1008 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKEK 
November 20,. 
Hope Farm Notes 
Election Day came with a scowling face. 
There had been rain in the night, and the 
sky looked like the face of a child whereon 
dirt had been rubbed into tears. The 
weather sharps predicted rain, and I had 
been driving the men to haul a lot of un¬ 
husked corn into the barn, so as have a 
job under cover, A good-sized load stood 
on the barn floor. I found it hard to get 
my family started—as usual. The children 
were to be in school, for no matter who is 
elected, education will be necessary. 1 had 
my breakfast ahead of the rest, and went 
out to plan a good day’s work. It looked 
like more rain, and the corn was wet. 
While Philip and Henry put that load of 
corn in the mow, I took the cutter and 
began chopping runners off those Marshall 
strawberries. We began this job in early 
July, and here we are still at it. You 
won’t elect good men until you show your 
willingness to cut your ballot. You won’t 
get those big berries until you cut runners. 
Ho here was a suitable election job. 
The fog suddenly lifted and the sun came 
through. I do not like to have election 
day pass without planting a few trees. 
It was still too wet to husk corn, so Philip 
hitched the team to the hay wagon and 
Jack and Henry shouldered' spade and ax 
and started for the back hill. There we have 
an orchard where, I am ashamed to say, 
frost and borers and scale whipped us. I 
am ripping the old trees out to start again. 
Before going over the hill I went in to 
see how our folks were coming on. The 
chief object of interest here was a very 
sad and penitent baby. After breakfast 
Mother went up to air the bedrooms, and 
there, way down under the covers, was a 
little lump of humanity. It was a poor 
little breaking voice that gave this in¬ 
formation : 
“Sumfin broke over dere!” 
There on the bureau were mother’s 
glasses—one lens broken completely off. The 
little scamp evidently tried, to put them on 
before the mirror and dropped them. Then, 
in horror at his awful deed, he had crawled 
under the cover, thinking to get far from 
the scene of his crime! Dike many a larger 
criminal who lacks the moral courage to face 
the consequences, this little fellow brought 
up against the foot of the bed—where he 
was cornered. In the live minutes under 
that cover the baby was punished enough, 
and no one had the heart to do more than 
to make him understand two things. He 
must not play coward and run from the 
consequences, and he must “make good.” 
So he made a bargain with me to have 
the glasses repaired. He will not break 
any more. 
Philip left the wagon In the cornfield 
at the top of the hill, and hitched to the 
big disk plow. In that orchard where the 
elements and insects beat us are a num¬ 
ber of apple trees still worth transplanting. 
Jack and Henry dug them up. If they were 
fit we cut them back and transplanted 
in another field. Many of them had made 
a fair growth, yet were so badly eaten by 
borers that they were worthless. There 
were a few dwarf trees, and on digging 
those up I saw as never before how these 
small-rooted trees cannot stand abuse. Un¬ 
less one can give the dwarfs the highest 
culture, it is folly to plant them. We dug 
Ibose trees and grubbed out the brush. Bob 
and Frank pulled the big disk back and 
forth, cutting off the roots and briers and 
turning over four or five inches of soil. This 
soil is rather sour and moss-grown. My 
plan is to disk it this Fall, and during the 
Winter haul out many loads of muck from 
the swamp and scatter over. Then give 
a good coat of lime and in the Spring 
plow under and plant corn. Then, in the 
Fall we can put in our grafted apple trees. 
We got in about 25 good trees, and half 
an hour before dinner time we went back 
to (he cornfield to put on a load of fodder. 
Our stock will have little if any more hay 
until the com fodder is used up. The flint 
stalks will he fed whole—the dent will be 
run through a cutter. This fodder is at its 
best in November and December. It is a 
mistake to hold it later. 
At dinner we massed a collection of 
strong appetites against a pot roast, po¬ 
tatoes, baked squash and a Syrian stew. 
There were, of course, apples in addition— 
and all were elected. The children went 
back to school about as willingly as usual. 
The wind had dried off the corn and we 
went to husking—while the salesman made 
up a load of apples for the next day’s 
delivery. About the middle of the after¬ 
noon a discussion arose as to how much 
corn a man ought to husk in a day. As it 
was my corn, 1 naturally put the mark high. 
