626 
T5he  RURAL  NEW-YORKER 
April  15,  191G. 
CHAPTER  I. 
“Some  people  called  me  the  ‘poultry 
boy’  and  so  rile  the  'hen  hoy,'  Later  on  I 
was  called  other  things  often  far  from  flat¬ 
tering.  Hardly  anybody  Called  me  man, 
because  I  was  young  and  green,  and  not 
very  well  filled  out ;  besides  I  was  about 
the  youngest  farmer  in  the  place,  if  hard  for  me.  It  made  me  sick  at  first,  farming.  Here  in  America  the  farmers 
farmer  I  was,  which  seemed  a  matter  of  and  I  didn  t  become  fully  burdened  to  it  are  really  the  aristocrats,  as  are  the 
much  doubt  among  the  people  of  the  while  I  was  there.  The  hours  were  long,  land-owners  in  every  country.  When 
town?"  the  food  rather  poor,  and  my  sleeping  successful  they  own  their  own  land  and 
“What  town?"  room  small  and  rough.  But  there  came  are  as  secure  in  life  as  any  class  can  be. 
“I  called  it  Funkville  in  my  first  days  back  to  me  some  of  the  spirit  of  the  born  Their  property  is- sure  some  time  to  be 
of  disgust  and  louesomeuess.  but  I  don’t  farmer,  inherited  from  long  lines  of  my  more  valuable.  Then  markets  are  by  far 
feel  so  now.  Better  have  it  'Mapletnn.’  people  who  mostly  had  always  lived  on  the  best,  in  the  world,  owing  to  the  high 
The  fine  shade  trees,  pine  as  well  as  inn-  farms.  I  liked  the  feel  of  the  soil,  the  standard  of  American  living.  They  can 
pie,  are  the  great  beauty  of  the  place.  If  sound  of  the  breeze  in  the  boughs  and  the  enjoy  everything  that  a  reasonable  man 
I  gave  the  real  name  of  the  town  and  dry  sharp  rustle  of  the.  corn  as  I  cut  and  needs.  Foreigners  who  come  here,  in  a 
of  the  people  too.  some  of  them  might  tied  it  ready  for  the  stocks.  I  laughed  year  become  land-owners,  but  our  young 
not  like  it.  and  I  am  considerate  of  my  at  the  antics  of  the  cows  in  the  barn-  men  do  not  yet  realize  the  dignity  and 
friends.  As  for  the  others,  like  Bill  yawl.  I  liked  to  feed  them  In  the  barn  advantage  of  ownership.  When  they  do 
Carey,  and  his  crowd,  they  arc  not  like-  and  to  feel  that  I  was  their  guardian  and  these  farm  bargains  will  not  he  so  num- 
ly  to  read  this,  nor  to  make  any  trouble  the  -source  of  that  mild,  contented  ex-  erous  as  now.” 
if  they  did,  but  if  such  people  hear  I  pression,  as  I  watched  the  long  line  “That’s  all  true;  it  is  an  uphill  job  to 
have  made  a  suit  that  fits  them  they  are  munching  and  twisting  their  tongues  pay  for  a  farm.  The  young  men  are 
welcome  to  try  it  on,  and  they  may  take  around  the  little  bunches  of  fodder,  or  afraid  of  hard  work  nowadays.  That’s 
it  from  me  that  a  stripe  pattern  would  taking  up  their  ration  of  mixed  grain,  what’s  the  matter.” 
be  even  more  becoming.  The  busy  hens  interested  me,  and  I  ‘‘The  trouble  is  that  the  farm  life  is 
"But  to  start  in  a  ‘once  upon  a  time’  learned  to  know  many  of  them  by  sight,  made  too  plain  and  ugly  to  attract  the 
way.  like  the  fairy  stories.  I  had  been  The  orchard  too,  delighted  me  with  the  young  folks,"  cried  the  artist.  "Now  if 
living  in  a  big  city,  no  matter  which;  smell  of  ripe  fruit.  I  came  away  know-  I  had  a  farm  I  would  take  down  the 
they  are  all  alike.  I,  Frank  Spalding,  big  what  I  wanted,  but  with  no  great  fences  and  trim  up  the  trees,  and  make 
was  seventeen,  sickly,  soured,  discour-  opinion  of  myself  as  a  farm  hand.  I  a  nice  lawn.  I  would  put.  a  piazza  in 
aged  and  in  my  own  eyes  a  failure.”  went  back  to  my  city  job,  which  I  had  front  of  the  house  with  a  fancy  hammock 
"Why  so  blue?”  to  do  or  lose  it.  But  all  that  Winter  I  and  a  tennis  net. 
