543 
MOT. 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
Hope Farm Notes 
Two Days. —Something of an idea of 
the variety of farm life may be gained 
by the record of two days. On June 25, 
as night came on, I sat on our front 
porch, reviewing the day's .foceedings^ $ p% s Tdent'7t7awbe7riesT " to can the fruit by itself and add sugar 
later. You will have some eternal facts 
Strawberries. —Our fruit was slow to to back you up, but if you save sugar you 
ripen, but finally it came .with a rush, all beat me. Or take the dish washer with 
varieties in a bunch. It was an unusual a pile of greasy dishes, and inform her 
thing to see Gandy ripening with Glen that a little spray of kerosene on these 
Mary. I was afraid the cold, wet season dishes will cleanse them quickly. Again 
had hurt our crop severely. President you will have chemists' and various other 
has an imperfect flower, and needs thor- w ise men waving you on—at a safe dis 
ough pollenizing in order to do its best. 
The bees could not work at the time they 
were most needed, and there were many 
nubbins as a result. The best of the 
fruit, however, was better than I have 
Our folks were just starting 
strawberry festival at the chapel. I had 
been having a festival of hoeing in my 
strawberries, and part of it remained in 
rny back and knees, so I stayed at home 
to keep house. We had sent along a half 
crate of what we fondly believed to be 
the finest berries in the county. Our 
folks wanted to take some berries that 
would “beat them all.” While this seems 
to me hardly the humble spirit with which 
to approach a church gathering, I confess 
that I fell in with the idea. We sent some 
berries as large as apples—so large that 
they had to cut them up when they were 
served. It took three vehicles to carry 
the Hope Farm folks, and they finally 
turned the corner with many a backward 
wave. It could not be said that life 
showed all its wrinkles as I stretched out 
on that comfortable chair and watched the 
moon sail up over the eastern ridge. We 
had put in a lively day. Merrill had 
harrowed the field where we cut the rye, 
and had planted sweet corn over half of 
it. Henry kept the cultivator moving and 
Jack and I had moved several tons of dirt 
with our hoes. We all had a hand in 
picking those great berries. My fingers 
felt as if a quarter of an inch had been 
worn off the ends, and something caught 
in my back, but we had accomplished 
something. The farm never was cleaner 
•—the prospect never more hopeful. It 
was very hot and dry, and on the harder 
ground the strawberries acted like a 
thirsty man. Every wagon that passed 
sent up a cloud of dust. A gentle rain 
some night after all had gone to sleep 
would be good, but here was the wheat 
and the Alfalfa all ready to cut and a few 
more weeds to be turned up to the hot 
sun! From a farmer’s standpoint the 
world was bright and the moon seemed 
to smile like an old friend who rejoices 
in your good fortune. 
* * * * 
On June 29 I stood up against it as 
long as I could, but an extra jolt at half 
past four let me know I had had enough! 
It in this case was about the meanest rain 
I think I ever knew. Encouraged by our 
bright weather, we cut down all our fine 
wheat and our Alfalfa. The Weather 
Bureau said “continued fair.” Thev 
couldn’t find any storm in the country, ex¬ 
cept a small one in Dakota. So 1 told 
the boys we could jump that hay into the 
barn on Saturday, and have something ex¬ 
tra to be thankful for on Sunday. When 
I looked out of the window Saturday 
When you write advertisers mention The 
quick reply and 
grow large enough to realize how small a argue with her about the use of sugar. . 
place in the economy of Nature we fill, Take her just over a hot stove on a July • •'' • „ s naM « 
we forget that there is a responsible day, with her fruit ready for the cans, 
and competent power over us still. pud tell her not to use sugar in the cook- 
“Supper! Supper!!” called the little boy ing fruit. Explain the chemical changes 
with a voice sharpened by hunger. We that take place, and show how the sugar 
let the rain go without further comment loses its "sweetness when cooked with 
baked beans and the fruit, and how it is more economical 
The WAGON to BUY. 
tance—but they will all go down before- 
“What, put kerosene on my dishes? No, 
sir!” 
