202 
February 17, 
Hope Farm Notes 
At Hope Farm our people bad finished 
their supper of soup, macaroni and cheese 
and baked apples. It was wild outside, 
wth a fierce north wind blowing down the 
valley with sifting snow. It was the sort 
of night when the rabbits run and jump 
over the little cedars in the moonlight to 
keep warm. Inside the house there was a 
roaring open fire. The younger children were 
just blowing softly away into warm dream¬ 
land after their hard day’s play. It was 
the common, happy ending for a Winter’s 
day on a hill farm. 
There could be no greater contrast than 
the scene upon which the Hope Farm man 
looked at the same hour. The National 
Periodical Publishers’ Association were giv¬ 
ing a dinner in Philadelphia. The great 
hotel ballroom had been transformed into 
a section of fairyland. Living vines climbed 
over the walls and columns, and living trees 
and ferns were grouped in thickets at the 
corners and sides. Soft-colored lights with 
the glare subdued and mellowed and with a 
strange effect which left no shadows filled 
the room. We read of the sumptuous feasts 
given by the old Greeks and Romans cen¬ 
turies ago, but it is doubtful if any of them 
could excel in taste and beauty this notable 
banquet hall. 
There were 700 men, most of them famous 
in some form of public service, standing 
about 75 tables. The balcony above us was 
filled with famous and beautiful women. I 
said standing about the tables, but I do not 
moan to say that we reversed the custom 
of the Romans who reclined upon couches at 
their feasts. Before we got a chance to sit 
down the lights were put out and we were 
left in darkness—wondering what was to 
follow. Suddenly there came a flash of rosy 
light in one corner of the room. It played 
upon a great column and brought into view 
the figure of a man who seemed to have 
stepped out of an old picture. In an in¬ 
stant we recognized that kindly face and 
long hair with the drab clothes and ruffled 
shirt as Ben Franklin ! It seemed at first 
like a stuffed figure and so it was—stuffed 
with life and wit, for the eyes opened and 
the lips began to speak. The man who 
acted this part did it well, for it was just 
as you would imagine Ben Franklin would 
act and talk could he have come back from 
a century's sleep. He made us welcome. 
Old Ben was strong on sarcasm, and we 
may easily imagine him saying as his double 
did at this banquet: 
“In our ignorance we wrote the American 
Constitution. We were short-sighted and 
had no dream that the country would ever 
grow and increase in population. There¬ 
fore we made the Constitution provide for 
a certain stability in our institutions and 
sought to safeguard them against fickleness 
of public opinion. We knew nothing of 
such modern aids to government as the initi¬ 
ative, the referendum, the recall and dyna¬ 
mite. We were guided by the fallacy that 
in the case of governments it is better to 
stand fast than to progress too fast. 
“We know now that with a free and 
patriotic press inspired and controlled by 
the lofty ideals of the advertising depart¬ 
ment, the Constitution might be written 
again and made a better business document.” 
Of course everyone smiled at this. Cut 
out the dynamite and it will pass as close 
to truth. Yet to-day, who do you find so 
fearfully afraid of changing the old Con¬ 
stitution except those who enjoy some graft 
or privilege which the original makers could 
not foresee? After Franklin’s shade had 
scattered his sunshine Dr. S. Weir Mitchell 
stood up in the darkness to reply and add 
to the welcome. Dr. Mitchell is a notable 
figure in public life, and he stood there, 
white-haired, but erect and firm, with an 
electric candle lighting the pages of his 
manuscript. He read a poem, but it must 
be very unusual poetry that will hold men 
who have starved themselves for a feast. 
I presume these welcomes took the place 
of “grace before meat”—at least there was 
nothing else in that lin?. The lights Hashed 
back and the multitude sat down, and for 
two hours ate slowly through from oysters 
to coffee, with 13 courses. When it came 
to terrapin with hot sherry it was time for 
a plain man to skip a note. They did well 
to quote at this point from “Poor Richard” 
—“If it were not for the belly the back 
might wear gold.” Very few of the men 
present gave any indication of doing any 
particular physical work, yet they went 
through the entire dinner like veterans on 
a hungry campaign. 
The most interesting thing to me was a 
study of the diners. Here were “great men” 
on public exhibition—“the lions at their 
feeding,” as one man put it. I have no 
doubt you can get more of the real “human 
nature” of a lion by watching him at his 
food than when he roars—with a full stom¬ 
ach. One man who helped organize the 
dinner told me that this was “probably the 
most noteworthy gathering of public men 
ever brought together!” He said these 700 
men had more to do with making public 
sentiment and thus public habits and laws 
than any 30,000.000 of ordinary people ! In 
proof he pointed to Governors, Senators, 
army men and great publishers and writers. 
Let us see about this a little later. How 
did these great men look at close range— 
with the mouth open—not to let out wisdom 
but to take in food? I once asked a man 
who is not strong on description how a 
certain friend looks. All he could say was, 
“He looks like the rest of us.” You clothe 
a lot of men in the usual evening suit and 
its long tails will make short stories of 
their individuality. They all look alike 
There is less exhibition of real character 
than when men are dressed in overalls and 
boots. The worst of it is that some men 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER 
think these clothes actually make character 
and give genuine distinction. 
Dr. II. W. Wiley was there testing pure 
food with spoon and fork in the most satis¬ 
factory way. John Burroughs and Edwin 
Markham may be great naturalist and poet 
in working clothes, but you never would 
have suspected it as those shaggy gray 
heads wagged over the table. Alexander 
Graham Bell, the telephone inventor, was 
there with a great mane of white hair 
which overcame the monotony of his black 
coat. Peary, the pole finder, found great 
satisfaction in the terrapin. Congressman 
Murdock seemed to have all the fine quali¬ 
ties that go with a red head. The only 
man who advertised himself as a farmer 
was Senator Martine of New Jersey. He 
has cnalleneged any ottier Senator to cradle 
rye with him. He did not look the part in 
his evening clothes, but he voiced it later. 
