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Updated: June 16, 2025
Yet who can wonder? Could we wish humanity different? Could we wish the people made of wood or stone? Or that there be no justice in destiny or time? The true France, base of all the rest, is certainly in these pictures. I comprehend "Field-People Reposing," "the Diggers," and "the Angelus" in this opinion.
Daddy Longlegs began, as soon as he learned that Rusty Wren was alone that is, alone except for his six growing children inside the house. "No doubt you know all about my daring deed?" "Why, no!" Rusty Wren replied, looking at his caller with no little wonder for he had always believed Daddy Longlegs to be one of the mildest and most timid of all the field-people. "What have you been doing?"
Almost anybody else would have been sure that Jimmy Rabbit would keep his shoe shop open at night, because he was always wider awake after dark. And many others of the field-people were exactly like him in that respect. Daddy Longlegs had been sleeping soundly for some time inside the toe of a shoe when the sound of voices awakened him. At first he kept very still.
Even the churches had not the grave repose of the old brown house yonder in the hills, where the few field-people Arians, Calvinists, Churchmen gathered every Sunday, and air and sunshine and God's charity made the day holy. These churches lifted their hard stone faces insolently, registering their yearly alms in the morning journals.
But he was never polite to any of the smaller field-people, unless he happened to be coaxing them to jump, so that he might grab them when they were in the air. You may be sure he was as meek as he could be if he happened to meet Solomon Owl. But at that moment Solomon was far off in the hemlock woods. Only a short time before Mr. Nighthawk had heard his rolling call in the distance.
Even the churches had not the grave repose of the old brown house yonder in the hills, where the few field-people Arians, Calvinists, Churchmen gathered every Sunday, and air and sunshine and God's charity made the day holy. These churches lifted their hard stone faces insolently, registering their yearly alms in the morning journals.
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