The boys thereupon challenged me to husk 
a shuck in 15 minutes. My hands were 
soft, and I am old enough to be wise about 
the difference between what a man ought 
to do and what he can do. The boys grew 
bolder in their offer, until finally Jack and 
Henry said they would vote the prohibition 
ticket if 1 would husk the shock in 15 
minutes. I doubt if money could have in¬ 
duced me to make the effort, but it is 
wonderful what a hold politics will get 
on a man. I had never l>een able to get 
these voters by argument, but if husking 
would do it—so I foolishly pulled off my 
coat, picked out a shock and with the wntch 
hung up started in. The judges gave me the 
verdict and the votes by about 15 seconds. 
I have had my last husking match, hut 1 
think there has been more cox - n husked out 
as a result of it. 
I drove old Madge to the polls and cast 
my ballot, but the others enjoyed a brief 
moment of proud citizenship in the neigh¬ 
bor's automobile—for election day makes all 
men brothers. Darkness came on early. We 
hauled down the husked corn and the 
fodder, did the chores, made the brutes com¬ 
fortable and got under cover. 1 wish you 
could have been here with us when the 
lamps were lighted and our folks put supper 
on the table. There were some baked beans 
left, and we rounded out with fried bacon. 
Then you would surely have come back for 
a second or third plate of the little girl's 
apple dowdy. It was in a deep yellow 
dish—nearly six inches deep of sliced apple, 
molasses, a little butter and spice—with a 
melting crust over it—and baked slowly 
until the spicy breezes filled the house! 
After supper, as I sat at work, it was 
pleasant to glance up now and then at 
the family group around the fable. One 
of our men has bought a small talking 
machine and the children have borrowed it. 
It is on the table, and 1 can tell from the 
children’s faces what it is giving out. I 
do not get much of it ordinarily, but finally 
Mother beckons me over. Then I know 
there is something I ought to hear, and I 
put down my pen and lug my chair over to 
the table. There is a whirl and u roar and 
some “barker” shouts to us: “We will now 
listen to The Battle Hymn of the Repub¬ 
lic !” Then there comes to me, as it were, 
from far hack out of the past, the song I 
heard men sing during the war, and in the 
20 years which followed it: 
“Mine eyes have seen the glory of the com¬ 
ing of the Bord !” 
I do not know who the people are who 
sing into these machines. Perhaps it is just 
as well we do not know them, for they 
might carry in their faces the things which 
would give the lie to their music. But hap¬ 
pily they put only the good into these 
machines. The man’s strong voice rang out 
like a clarion call—the woman’s clear tones 
soared up the heights of song. I could shut 
my eyes and look back in memory to a time 
when a company of soldiers marched down 
the street. They were about the last raking 
of the town—on their way to the front. 
“In the beauty of the lilies, Christ was born 
across the sea, 
With a glory in Ills bosom that transfigures 
you and me; 
As He died to make men holy, let us die 
to make men free.” 
They may have been very common folks 
who gave us that music. They will never 
know how much hope, strength and en¬ 
couragement they give to lonely homes 
through this little machine. As this old 
song poured out Mother and I found our¬ 
selves glancing at each other. We were 
both thinking the same thing. Life is worth 
while after all. 
I went back to my work when the 
machine started some “josh” story, but it 
was hard to get back to fertilizers or 
mulched orchards. There is a touch of a 
little baud on my arm, and 1 found the 
baby standing there watching the letters 
form under the pen. He wants me to sing 
to him—a very high compliment, surely, 
after the talking machine. He seems to be 
the only member of my family who finds any 
satisfaction in my singing, so in order to 
have perfect enjoyment in these concerts, it 
is necessary for us to go off into some un¬ 
occupied part of the house. 
With darkness came a heavy rain. The 
stars were hidden, but along the road and 
across the valley could be seen the neigh¬ 
bors’ lights. “It is a good night to sleep,” 
and our folks were early in bed, leaving 
me alone by the lamp. I fell to thinking 
of how Thanksgiving is coming, of what the 
old festival means, and what a priviege it is 
to be able to turn memories into hopes. 
For that, after all, is what there is to it. 
Thanksgiving is not and never can be a 
hollow mockery—as I have heard unhappy 
people say. The day may find you this 
year in a spirit of depression. Shake it off. 
It may find you, as I hope it will, up on 
the sunny heights of contentment and hope. 
If that is so—share that good fortune with 
others. I can only hope that the day will 
end for you as peacefully and as hopefully 
as election day ended with the light of my 
lamp. _ ii. w. c. 
Poultry in New England. 
I believe at the present time there are 
great possibilities in the poultry business 
in this State, and I also believe the ten¬ 
dency is to keep more hens in a house ; in 
other words, rather larger flocks in larger 
houses. I believe one hundred hens in a 
flock can he more profitably handled for 
market purposes (that is, for eggs) than 
can be done in smaller flocks. There is a 
gpod living awaiting many city people, both 
men and women, who are willing to come up 
here into Connecticut and raise poultry. 
