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7She  RURAL  NEW-YORKER 
June  17,  1910. 
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Frank  of  Peach  Hill 
By  Geo.  B.  Fiske 
(Continued  from  page  S61.) 
Obstacles  there  were  none  ns  com  pa  red 
with  other  roads.  I  had  hut  to  begin  in¬ 
stantly,  on  the  new  basis,  with  larger 
view  of  my  calling;  not  merely  to  work 
hard,  save  closely,  scrimp  and  finally 
take  life  easy  as  soon  as  a  little  compe¬ 
tence  was  laid  by.  That  had  formerly 
been  my  whole  view.  Now  1  aimed  at 
using  my  brains  to  the  utmost,  to  carve 
a  career  first  and  a  competence  as  an  in¬ 
cidental  feature;  to  experiment,  to  know, 
to  lead,  to  excel.  I  began  to  see  already 
that  life  was  none  too  long  for  learning 
what  1  wished  to  know  and  do  uhat  must 
be  done.  My  enthusiasm  makes  me  smile 
now,  lmt  1  don’t  regret  it.  It  filled  me 
full  of  steam  for  my  bard  life  up  on  the 
bill,  and  kept  up  my  interest  when  work 
seemed  endless  and  results  very  slow. 
Soon  I  was  listening  to  a  group  of  fann¬ 
ers  talking  over  things. 
“Beats  all  how  some  of  these  young 
men  get  along.”  said  a  local  farmer,  al¬ 
luding  to  a  man  who  was  making  a  fine 
success  with  hothouse  vegetables.  “T 
s' pose  we  old  fellows  are  kind  of  set¬ 
tled  down  in  the  ruts.  1  only  wish  some 
of  the  young  blood  that’s  gone  to  the  city 
could  have  heard  the  talk  today.” 
"Farming  is  no  business  for  anybody 
nowadays,”  observed  old  Barney  Frost. 
II is  mouth  twitched  humorously  and  bis 
eyes  half  twinkled  as  he  spoke.  Nobody 
could  tell  more  than  half  the  time 
whether  Barney  Frost  was  in  earnest. 
“Show  me  the  man  that,  is  making  any 
money  at  veal  farmin’  today.  There  is 
overproduction  of  everything.  Produc¬ 
tion  is  fifty  years  ahead  of  consumption. 
Insects  and  blight  eat  everything  the 
farmer  can  raise.  1  wish  somebody 
would  tell  ns  how  the  farmer  can  do 
business  and  get  back  a  new  dollar  for 
an  old  one.” 
“1  can  point  out  one  who  is  said  to 
have  made  a  hundred  thousand  dollars 
at  farming.”  declared  Landers,  looking  in 
Frost's  direction.  "Seems  to  me  if  Mr. 
Frost  had  taken  his  own  advice  he  would 
not  he  where  lie  is  now.  Didn’t  you  earn 
your  money  from  farming,  Mr.  Frost?” 
“Well,  they  can't  do  it  now.  Look  at 
all  the  mortgaged  farms.  If  anybody 
paid  them  off  they  married  their  second 
fir  third  wife,  most  of  ’em.  Killed  oil  a 
woman  or  two  before  they  kill  off  the 
mortgage.  Farming  is  death  to  the 
women.” 
“1  believe  in  farming.”  struck  up  Ben 
Hale.  “The  dollars  may  come  hard,  hut 
they  are  good  honest  ones.  I  don’t  be¬ 
lieve  in  breaking  down  the  bridge  that 
carried  me  over.  Farming  has  given  me 
enough  to  carry  me  through.  It  has 
given  friend  Frost  more  than  that.  Let’s 
not  discourage  the  youngsters,  wo  have 
got  to  step  out  sometime  and  give  ’em 
a  chance.” 
“I  haven’t  much  fault  to  find  with 
farming,”  said  a  tall,  stooping  old  fid- 
low,  from  a  nearby  town.  “It's  hard 
work,  but  it  has  kept  me  going.  I 
bought  my  farm  on  credit,  sold  wood 
enough  to  pay  for  it,  own  it  clear  now, 
and  the  live  stock  and  fixings.  Sent  my 
hoy  to  college  too.  Nothing  great,  I 
know.” 
"Not  so  bad,”  said  one  of  the  neigh¬ 
bors.  who  had  drawn  near  the  group. 
“Worth  about  $10,000  all  told,  aren’t 
you  ?” 