When Gov. W'ilson got up to speak Mr. 
Martine led the cheering and shouted things 
about the White House. He made a trumpet 
of his hands and shouted in the tones of a 
man who has practiced dairy elocution by 
calling the cows home across the valley 
pasture. To an unprejudiced eye these 700 
men in monotonous black who are “framing 
public opinion” looked “like the rest of 
us” surely. 
At one end of the room raised a little 
above the rest of us sat the “immortals” 
who were to speak—guests of honor and 
language, the lions who were to roar after 
feeding. The quiet gray haired man was 
Cyrus II. K. Curtis, president of the Asso¬ 
ciation. He was really host—-we were all 
his guests. A man of great deeds rather 
than many words, he started the speech¬ 
making at once. The toastmaster told the 
story of a man who was hurt. A colored 
man who attended him said. "Now Colonel. 
don't spread hut stretch,” “and now gen¬ 
tlemen.” said the toastmaster, “the Gov¬ 
ernor of New Jersey.” There stood Gov¬ 
ernor Wilson erect and smiling, trying to 
look as if he did not care whether he is 
elected President or not. Mr. Wilson looks 
like a school teacher—with the long, lean 
face of a student. He has that long, square 
chin which indicates the ability to talk 
easily. When such a chin recedes at a 
sharp angle you know that strong will goes 
with it. When it goes down straight you 
may bet all you have that the owner will 
stand for what he believes. Mr. Wilson’s 
chin is full and square. He made a fine 
impression, speaking easily and well, and 
stopping when he got through. He does 
not agree with the shade of Ben Franklin 
about the Constitution but would modify it 
if necessary to give the public a square deal. 
Mayor Blankenburg of Philadelphia looked 
like an honest and kindly merchant. He 
made a good talk about the need of business 
administration. He praised the magazines 
and papers, at which bouquet the 700 men 
stood up and cheered. Then came Senator 
La Toilette of Wisconsin—a short, chunky 
man with hair that stands up from his , 
head like a brush. He seemed to me like 
a pugnacious, spiteful little man who has 
brooded over certain public questions until 
he has become bitter ,and has lost his sense 
of humor and estimate of human nature. 
It was nearly 12 when he got up and the 
people were tired. He held a great bunch 
of manuscript which seemed to tired eyes 
to be two inches thick. Hero was his great 
opportunity to say something like this: 
“Gentlemen, it is too late—bed time. I 
cannot argue against either the dinner or 
the curfew bells, so I will ask leave to print 
my speech !” Then, had he gone on and 
spoken 25 minutes—giving his statements 
without all the proof, he would have made 
a great hit. Instead he put on his spec¬ 
tacles and slowly read that long speech for 
two hours! Much of what he said was 
true and very strong, but his ignorance or 
disregard of human nature made what 
might have been an opportunity into a 
failure. W. .T. Burns, the great detective, 
got up to talk at nearly two a. m. On his 
looks you would put Mr. Burns down as a 
good natured jolly man of ordinary ability 
—quite unable to do the masterly work he 
performed in that dynamite case. But 
Burns knows what he is doing. He talked 
20 minutes, held those tired men every sec¬ 
ond of it and then stopped short. His idea 
was that if he started in to find a criminal 
he should not stop with the men who ac¬ 
tually did the act. His duty as he saw it 
was to go on and find the men higher up 
who pulled the strings at a safe distance. 
That sentiment received as much applause 
as any of the evening. 
But what about these 700 men having 
greater influence than 30,000,000 common 
people! Well, some of these gentlemen 
evidently think that is correct. On the 
other hand. Senator La Follette appeared to 
think that a dozen money kings would have 
greater power than the entire 30.000.700! 
This was not a gathering of rich men. 
The majority were people of modest means 
—with brains trained to making words 
rather than making money. Many of them 
are strong and earnest men, who have put 
into ink words that will live to help and 
inspire men. It is true that others are 
merely playing with life—putting out what 
a friend well calls “intellectual snobbery.” 
Senator La Follette said that the modern 
magazine was made possible by the failure 
of the daily papers to be independent and 
true. The magazine men seem somehow to 
have figured that because this is true the 
public believe all they say and accept it 
as gospel. That is where the 700 are mak¬ 
ing their mistake. The 30.000,000 may 
read what the magazines publish, but that 
is not evidence that they believe it all, or 
accept it in place of their own thinking. 
Many of the 700 seem to lack the power to 
see that many readers follow them for en¬ 
tertainment only, that the words do not 
get into the reader’s heart and soul and 
thus live. Take the case of Gov. Wilson. 
He has written about the races of people 
who have come to this country—in cold, 
true analysis of them. l'et this would 
probably do more to defeat him. should 
he be nominated, than anything else, 
for it would be used in an appeal to 
prejudice. The 30,000,000 are not following 
the 700 like sheep after a leader. They are 
sizing the 700 up, and sooner or later in¬ 
stinct teaches them to find the men and 
the words which are true and which stand 
for self denial and honest desire to help. 
So if the 700 think they are “framing pub¬ 
lic opinion” they are on the wrong track. 
At the last analysis the so-called common 
people will settle it. decide what they want 
—and get it. But it was a great dinner- 
one of the events of a lifetime. I am glad 
the farm papers have a grip on the 30,000,- 
000 which lands them among the 700. 
tt. w. c. 
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