126 
C/>e  RURAL  NEW-YORKER 
Pastoral  Parson  on  the  Lonely  Road 
New  Year’s  on  the  Farm 
By  Rev.  Geo.  B.  Gilbert 
A  Brave  Woman. — Loading  my  horse 
and  wading  through  the  snow  one  day 
last  week,  I  came  to  a  house  by  which  a 
team  had  not  passed  for  at  least  eight 
days,  or  since  the  deep  snow  came. 
Armed  with  good  reading  matter  I  went 
in  and  found  the  man  at  home  and  the 
two  little  boys  three  miles  away  to 
school.  I  learned  the  mother  was  com¬ 
ing  back  from  New  York  the  next  day, 
and  then  he  was  going  down  to  work 
the  rest  of  the  Winter,  she  staying  there 
alone,  save  the  little  boys,  at  night.  Quite 
likely  there  may  not.  be  another  team  by 
till  Spring.  She  will  have  five  head  of 
stock  to  care  for  too.  This  she  does  for 
the.  sake  of  the  health  of  her  little  boys. 
The  city  took  one— the  country  must 
save  the  other  two.  As  I  followed  the 
boys’  tracks  in  the  "now  beyond  the 
house,  it  suddenly  dawned  on  me  there 
were  no  sled  tracks.  It  was  proof  that 
these  boys  have  no  sled,  but  the  Pastoral 
Parson  will  see  to  it  that  they  have  one. 
As  for  the  mother,  much  good  reading 
left  at  the  school  house  down  on  the 
main  road,  is  about  the  most  one  can 
do  for  her. 
Good  Reading  on  the  Lonely  Road. 
— I  am  much  interested  in  the  series  of 
articles  so  well  begun  on  “Good  Read¬ 
ing  on  the  Farm,*'  I  find  in  most  of  our 
back  schools  a  small  portable  library  sent 
out  by  the  State  from  the  office  of  the 
Superintendent  of  Education.  These 
books  are  for  the  school  children.  IIow 
would  it  be  for  the  State  to  send  also 
to  thp  schools  some  good  books  like  those 
mentioned  in  Dr.  Foreman’s  letter  for 
the  parents  to  read?  The  children  could 
take  them  home  and  bring  them  back. 
Perhaps  the  State  Department  of  Agri¬ 
culture*  could  take  it  up,  sending  out 
some  of  its  bulletins  this  way.  Has  any¬ 
one  heard  of  this  being  done,  and  if  so, 
how  did  it  work?  While  these  articles 
are  forthcoming,  why  not  all  find  out 
as  far  ns  we  can,  what  has  been  done 
and  what  really  can  he  done  to  help  the 
cause  of  good  reading  among  farmers, 
especially  on  the  lonely  roads. 
New  Year’s  Resolution  No.  3. — T 
will  not  carry  any  more  magazines  or 
papers  into  the  attic  nor  leave  those 
new  books  on  the  parlor  table  for  com¬ 
pany  to  notice,  but  will  either  give  them 
away  or  pass  them  around  for  others  to 
read. 
A  Well  Woman. — “You  mustn’t  mind 
these  felt  boots  and  rubbers  drying  back 
of  the  stove,”  said  a  back-to-the-lander 
woman  last  week  as  she  cooked  a  dinner 
for  the  Pastoral  Parson.  Her  hoys  were 
devouring  a  pile  of  papers  and  maga¬ 
zines  in  the  other  rot.  a.  “I  slipped  off 
the  plank  down  in  the  woods.” 