“Maybe  about  that.  Farms  sell  higher 
than  they  did  a  few  years  ago.” 
“Suppose  you  and  gone  to  the  city  at 
21.  If  you  had  got  your  living  and 
worked  up  to  $1,000  a  year,  at  30  years 
you  would  think  you  were  doing  well, 
wouldn’t  you?” 
“Mighty  well,”  said  he. 
“Is  $1,000  good  pay  in  the  city?” 
“It  is  $8  a  day.” 
“Yes.  hut  how  much  could  you  save?” 
“It  takes  pretty  close  living  to  pay 
rent  and  living  expenses  and  send  chil¬ 
dren  t<>  college  and  save  anything  at  all 
on  $1,000.  But  we  suppose  you  laid 
away  an  average  of  $.‘100  a  year  includ¬ 
ing  the  interest.” 
“1  couldn’t  do  that  here,  and  live,  and 
educate  my  children.” 
“But  you  have.  Thirty  years,  $300  a 
year  is  $0,000  and  you  are  worth  $10.- 
000.” 
“That's  so,”  admitted  the  farmer  with 
a  puzzled  air.  “I  seem  to  have  got  there 
after  all.  Blit  I  never  reckoned  I  was 
getting  as  good  as  $3  a  day  or  better 
in  the  city,  and  1  am  not  done  making 
money  yet,” 
“No,  that's  another  point.  City  jobs 
that  pay  much  <>f  anything,  together  with 
the  wear  and  tear  of  excitement,  wear  a 
man  out  fast.  He  is  losing  his  grip  on 
affairs  at  about  the  time  you  in  the  coun¬ 
try  are  just  getting  ready  to  take  things 
a  little  easier  for  1.”  or  20  years  yet,  hut; 
still  feeling  first  rate  and  saving  money.” 
On  the  day  of  the  farmers’  meeting,  I 
think  I  headed  my  old  farm  cart:  straight 
for  the  moon :  not  that  I  have  ever 
reached  anywhere  near  the  high  mark  I 
set  then,  in  my  enthusiasm,  but  I  am 
sure  I  have  gone  faster  and  farther  than 
if  I  had  seen  nothing  ahead  of  my  cart 
of  life  other  than  old  Cockle-joint  and 
nothing  higher  than  Peach  Hill. 
CHAPTER  VIII. 
Why  Peach  Hill?  Some  people  called 
it  so,  later.  The  cause  began  right  now. 
The  week  after  the  institute  I  hustled  as 
never  before.  First  1  sent  to  a  Southern 
nursery  linn  for  some  fruit  trees.  Both 
John  Joy  and  Frost  agreed  that  my  hill 
would  be  best  for  peaches,  so  I  ordered 
mostly  standard  kinds  of  that  fruit,  some 
early,  medium  and  late  varieties  in  or¬ 
der  that  I  might  he  able  to  pick  and  sell 
most  of  the  crop  myself  by  having  a 
succession  of  ripenings.  A  moderate 
number  of  apples  and  pears  were  in¬ 
cluded,  and  some  plums  and  quite  a  lot 
of  quinces  for  the  heavy  land  in  one 
corner  of  m.\  Jot,  by  the  pond  hole. 
Frost's  team  was  plowing  all  that  week, 
and  the  new  land  turned  over,  about  all 
the  tillable  part  of  my  tough  old  field, 
doing  a  much  better  job  than  1  had  sup¬ 
posed  possible.  The  horses  were  heavy, 
strong  and  almost  as  slow  as  oxen,  and 
the  plow  was  stoutly  built  and  blunt. 
The  old  pasture  sod  was  mossy  and  gave 
little  resistance  except  where  bushes  had 
worked  in.  1  was  kept  busy  some  of  the 
time  clearing  away  the  hushes  and  the 
scattering  small  trees,  and  later  I  start¬ 
ed  harrowing  with  my  one-horse  outfit, 
finding  that  the  well-turned  furrows  and 
mossy  sod  gave  no  great  trouble  in  work¬ 
ing  tip  fine  though  repeatedly  going  over 
it. 
I  had  decided  to  make  my  main  stake 
this  year  on  potatoes.  ‘‘Steak  and  pota¬ 
toes!  Stake  on  pot  notes?  Why,  of 
course!”  1  chuckled  to  myself.  But  I 
thought  I  had  a  real  idea  in  m.v  mind. 
