62 Thirty-Sixth Annual Report of the 



ing a picked up dinner, look out and see a load of jolly, daintily 

 dressed city people drive up to your door? Did you? And did 

 you wring your hands in despair as the meagreness of the 

 family larder Hashed through your startled brain? No pie, no 

 cake, no seasonable delicacy on hand, and then go forth hos- 

 pitably to meet them and say, "I'm glad to see you," and at the 

 same time feeling yourself the old hypocrite that you so heartily 

 despise? 



Now, I beg of you, don't put those people in a stuffy parlor 

 and offer them amusement in the shape of a family album. They 

 don't care a rap for the pictured faces of "your sisters, your 

 cousins or your aunts." They may take a passing interest in the 

 veil-decked bride or the chubby charms of an unknown infant, 

 but it won't add to their good opinion of the restful side of farm 

 life to have you rush to the kitchen and begin baking and stew- 

 ing until your strength is exhausted and your nerves all aquiver. 

 Don't let them carry back to their city homes the impression that 

 you are an ignorant drudge whose sole conception of hospitality 

 is an overloaded table and an apologizing hostess. 



There are refined, thoughtful people, who live in cities, who 

 do not come to you for a meal. They can buy that. But they do 

 come longingly to the farm for what is priceless. They come for 

 the peace and rest and comfort that country life affords. They 

 come to fill their weakened lungs with that rare oxygen of which 

 we have so much and to spare. They come to be in closer touch 

 with Mother Nature and to lay their weary heads upon her sooth- 

 ing bosom ; to learn something of her wondrous secrets, and for 

 a time to break loose from the galling chains of formality. 



Now don't give them the idea that farm life dwarfs the in- 

 tellect. Greet them with a cordial welcome. Let them see that 

 while you may know nought of the latest social fads, you are 

 quite familiar with every phase of your calling. Give them a 

 part of yourself and a share of your wisdom. Take them to your 

 clean barns, show them your gentle cattle and call their atten- 

 tion to the individual merits of your stock. You may be able to 

 quite astonish them with the glibness by which you can tabulate 

 the pedigree of a favorite cow. Have a dignity and pride that 

 will serve to point to the uplifting character and attractive features 

 of your profession rather than assume a bearing that will tend 

 to accent its defects. 



If you are the good housewife you should be, your bread 

 and butter will be wholesome and palatable. If you have tea and 

 coffee, well and good, if not, perhaps you have milk, in case of 

 a shortage in this liquid, there is water. Your table should at all 

 times be clean and it will require but a moment to lay the extra 

 plates. Now, ring the bell or blow the dinner horn; call in the 



