30 
THIS RURtAIv NEW-YORKER 
January 8. 
Hope Farm Notes 
What would you think of a man of 
my age entering into a scheme to feed 
good cornstalks to reindeer? I actually 
agreed last night to let the baby put a 
bundle of stalks out by the gate. A few 
ears of corn could go with the stalks. 
While we about it a couple of apples 
for Santa Claus himself were not amiss. 
The night was cold and clear. The frost 
covered the roofs, and in the moonlight 
Hope Farm seemed to be silver-plated. 
On such a night sound carries far; the 
ripple of the brook, the snap of the 
frost, the noise of a hoof beat on the 
road—all are magnified. The boy went 
to bed with all sorts of strange noises 
afloat—to dream of a soft tinkle of bells 
and a patter of little hoofs. 
In the morning, if the stalks and corn 
and apples had all disappeared, and the 
stockings were full, was it not complete 
evidence that .Santa Claus had come? 
It was evidence enough for the child at 
least. But suppose you put the Hope 
Farm man and the boys in the witness 
box and cross-examined them about 
these stalks? Well, you won’t get us 
into any witness box, so the evidence 
stands until the unhappy day when the 
child gets wise. I think sometimes that 
life is a hard search for power and wis¬ 
dom and that when we come to a small 
share of it and realize how little we 
can ever get we are sorry we ever tried 
for it. 
Christmas morning came with dull 
skies. The little boys were afraid they 
could not find any use for the rubber 
boots which Santa Claus left. Now, 
however, a whirl of white flakes has 
started down the valley, and it looks like 
a white Christmas after all. We need 
it, both to keep up the tradition and to 
provide a covering for the berries. Mer¬ 
rill has mounted the hill to get a new 
Christmas tree. The boys are finishing 
their chores and the girls are in the 
kitchen working out some experiments 
in domestic chemistry that 12 of us will 
sample later. My daughter has just led 
me out to view the plum pudding, and 
opened the oven to sec how the turkey 
is browning. As the oven door closed on 
this fragrant panful we glanced out of 
the window and saw Champ, the white 
gobbler and his two wives, walking 
proudly across the lawn. Champ knows 
his mistress too well to have any fear 
of a stove. He may strut about the 
lawn and chase the red rooster to his 
heart's content. There seems no good 
reason why Mother should do more 
than help eat the dinner with two girls 
to help cook it, so after sweeping and 
cleaning she can sit down and read. The 
young folks go rushing out into the keen 
air and in again, glowing with color and 
health. We older folks are well content 
to-day to view the storm through the 
window. 
I find it hard to write or read on a 
day like Christmas. There is something 
about such a day that gets me. I sit here 
now looking out at the storm and re¬ 
member many Christmas days in the 
past. I remember one Christmas when 
1 dug a ditch in a swamp all day. At 
noon the chore boy brought great chunks 
of bread and boiled pork for our dinner. 
We ate it standing around a great, roar¬ 
ing fire. Even then there was hope and 
faith in Christmas, for life was young 
and every day of hard work added a 
dollar to the little fund which was to 
help me through college. Then another 
Christmas 1 sat on a horse herding cat¬ 
tle in the snow of a Colorado valley. 
Even there it was the same—the Christ¬ 
mas hope and spirit that will seek you 
out wherever you hide. Then comes an¬ 
other vision of a Christmas night in a 
muddy little town in Mississippi, and 
the first view I ever had of a certain 
young woman. 
I do not like to count up the years 
that have gone since then—they are all 
too many. Mother is sitting by her win¬ 
dow looking at the storm. It is strange, 
but I get almost the same view of her 
profile that I got of that Southern girl 
years ago. 
T am very glad the baby asked me to 
sing to him last night before he went 
to bed. No one else would give me the 
invitation I am sure—so I make most 
of it. It was pleasant to have the little 
fellow curl up on my lap with that great 
mop of red hair in the hollow of my 
arm, and the little expectant face turned 
up to mine. He wanted the funny song 
which I have made up for him, but 
somehow 1 didn’t feel very funny and 
as Mother was within hearing 1 tried an 
old timer. I never was sure of the tune 
anyway. 
“Believe me if all these endearing young 
charms 
Which I gaze on so fondly to-day.” 
Sitting there rocking the child and 
singing Moore's old melody, strange 
things came crowding into mind. 
“It is not while beauty and youth are 
thine own 
And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear 
That the fervor and faith of a soul can 
be known 
To which time will but make thee more 
dear. 
No, the heart that has truly loved never 
forgets 
But as truly loves on to the close.” 
But here the baby asserted himself. 
He is only four years old, and has noth¬ 
ing to forget yet. He might grant the 
truth of Tom Moore’s statement, but 
funny songs are more in his line and 
the way to get what you want is to 
break in and demand it. Yet it was all 
right. The poet knew—and so did I, as 
I rocked on with the child, that Christ¬ 
mas had brought to Hope Farm the 
greatest joy of all. 
One thing that feels like a tack in the 
Christmas stocking is the tax bill. I 
give a copy of our tax rate this year for 
comparison. The figures show the rate 
per $ 100 . 
County tax.$ .295 
State school tax.249 
Poor tax. 013 
District Court. 007 
Borough.976 
Special school.4 1 
$1-95 
You may have seen the statement in 
print that in New Jersey the corpora¬ 
tions pay our taxes for us. You will see 
that we have something to pay after the 
gentlemen who control these corpora¬ 
tions have paid it “all.” The taxes on 
mv farm are more than twice what I 
paid when I bought it. I have built a 
house and planted the orchards. There¬ 
fore I am taxed for improving the prop¬ 
erty. All land in the neighborhood is 
worth more than when we came here, 
but unless one wants to sell that is real¬ 
ly a disadvantage. The heavv “Boroutrh” 
tax means that we are paying for our 
new roads. If anyone can show a high¬ 
er tax rate on farm property I would 
like to see the figures. . . . We still feed 
cornstalks exclusively as fodder. The 
hav will not be touched until these stalks 
are gone. T am ready now to buy waste 
molasses. If we had the crop of carrots 
we ought to have, the molasses would 
not be needed. With carrots, stalks, 
wheat bran and a couple of ears of 
corn daily the horses would winter well. 
