on the
mantle piece, and on the center and side tables were all sorts of
gimcracks, costly and worthless. In short, there was no _comfort_ about
the whole concern. Hearing our friend coming up from his dining-room
below, where too, was his _cellar kitchen_--that most abominable of all
appendages to a farm house, or to any other country house, for that
matter--we buttoned our coat up close and high, thrust our hands into
our pockets, and walked the room, as he entered. "Glad to see you--glad
to see you, my friend!" said he, in great joy; "but dear me, why so
buttoned up, as if you were going? What's the matter?" "My good sir," we
replied, "you asked us to come over and see you, 'a _plain farmer_,' and
'take a quiet family dinner with you.' We have done so; and here find
you with all your town nonsense about you. No fire to warm by; no seat
to rest in; no nothing like a farm or farmer about you; and it only
needs your charming better half, whom we always admired, when she lived
in town, to take down her enameled harp, and play

'In fairy bowers by moonlight hours,'

to convince one that instead of ruralizing in the country, you had gone
a peg higher in town residence! No, no, we'll go down to farmer
Jocelyn's, our old schoolfellow, and take a dinner of bacon and cabbage
with him. If he does occupy a one-story house, he lives up in sunshine,
has an open fireplace, with a blazing wood fire on a chilly day, and his
'latch string is always out.'"

Our friend was petrified--astonished! We meant to go it rather strong
upon him, but still kept a frank, good-humored face, that showed him no
malice. He began to think he was not exactly in character, and essayed
to explain. We listened to his story. His good wife came in, and all
together, we had a long talk of their family and farming arrangements;
how they had furnished their house; and how they proposed to live; but
wound up with a sad story, that their good farming neighbors didn't call
on them the _second_ time--kind, civil people they appeared, too--and
while they were in, acted as though afraid to sit down, and afraid to
stand up;--in short, they were dreadfully embarrassed; for why, our
friends couldn't tell, but now began to understand it. "Well, my good
friends," said we, "you have altogether mistaken country life in the
outset. To live on a farm, it is neither necessary to be vulgar, nor
clownish, nor to affect ignorance. _Simplicity_ is all you require, in
manners,