TWENTY-FIRST ANNUAL YEAR BOOK— PART V 421 



pushed back their chairs and had their after-dinner speeches; and it was 

 a very enjoyable occasion. And I am wondering why the township farm 

 bureau units all over the United States could't do the same thing, if they 

 have not already done so — become a real social center for the com- 

 munity. 



There is a great deal of difference in the way farmers live and the life 

 lived by the pioneer peoples, and altho we know they had a very hard 

 time, let us not think they had no social life. They were forced to come to- 

 gether, and there was no class or distinction, very little money, you know, 

 and a great many of those young people, and the old ones as well, met to- 

 gether in their apple-peeling and their barn-raising and their corn-picking, 

 and their weddings. The wedding was an attractive feature of pioneer 

 social life, and they tell us many a young couple went off to the squire or 

 the circuit-riding minister on the back of the same horse, or behind a yoke 

 of oxen; and the story is told of one young man who had nothing with 

 which to pay the preacher for his services except a bag of choice dried 

 beans, and how the young bridegroom had to ride many a weary mile 

 before he found a preacher who wasn't already over-stocked with this 

 same delicacy. (Laughter). 



My grandmother loved to gossip of the world outside just as much as I 

 do, but in those days they had no telephones, no cable, no wireless, to 

 bring the news of the world, as in this day, to the breakfast table. In- 

 stead, she entertained the circuit-riding preacher, or spent half-hour with 

 the man who mended shoes for the settlement, or the man who peddled 

 patent medicines, who went about from one home to another, and she 

 gave to him that which she had to give, and learned from him those things 

 which he had heard. But today we don't like to have people drop in on 

 us unless they first call us up before they start and tell us they are 

 coming, and we make entirely too much of preparation and not enough of 

 real cordiality and genuine welcome. (Applause). 



I like the story that is told in that delightful little book, "Mrs. Wiggs 

 of the Cabbage Patch." If you don't have that story, get it and read it at 

 once. If you have read the story, you will remember the time when Mrs. 

 Wiggs was to have a Sunday-school in her front room for the neglected 

 children of the district, and she was getting dinner ready, making potato 

 soup — the kind that you make in town without any cream or butter in it; 

 and so as the children began to come in for their lunch, before the Wiggs's 

 had time to eat their own dinner, Mrs. Wiggs' oldest daughter, who was 

 named Asia, rather wisely surmised that they were coming for some of 

 the potato soup, and, to protect herself, was going to set it aside; but 

 Mrs. Wiggs said "Asia, I wouldn't do that; that is not hospitable; all 

 I've got to do is add a little more water to the soup." 



Now, why not do that in the farm home, and make up in real welcome 

 to these people who come to our homes what we lack in appearances and 

 preparation, and let the young people bring their associates in. A great 

 many times the light of a home circle on an undersirable acquaintance 

 will do more to break it up than a great deal of scolding or nagging about 

 it. Make a good deal of the birthdays, and so on, and then reach out just 

 as far and as wide as you can go with the entertainment. 



