672 
P* RURAL NEW-YORKER 
May 13, 1922 
HOPE FARM NOTES 
We have just passed through the most 
trying experience that can fall to the lot 
of a fruit grower. At tlie* battle of Water¬ 
loo the French and English battled all 
day. and as night came on they stood 
about even. It all depended on whether 
the Prussians could break through and 
aid the English. For at that day political 
lines were somewhat crossed; England 
was fraternizing with Prussia, not light¬ 
ing her. The issue meant much to the 
world. If the Prussians could be held 
back. Napoleon stood a good chance of 
driving the English into the woods which 
lay behind them. This would have broken 
their army, and left the French with a 
chance to invade England. It had long 
been Napoleon’s dream to reach the island 
of Britain as conqueror. If the Prussians 
broke through and caught the French on 
the flank, it meant another island for 
Napoleon—St. Helena, not as conqueror, 
but as a prisoner! They were anxious 
hours for both Wellington and Napoleon. 
The world knows how the Prussians got 
through thin French defense and made 
it St. Helena for the emperor. You may 
say that the battle of Waterloo had little 
to do with fruit-growing in New Jersey, 
yet. as night fell, I thought of those 
agonizing hours during the battle, and I 
felt that many a plain farmer in our 
territory, like the great emperor, was 
eating out his heart in fear that the 
enemy would break through. 
***** 
A fierce north ‘wind was blowing down 
from the hills. It was overcoat weather, 
and the mercury was falling. The plum 
and cherry and peach were in full (lower, 
and the early apples were just opening. 
There were the tender, vital works of 
the flower without defense, “naked to their 
enemies.” and the weather growing so cold 
that the cat and dog came to the window 
and begged to be taken in. Some of you 
know just what this means. You are at 
middle age or past it. For years you 
have worked to develop an orchard. 
Through the waiting years there has been 
little income. The crops grown between 
the trees have about paid expenses and 
no more. Your people have at times lost 
faith in the enterprise. With the im¬ 
patience of youth they demanded immedi¬ 
ate returns. Strange it is that while 
youth ought to be the ideal time for pa¬ 
tient waiting, it is really the period of im¬ 
patience. Your children have grown tired 
of the long round of unremunerative or¬ 
chard work, and it has required all your 
faith and powers of persuasion to hold 
your people to the job. And yesterday 
the crowning joy and triumph of these 
long, waiting years burst in upon you. 
The peach orchard suddenly turned to 
a mass of pink. The cherry orchard on 
the brow of the high hill flashed- into a 
white mass which was visible for miles 
away. The hill arose like the noble head 
of some strong man crowned with the 
full glory of whitened hair. The apples 
were showing masses of pink among their 
green leaves, the buds just ready to burst 
open. It seemed to you the most beauti¬ 
ful thing y-m had ever seen, because it 
meant the working out of a miracle 
through work and discouragement and 
faith. It came on Sunday, this glory of 
promise, and as evening came on you 
walked down the hill through all this 
beauty, a better man with a kindlier out¬ 
look on life and a finer faith in the great, 
invisible power which determines des¬ 
tiny. Your life was being justified. 
***** 
And yet what a difference 24 hours have 
made! Here you sit before your fire 
shivering as the cold wind finds its way 
through the crack in the window. The 
little children broke that pane of glass 
playing ball. You could not even scold 
them at the time, for the fruit prospects 
were perfect. Now some imp is knocking 
ar ynnr brain and quoting from Proverbs: 
“He that spare!b his rod hateth his son.” 
You go out and look at the thermometer 
hanging in the barnyard, then you regret 
that you ever went near it, for the mer¬ 
cury is slowly dropping, and that fierce 
wind is stronger than ever. You put your 
hand into the water tub. No use talking, 
in the dark you feel a little skim of ice 
forming on the surface. You see the 
trees swaying in the wind, and that gives 
a little courage. As you come back to 
the fire, all the family look at you with 
anxious eyes, for they know* what all this 
means. Why should you frighten them? 
Let them cling to hope as long as their 
fingers can hold. So you put. up a good 
front, and say : 
“Oh, I hope for the best. This w ind is 
shaking the branches so that it will be 
hard for the moving buds to freeze. I 
hope they will get through.” 
