1905. 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER 
427 
Hope Farm Notes 
Farm Notes. —We searched the skies for 
some days, though we know that never brings 
rain. Clouds formed, but blew off west or 
north, and the ground remained dry and hard. 
It was a good thing we had that manure 
around the young trees. At last we woke up 
one morning and found the ground wet. There 
had been a light shower in the night. Jersey 
weather is not unlike the traits of Jerseymeu 
Both are hard to change, and stick to one 
thing a long time. We knew that shower 
was the first of a series, so Philip and the 
boys began at once to transplant cabbage, let¬ 
tuce and similar truck. The onions are not 
quite ready to set out yet. We have learned 
by experience that damp soil is not so neces¬ 
sary with the onions, because they will start 
and grow without much trouble. Looking 
back on Saturday night, at the second week 
ir. May, 1 felt that we had accomplished 
something. The sweet corn in the front held 
was planted, and the potatoes in the currant 
Held. That was a hard job, as such planting 
must be done with great care. The manure 
for the pepper field has been hauled and 
spread, and we are all ready to plow it. Jack 
has his chicken coops made and occupied. 
We have made good progress at hoeing around 
the young trees, and the Japanese millet has 
been seeded. The children are greatly inter¬ 
ested in this crop. News from the war has 
been scarce of late. Our little folks can’t 
understand why those war fleets don't get at 
each other. It will not be half so exciting to 
see the Japanese millet drive the wolf away 
from the cow barn next Winter, but, after all, 
that is a better fight. As I have said, i sow 
this millet in order to “occupy the land" 
until August, when I intend to plow the field 
and sow Alfalfa’ alone. I have never had 
great success with this millet before, but I 
think I am more responsible for failure than 
the millet was, and so I shall try it again. 
Helping Mother. —The kitchen help prob¬ 
lem is the toughest proposition at Hope Farm 
just now. Mother is face to face with house- 
cleaning and housework, with such help as 
she can pick up. 
Wanted, a woman! 
I think we could find almost anything by 
posting a notice on our road sign, but women 
who will actually do housework and help in 
a reliable way are less numerous than honest 
men ! Call for typewriters or “salesladies” 
or clerks and the yard couldn’t hold the 
crowd. Call for a girl or woman to do house¬ 
work, and the kitchen stove would rust before 
anyone heard the call. We want good help 
in the house, and so do hundreds of others, 
but where is it coming from? 
Our folks had some experience last Winter 
helping Uncle Ed take care of his boarders, 
and this experience is like a cushion for 
them now. One good thing about the Hope 
Farm family is that: we can line up at the 
end of the week and get more comfort out of 
our baked beans and rice pudding than some 
people do (I will not say can) out of a 15- 
course dinner. Mother can do the mixing 
and superintending, and the rest of us fill in. 
For example, Sunday morning the Hope 
Farm man got up and started the fire and 
called the boys. By the time Mother ap¬ 
peared he had the water hot and the milk 
skimmed. Mother got the fishballs ready, 
and then mixed the biscuits, while the little 
girl fried the balls. The other little girl got 
on a chair and ground the coffee, but it was 
a hard job for her. The hoys set the table, 
and as everybody had a hand at breakfast 
we pronounced it one of those rare occa¬ 
sions when a large number of cooks make 
good broth. It was raining hard, but Mother 
finally started for church with the hoy. 
Lyon washed the dishes, and we helped wipe. 
Then the little girls wanted to get dinner. 
Mother had told them what to do. They 
peeled the potatoes and got the roast of pork 
in the oven, and the peas in the stewpan, and 
opened the jar of fruit. Jack and I acted 
as a sort of advisory committee. 
“Oh. Father, won’t you come and look at 
the potatoes to see if they are done?” 
That anxious little voice would pipe up 
just as I got into my book by the open fire, or 
“Father, won’t you come and look at the 
pork ?” 
I was glad to know that my judgment was 
considered so valuable. Mother came riding 
home at last through the cold rain to find 
two smiling little cooks, all ready to mash 
the potatoes. Those who prefer well-done 
meat might have criticised that pork, hut 
they wouldn’t have done so in the hearing of 
our little cooks. Mother devoted her criti¬ 
cism to the Hope Farm man for not keeping 
up the fire. In view of the tendency of so 
many women to run away from Housework, I 
am well nlcased to see our little girls glad to 
help Mother. While the potatoes were cook¬ 
ing the little girl came in to try to learn to 
play “Rocked In the Cradle of the Deep,” be¬ 
cause Father likes that song! Oh, we get on, 
but we would get on much faster if we had 
good help. If any woman wants a good 
housekeeping job we have the job! 
Frpit Matters. —We have begun our ex¬ 
periment of planting grapevines along the 
stone walls. Thus far 50 each Concord, 
Moore’s Early and Worden have been put in 
on the south side of the walls. We take 
small vines, cut the top back to about two 
buds and clip the roots off close. Small holes 
are made with the grub hoe about three feet 
out from the wall and eight feet apart. We 
shall give each vine a forkful 0 ? good manure 
and keep the weeds and brush cut down. The 
vines will be staked so they will grow up 
about as high as the top of the wall, and then 
left to run over it. T was led into this ex¬ 
periment by watching some wild vines which 
were started beside- a part of the wall. 
