1204 
September  16,  1916. 
Ghe  R  U  RAL  JM  E  W-YO  R  K  E  R 
No  Other  Tire 
Tempts  Goodyear  Users 
HOPE  FARM  NOTES 
“  His  Hungering  Neighbor” 
Spiritual  Ambitions.- — There  came  a 
chill  in  the  air  on  the  first  Saturday  night 
in  September,  and  I  started  a  blaze  in  my 
open  fireplace.  Winter  has  not  come,  but 
this  first  blaze  is  like  a  signal  to  the  frost, 
king,  and  we  know  he  will  come  later. 
His  coming  means  trouble  for  nianj  —and 
dealh  to  the  flowers  and  fruits.  So  it  is 
but  natural  that  one  who  can  sec  old 
friends  and  something  of  the  future  in  an 
open  tire  should  shut  off  the  lights,  pull 
tip  his  chair,  eat  his  baked  apple  and  con¬ 
sider  things.  At  such  times  I  let  ideas 
chase  themselves  through  the  brain  until 
the  strongest  one  prevails.  That  night  it 
chanced  to  he  iny  young  friend  William 
Green  and  his  desire  for  "spiritual  work.” 
I  call  him  William,  because  he  has  some¬ 
thing  of  a  will  and  milch  to  learn  yet  in 
the  green  pastures  of  life.  William  is  a 
young  man  of  high  ideals,  line  character 
and  good  education.  One  trouble  with 
him  is  that  both  religion  and  education 
have  pulled  his  feet  away  from  the 
ground.  lie's  up  in  the  air  chasing  ideals 
— trying  to  put  salt  on  their  tails,  while 
his  feet  are  so  far  off  the  earth  that  he 
cannot  take  the  saving  salt  out  of  human 
life. 
Great  Deeds. — William  walked  into 
The  Tt.  N.-Y,  office  and  looked  down  into 
the  hot  and  dusty  street.  He  saw  about 
as  much  chance  for  spiritual  work  there 
as  a  thirsty  man  would  see  in  a  desert. 
He  wanted  to  do  big  things  in  the  world, 
as  most  men  of  small  experience  do. 
There  are  hundreds  of  great  evils,  and  he 
wanted  to  get  thorn  together  in  a  hunch 
and  knock  them.  Bight  where  he  stood 
he  saw  little  evidences  of  sin  and  grief, 
poverty  and  trouble,  drift  by,  but  there 
was  nothing  large  or  ideal  about  them. 
Had  William  lived  1,000  years  ago  he 
would  have  mounted  a  horse,  put  on  his 
armor  and  gone  out  hunting  for  large 
troubles,  though  he  wouldn’t  have  called 
it  quite  that.  Here  was  a  mind  1.000 
years  hack  in  history  with  the  body 
brought,  down  to  date.  The  world  is  well 
filled  with  such  young  fellows.  Finally 
I  asked  : 
"Did  you  ever  read  ‘The  Vision  of  Sir 
La  unfa  1,’  by  .Tames  Russell  Lowell?” 
'  "My  gobTen  spurs  now  bring  to  me 
Anil  tiring  to  me  my  richest  mail 
l  or  to-morrow  I  go  over  lain!  and  sea 
In  sen  reh  of  the  Holy  (trail,’* 
Of  course  lie  had  read  it,  but  his  feet 
were  oft-  the  ground  and  he  had  not 
caught  the  poet’s  meaning.  It  was  12 
o’clock,  and  so  I  put  on  my  hat  and  said : 
“Come,  let’s  play  Sir  Launfal  to  the  ex¬ 
tent  of  hunting  something  to  eat.” 