“Because  1  couldn’t  see  much  ahead  of  read  farm  books,  some  of  which  I  would  "Then,  too.  why  not  dress  a  little  bet- 
me.  Just  to  be  cooped  and  bossed  for  better  have  let  alone,  for  they  placed  ter?”  continued  the  artist  cheerfully.  “I 
the  rest  of  my  life.” 
**  ‘You  may  come  to  have  a  business  of 
your  own.”’  suggested  my  TTnele  F<1.  to 
encourage  me.  He  was  about  the  only 
near  relative  I  had. 
"It  doesn’t  look  so  to  me.  Uncle  Ed. 
Smarter  men  than  I  eau  ever  be  are  noth¬ 
ing  but  cogs  in  the  wheels  of  a  big  con¬ 
cern.  I  can’t  stand  even  the  plain  office 
work,  on  account  of  m.v  health,  and  how 
could  I  hold  out  with  a  big  extra  load  of 
indoor  work  and  worry  piled  on  me?” 
“Your  job  is  getting  on  your  nerves,  I 
see.” 
“Yes,  it  is.  Uncle.  I  have  been  taking 
stock  of  myself.  I  am  no  good  here.  I 
want  health.  I  want  to  be  my  own  boss.” 
"Well,  what's  your  idea?” 
"I  will  go  into  the  country  and  be  a 
farmer,  or  something  like  that.” 
"You  would  be  bossed  more  than  ever.” 
"I  will  work  for  myself.” 
“You  have  no  training,  no  capital.” 
“I  will  get  them  as  I  go  along.” 
“flood  nerve  fr>r  a  youngster,”  com¬ 
mented  my  Uncle.  “But  people  say  “  Quite  a  Set  of  Farmers  on  Paper  in  the  Office  ” 
there’s  no  money  in  farming.” 
"There’s  none  in  the  city  either  for 
most  people  after  their  bills  are  paid.” 
“That’s  about  so.  if  a  man  lias  a  fam¬ 
ily,  as  I  know  for  myself.”  While  he 
was  speaking,  the  thought  of  bis  daugh¬ 
ter.  my  lively  cousin  Lena,  flashed 
through  my  mind.  Could  I  win  lier  ever? 
I  bad  thought  of  her  quite  often,  as  a 
young  chap  will,  but  I  bad  never  much 
encouragement  from  her  father.  And  no 
wonder,  for  besides  relationship,  a  barrier 
as  some  consider  it,  what  sort  of  a  match 
was  I  likely  to  he  tiny  how.  with  my 
doubtful  position  and  prospects? 
“How  much  cash  have  you  for  a 
start?”  my  uncle  was  asking. 
“Oh,  I  have  that  three  hundred  dol¬ 
lars  from  my  mother’s  estate,  and  about 
seventy-five  dollars  that  I  have  saved  up, 
including  all  the  interest.” 
“That  doesn’t  seem  to  bo  enough.” 
"I  was  thinking  of  asking  you  to  lend 
me  a  little.” 
My  uncle  grew  sober.  “I  am  free  to 
say,”  he  replied,  “that  I  don’t  think  much 
of  your  scheme,  and  I  haven’t  much  spare 
cash.  But  if  you  get  in  a  tight  place 
and  it  seems  as  if  anything  would  come 
of  your  plan  I  will  think  it  over.  I 
have  looked  after  you  hero  in  the  city  as 
well  as  I  could,  but  now  if  you  arc  going 
to  be  your  own  boss  you  will  have  to  be 
your  own  helper  too;  the  two  sides  of  the 
situation  go  together.  Better  think  it 
over,  Frank.” 
I  did  think  it  over  that  Fall  and  Win¬ 
ter,  and  the  first  thing  I  (lid  was  to  go 
out  a  few  miles  and  help  a  farmer  har¬ 
vest  his  late  crops.  The  work  was  too 
things  in  altogether  too  rosy  light.  But 
I  had  made  up  my  mind. 
CHAPTER  II. 
Talking  It  Over. 