“What  were  you  doing  ay  down  there 
such  a  day  as  this?”  I  raid 
“I  was  after  more  laurel  for  my 
wreaths  to  finish  up  the  last  lot.  I  have 
sent  GOO  to  New  York.”  “Was  it  deep 
where  you  went  off  in  the  brook?”  I 
asked.  “Not  more  than  three  feet,  mud, 
ice  and  ail,”  said  she.  “It  won’t  give 
you  a  cold,  will  it?”  I  asked.  “Oh  my, 
no,”  she  answered.  “We  were  all  sickly 
in  the  city,  but  we  are  never  sick  any 
more.  My  man  all  fat  iu  the  city,  but 
now  in  the  country,  he  all  lean."  She’s 
got  it  about  right.,  thought  I,  as  I  dr*w 
up  to  the  table.  “All  leau  in  the  country,” 
but  all  well.  Aud  what  a  joy  it  is  to  us 
to  be  so  well.  This  woman  takes  entire 
care  of  five  cows,  lugging  the  water  from 
a  well,  has  about  300  liens,  some  pigs, 
does  the  housework,  had  finished  up  GOO 
wreaths  and  when  I  left  after  dinner 
she  was  out  helping  the  boys  put  a  new 
roof  on  the  barn.  I  picked  up  the  paper 
that  night  and  noticed  an  article  headed, 
“Menace  of  Industrialism,”  and  it  said 
that  out  of  S00  garment  workers  in  the 
city,  G2  per  cent,  were  in  need  of  a  doc¬ 
tor.  In  an  investigation  of  the  employees 
of  a  city  bank,  every  single  one  was 
found  “to  be  abnormal  and  on  the  sure 
road  to  disease  of  the  heart,  lungs,  kid¬ 
neys,  and  blood  vessels.”  As  a  young 
man,  the  Pastoral  Parson  used  to  look  on 
these  indoor  city  clerks,  with  their  six 
hours  a  day  instead  of  Ids  1G,  their  fine 
clothes,  their  nice  clean  light  work,  with 
more  or  less  feelings  of  bitterness,  if  not 
downright  envy.  But  it  is  never  so  any 
more.  He  has  only  pity  for  them,  with 
their  sallow  faces  and  weak  stomachs,  in 
their  hot  study  rooms,  doing  the  same 
dreary  round  of  detail  work  day  after 
day.  Their  existence  is  about  as  much 
like  a  farmer’s  life  as  the  stale  air  of  an 
electric  fan  is  like  the  breath  of  ozone 
from  a  50-inile  nor’woster. 
New  Year’s  Resolution  No.  2. — 
When  I  chalk  up  the  balance  sheet  of  the 
farm  for  the  year  past.  I  will  put  down 
good  health  as  an  asset  big  enough  to 
offset  a  whole  page  of  discouragements 
and  liabilities. 
Who  Was  To  Blame? — One  day  I 
was  riding  by  a  forlorn-looking  farm¬ 
house  where  the  front  view  looks  right 
into  a  bank,  when  the  man  who  was  with 
me  suddenly  said,  “Have  you  heard  of 
the  dreadful  thing  that  inis  happened 
here?”  I  said  I  had  not.  “Why,  one 
day  the  man  hero  took  a  wire  fence 
staple,  aud  with  a  hammer,  he  drove  it 
right  through  his  hand  into  a  kitchen 
chair.”  “Is  he  here  now?”  I  asked.  “No. 
They  have  taken  him  to  an  asylum.” 
“What  in  the  world  was  the  matter?” 
I  asked.  “Well,  you  see.  lie  got  so  dis¬ 
couraged.  He  had  such  a  hard  time  to 
get  along.  He  got  the  idea  that  he  was 
a  failure,  that  his  whole  life  was  a  fail¬ 
ure,  that  he  had  never  really  ac¬ 
complished  anything  -even  to  raising 
good  crops.  Then  his  mind  gave  way  and 
he  drove  the  staple  through  his  baud  to 
punish  himself.” 
“But  were  his  crops  so  poor?”  I  asked. 