A.\  Umpire  Wanted. — The  street  lay 
hot  ami  dusty  in  the  bright  sunshine.  A 
crowd  of  rather  ragged  and  dirty  little 
boys  were  playing  ball.  They  did  not 
own  any  baseball  and  bat.  blit  played 
with  a  "busted"  rubber  ball,  the  "hatter” 
hitting  it  with  his  fist.  "Third  base”  was 
a  circle  chalked  out  on  the  sidewalk,  and 
just  as  we  reached  it  there  was  chance 
for  a  close  decision,  as  the  ball  and  the 
runner  reached  it  about,  together.  I 
thought  he  was  out  and  stopped  and 
waved  my  hand  like  an  umpire.  In  an 
instant  the  entire  crowd  of  yelling  urchins 
was  around  me.  It  seemed  just  like  old 
times — when  I  umpired  a  game  in  Mis¬ 
sissippi  and  a  backwoodsman  drew  a  knife 
with  which  to  slice  up  the  umpire! 
"Here,  William.”  I  said,  "is  where  Sir 
Launfal  gets  his  first  chance.  Buy  these 
boys  a  new  rubber  ball,  umpire  their 
game  and  show  them  how!” 
But  William  couldn’t  see  it.  The  girls 
might  pass  and  see  him.  There  was  noth¬ 
ing  ideal  about  it — and  we  passed  on. 
The  Rr.lND  Man. — Along  the  ave¬ 
nue,  on  a  corner,  where  the  hu¬ 
man  tide  ran  full  at  noon,  stood 
a  blind  man  with  a  bunch  of  shoe 
strings  and  pins  for  sale.  Tic  had  a  noble 
head  and  a  pleasant  face,  and  those  sight¬ 
less  eyes  were  uplifted  so  that  at  least 
the  poor  fellow  might  feel  the  sun  upon 
his  face.  It:  seemed  to  me  that  it  must 
have  been  just  such  an  uplifted  face 
which  years  ago  in  Judea  moved  the  great 
Master  of  mankind  to  compassion  so  that 
the  man  was  cured  “that  the  work*  of 
God  miftht  he  made  manifest  in  him." 
“Here.  William,”  I  said,  “is  Sir  Laun- 
fal’s  second  chance.  They  tell  me  you 
are  a  fine  singer  with  a  cultivated  voice. 
Stand  up  beside  this  poor  fellow,  take 
off  your  hat,  and  sing  ‘The  Holy  Git.v.’ 
‘The  Palms,’  or  something  you  know 
better.  When  you  are  done  I  will  explain 
about  it  and  pass  the  hat  for  this  blind 
man.  There  will  he  the  pure  gold  of  love 
and  service  in  your  voice.  You  never  can 
sing  better,  and  this  poor  fellow  will  reap 
t  harvest,  and  every  man  and  woman  who 
helps  will  feel  a  heart  glow  for  a  week. 
'  ’oino.  here  is  what  you  are  hunting  for — 
Sir  Launfal !” 
But  singing  on  a  hot  street  corner  be¬ 
side  a  poor  and  rather  ragged  blind  man 
was  no  job  for  the  man  of  high  ideals. 
Take  him  on  a  moonlight  night  serenad¬ 
ing  the  girls  or  take  him  in  some  church 
'•hoir  with  the  organ  sobbing  and  the 
fights  dim  and  low,  and  you  would  have 
heard  from  William.  It  was  a  very  dif- 
erent  thing  to  sing  where  the  hot  dust 
lew  down  your  throat  in  order  that 
.orking  people  might  give  their  dimes 
ind  nickels  to  a  poor  blind  man.  So  we 
assed  on,  but  I  am  glad  the  blind  man 
did  not  hear  William’s  refusal,  or  that 
the  sightless  eyes  did  not  see  the  dis¬ 
gusted  look  on  his  face.  He  did,  how¬ 
ever.  buy  a  pair  of  shoestrings  for  25 
cents  and  walked  off  without,  any  change. 