I  had  read  of  good  big  crops  of  the 
spuds  raised  on  old  pasture  sod  with 
nothing  used  but  fertilizer,  so  I  felt  sure 
I  would  do  it.  Of  course,  I  had  no  ma¬ 
nure,  what  little  there  was  about  the 
Cow  shed  1  used  for  a  few  garden  vege¬ 
tables.  lugging  it  on  the  wheelbarrow. 
“Hull!”  cried  my  friend  Frost,  “more 
of  that  scientific  farming.  You  can  lug 
your  fertilizer  all  on  that  express  wagon, 
and  I  expect  you  can  lug  what  pota¬ 
toes  you  get  on  it  too,  and  not  bend  down 
the  springs  much  either.” 
It  tried  my  young  nerve  to  go  ahead 
and  risk  fully  half  my  remaining  cash 
capital.  I  bought  the  fertilizer  on  cre¬ 
dit.  however,  two  and  one-lialf  tons  of 
high-grade  stuff,  which  I  put  on  about 
four  acres  of  the  best  of  my  land,  part 
broadcast  after  harrowing  and  part 
alongside  of  the  furrow  before  covering 
the  seed.  I  cut  the  seed  to  make  it  go 
as  far  as  possible,  one  piece  in  a  place. 
Planting  with  fertilizer  shortened  the 
work,  but  the  long  rows  seemed  endless 
as  I  hopped  along,  cutting,  dropping  and 
covering.  I  might,  have  hired  a  machine 
planter,  but  felt  like  keeping  the  money. 
Hays  were  growing  longer  now  and  I 
worked  about  double  time,  judging  by 
city  office  notions.  Of  my  six  other  acres 
under  plow,  I  had  a  garden,  a  little  patch 
of  corn  and  some  field  beans  on  one  acre, 
using  what  dressing  I  could  scrape  to¬ 
gether,  also  a  few  pounds  of  nitrate  of 
soda.  The  other  five  acres  l  dressed  with 
three  tons  of  slag  meal  which  friend 
-my  let  me  have  at  wholesale  Cost.  $35 
for  the  lot.  This  land  as  well  as  my 
potato  lot.  and  in  fact  almost  my  whole 
domain,  had  been  staked  olf  for  the  trees. 
They  arrived  while  I  was  still  planting 
potatoes.  The  trees  came  from  the  Smith, 
hut  had  been  kept  back  in  cold  storage 
and  had  not  yet  started  to  grow.  South¬ 
ern  trees  seem  lazy  anyhow  the  first 
year.  While  the  Northern  trees  in  the 
vicinity  were  rustling  in  their  new  suit 
of  leaves  and  pushing  out  rank  green 
shoots,  these  southerners  were  taking 
tlieir  time. 
“"What’s  yuh  hurry,  chile,”  they 
seemed  to  dnnvl.  “It's  a  right  smaht 
lime  lief  o’  Winter.” 
“Hustle,  hustle  !  Hurry  up,  you  loaf¬ 
ers,”  cried  the  Northern  trees,  “or  you’ll 
nip  yotir  green  wood  in  the  early  frost.” 
But  the  Southern  trees  did  well  for  me 
iu  the  long  run,  and  they  cost  me  less 
than  three  cents  each,  besides  freight. 
I  planted  about  1.500  trees  of  the.  var¬ 
ious  kinds.  There  were  1.000  peaches 
and  they  filled  about  six  acres  when 
planted  a  rod  apart.  Some  of  Hie  ap¬ 
ples  I  set  around  the  house  where  it 
was  too  ledgy  to  cultivate,  hut  I  thought 
I  could  keep  them  growing  with  a  mulch, 
a  method  which  I  expected  to  use  with 
most  of  my  apples,  setting  them  in  the 
roughest  and  steepest  part  of  the  field. 
They  wore  standard  kinds  selected  for 
vigor,  and  including  Stark.  Baldwin, 
Gravenstoin  and  Ben  Davis.  T  reckoned 
that  I  could  regraft  them  if  I  wanted 
other  kinds,  hut  that  such  varieties 
would  best  endure  hard  conditions.  The 
Stark,  by  the  way,  proved  the  most  ac¬ 
commodating.  Tt  made  a  stout  rank 
growth  in  places  where  there  was  little 
hut  ledge  close  beneath,  and  bore  young 
and  profusely,  a  fair  market  grade  of 
fruit.  The  various  kinds  of  fruit  trees 
I  disposed  as  best  I  could,  covering  at 
least  nine  of  my  eleven  acres. 