“Why,  no;  I  never  though  so.”  he  an¬ 
swered.  “In  fact.  T  thought  they  were 
very  good.  But  you  see  I  never  told  him 
so.  I  don't  believe  anyone  ever  told 
bim  bis  crops  were  good — no  one  ever 
talked  them  over  or  looked  them  over 
with  him  anyway.  lie  got  to  thinking 
they  were  poor  and  (lie  thought  just  took 
root  and  kept  growing  on  him.  You 
know  he  seldom  if  ever  got  out  any  iu  a 
social  way.” 
“But  what  made  it  so  hard  for  him  to 
get  along?”  I  asked. 
“You  see.  there  is  no  pasture  on  the 
place  now,”  he  answered,  “and  so  he  had 
to  buy  hay  every  Winter  to  keep  his 
stock  through.” 
“Was  there  ever  a  pasture?”  I  en¬ 
quired. 
“I  suppose  there  was,  but  when  this 
place  changed  hands  several  times  some 
years  ago,  it  finally  emerged  with  no 
pasture.” 
“Has  it  a  wood  lot?” 
“No,  that  went  on  to  some  other  place, 
too.” 
Is  it  any  wonder  that  the  man  went 
insane?  What  words  of  the  English 
language  ran  describe  those  who  still  go 
about,  hogging  up  woodlots  and  pastures 
and  turning  make-a-living  homes  into 
houses  of  worry  and  anguish? 
New  Year's  Resolution  No.  — 
When  I  see  a  man  working  hard  and 
raising  good  stuff  I  will  pull  up,  look 
over  his  farm  and  his  crops,  praise 
everything  that  will  bear  praise  and 
cheer  the  man  all  I  Can. 
It  Takes  a  Little  Backrone. — The 
Pastoral  Parson  had  hoard  a  good  deal 
about  the  tightness  of  an  old  New  Eng¬ 
land  Yankee  living  ’way  down  country. 
In  fact  ho  had  persistently  heard  that 
his  aged,  invalid  wife  did  not  have  enough 
nourishing  food  to  cat.  The  man  put  up 
a  poor  mouth  all  the  time,  but  some 
claimed  he  had  plenty  of  money  in  the 
January.  22,  1916. 
bank.  He  never  went  to  any  of  the  Pas¬ 
toral  Parson’s  mission  services,  he  does 
not  belong  to  the  Pastoral  Parson’s 
church.  Was  it  the  Parson’s  business  to 
interfere  and  to  have  a  sound  talk  with 
him?  This  question  comes  up  constantly 
to  all  of  us.  How  much  suffering  aud 
meanness  shall  we  see  go  on  and  do 
nothing  about  it?  “It  is  the  business  of 
the  humane  society.”  you  say.  But  can 
you  get  off  that  easy?  New  comers  ar¬ 
rive  in  the  neighborhood  who  seem  to 
know  nothing  about  horses.  They  give 
them  a  few  locks  of  poor  hay  to  cat  and 
think  that  is  enough.  They  pass  your 
house  beating  them  shamefully.  Is  it 
your  business  to  speak  to  them  about  it? 
“I  guess  I’ll  mind  my  own  business  and 
let  them  mind  their V  is  what  you  say. 
But  how  about  the  Golden  Rule?  Isn't 
it  time  some  one  made  an  experiment  to 
see  how  that  rule  works?  “How  has 
Christianity  succeeded  after  2,000 
years?”  asked  the  student.  “I  can't  tell 
you.”  said  the  professor,  “it  has  never 
been  tried.”  Before  this  year  is  over  we 
shall  know  of  negotiations  going  on  for 
the  sale  of  some  farm.  Most  likely  the 
farm  is  being  grossly  overpriced,  mis¬ 
represented,  and  a  slice  or  two  kept 
back.  Are  we  going  to  do  anything  about 
it?  The  Pastoral  Parson  got  a  big  dose 
of  this  when  he  bought  his  place,  and  he 
loves  these  farm  sellers  and  agents  as 
much  as  The  R.  N.-Y.  loves  an  irre¬ 
sponsible  middleman.  And  this  paper 
sets  us  an  example  of  moral  courage  that 
we  need  right  in  our  own  neighborhood. 
