Idealia, a Utopian Dream; or, Resthaven

by H. Alfarata Chapman Thompson

I wended my way here and there, feeling safe and happy in this haven of rest, finding all with whom I talked very interesting.

As darkness crept on, the grounds were beautifully illuminated by myriads of incandescent lights in various colored globes, shedding their soft radiance upon the scene, making it almost fairylike in its beauty.

Inquiring the hour for retiring, I was informed that no limit was placed, it being understood that each would use discretion as to proper hours. They were after all located not very far from various attractions and churches of different denominations, accessible by conveyances for the older people and by an electric railway which I later discovered came within easy reach of their grounds. They told me, however, that though not meaning to appear selfish, it was found with such a household, such a variety of people and approved amusements of all kinds, there was little outside attraction for many of them. Of course certain supplies had to be obtained and extra produce disposed of, and for those not caring to make the necessary trip others were always glad and willing to do their errands.

I was shown for the night to a dear little room. “Dear,” because a large bedroom with canopied bed, imposing furniture and heavy draperies never appeals to me so much as a simple, but daintily arranged chamber which makes one just long to lie right down and go to sleep. This furniture was white with a little sprig of green vine decorating it, the color scheme of the room in every particular having been carried out in a way at once refreshing and attractive.

In the act of drawing the shades at the windows the scene without claimed my attention. The little hamlet a few miles away lay wrapped in peaceful slumber. Against the unclouded sky the spires of the churches were outlined distinctly, while the hundreds of electric lights appeared like stars of dazzling brilliancy. Down the unseen tracks of the railroad near by an electric car came speeding on its way. Moved by that wonderful, invisible power, it seemed to have come and gone, in its extreme rapidity, almost by magic, reappearing in the far distance like a will-o’-the-wisp as now and then it was hidden from view by the tall trees.

My sleep was that of the just as well as the tired, for on bidding my friends good night I learned that I had walked much farther than it seemed, having of course taken the longer route.

On awaking the next morning it was raining and though a walk in the rain is by no means objectionable to me, it was pleasant to think of being already at headquarters for the day, particularly when so many interesting things were in store. After arranging my toilet I went out on the little balcony leading from the room. From there I could enjoy with renewed appreciation the grounds about the house, being surprised at their vast extent, none too large, however, in view of the purpose of the family. Everything looked bright and fresh from the rain as it gently fell, the fountains jetting up in welcome greeting.

Thinking it must be time for breakfast I reentered the room and started for the dining-room[dining-room]. Going through the hall I met a charming little woman, who gave me a bright morning smile and invited me to go with her to breakfast. She had reached beyond her three score, her hair was as beautiful as spun silver, and her face bore the lines with which time stamps the character of our life. Hers was only kindly and she seemed my rose in its fullest bloom. Lightly putting my arm about her waist together we wended our way downstairs. She was bright and interesting, her inquiries being delicate, but to the point. She had seen me the night before, though it happened that I had not met her. My remark on the fact that it was raining brought out this answer,

“Yes, but we mind it not. We rejoice that our efforts are helped and blessed by God’s own hand, for do not the berries grow and ripen from the rain and sun, our vegetables increase in plenty and our cattle thrive on the rich grass, and does not it all help us to help each other in this our cooperative plan to help one another? We are grateful for the rains, for the sunshine and for our many blessings.”

Somehow I must have had an intuitive feeling that this little lady was none other than the kind spirited person who had laid the foundation for this happy home, and fearing not to give offense, I frankly asked if this were true.