“One  Of  These  Lttti.k  Ones." — We 
passed  through  a  railroad  station  where 
a  great  crowd  of  humanity,  gathered  from 
all  over  the  nation,  waited  for  distribu¬ 
tion.  Yon  may  find  all  classes  or  degrees 
of  human  life  in  this  great  station.  The 
young,  the  old.  the  rich,  the  poor,  the 
sick,  the  well  are  here,  for  the  moment, 
upon  an  equal  footing;  for  fingers  reach 
in  from  every  corner  of  the  world  to  join 
the  great  hand  clasp  of  humanity.  A 
beautiful  young  woman  came  down  the 
steps  carrying  a  lmtidbag.  She  was  a 
strong,  healthy  girl,  and  the  labor  of  car¬ 
rying  that  bag  was  as  nothing  beside  the 
work  which  I  knew  William’s  mother  had 
done  for  years,  yet  he  and  three  other 
young  men.  rushed  forward  and  offered  to 
carry  the  bag.  She  very  properly  smiled 
at  them — and  hired  a  porter  to  assist 
her ! 
A  little  beyond  I  noticed  a  woman 
evidently  from  Southern  Europe.  She 
had  a  red  handkei  chief  tied  over  her  black 
hair  and  a  white  one  around  her  neck. 
Her  dress  stood  out  around  her  like  those 
I  have  seen  of  old  pictures  of  my  mother, 
when  I  am  told,  they  wove  "hoop  skirts.” 
There  were  three  enormous  bundles 
grouped  around  her.  She  held  a  baby  in 
her  arms  and  two  wide-eyed  little  chil¬ 
dren  hung  to  her  dress.  Funny?  I  could 
not  find  it  so.  for  the  whole  story  came  up 
before  me.  The  old  pathetic  story  of  the 
immigrant.  Here  was  the  young  wife 
and  mother  daring  the  sen,  facing  the  ter¬ 
rors  of  a  strange  land,  in  order  that  she 
might  join  her  husband  and  make  a  new 
home.  Funny?  Yes.  hut  in  time  she 
will  shed  that  gaudy  kerchief  and  that 
balloon-like  dress  and  those  clumsy  shoes 
and  those  quiet,  wide-eyed  children  will 
grow  up  to  love  and  defend  this  country. 
William  had  his  eye  on  a  group  of  girls 
nearby,  but  1  pulled  his  arm  and  pointed 
to  the  woman. 
"William.”  I  said,  "here  is  where  Sir 
Launfal  goes  to  hat  for  the  third  and  last 
time.  There  are  two  Strikes  on  him  and 
no  balls.  This  one  is  straight  over  the 
plate.  You  must  hit  it  or  go  out  on 
strikes.  That  woman  is  hungry  and 
faint.  She  is  frightened  and  fearful,  and 
has  no  friends.  That  baby  needs  milk, 
and  those  other  children  need  bread  and 
butter.  Let’s  give  them  a  feast.  You 
carry  the  baby  and  lead  one  child.  I 
will  take  the  other  and  at  least  one  bun¬ 
dle.  We  will  take  them  all  into  the  res¬ 
taurant  and  fdl  them  up  with  food  and 
friendly  hope.  Then  we  will  see  that 
they  get  the  train.  Come — I’ll  take  the 
one  with  the  dirty  face!” 
Did  William  come?  Not  very  far.  To 
carry  the  young  lady’s  handbag  was 
pleasant  work  for  a  hero — to  carry  not 
overly  clean  babies  and  big  bundles  for 
European  immigrants  was  quite  another 
thing.  lie  might  have  paid  for  a  lunch, 
but  no  personal  services  in  that  line. 
Imagine  Sir  Percival  Sydney  1,000  years 
ago  putting  on  his  armor  and  riding  out 
for  great  deeds.  Suppose  some  crippled 
man  asked  him  to  stop  and  help  saw 
wood,  or  suppose  some  tired  woman 
asked  him  to  help  with  the  washing! 
Nothing  to  ft.  and  so  Sir  Launfal  went 
out  on  strikes! 