Yes.  I  found  that  man  1  mentioned 
above  had  $2,000  in  clean  money  iu  the 
hank  and  owned  his  place  and  didn’t 
give  his  wife  enough  to  cat!  Last  week 
I  went  down  and  had  it  out  with  him, 
and  made  him  admit  he  had  the  money, 
and  things  are  going  to  he  different  in 
that  house.  There  are  several  more  cases 
on  the  Pastoral  Parson’s  docket  which 
he  hopes  to  call  soon. 
New  Year’s  Resolution  No.  4. — I 
am  determined  to  have  a  little  more  back¬ 
bone  this  year,  and  to  let  the  Golden 
Rule  decide  what  is  and  what  is  not  my 
business. 
Is  It  Worn  Out.’. — A  while  ago  I  had 
a  letter  from  a  minister  who  had  evi¬ 
dently  been  reading  The  R.  N.-Yr.,  ask¬ 
ing  my  advice  about  running  a  country 
mission  he  had.  He  went  on  to  tell  me 
what  they  had  been  doing  there  and  then 
added,  “But  this  way  of  work  seems  to 
have  worn  out."  Now  isn’t  that  a  most 
encouraging  thing,  that  this  minister 
realizes  some  of  his  ways  are  worn  out, 
and  wants  to  get  new  methods?  Only 
a  short  time  ago  a  neighboring  minister 
put  on  a  real  old-fashioned  strenuous  re¬ 
vival  for  a  whole  week.  The  total  con¬ 
verts  were  one  young  girl  and  one  simple- 
minded  youth !  After  a  tirade  against” 
the  people  of  that  town,  the  preacher 
packed  up  and  left.  It  never  once  oc¬ 
curred  to  him  that  his  method  was  worn 
out. 
“My  children  are  so  fretty  and  cross, 
it  seems  as  though  I  would  go  crazy,” 
said  a  woman  to  me  the  other  day.  I 
wanted  to  say,  “Don’t  you  know  that 
your  pie  and  cake  and  cheap  candy  and 
coffee  method  of  running  a  house  is 
about  worn  out? 
“M.v  father  has  not  got  an  egg  for 
three  months,”  said  a  little  girl  to  me 
last  week.  “But  papa  is  mad  with  the 
hens  and  going  to  kill  them  all  off.”  That 
man  is  learning  that  his  old  mixed  breed 
of  barnyard  liens  is  worn  out. 
This  is  the  time  of  year  when  we  are 
taking  stock  of  what  we  have  on  hand. 
Let.  us  take  stock  also  of  our  methods, 
methods  in  the  house,  methods  on  the 
farm,  and  see  which  are  worn  out. 
A  man  from  Utah  wrote  the  Pastoral 
Parson  that  though  he  is  getting  on  well 
in  years,  he  still  keeps  green  at  the 
top. 
New  Year’s  Resolution  No.  5. — I 
will  not  hesitate  to  throw  aside  ways  and 
methods  that  are  worn  out  and  what¬ 
ever  happens,  I  will  keep  green  at  the 
top. 
Rice  Griddle  Cakes. — Pour  one  cupful 
of  milk  over  one  cupful  of  warm  boiled 
rice,  add  one  saltspoonful  of  salt,  the 
yolks  of  two  eggs  beaten  until  thick  and 
lemon-colored,  one  talilespoonful  of  melt¬ 
ed  butter,  three-quarters  or  a  cupful  of 
Hour,  and  finally  the  whites  of  two  eggs 
beaten  until  stiff  and  drv.  Bake  on  a 
hot,  well  greased  griddle.  Fine  cooked 
hominy  or  grits  may  be  used  instead  of 
rice. 
A  Tea  Party  with  the  Barnyard  Friend,  P.  Rock 