The very last of the apples are over in 
the cellar. This seems the most appro¬ 
priate time for eating them. In truth, 
they are mostly Ben Davis, and poor 
specimens at that. hut. a year hence we 
may be worse off than now. At any rate, 
we have plenty of rhubarb. There’s a 
plant that can laugh at the cold, so we 
shall have plenty of vegetable acid at 
least: I have no doubt that both Welling¬ 
ton and Napoleon at the battle of Water¬ 
loo “jollied themselves’’ in much the same 
way. Yet in his heart Wellington knew 
lmw thin were his “squares” which were 
to hold back the French cavalry. Na¬ 
poleon knew that his splendid artillery 
was failing because the shells fell in the 
deep mud, where they would not explode, 
or if they did. spent most of their energy 
in throwing mud. So you before your 
fire knew in your heart that t.Le bloom 
on those trees was all open and without, 
defense. A few days before or a few days 
later there would have been protection. 
They were like the Swiss at. Sempaeli. 
The Austrians were regular soldiers, with 
long lances and coats of mail. The Swiss 
were mostly peasants, armed with stones 
and sticks and scythes. The story goes 
that Arnold von Winkelried caught a 
dozen spears in his body, and in falling 
dragged open a space through which the 
Swiss farmers ran. and with their rude 
weapons broke the Austrian line. Your 
buds are more exposed than the Swiss, 
and there is no Winkelried to save them. 
Yon never thought that your reading of 
history would help you at such a time, 
but as you listen to the roaring wind, it 
is something of a comfort to think that all 
through the world men have faced troubles 
which seemed large enough to swamp 
them and yet floated over the wave. A 
city man tells me I ought to have used 
smudge pots and bonfires. In the high 
wind over our hills the heat would never 
have remained anywhere near the trees. 
***** 
I have no doubt many a fruit grower 
lay awftke far into that night, listening 
to the wind and thinking. In many cases 
these men had borrowed money to carry 
their crops. They depended < u this fruit 
crop to pay their hills and carry them 
through. To some of them o-f feeble will 
the darkness around their beds seemed 
peopled with shadowy forms—creditors 
and note-holders, who held out their bauds 
and whispered: "I'oi/ me that thou 
Otoe*//” There were others who had 
stronger faith. They still held on to 
hope, and were planning what they could 
raise if. after all. the fruit was killed. I 
hear of one girl just graduating from 
high school. If the buds were killed, she 
would be obliged r,. give up her college 
course. She told her father that per¬ 
haps they could live a little cheaper, for 
she had learned that there were about as 
many vitamines in raw cabbage as there 
are in milk! It was an anxious night 
for many. 1 was out. in the early morn¬ 
ing. There were traces of frost in the 
shaded places, and a thick skint of ice on 
the tub. but the trees were still waiving 
and shaking in the eld wind. As nearly 
as I can tell now. the plums and sweet 
cherries were nearly all killed. There 
may he a few fruits from belated bloom. 
The sour cherries may be half a crop. 
There are a few peaches left: perhaps we 
may find one-third of a crop when all the 
returns are in. The apples do not seem 
to be greatly injured yet. They are prob¬ 
ably weakened somewhat, and there will 
be a heavy “June drop.” All open straw¬ 
berry bloom was killed. On the whole, 
we come out better than I expected. I 
think the high wind helped by keeping 
the branches constantly moving. It was 
an anxious and nervous time for all of us. 
for tliis is the second season in succession 
that a late frost, has nipped us. There 
are many who lost nil their fruit and most 
of their early vegetables. If this frost 
could have eoi. o to all of us and destroyed 
about half.of the fruit in every orchard, 
it would not have been such a calamity, 
for it would have meant good prices for 
all. The unhappy thing about it is that 
some have lost everything while others 
have a fair crop left. Those of us who 
have some fruit will profit by the misfor¬ 
tune nf others, for the scarcity caused 
by killing will make our prices high. The 
experience shows anew that all special 
farming properties, like fruit-growing, 
commercial egg production and gardemng, 
ore really go milling enterprises. We play 
against Nature, the surest and most fate¬ 
ful eard player that ever took a hand in 
the game. Yet on high-priced laud and 
with present high expenses one must take 
some chances, and be a philosopher when 
things go wrong. It is not only the 
weather, hut tile freaks and notions of 
varieties which upset our plans. Take, 
for example, the Baldwin apple. It used 
to he considered the surest kind of a 
steadfast friend—always sure to stand un 
every other year with a fine crop. Yet 
this year our Baldwins ate as shy as a 
village belle. It is their bearing year, 
and they have had good care, yet there is 
little or no bloom. I doubt if they have 
fully recovered from the freezing they 
got during that terrible Jwar Winter. 
Bight beside then, McIntosh is full of 
bloom, and as tough as a pine knot. No 
more Baldwins for me. Well, we have 
been through the freeze and have come 
out better than I expected. There may be 
others on the way, but—who’s afraid? 
rr. w. c. 
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