Besides  reading  farm  books  I  often 
ran  through  some  of  the  leading  agricul¬ 
tural  papers  at  the  library,  and  they  put 
me  in  mind  of  making  a  call  on  one  of 
the  editors.  Editor  Haynes  proved  to  lie 
a  mighty  good  friend  to  me,  and  I  came 
more  than  once;  not  in  the  most  busy 
time,  let  it  be  understood.  There  was 
quite  a  set  of  farmers  on  paper  in  the 
office,  besides  occasional  callers,  and  they 
had  interesting  talks,  a  kind  of  social 
hour  in  the  editor’s  corner.  On  one  oc¬ 
casion  I  remember  there  was  a  city  stu¬ 
dent  with  a  friend  from  the  country, 
while  the  advertising  man.  tin*  artist  and 
the  young  lady  stenographer  had  giveu 
up  trying  to  work  while  so  much  farm 
talk  was  going  on.  The  young  man  from 
the  country  had  been  telling  of  this  and 
that  farin  in  his  town  that  was  “all  right 
but  nohody  seemed  to  want  it." 
“For  my  part.”  said  the  advertising 
man,  “I  never  could  see  why  so  many  of 
you  young  fellows  want  to  leave  the 
farm.”  “Here  we  city  workers,  half  of 
us.  are  working  hard  to  save  a  little 
money  to  buy  a  farm,  and  you  country 
fellows,  even  when  the  old  man  leaves 
you  a  farm,  won’t  stay  to  work  it.  but 
you  must  hurry  off  and  try  to  get  just 
the  kind  of  job  we  want  to  get  away 
from.” 
“In  my  opinion.”  said  the  editor,  “the 
trouble  is  that  the  young  men  fail  to 
realize  the  full  opportunities  of  modern 
would  wear  a  neat  canvas  uniform  when 
at  work  and  always  change  it  at  night, 
and  look  as  well  as  anybody  in  the  even¬ 
ing.  No  dirty,  ragged  clothes  for  me.  I 
would  raise  plenty  of  fruit  and  flowers 
and  keep  handsome  stock  and  a  good 
speedy  horse.  I  guess  my  children  would 
not  leave  the  farm.” 
“They  would  stay  there  as  long  as  you 
did,”  retorted  the  advertising  man.  “and 
that  would  be  until  the  mortgage  fell  due. 
You  would  get  stuck  two  prices  for  some 
big  farm,  and  between  the  uniforms  and 
the  fast  horse  I’m  afraid  you’d  get  a 
fall.” 
The  caller  was  a  brainy  young  farm¬ 
er  from  northern  Massaehusets.  He  had 
received  a  first-class  education,  and  was 
well  equipped  in  every  way  for  any  posi¬ 
tion  in  life,  but  had  chosen  farming  be¬ 
cause  he  liked  it.  There  is  farming 
blood,  generations  of  it  in  the  veins  of 
many  young  men.  and  such  are  never 
<iuite  contented  far  away  from  the  soil. 
The  young  man  had  found  an  excellent 
opening  with  a.  relative  who  was  an  ex¬ 
ceptionally  able  and  successful  farmer.  A 
few  questions  brought  out  the  informa¬ 
tion  that  he  was  making  a  good  living, 
had  been  well  established  in  happy  do¬ 
mestic  life  and  was  enjoying  splendid 
health.  What  seemed  especially  signi¬ 
ficant  was  the  fact  that  he  had  taken  a 
high  position  in  social  affairs  of  the 
neighboring  city,  and  was  prominent  in 
scientific  societies  and  the  like.  In  fact 
his  education  and  ambition  bad  placed 
him  on  bis  natural  level  without  regard 
to  bis  occupation.  It  is  a  foolish  notion 
of  some  young  men  that  education  and 
brains  are  thrown  away  on  a  farm. 
"No,  I  don’t  regret  my  choice  in  the 
least,"  said  the  young  farmer.  “When  a 
young  fellow  is  just,  out  of  college  it 
seems  like  choosing  a  brilliant  future  if 
he  fits  for  law  or  medicine  or  something 
of  that  kind.  I  wasn’t  sure  but  I  was 
making  a  mistake.  But  it  seems  differ¬ 
ent  now.  My  friends  that  took  a  pro¬ 
fession  are  not  any  better  off  than  I  am. 
