486 
Cfce  RURAL  NEW-YORKER 
Pastoral  Parson  on  the  Lonely  Road 
Some  Winter  Experiences 
By  Rev.  Geo.  B.  Gilbert 
The  GrIPPE. — Yes,  the  Pastoral  Par¬ 
son  has  just  been  having  the  grippe.  He 
had  been  in  such  a  rush  lately  that  he 
did  not  think  that  even  a  grippe  germ 
could  catch  him,  but  it  did.  On  the ‘day 
before  it  got  me,  I  had  been  down  country 
10  miles  in  a  big  hired  automobile  to 
bring  a  sick  man  up  to  the  hospital.  The 
snow  was  deep,  hut  we  got  down  there 
very  well.  Having  gotten  fairly  started 
back,  off  the  road  that  4,000-pound  car 
went,  right  into  a  spring-hole.  After 
shoveling  and  digging  and  lifting  and 
pulling  we  were  only  deeper  in  the  spring- 
hole.  The  sick  man.  tilted  up,  as  upon  a 
steeple  roof,  looked  through  the  rising 
glass  of  that  auto  and  saw  a  chapel  near¬ 
by.  Ilis  brimming  sense  of  humor  saved 
the  day  as  it  had  many  times  before  in  his 
life.  lie  remarked  on  the  Divine  Con¬ 
venience!  But  a  more  pleasing  conven¬ 
ience  appeared  just  at  that  moment 
around  the  corner.  It  was  a  great  steady 
pair  of  farm  horses  dragging  a  sled.  It 
took  them  about  a  minute  to  land  that 
auto  in  the  road,  and  tlie  auto  landed  the 
man  safely  in  the  hospital,  where  lie  is 
getting  well. 
The  Grippe  Gets  Him.— The  next 
morning  the  Pastoral  Parson  had  no  end 
of  errands  in  town.  Every  time  lie  climb¬ 
ed  into  that  wagon  (for  it  was  wheeling 
in  town  and  sleighing  outside)  it  scorned 
to  he  at  least  a  foot  higher  than  it  was 
the  time  before.  lie  had  a  great  deal  to 
do  in  getting  off  a  trained  nurse  for  that, 
man  I  wrote  of  down  county  who  believes 
in  having  plenty  in  the  bank  and  nothing 
in  the  pantry,  The  nurse  was  to  take 
care  of  his  good  wife.  That  man  is  learn¬ 
ing  the  truth  of  the  old  saying  that  a 
grocer’s  bill  is  better  than  a  doctor’s  bill. 
His  bill  is  now  just  about  an  even  fivc- 
dollar  hill  a  day.  Well,  I  got  that  nurse 
off  and  then  headed  for  home — two  miles 
and  a  half.  I  bent  over  further  and  fur¬ 
ther  just  like  the  top  branch  of  an  apple 
tree  as  the  apples  grow  bigger.  I  just 
could  get  into  the  house  and  get  to  lied. 
As  I  lay  there  it  seemed  as  though  a  pair 
of  Devons  was  pulling  one  way  on  my 
back  and  a  pair  of  Durhams  the  other. 
Mother  said  T  made  a  poor  patient,  and 
why  shouldn’t  I,  for  T  had  not  missed  a 
call  to  meals  before  for  twelve  years ! 
No  other  evil-minded  germ  had  been  able 
to  pull  the  Parson  down  in  all  that  time. 
But  take  a  bit  of  advice,  good  reader,  and 
when  the  real  grippe  germ  gets  you  (and 
you  will  know  it  when  it  does)  take  to 
your  bed.  do  just  as  you  are  told  and  be 
thankful  if  you  don’t  get  pneumonia. 