Of if you want an easier one that has 
to do with the foundations of society, try 
ever known. I hear people argue that it the following: 
does not pay to grow these monsters. You Find some family where Father and 
can grow a basket of small berries in mat- Mother are bound that their children shall 
ted rows for less money, and for the have “things easier than I did.” It is all 
ordinary market I will agree that the big Father can do to get along. Fie has to 
berries may not pay. If you can reach a dodge some bills, but he and Mother must 
fancy market, however, there is no ques- keep up with “society.” They try to keep 
tion about the profit in big berries. Every step with people who have far more 
box is an advertisement. We sent one money than they have, and the entire 
crate of big fellows by express. A man household lesson is one of snobbery and 
at a station saw them go by on the train, cheap imitation. Now, if you want to 
and at once telegraphed for prices on an- fight for your country, you go into that 
other crate. In case of a glut in the mar- household and talk to those children about 
ket these big berries will sell where the the “dignity of labor,” and tell these par- 
smaller fruit could hardly be given away. en t s how they are spoiling good raw mate- 
Our boys have become^ thoroughly inter- r j a i for men and women. While you will 
ested in fruit culture. The glory of pick- have the facts of 5,000 years of solid ex- 
ing and handling these great beauties com- perience back of you, the chances are that 
pensates for the toil and sweat required the only dent will be made on your own 
in keeping the plants clean. Word came feelings, 
to us that T. C. Kevitt sold 7,000 quarts 
of berries in one day. I tried to make Currants and Roses. The fo lowi g 
our boys see that Kevitt’s 10 hours of tri- from New York is somewhat out °f niy 
umph represented 1,000 hours of dull, ^ ine .> but th ere are ^ ew things equal t 
sweaty hoeing and finger work. We un- variety: 
Properly con¬ 
structed. haves labor, annoy¬ 
ance and expense of repairs. 
STEEL WHEELS WAGoVs! 
Your address on a postal will bring you free catalog. 
The Geneva Metal Wheel Co., 
Box 17. Geneva, Ohio. 
I enclose some clippings that you may 
read with some interest. The man who 
makes $1,200 a year on two acres has us all 
beaten. While it may be 
morning something was wrong. The sky clippings with the following note: 
was gray and mean looking. Hope told 
me it might not rain, but common sense 
said it would ,and as usual the latter won. 
We got some hoeing and weeding done 
between showers, and I cut the grass in a 
two-acre peach orchard. 
“Have you gone daft?” said. Mother, 
when she heard of it. No, there are many 
weeds in that orchard and I want to leave 
most of it for mulching. I know that I 
have taken too much out for the past 
two vears. Now most of it must stay 
A brother minister Joined our church and at 
his first prayer-meeting talk told ns about 
grafting a white rose on a red currant hush, 
and when the rose bloomed it was red like 
the currant. Now. I think it ‘bosh,” but 
would like the conjoined authority of emi¬ 
nent doctors to back me up. I have budded 
lilacs into ash trees and snowballs into 
apples, but never tried roses on currants. 
Can it be done? 
This makes me think of the time I un¬ 
dertook to lead a prayer meeting, the sub¬ 
ject being “Universal Peace.” I made a 
“few remarks,” and thought I had the 
of the berry, and if it is ripe we pinch off dove of peace right in the room. It was 
the stem with the thumb nail, leaving just true, but I fear I put an eagle’s heart in 
enough to handle without touching the her. Something I said stirred up an Eng- 
fruit. I have seen pickers go that far lishman, and something he said started an 
properly and then throw the berry into American of Holland descent. I couldn’t 
the box. None of that in my field! I well hear what they said until the meeting 
want my berries handled as if they were was like a prairie fire. I have always 
soft-shelled eggs. 