Some  of  them  make  more  money  than  I 
do,  and  some  less,  hut  that  isn't  all.  The 
average  man  had  to  wait  years  to  get 
started.  Some  are  not  doing  much  yet. 
in  the  ten  years  since  college.  They  had 
to  marry  late,  while  I  could  marry  at 
once.  I  believe  in  early  marriages. 
Those  who  have  made  much  progress 
have  had  to  strive  and  wear  themselves 
out  more  in  one  year  than  a  farmer  in 
two.  Some  are  a  little  grey-haired  and 
nervous  at  30  and  35.  I  think  none  of 
them  have  a  farmer’s  appetite,  robust 
vigor,  and  physical  ability  to  take  life 
as  it  comes.” 
“I  believe  you  will  be  still  better  sat¬ 
isfied  with  your  choice  later  in  life.”  ob¬ 
served  the  editor. 
"That’s  another  point.  My  friends 
who  are  teaching  or  preaching  or  some¬ 
thing  else,  may  if  successful  have  a  little 
more  to  spend  than  I  have.  They  go  to 
the  theatre  oftener,  dress  better,  have 
more  servants.  But  1  know  their  cir¬ 
cumstances  iu  many  cases,  and  I  know 
they  are  not  getting  ahead  very  fast. 
Some  lay  up  a  little  money,  but  it  is  slow 
work,  and  they  are  likely  to  invest  and 
lose  it.  If  they  buy  a  home  it  costs  more 
than  a  good  farm,  and  isn’t  half  so  good 
a  place  to  live.  A  farmer  may  not  be 
'banking  much  money,  but  if  he  knows  his 
business  he  is  improving  his  farm  and 
stock  all  the  time. 
“He  grinds  away  15  years  perhaps 
envying  his  city  friends  all  the  time.  He 
has  paid  for  his  $5,000  farm  and  stock, 
and  improved  it  till  it  is  worth  $10,000, 
hut  he  is  apt  to  think  only  of  his  hank 
account  which  may  not  he  large.  But 
few  of  his  friends  are  really  so  well  off 
as  he  is.” 
"That’s  so.”  exclaimed  the  advertis¬ 
ing  man,  who  had  been  listening  thought¬ 
fully  to  the  last  part  of  the  conversation. 
“A  man  is  all  right  with  $10,000  in  the 
country,  or  even  with  a  good  farm  all  paid 
for.  If  I  could  sell  my  city  house  for 
anything  like  what  it  cost  me  I  would 
leave  for  the  country  and  enjoy  life  a 
little.” 
"I  find  a  great  many  people  are  plan¬ 
ning  to  get  into  the  country  sometime,” 
said  the  young  farmer,  “hut  I  believe  the 
time  to  go  is  when  a  fellow  is  young. 
By  the  time  a  man  lias  earned  enough  at 
something  else  to  buy  a  farm  he  may  be 
so  tight  in  the  harness  that  he  can’t  get 
nut.  and  every  year  makes  him  less  fit  for 
the  country.  Now  if  the  farm  is  the 
best  place  for  children  and  old  iupu,  I 
say  it  is  the  best  place  for  a  young  man 
too.  Why  not  get  there  early  while  you 
can  sing  iu  the  fields,  and  enjoy  hunting 
and  fishing  with  the  boys,  and  do  a 
strong  man’s  work,  too?  Then  as 
strength  grows  less  we  will  have  plenty 
of  capital  and  experience  in  directing  la¬ 
bor  of  others,  so  that  we  can  get  away 
from  the  hardest  work.  In  beginning  to 
farm,  no  time  like  the  present.” 
“That’s  right,”  said  the  advertising 
man.  “In  a  few  years,  I  hope — ” 
“That’s  what  they  all  say,”  interrupt¬ 
ed  the  young  man  laughing.  “Well,  we 
can’t  all  he  farmers,  hut  I’m  glad  I  took 
my  chance  early.” 
“I  don’t  know  just  why  it  is,”  said 
the  young  man,  “but  you  can’t  talk  farm 
to  some  of  the  young  follows.  They  go 
into  a  shop  at  a  dollar  and  a  half  a  day 
and  think  they  are  above  farmers.  Now 
any  smart,  follow  is  better  off  on  a  farm, 
and  he  won’t  be  out  of  a  job  when  hard 
times  are  on.” 
“There  are  economic  causes,”  declared 
the  editor  learnedly.  “It  has  been  shown 
that  some  young  men  must  leave  the 
(Continued  on  page  C33) 