Practising  and  Preaching. — A  sick¬ 
ness  is  a  wonderful  thing.  It  gives  one 
a  great  chance  to  fry  out.  on  Monday  the 
things  you  have  told  other  people  to  do 
on  Sunday.  As  I  lay  there,  every  bone 
feeling  as  though  it  was  covered  with 
blisters,  I  thought  of  the  many  times  I 
had  exhorted  others  to  he  patient  under 
the  chastisement,  from  on  high.  I  tell 
you  it  is  a  great  thing  for  a  minister  to 
practice  what  lie  preaches.  T've  decided 
if  he  can’t,  he’d  better  not  preach  it  till 
he  can.  A  farm  is  really  a  wonderful 
place  to  try  out  yourself  all  the  week 
what  you  have  told  others  to  do.  I  re¬ 
member  in  the  Fall  I  had  just  got.  with 
great  difficulty,  some  new  knives  in  the 
silage  cutter.  We  were  very  late  in  cut¬ 
ting  anyway,  and  I  was  astonished  to 
see  how  dry  the  corn  was.  We  had  been 
running  about  two  hours  when  suddenly 
we  that  were  up  in  the  lot  cutting  and 
loading  noticed  that  the  hum  of  the  blow¬ 
er  suddenly  stopped,  A  man  came  run¬ 
ning  up  and  shouted  to  stop  cutting. 
“The  whole  thing  is  bust.”  Evidently 
the  new  knives  had  worked  loose  and  the 
cutter  had  literally  opened  its  month  and 
cast  out  all  its  insides.  Now,  wasn’t  that 
trying? 
Religion  That  Works. — Standing 
there  and  looking  at  those  new  knives  all 
twisted  and  spoiled  and  that,  knife-bed  all 
smashed  up  and  the  hired  man  telling  you 
how  it  took  two  weeks  to  get  such  parts 
where  he  worked  last  year,  and  that  big 
field  of  corn  all  drying  up,  I  say,  that’s 
a  different  thing  from  singing  hymns  on 
Sunday  in  meetin'.  or  eating  pie  at  a 
church  social.  I  suppose  the  first  regula¬ 
tion  step  would  have  been  to  have  gone 
over  to  the  house  and  stirred  up  the 
women  folks,  making  out  the  calamity 
about  four  times  worse  than  it  was.  I 
knew  a  farmer  once  who  used  to  begin  to 
talk  about  frosts  right  after  haying  and 
keep  it  up  till  it  seemed  as  though  every¬ 
one  would  he  driven  distracted.  But  the 
Pastoral  Parson  reasoned  thus  within 
himself;  “Like  as  not  some  of  the  little 
children  might  have  been  standing  ground 
in  front  of  the  cutter  watching — in  fimt 
they  had  been  just  a*  little  before.  If 
some  of  those  terrible  irons  lmd  hit  one 
of  them  it  would  certainly  have  killed 
him.  Only  the  week  before,  the  Parson 
had  read  of  a  man  getting  killed  in  this 
same  way.  Then  as  to  the  corn  drying 
up.  it  would  lose  nothing  hilt  water  and 
that  could  be  put  hack  when  it  went  into 
the  silo.”  So  the  Parson  went  over  to  the 
house  with  a  sort  of  good-news  look  upon 
his  face.  The  cutter  had  gone  to  smash 
but  “no  one  was  hurt.”  And  as  for  the 
corn  drying  up,  it  began  to  rain  the  next 
day  and  rained  stcndily  most  of  the  time 
till  the  new  parts  came.  So  there  is  al¬ 
ways  something  on  the  farm  to  give  us 
an  excuse  for  making  everybody  miser¬ 
able  and  going  into  a  regular  tit  of  the 
blues  if  we  want  to.  Dry  weather  or  wet 
weather,  or  accidents,  or  cut-worms  or 
crows  are  things  that  arc  ever  with  us. 
and  wo  must  learn  to  do  our  best 
Lickin’  or  Lovin’. — Old  Molly  cow 
has  been  sold.  Everyone  knew  she  had 
to  he  sold — she  was  getting  so  old.  but 
when  the  Pastoral  Parson  went  into  the 
house  lie  found  Mother  in  tears,  and  the 
whole  household  upset.  We  all  loved  old 
Molly.  In  fact  it  is  just  about,  that  way 
with  everything  on  the  place.  The  Par¬ 
son  dreads  selling  anything,  from  a  horse 
to  a  flitted  calf.  I  wonder  if  this  crop 
of  affection  isn’t  the  greatest  thing  the 
farm  produces!  I  note  the  hoys  approach 
animals  or  birds,  wild  or  tame,  with  feel¬ 
ings  of  tenderness.  One  of  the  hoys  has 
been  up  to  visit  his  uncle  in  Vermont. 