With a feed of good clover hay once a 
day half of this grain could be cut out. 
I think carrots the best root for a horse, 
and they are certainly grain savers. ; . 
I am a little sorry I spoke of using 
apple pomace. I should have had more 
experience before talking, for already 
a number of people are asking all about 
it. It is good stuff to mix in the manure 
or compost heap, or to use with lime. 
I should not care to use the stuff at the 
local cider mill with lime. This stuff is 
very sour, and has an evil smell. By 
analysis it is nearly equal to manure in 
plant food, but contains so much acid 
that I would not use it alone. My plan 
will be to scatter it under the trees and 
throw lime over it.- Of course this means 
a little loss of nitrogen, but this loss 
will hardly equal the increased cost of 
handling the pomace in a compost heap 
or in the manure. Until we have further 
experience I would not'advise the use of 
clear pomace without lime. . . What 
about the clover? This open Winter is 
hard on it. The Crimson made a good 
growth during the Fall, but these great 
variations in the weather will do it no 
good. As for the Red and Alsikc seed¬ 
ed with the rye last Fall I hope it will 
get through. . . I suppose of course you 
have been out among your young trees 
and moved any mulch or trash that may 
have been piled around them If not do 
it at once, or the mice will be at them. 
As early as the middle of December we 
found four trees girdled in this way. 
The mice work under the mulch, and 
will surely become a nuisance if vou 
leave them undisturbed. . . The 
Christmas present mania becomes a 
nightmare to many an overworked man. 
In some cases the festival seems to de¬ 
generate into a contest to see which side 
can put up the most expensive gifts. 
The end of the year always brings a 
flood of expenses and which many a 
man must stagger under. 4 For one 
Christmas gift we sent the children to 
hear the Messiah sung. T would like to 
have them hear that, well rendered, at 
least once every year. h. w. c. 
An Exceptional Issue of 6% Bonds 
Secured by a Thousand Farms 
Here are brief facts about one current issue of Irrigation 
Bonds. They will illustrate what ideal security lies back of 
such bonds when the issues are rightly selected. 
The Bitter Root Valley Irrigation 
Co. owns one of the largest irrigated 
fruit land projects in the world. The 
Company Is composed of well known 
men who are wealthy, experienced 
and capable. The land to be watered 
consists of about 40,000 acres in the 
heart of our greatest fruit belt—in 
the famous apple region of the Pa¬ 
cific Northwest. 
A large part of the valley has been 
under irrigation for many years, so 
the possibilities of the land have been 
demonstrated. Fruit land in the val¬ 
ley has lately sold as high as $1,000 
per acre. 
The water rights are unassailable, 
and the total water supply is more 
than sufficient for all needs. For the 
irrigable land is distinctly limited by 
the mountainous bounds of the valley. 
$2,500,000 Invested 
The Irrigation Company has in¬ 
vested in the project about $2,500,000, 
or about twice the total bond issue. 
And the bonds are secured by a first 
mortgage on all the property which 
the Irrigation Company owns. 
The bonds are additionaly secured 
by first liens on the lands and the 
orchards watered. These liens are 
given by individual land owners in 
payment for the land and the water 
rights. Forty per cent of the price 
is paid down, and the balance, se¬ 
cured by the liens, is payable in an¬ 
nual installments. 
To secure each $1,000 bond there 
are deposited with a Trust Company 
as trustee $1,400 of these first liens 
on farm land. 
The average price at which this 
land has been sold is about $200 per 
acre. The minimum price at present 
is $250 per acre. Yet the bond issue 
is limited to $50 per acre, or to less 
than one-sixth the average selling 
price of the land. 
Double Security 
Thus the bonds have double secur¬ 
ity. The first is a mortgage on ail 
the property which the Irrigation 
Company owns, and the Company’s in¬ 
vestment is nearly twice the whole 
bond issue. The second security is 
these first liens on farm land—on 
land which is worth more than six 
times the amount of the bonds which 
it secures. 
One can hardly conceive of more 
ample security. Yet these bonds pay 
six per cent interest, because the de¬ 
mand for irrigated land is so great 
that the projects are very profitable. 
Part of these bonds mature each 
year from 1914 to 1919. One may 
have his choice of maturities. 
Ask for the Facts 
In the past 15 years we have pur¬ 
chased 75 separate issues of Recla¬ 
mation Bonds—Drainage and Irriga¬ 
tion. All have been secured by first 
liens on good farm land, and not a 
dollar of loss has resulted to any in¬ 
vestor. 
Irrigation bonds have now become 
the most popular bonds that we 
handle. No other large class of bonds 
offering equal security now pays six 
per cent. 
We have issued a book on Irriga¬ 
tion Bonds, based on all this experi¬ 
ence. Every investor, small or large, 
owes to himself its perusal. Please 
write for the book today. Cut out 
this coupon so you won’t forget. 
\ ^rou^ridr/e \ 
First National Bank Building, Chicago * 
50 Congress St., Boston 
111 Broadway, New York 
5 First National Bank Building, San Francisco * 
* Please send your free book on Irrigation 1 
Bonds and list of other securities. 
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(Fortner Secretary of the United 
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