They have made a vigorous growth, and the 
fruit is larger and a little better in quality 
than any other wild grapes I can find. T do 
not exnect a heavy yield of fruit from vines 
planted in this way. but I expect to produce 
a fair ouantity of very fine eating grapes at 
little cost. If these vines do well I shall 
cover all the walls in this way. . . . Mr. 
Van Deman and other good men have said : 
“Never plant trees in growing grain or sow 
oats in a young orchard.” I am not so sure 
about that “never.” Two years ago I bad 
some young Fall-planted trees in rye. It had 
been a dry season, and on Decoration Day 
the rye had grown higher than the trees. 
They did look sick, and Mr. Van Deman felt 
sure that the rye had either killed them or 
crippled them beyond recovery by sucking all 
the moisture out of the soil. I will now ad¬ 
mit that be frightened me, but I cut the rye 
and piled it around the trees. They were 
slow that Summer, but all lived, and to-dav 
I do not believe Mr. Van Deman could tell 
by their appearance which trees he thought 
would die. I nave a low field which has not 
yet been ditched as we plan, but 1 wanted to 
plant irees in it, so last year 1 sowed rye. 
My belief was that the rye would make a 
rank growth and thus dry out the ground so 
I hat the trees would not be injured. This 
has proved true. The field is considerably 
drier than another bare place by its side. 
The rye must have sucked tons of water out 
of it. The trees have started well. “Never” 
is a hard and strong word. 
All Sorts.— Those who want to read about 
transplanted onions should send for a bulletin 
on onion culture issued by the New Mexico 
Station, Mesilla Bark, N. Mex. It seems that 
even in that country transplanted onions pay. 
.Most people object to transplanting because 
they say it costs too much. Figures in this 
bulletin show that it costs about $50 to set 
out the plants on an acre, assuming that a 
man can set 5,000 plants a day. That 
would be one every seven seconds in a 10- 
hour day, and I should be constantly re¬ 
minded that 1 had a back if I tried it With 
a boy to drop the plants for him an active 
man might do it, but he would have no time 
to tell stories or look at the scenery. With 
all that I think the work of transplanting is 
less than thinning or weeding with the fin¬ 
gers. The real objection to transplanting is 
the difficulty in doing it all at once. It will 
not do to let it dawdle along. When you are 
ready to transplant put all hands at it and 
see that they work. I am satisfied that it 
pays us to thin or transplant so as to grow 
the big onions. It pays an onion or a man 
to cut out some of the little things and put 
their energies into a few good ones! . . . 
Our old horse Major sets an example for some 
men and women. No one knows how many 
years the old fellow has counted. Last year 
he broke his hoof off. and I was tempted to 
have him shot, but Mother and the children 
said No ! The old fellow ran in the pasture, 
grew a new hoof, passed the Winter in a box 
stall and this Spring turned up in great 
spirits. He trots off on errands, gives good 
advice to the little brown colt, and does his 
best up to his limit. The other day Philip 
and Jack started to haul manure. They used 
Nellie and Frank for half a day, and then 
put Major in Nellie's place. The old horse 
didn't like it, but he pulled until he came 
to a hill, and then he quit. It wasn't a balk, 
but he looked around at that manure and 
shook his head ! He said just as plainly as 
though talking through a megaphone: “Gen¬ 
tlemen, this is too much for me, and I know 
it. I will do your errands or haul a culti¬ 
vator or do anything that is within my power, 
but this is too big a job. I am an old horse, 
my joints are stiff and my bones are brittle. 
If you had called on me for this 15 years ago 
I would have responded, but you will have to 
look to younger legs for this work. Sorry I 
can’t accommodate you, gentlemen, but you 
ask too much of me !” 
The old horse looked over his blinders like 
an old man looking over his spectacles—far 
back to boyhood—and went to eating grass! 
He had heard Mother express her sentiments 
about the old and faithful, and he knew that 
no one would club him while she was on the 
farm. So he gnawed grass like a philosopher 
until they unhitched him and put Nellie in 
his place. I have seen elderly men sit in cars 
while strong and vigorous women stood up. 
Such old men and Major were what I call 
sensible. When this performance was report¬ 
ed to Mother she said : 
“I am glad ! The old horse knows!” 
He does! I have heard elderly people say : 
“Wear the oldest out first!” while they ran 
errands and did the drudgery for young, 
strong people. Mother and old Major do not 
subscribe to that proposition. They believe 
in oats for the old horse as well as for the 
colt, and rocking chair for Grandmother as 
well as for the girls ! h. w. c. 
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see that you secure them. 
Huckins, Temple & Wood, 
Only Hakers 
BOSTON 
* ■■ ■ ■ i ■ - 
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8 
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