Arcadia Found

We are used to the singularities and felicities of North Carolina, which in spite of its "bumper" crops of poets cannot lose some lingering trace of Eden. So this advertisement in the Rockingham Anglo-Saxon rather fulfills expectation than causes surprise.

"For rent, a jail. Nice clean rooms. Water and sewerage connections complete. On account of the uselessness of the county jail, having no prisoners confined there, am willing to rent it out to a good tenant. Apply to the Sheriff, Note -- For the first time in many years Richmond's county jail is empty."

This is regarded as a warm recommendation of prohibition, and the days are happy on account of it, as if it were the chief duty and pleasure of man to keep out of jail. To our mind it denotes rather niggardliness or a low standard of living on the part of the county authorities. In Arcadia there certainly would be a jail, cool in summer, steam heated in winter, with a small but an accomplished bill of fare and with tennis courts in the yard. The Arcadian jail, in short, would be the legendary dungeon, so amiable and full of comfort that the threat of shutting out a prisoner who out stays his leave breaks his heart.

Yet it is possible for most of the golden joys of Arcadia to flourish even in a jail less spot. The nearest approach to perfect mundane simplicity with happiness thus far known has been made in Somerset county, Maryland. On Tangier Sound in the middle of a marsh lies Jeangawken, the origin and meaning of whose ancient and lovely name are more than an Etruscan mystery. Jeangawken may not have a jail, but it makes up for this by having no post office. The few hundred Jeangawkenites have more sensible things to do than writing and reading. Lobsteria in Arcadia, Lobsteria with no blare and glare and gilt and tips, the capital of corn pone, the harvest village of the seal Crabs, oysters, fish, water fowl-these are the food of Jeangawken. It tongs, fishes, shoots; the women are as skilled as the men in the use of its weapons and the pursuit of its business and pleasure. Its occupation is its sport. It sells its oysters in the season to the boats from Baltimore. Ploughing the sea and not the land, it buys its fruit and vegetables. It lives by itself, never breaking its head about other people's business or weakening its nerves with the vain transactions, palavering and sensations of the gaping and neurotic world beyond the marsh. All its travels are by water. Its pure air is poisoned by no automobile. On Sunday it goes to church all day. A virtuous and religious commonwealth.

Jeangawken is Arcadia moved from the mountains to the seacoast.