I have been here now for several seasons, and this is the
first time I have been inside a farmer's house."
"Is it possible!" cried the Altrurian, with an air of utter astonishment;
and, when I found the fact appeared so singular to him, I began to be
rather proud of its singularity.
"Yes, I suppose that most city people come and go, year after year, in the
country, and never make any sort of acquaintance with the people who live
there the year round. We keep to ourselves in the hotels, or, if we go out
at all, it is to make a call upon some city cottager, and so we do not get
out of the vicious circle of our own over-intimacy with ourselves and our
ignorance of others."
"And you regard that as a great misfortune?" asked the Altrurian.
"Why, it's inevitable. There is nothing to bring us together, unless it's
some happy accident, like the present. But we don't have a traveler from
Altruria to exploit every day, and so we have no business to come into
people's houses."
"You would have been welcome in ours long ago, Mr. Twelvemough," said Mrs.
Camp.
"But, excuse me," said the Altrurian, "what you say really seems dreadful
to me.
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