From: Arden Town (1913; Unpublished MS)
Author: Scott Nearing
Published:
That Sunday night, when Fred Allen held out his hand to Ruth, there was a touch of sadness in his “Good-night.” She felt the note, for she pressed his hand for a moment, earnestly. She did not like to see him so troubled.
“To-morrow morning,” he said, “I go back to my business. For the first time after a vacation, I return to it without a thrill of pleasure. I—I should like to stay here for one week more.”
“We shall all be glad to have you,” she said simply, “all—including the children, who love you dearly.”
“Yes,” he replied aloud, “the children, particularly, are wonderful. Never before have I known so many with such a degree of intimacy. It has made me feel—very deeply—the absence of children in my life. To-night I half understand why some of my friends who have children of their own are living a larger life than I am.”
Quickly, he turned away.
“Good-night,” he said, and walked rapidly down to the road. Still he did not go home. Instead, he found the country road and set his face toward the river. The stars were very beautiful. Above the chatter of the earth-clinging insects, the night was still. Slowly he strode along, his mind reverting to the week he had spent—the pleasant, joyous days of effort and of delight.
“I think,” he said, half aloud, “I think that to-night I feel a touch of the Arden spirit.”
One by one he passed the events of the week in review. How simple it all was, yet how grand! A stranger he had come to Arden, known to only two or three. Gladly the people had taken him into their homes, and made room for him in their hearts. He knew that his family connections had counted him nothing, that his wealth had spoken no word in his behalf. Indeed, he reflected with an inward smile, had he not invested two dollars and a half in khakis, his way might not have been so smooth. Delicate shades in silk shirts were not admission cards to the homes of Arden, where the one test of success seemed to be manhood and womanhood. Perhaps, he reflected, that was because most of the people there worked. Then there were no servants and no masters. Men and women were equal, and had a habit of regarding one another on a plane of perfect equality.
As he looked back over the week, the thing that impressed him most of all about these Arden folk, was their belief in one another. When Will Evans summarized his creed as a belief in man, he seemed to bespeak the spirit of Arden. Day and night their doors were open. Early or late, neighbors borrowed and lent willingly. For those who did not tread the path as the majority saw it, there was the spirit of tolerance that was touching in its simplicity.
One thing he remembered with peculiar feelings of delight and shame. A child hauling a load of sand in an express wagon, had a break-down. He, Fred Allen, having nothing in particular to do at that moment, had watched with intense interest the efforts of the small boy to put his wagon in shape. Meanwhile, two men working in their gardens had come through their respective gates, and before Fred understood what was happening, they had their tools and were mending the wagon. It was a short job—taking perhaps twenty minutes in all—yet as Fred had thought of it afterward, he saw himself like the priest and the Levite passing by on the other side, while the good Samaritan put the cart to rights.
Then there was a vigorous community opinion in favor of keeping Arden clean. No one, not even the children, threw banana skins or paper on the common. No one defaced buildings with chalk. Through all of the village life there ran a stream of strong feeling for the village.
Nature at Arden was beautiful. Men left her so, loving her, meanwhile, for her beauty. Arden folk believed in one another, and tried to be tolerant and fair. Of all the places that he remembered to have visited, Arden stood alone as an experiment in human brotherhood. Living close to nature, and close to one another’s hearts, the Ardenites stood in a relation of peculiar beatitude toward mankind and toward life.
As he remembered, he found himself at the river bank. Slowly he turned, and as he retraced his steps, he wondered what he might be tempted to say to Ruth Wade if she were still with him.
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