sluggish, but keen; if his nature
reached beyond the ordinary necessities, and hungered for the taste of
higher things; if he longed to share in that life of the world, the
least part of which was known to his native community; if, not content
to accept the mechanical faith of passive minds, he dared to repeat the
long struggle of the human race in his own spiritual and mental growth;
then,—why, then, the region was not a paradise of peaceful days.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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