In our constant struggle for improvement, progress undoubtedly is
made in the right direction. With refinement comes increased
sensibility and an enlarged capacity for enjoyment. But, such a
state in itself is not one of unalloyed bliss, as might be
supposed, since it is marred by its antithesis, an increased
amount of sickness and suffering, which is the inevitable penalty
of civilization. In such a progression the pleasures of life
become more, but the acuteness of suffering is also increased.
The mistake lies in the fact that in our eager pursuit after the
artificial we forget nature and not until we acquire a surfeit of
that which is artificial and grow weary of the shams and deceits
of the world do we stop and think or turn again to nature to find
the truth.
In the early days the frontier was the rendezvous for rough and
lawless characters of every description. That time has gone by
never to return in the history of the nation, as the rustlers
have either reformed and become good citizens or long ago left
the country by the lead or hemp routes. The change in the times
has been such that never again will it be possible to return to
the conditions that existed in the early settlement of the west
which gave to desperadoes a safe hiding place.
The people now living on what is left of the frontier will, as a
class, compare favorably with those of any other community.
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