Holes In The Daubing ^

Holes In The Daubing ^

I wonder who remembers “the good old days” when, at this time of the yeaf, everyone was busy getting things in shape for the Christinas Season, which would last for a week or more. The hard1 tasks of the young folks were very much lightened by anticipation, as they were looking forward to the jolly times of the season just ahead; they would even go to their tasks without being told, or commanded. And after a hard day’s work and a hearty supper to which* full justice was done, the family would gather around the open fireplace and gaze with neverdying niterest into the flickering flames and glowing coals and receive from them not only warmth but a glowing satisfaction deep down in their souls as their muscles relaxed and they drifted into contentment. There was no radio blaring, no telephone bell ringing, no pile of papers and magazines waiting to be read, no motion picture show tempting them to thaw out the old jalopy and go to see. Ignorance is bliss some one will say; I wonder, what is ignorance? An honest, hard w o r k i|n g, God fearing, neighbor,'to vlilg people may'fbe ignorant of many things of the world, but I am persuaded that tjje true values of life are not of the world. I don’t believe that any of us can sit at the end of an idle day in an upholstered rocking chair in an air-tight room and look out across 9 brussel carpet at a bronzed radiator and experience that fullness of life our forefathers got from a split bottom chair on a bare floor and from looking across a well-worn stone hearth into the flickering flames in an open Are place, even if chills were running up his back, because of the holes in the daubing. —W.BJ).