“While  I  milk.”  writes  his  uncle,  “lie 
pets  the  calves  and  talks  baby  talk  to 
them."  Our  little  black  dog  "Maida,”  is 
the  greatest  teacher  of  affection  on  the 
place.  Twice  every  day  the  Pastoral 
Parson  was  sick  she  came  in  to  see  him, 
once  the  first  thing  in  the  morning,  then 
again  in  the  afternoon.  When  the  last 
little  one  came  this  dog  went  in  every 
single  morning  for  three  weeks  and  care¬ 
fully  laid  its  paw  up  on  the  bed,  and 
Mother  would  pat  the  paw  and  speak  to 
her,  and  then  she  would  quietly  go  out 
till  the  next  morning.  When  the  Parson 
comes  out  from  town  a  procession  comes 
stringing  down  the  road  to  meet  him. 
The  first  in  line  is  little  Maida.  She  is 
always  watching,  always  listening,  and 
the  first  to  recognize  the  old  mare  as  she 
comes  across  the  bridge.  Then  follow 
the  children  in  the  order  of  their  ability 
to  run. 
Dogs  and  Boys. — How  I  could  ever 
have  gotten  along  as  a  hoy  without  my 
little  spaniel  curly  dog.  I  do  not  know.  I 
used  to  resolve  that  if  ever  I  could  I 
would  make  it  a  business  to  raise  spaniel 
puppies  and  give  them  to  hoys  who  h  d 
lonesome  work  to  do  off  on  the  far  i. 
What  company  that  little  dog  was  to  me! 
With  him  it  was  but  a  joy  to  get  the 
cows  even  way  over  iu  the  hack  lot.  IIow 
those  cows  used  to  behave  themselves 
when  lie  was  around  !  No  woodchuck 
dared  show  his  face  this  side  the  woods 
on  the  main  farm.  At  a  certain  age,  how 
much  alike  a  hoy  and  a  dog  are,  with 
their  love  of  the  woods,  of  wild  animal 
hunting,  or  romping  and  of  play.  IIow  I 
loved  that  dog  and  how  well  I  knew  when 
1  came  home  from  school  that  he  was 
sitting  on  the  big  drift  north  of  the  house 
listening  for  my  whistle  up  by  the  water- 
tub.  I’rof.  Dawson,  of  Hartford,  used 
to  well  say  that  the  great  misfortune  of 
raising  children  in  the  city  was  that  the 
hoys  could  not  have  pet  dogs  and  the  girls 
pet  kittens  with  which  to  cultivate  their 
affections.  No  matter  is  settled  until  it 
is  settled  right,  and  this  dog  question  will 
never  be  settled  till  every  farm  boy  has  a 
dog,  and  a  dog  with  something  of  the  pet 
in  him. 
March  IS,  1910. 
The  Parson  Writes  a  Letter. — “I 
do  wish  I  could  buy  a  place  around  here,” 
said  a  woman  as  she  proceeded  to  fry  the 
hamburg  and  onions  after  the  morning 
service  with  the  congregation  standing 
around  with  huugry  looks.  “I  like  the 
people  and  I  have  been  so  well  since  I 
Came  here.”  The  woman  and  her  hus¬ 
band  have  been  living  for  some  time  with 
his  people,  and  they  want  a  farm  of  their 
own.  “Have  you  looked  at  any  of  the 
places?”  asked  the  Pastoral  Parson. 
“Yes,  there  is  one  right  up  on  the  corner 
that  just  suits  us.  blit  we  think  the  price 
is  altogether  too  high.”  Then  the  woman 
told  ns  what  the  man  asked  for  it.  I 
talked  it  over  with  the  men  and  it  seemed 
to  be  their  best  judgment  that  the  price 
was  just  about  twice  what  the  plate  was 
worth.  The  more  I  thought  of  this  ease 
the  more  it  seemed  to  be  typical  of  many 
such  in  Now  England.  The  fences  down, 
the  wood  cut  off  and  sold,  the  barn  all  to 
pieces,  the  house  inhabited  by  squirrels. 