Concentrated Work. —A friend in 
Pennsylvania sends me some newspaper 
derstand that now better than ever, for 
a part of our pafch was not cleaned out 
last year. You ought to see it now—a 
mass of weeds and grass. Oh, you. can’t 
grow these great red bouncers without 
finger work. I find, too, that some people 
spoil a good job in the picking. They 
take hold of the berry and pull it off the 
stem. The fruit is mashed a little, and 
never makes a nice appearance. We are 
taught to let the berry alone. We take 
hold of the stem, lift it up to see the tip 
there any way. Just after dinner the sky dain ; s to have solcl $76 25 worth ' Q f f ru it 
looked clearer. That s just the way wi i f our y ears i He keeps 200 hens and, 
these mean characters. You could get 
used to the wet side of life if you were 
sure there was no dry up to it, but when 
they make a combination with hope and 
fool you you want to fight something. A 
couple of hours of sun and wind would 
have fixed that wheat, but it was. not to 
be. The clear sky coaxed us out into the 
strawberry field to fill our day’s orders, 
and having got us there turned on the 
hose and ducked us well. However, we 
picked nearly 50 quarts of big fellows— 
not between drops, but right through 
them. The children all wanted to sell 
fruit, so they started off regardless of the 
rain. Another break in the clouds induced 
me to take a scythe and start cutting 
grass'. Same old story—another ducking! 
That was where I quit and came to the 
house to dry off. The hay lay soaking 
in the rain. There wasn’t enough water to 
do the berry crop much good—it had only 
soaked the big vines so that thousands of 
half-ripe berries will spoil before we can 
pick them. I had to smile as I thought 
of the ending of the other day. The 
thing I wanted then was a little rain. I 
got it, and here I was ready to let out 
a growl for what it had done. I have 
had hay before now out in the rain for 
regretted that I did not give out the hymn, 
“Blest Be the Tie That Binds” in clos¬ 
ing, but this experience teaches me to step 
softly and cut the big stick up for fire¬ 
wood when approaching such a discussion. 
I have asked some of the best botanists 
and rose growers in the country, and with 
..true, it seems one accord they say the thing is impos- 
harclly possible, but if true, then think of r j'fi e rose has no t been grown on 
the vast amount of work it requires, truck- , . ..._. < r 
insr is hard work, and the trucker certainly the currant, so that it did not blush for 
earns his. money.* shame. It is a question perhaps whether 
The clipping tells the story of’Oliver R. you should confront this well-disposed but 
Shearer, who has two acres. He grows erring brother with the facts or issue a 
lettuce, bunched onions and beets, endive form of poetic license to him. H. w. c. 
and celery, besides tomatoes and cabbage 
plants. There are some 80 good peach 
trees. From one Elberta tree Mr. Shearer 
as I understand it, Mr. Shearer, now 56 
years old, does practically all the work 
himself, with some little help from his 
wife. Do I believe any such story? Cer¬ 
tainly I do. No human being has yet 
demonstrated the full limit of crop pro¬ 
duction on an acre of land. After seeing 
what Kevitt does with strawberries, what 
Mr. Jerolaman does with small fruit, what 
A. Johnson did with berries and hens. I 
am prepared to listen to any story. We 
might tell a modest tale from Hope Farm 
of what comes off the four acres nearest 
the house, and they are not at their best 
yet. But how many people can realize the 
fight that Mr. Shearer has been up 
against? It has required the rarest sort 
of courage to keep at the hardest sort of 
toil. I have great respect for a man who 
conquers a little piece of ground and 
makes it show what it can do. But let no 
man sitting at a desk and watching the 
clouds through the window dream that he 
can go to a two-acre place and do what 
Mr. Shearer has done. Ten to one he 
would enter the fiery furnace with a bold 
heart, ready to show the “old-timers” how 
to do it, but it’s 10 to one he would quit 
and run for an icehouse before the flames 
are at their worst. It’s the man , not the 
days, but I never threw any of it away! j , that does j t _ t he man and the hand. 
"Oh, but this' is splendid for my flow- , , 
. Hard Jobs.—I have had people tell me 
that they liked to take hold of impossible 
things and thus demonstrate their power 
by doing something. I cannot say that the 
Forty years ago I would have said the years have increased this desire in me, but 
same thing—trustful that the responsible those who are still hopeful in that line 
member of the family knew his business, might try the following: . Go to some 
Life would indeed be a farce if, as we good housekeeper in canning time, and 
ers,” said the little girl. 
“But how are we to feed the stock?” 
“Oh, you will find some way, I am 
sure.” 
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ERIE, PA. 
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H 
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No article is more useful 
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MICA AXLE 
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