CHAPTER  VIII. 
Meanwhile  a  few  spells  of  rainy 
weather  gave  me  a  chance  to  finish  my 
house  well  enough  for  the  present  and, 
what  was  more  important,  I  made  my 
real  start  in  poultry.  I  no  longer  felt 
Content  just  to  keep  hens,  after  the  up¬ 
lift.  or  head  swelling,  or  whatever  you 
may  call  it,  which  I  received  at  the  farm 
meeting.  I  had  written  at  once  to  my 
friend.  Editor  Haynes,  and  he  replied 
in  part:  "1  agree  with  you;  it.  would  he 
better  for  you  to  keep  purebred  stock. 
Select  a  breed  with  a  future.  Buy  the 
best  and  most  celebrated  stock  you  can 
find,  no  matter  how  little  of  it  you  start 
with,  begin  with  the  best.  Raise  all  the 
stock  you  can  feed,  then  hustle  for  all 
you  are  worth  to  sell  it.  Unless  you 
eau  sell  stuff  you  will  lose  money,  but 
I  see  no  reason  why  you  can’t  learn. 
Much  of  the  difference  between  just  get¬ 
ting  a  living  and  making  good  money 
is  in  learning  how  to  sell.”  So  I  went 
olf  a  few  miles  the  first  rainy  day  to  see 
Stevens,  n  prize  winner  of  national  rep¬ 
utation  in  a  rather  new  breed,  which,  to 
avoid  apparently  booming  my  own  pet 
variety  I  will  call  Washington  Whites. 
“They  are  comers.”  declared  Stevens, 
a  quiet  fellow  brought  up  among  hens 
and  farm  crops.  "Grow  up  with  u  breed 
and  you  will  prosper.” 
"But  Uncle  Isaac  Welch  told  me  a 
good  bird  of  any  breed  would  always  sell, 
lie  said  he  could  pick  out  a  five  dollar 
pullet  from  almost  any  purebred  flock.” 
“Yes,  he  might,  hut  how  about  the 
rest  of  the  Hock?  Good  for  poultry, 
that’s  all.” 
“How  is  it  different  with  the  Wash¬ 
ington  Whites,  for  instance?” 
“Because  there  arc  many  people  who 
are  new  buyers;  just  want  to  try  the 
breed,  and  they  will  take  the  rest  of  the 
stock  after  the  few  birds  are  sold  that 
will  bring  high  prices,  and  these  cheap 
sales  averaging  a  few  dollars  cash  will 
pay  your  hills!  A  new  man  will  do  best 
with  a  new  breed  anyhow.  There  is  less 
Competition.  The.  cheap  class  of  trade  is 
easier  to  handle.  By  the  time  competi¬ 
tion  grows  close  in  that  breed  he  will 
have  had  time  to  learn  the  fine  points.” 
“You  know  how  to  raise  chickens?” 
he  concluded.  “Get  good  growth  on 
them  ?” 
"Yes.  I  did  well  with  them  when  T 
was  a  hoy.” 
“You're  not  much  more  now,”  lie  re¬ 
plied  with  a  grin.  “Yrou  hatch  with 
hens,  I  suppose?” 
“Yes.” 
“That's  good.  I  tell  you  what  I’ll 
do.  Ynii  buy  two  settings,  from  one  «if 
my  winning  New  Y’ork  prize  pens,  that’s 
ten  dollars.  Then  I’ll  let  you  have  a 
couple  of  hundred  eggs  on  partnership. 
No  charge  for  the  eggs.  You  raise  the 
chickens  and  I  will  pick  out  what  I  want 
in  the  Pall  at  a  dollar  and  a  half  each.” 
“But  that  would  leave  me  only  the 
culls,”  T  objected. 
“I  would  rather  have  culls  from  a  good 
prize  winning  strain  to  use  for  breed¬ 
ing  stock,  .than  the  best,  birds  from  a 
poor  strain,  besides  you  will  have  smile 
that  you  raise  yourself  from  I  he  t  wo 
settings.” 
As  I  had  no  money  to  buy  many  eggs 
outright,  I  accepted  the  plan.  I  took 
the  eggs  in  two  lots,  and  set  them  as 
(Continued  on  page  SO!).) 