The  seller  holds  a  very  prominent  posi¬ 
tion  in  a  Christian  church.  Here  is  a 
family  wanting  a  home  to  make  a  living 
out  in  God’s  open  country,  and  here  is  a 
professed  disciple  of  Jesus  Christ  keeping 
them  from  having  that  home  by  asking 
what  those  who  live  nearby  unite  in 
thinking  to  he  a  great  deal  more  than  it  is 
worth.  The  Pastoral  Parson  wrote  to 
this  man  iu  part  as  follows: 
“There  is  a  party  in  .  which 
seems  really  anxious  to  buy  the . 
place.  It  seems  to  me  that  it  would  be 
very  nice  for  them  and  for  all  about  there 
for  them  to  1  ive  this  place  for  their  per¬ 
manent  home.  I  could  not  give  them 
much  advice  :  bout  the  matter  though  I 
would  very  much  like  to  help  these  people 
to  get  them  a  home  near  there.  You 
know  that  if  the  country  church  is  to 
stand  for  anything  it  is  that  places  shall 
be  sold  for  what  they  are  really  worth  to 
make  a  living  on  and  a  real  home  out  of. 
The  tragedy  of  the  soil  in  Connecticut  is 
the  selling  of  farm  property  to  well-mean¬ 
ing,  hard-working  people  for  more  than 
it  is  really  worth.  Would  you  be  willing 
t<>  write  me  what  you  now  ask  for  this 
place?  I  think  this  party  has  some 
money." 
The  Cattle  Buyer. — About  all  the 
cattle  buyers  for  beef  around  here  are 
Hebrews.  The  Pastoral  Parson  lias  al¬ 
ways  found  them  doing  as  agreed,  and 
with  a  big  roll  in  their  pockets  to  pay  for 
the  goods.  T  would,  however,  take  cash 
instead  of  checks  from  any  of  these  who 
come  around.  Several  about  here  have 
had  trouble  with  cheeks.  One  man  sold 
a  beef  to  be  dressed  on  his  place  and  sold 
by  the  pound.  This  sounds  good,  hut  the 
buyer  poked  about  in  the  lights  till  lie 
found  some  little  lumps,  then  claimed  the 
cow  was  tubercular  and  gave  the  man 
less  than  the  hide  would  have  brought, 
lie  took  the  meat  home,  however,  with 
him.  Wonder  what  he  did  with  it!  I 
heard  recently  of  a  case  where  a  Jewish 
cattle  buyer  offered  a  man  $48  for  a  cow. 
The  man  held  out  for  $50.  A  day  or  two 
later  he  spoke  to  his  Yankee  neighbor 
about  it  who  also  buys  cows.  They  had 
teen  old  school  boys  together  and  the 
neighbor  came  up  to  look  at  the  cow. 
After  much  smooth  talk,  in  which  line  a 
Connecticut  Yankee  has  no  peers,  he  of¬ 
fered  his  old  neighbor  and  schoolmate 
$35.  Some  time  ago  a  back-to-the-lauder 
had  the  great,  misfortune  to  have  his  barn 
burn  down.  Ho  saved  the  stock  with 
nothing  to  feed  them.  A  Yankee  cattle 
buyer  started  out  to  find  the  place,  hav¬ 
ing  read  of  it  in  the  paper.  He  traveled 
1 1  miles  and  then  found  it  was  five  miles 
further,  so  gave  up  the  chase.  Was  he 
going  so  far  to  try  to  buy  his  stock  for 
less  than  it  was  worth,  profiting  by  his 
misfortune,  <>r  was  he  going  down  to  carry 
him  a  $10  dollar  bill  to  help  build  a  new 
barn? 
Going  or  Coming  Home. — I  suppose 
many  a  mother  has  had  trouble  in  getting 
grown-up  sons  to  go  to  church,  but  the 
Pastoral  Parson  was  certainly  amused  to 
hear  a  mother  trying  to  get  her  three 
sons  started  home  after  the  service  the 
oilier  day.  Three  times  she  started  up 
through  the  woods  shouting  to  one  or  the 
other  that  it  was  time  to  go  home.  The 
pigs  needed  feeding,  the  cows  needed  wa¬ 
tering.  But  no  use.  Those  fellows  only 
have  a  chance  to  go  to  church  once  in  two 
weeks,  and  when  they  do  they  stay  till 
the  place  is  locked  up. 
Wise  Planning  for  the  New  Garden 