There are not enough poultry and eggs pro¬ 
duced in our State to supply one of our 
largest cities in the State. Land is cheap 
up here and the conditions very favorable 
for the poultry industry. The fowls that 
will prove the most popular in my mind, for 
the all-purpose, are the American breeds; 
the Wyandottes, P. Rocks and White P. 
Rocks are my first choice. 
Connecticut. w. o. bogebs. 
Genasco lasts—but you don’t have to take 
our say-so. Judge for yourself! 
Genasco 
Ready Roofing 
is made of Trinidad Lake asphalt. You know that is 
Nature’s own absolute waterproofer and weather-resister. 
It is better to know what goes in your roofing than to 
guess—saves money, time, and trouble. 
Look for the trade-mark, and know that you get Genasco. Mineral and 
smooth surface. Backed by our written guarantee. Write for samples and the 
Good Roof Guide Book. 
THE BARBER ASPHALT PAVING COMPANY 
I.argest producers of asphalt and largest 
manufacturers of ready roofing in the world. 
PHILADELPHIA 
New York San Francisco Chicago 
Your 
Need of Paint 
GOOD PAINT is one of the cheapest 
things you can buj% just as a poor 
paint is one of the most expensive. 
A good paint properly applied to farm- 
buildings not only preserves the building 
from the weather but saves the necessity 
for repainting frequently. A poor paint 
not only fails to protect the buildings but 
must be renewed more often. Therefore, a good paint is a double 
saving just as a poor paint is a double loss. 
Sherwin-Williams Paints 
are paints made by the largest manufacturer of paints in the world; 
all of them made expressly for a given purpose; a large number of 
them expressly for painting barns, out-buildings, houses and fences, 
as well as wagons, buggies and agricultural implements. 
A coat or two of paint applied in time will prolong the life of 
each and every one of these things. 
There is a Sherwin-Williams dealer in 
your town, who sells all these paints, who 
can advise you about them, and can tell you 
just the right Sherwin-Williams' finish for 
any purpose you may have. Send for booklet 
“Paints and Vanishes for the Farm,” free. 
Sherwin-Williams 
PAINTS & VARNISHES 
Address all inquiries to 635 Canal Road, N. W. Cleveland, Ohio 
In Canada to 639 Center Street, Montreal 
■ - 
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Stop Wasting Vour Grain l 
That’s just what you are doing, sir —wasting your gram because you don’t grind it 
before feeding. You’re losing corncob profits, tool For ground cob is an im¬ 
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down form, latest facts on tceding hogs,«cattle, milk cows, horses, sheep, 
and poultry—a wealth of information free. ' 
Let us tell you, too, about the nwwtuBvu/ FEED MILL 
that dealers everywhere sell at low prices on a free trial 
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Steam Power 
For Farm Use 
Best because sure, cheap, safe, 
easily understood, works in all 
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annoyance with a ^ r=fL 
LEFFEL 
ENGINE 
It’s a willing servant. 
You are master. Always 
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James Leffel & Co. 
Box 233, Springfield, O. 
ECONOMICAL FEEDING 
Horses, cows and pigs, as well ns poultry, respond 
more quickly, pay better, and feeding costs less, 
when fed properly cooked feed. Cook the feod in a 
“Farmers’ Favorite” 
Feed Cooker and Boiler 
Useful for many other purposes, 
such as preparing spray mix¬ 
tures, sterilizing milk cans, heat¬ 
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Made to wear, economical and 
inexpensive. Write for illus¬ 
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LEWIS MFG. CO.. Box C. Cortland, N. Y. 
Wheels 
WITH GROOVED TIRES 
4 in. wide. The Groove protects 
the heads of spokes from wear, 
which maKes wheel good and 
strong till tire is worn out. We 
make plain tire wheels in other 
widths. We make wheels to fit 
any thimble skein or straight 
steel axle. Get our free catalog 
of Steel Wheels and Low Down 
Handy Wagons. 
HAVANA METAL WHEEL CO., 
Box 17 Havana, Ill. 
COOK YOUR FEED and SAVE 
Half the Cost—with the 
PROFIT FARM BOILER 
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D. B. SPERItY & CO., Batavia, Hi, 
HARVEY BOLSTER SPRINGS 
i Soon save their cost. Make «v«ry wagon a springy] 
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Harvey Spring Co., 716 17 lb St., Karine, Wls. E 
Free Trial To You 
