“Those who wish either cold can have all they desire,” Mr. Andrews answered, “for it is brought with the other food. For the convenience of those preferring it hot, perhaps the easier way to explain our plan is to take you to one of those hidden closets.” And we wended our way thither.
“Here, you see,” he continued, “is a small iron disk to which an electric wire is attached. Underneath is a good sized asbestos plate for protection from the heated disk. Turning this little switch, in almost a twinkling tea or coffee can be served steaming hot. By means of this little apparatus also, we are able to heat sufficient water for cleansing the dishes and other articles, which saves carrying back and forth to the main storeroom everything except the food. It is deemed economy to keep this in one place that better account may be kept of the supply and less waste result than would be possible if the food were distributed in individual iceboxes. The closets, though skilfully built, are made strong in every way, so that we feel no danger in leaving our material in them, besides there are some who take turns as watchmen, and we feel safe in their care. Therefore everything is arranged conveniently and safely.”
“There is no doubt of that,” I replied, “for you have certainly studied how to get out of life the most and best, yet without the appearance of laziness, making the most of nature’s gifts and resources and putting them into use for the benefit of all.”
“In the language of the poet,” remarked Miss Bates, “we ‘Taste the joy that springs from labor.’”
Taking our places at one of the tables, (there was no choice for all looked equally tempting, the members of each group seeming to have benignity stamped on their faces) my friends introduced me here and there and the same cordial greeting was apparent in all. Bright, cheerful conversation made the meal lively, newspaper topics were discussed with equal zest by young and old, every one, apparently, seeming abreast of the times. There was no portioning off of all the young or all the old, but a happy mingling of both. For is it not so in everything in life? Even as the older branches on the tree are decaying and falling off, they can feel the new life blood and companionship of the younger shoots pushing forth to take their places when they shall have withered and fallen. Only the other day I had given me three red roses on one stem. One was full blown to the degree of decay. The next was a little deeper in shade, all its petals uncurled, but ready in a little while to follow the other. The last was rich in its deep red beauty, the outer petals open, but the center just unfolding. So it seemed to me that this happy mingling of all ages was a most beautiful element in this Utopian scheme.
The supper was one of the most enjoyable of my life, and is to this day always a pleasant memory. After the meal, all seemed to take a share, so far as in his or her strength lay, in putting things in order without confusion, and those exempt for any cause strolled about in the lovely evening air, or sat and chatted with their neighbors. And the glorious sunset added beauty to the scene, fitly illustrating these exquisite lines,—
“Touched by a light that hath no name
A glory never sung,
Aloft on sky and mountain wall
Are God’s great pictures hung.”