The  Beauty  of  It. — Thinking  this 
over  in  the  dim  light  of  my  fire  brought 
Lowell’s  beautiful  poem  to  mind.  So  I 
struck  up  the  light,  hunted  the  book  and 
read  it  over.  You  will  get  what  I  mean 
from  the  last  of  it:  Sir  Launfal,  after 
wandering  unsuccessfully  over  the  world 
after  the  Holy  Grail,  came  home  to  find 
a  leper  begging  for  alms: 
"Ami  Sir  T.nnnffil  said:  "I  behold  Su  thee 
An  imago  o t  Him  who  died  on  the  tree 
Thou  also  host  had  thy  crown  of  thorns 
Timu  also  bust  hail  the  world's  htUTets  and  scorns 
And  to  tli.v  life  wore  not  denied 
Tin-  Wounds  in  the  hands  nmf  feet  and  side. 
Mild  Mary’s  sou,  acknowledge  Jim, 
Behold,  through  him,  I  give  to  thee!" 
The  poem  goes  on  to  show  how  Sir 
Launfal  shared  his  last  crust  with  the 
leper.  Then  there  stood  before  him  a 
figure  glorified. 
“Shining  and  tall  and  fair  and  straight.” 
and  a  voice  was  heard  speaking: 
“I.o,  it  is  I,  be  not  afraid! 
In  many  ■  limes,  without  avail 
Thou  hast  spent  thy  life  for  the  Holy  Grail. 
Behold  it  here — this  cup  which  thou 
Diils’t  fill  at  the  streamlet  for  me  lint  now 
This  ernst  is  my  body  broken  for  thee. 
This  water  His  blood  that  died  on  the  tree. 
The  Holy  Supper  is  kept,  indeed. 
In  whotso  we  share  with  another’s  need 
Not  wbat  we  give  but  what  we  share 
For  the  gift  without  the  giver  is  bare 
Who  given  himself  with  Ills  alms  feeds  three 
Himself,  his  hungering  neighbor  and  me!” 
What  of  It? — It  seems  to  me  that 
“preaching”  is  about,  the  poorest  thing  in 
the.  world.  It  is  a  thankless  job  to  all 
except  a  few  who  really  seem  to  enjoy  it. 
I  wish  that  all  of  you  could  read  this 
poem  now  that  Winter  is  sending  out  its 
first  hints.  One  great  trouble  with  farm¬ 
ing  is  that  there  are  too  many  like  my 
friend  William — good  men.  but  they  are 
up  in  the  air.  The  world  needs  personal 
service  more  than  it  needs  science  or  star 
gazing.  You  may  not  agree  with  me, 
but  there  can  he  no  higher  human  ideal 
than  the  recorded  life  of  “Him  who  died 
on  the  tree.”  That  is  the  only  ideal  by 
which  our  farm  troubles  can  ev:*r  be 
remedied.  It  may  seem  like  a  strange 
doctrine,  but.  Only  through  personal  ser¬ 
vice  to  those  who  are  poorer  and  weaker 
(Continued  on  page  1224) 
THERE  are  still 
thousands  who 
think  that  one  tire  is 
much  like  another. 
But  the  largest  single 
group  of  tire  buyers  in 
America  evidently  does 
not  think  so. 
The  proof  of  this  is, 
that  they  continue  to 
buy  one  Goodyear  equip¬ 
ment  after  another,  year 
after  year. 
If  they  did  not  prefer 
Goodyear  Tires  to  any 
others,  they  would  sure¬ 
ly  be  tempted  away  by 
the  lower  prices  on  scores 
of  others. 
But  they  are  not 
tempted  away. 
Goodyear  branches, 
Goodyear  Service  Station 
Dealers,  Goodyear  sales¬ 
men  all  say  the  same 
thing — that  these  cus¬ 
tomers  buy,  and  buy, 
and  buy  again. 
Goodyear  buyers  are 
sane,  clear-headed,  care¬ 
ful  buyers  like  yourself. 
They  firmly  believe  in 
Goodyear  quality  and 
Goodyear  features,  be¬ 
cause  they  have  found 
that  they  make  these 
tires  go  farther,  last 
longer  and  so  cost  less 
in  the  end. 
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Akron,  Ohio 
Good-Year  tires 
