Fruitlands Read Online Free PDF Page B

think Father believed all he said.
    Father sees a different world from the one we see. His eyes are bigger and his mind is larger. He can put apples on a bare twig and fill an empty field with golden wheat. While I wonder how I can keep my temper, Father sees a wholeuniverse where everyone loves everyone else. I am very proud of him when he talks to Mr. Emerson of how our accomplishments at Fruitlands will help the world be better. I am glad I am a part of Fruitlands. I am happy to take the rugs outside and beat out the sand and dirt. I feel like I am cleaning up the whole world.
    Mr. Emerson has given money to us to help us survive. I know everyone hopes that Mr. Emerson will tell others how well we are doing here so that new members may join us and bring funds with them. Yet I fear that will not happen, for Mr. Emerson and Mr. Lane were like two dogs circling each other, ready at a moment’s notice to clamp their jaws on each other’s throats. Mr. Emerson confided to Mother that Mr. Lane was a hopeless idealist. Mr. Lane whispered to Father that Mr. Emerson would be nothing more than an observer at the banquet of life.
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    J ULY 18, 1843
    In the afternoon I was allowed to dust Mr. Lane’s books. There are nearly a thousand of them. Some are in German, some in Latin and Greek. I read as I dust,but there is no story to cheer you in any of them, only such thoughts as would make you hang your head and sigh a deep sigh. Here is one of the titles: Synopsis Antiquitatum Hebraicarum.
    After dinner we had our usual post office.
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    J ULY 18, 1843
    At any time during the day we may put our thoughts and questions on a scrap of paper and drop them into a little post office box. After supper Father reads out the scraps of paper. Here are today’s scraps:
    From Father: I have noticed that at breakfast there is not the spirit of cheerful friendship that we might wish. Let us all remember that we are here to make a brighter, happier world. We must start the day on the proper note, saying to ourselves the words of the great poet Milton:
    Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet,
    With charm of earliest birds.
    From Mr. Lane: Our dinner plates are overflowing. We must not allow the bounteous harvest from the garden to turn us all into gluttons. Greediness is always to be avoided.The hungry man will always be more alert.
    From Lizzie: I hope everyone will keep away from the side porch until the little mice nesting in Mother’s vegetable basket are all grown.
    From Mr. Bower: I see no reason why I was forced to go back to my room and put on clothes this morning. In this sweltering weather clothes are the greatest nonsense and interfere with our physical and spiritual health. It is a pity no one listens to me.
    From Anna: I am resolved to be more useful and would be happy to take upon myself any tasks that need doing.
    From Mr. Wood: Nothing, only a frown and the flash of his dark eyes.
    From Mr. Palmer: Someone’s got to start carrying water to the new fruit trees. They’re drying up. The raspberry bushes need pruning. All that singing and talking around the breakfast table won’t get the wheat in before the rain comes.
    From William: I don’t see why I always have to have my lessons with the girls, as I know more than they do.
    From Mother: The girls worked very hard today to help me with the dusting. Louy dusted all the books, and there are a great many. Anna cleaned the potatoes for storage, and Lizzie polished the furniture with a fine polish whichAbraham made for me of linseed oil, beeswax, and turpentine. If I was a little cross at breakfast this morning, it is only that I was up most of the night trying to iron and mend the men’s clothes so that they may do credit to Fruitlands when they go to New York this week. I would wish that all in that city should know of our brave efforts here to make a better world.
    From Abraham: Got the south field plowed. Could have used some help.
    From Mr.