4 WE FARM FOR A HOBBY 



We live in the country, twenty miles north of 

 the point in Philadelphia where I run the business 

 founded by my great-grandfather eighty-nine years 

 ago. We are four in family: Mrs. Tetlow, our daugh- 

 ters Margaret and Martha, and myself. Ours was a 

 wartime marriage. Our oldest daughter was born 

 about the time my outfit was moving up from the 

 Haute Saone to a position northwest of Verdun in 

 the Argonne jump-off line. Martha, the younger, 

 joined us after the tumult and the shouting had 

 died, and the captains and the kings had gotten the 

 bum's rush. When I came back from the wars in 

 the summer of 1919 we went to live in an apart- 

 ment in Germantown. I stuck it out for more than 

 a year. You have noticed that when two or three 

 dog owners are gathered together sooner or later 

 someone will say they would like nothing better 

 than to have a dog, but an apartment is no place 

 to keep one. What is not fit for a dog is not good 

 enough for me or my family. Before the year was 

 out I had Mrs. Tetlow, who was city raised, con- 

 verted. We had searched for and found Medlock 

 Farm. We moved out to it in the spring of 1921. 



So when the crisis of 1932 arrived we were not 

 beginners at country living. For Mrs. Tetlow the 

 country had lost its strangeness. The girls, then 

 fourteen and eleven "going on" fifteen and twelve 

 had, like myself, practically never known any- 

 thing else. As far as the records show there is not 



