1914. 
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John Henry Buys a Horse 
By Mrs. Cora Hamilton || 
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No More Stove Wood :: 
A Treatment That Worked 
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John Henry Buys a New Horse. 
J 'OHN HENRY had to buy a new horse, 
that was certain. He had lost one of 
is horses the Summer before, and the 
one he bought to replace it had turned 
out to be balky, so he sold it in the Fall. 
One horse was enough during the Winter 
to drive to town or go visiting with. But 
now Spring was here, and “How could a 
man plow, drag and do the other work 
on a farm in the Spring?” he asked Mrs. 
John Henry. 
“Of course you must have a new 
horse.” she replied (as he knew she 
They Stayed Right There. 
would), so John Henry interviewed every 
one he met as to where he could get 
“a good horse cheap.” He was told of 
many different bargains and after look¬ 
ing around for a week or more decided 
to buy one offered to him by a friend (?) 
in the city. “A fine looking horse, good 
worker, anywhere you put him, just 
what you need, I am sure,” said his 
friend. 
Proudly John Henry drove him home 
and called all the family out to see his 
splendid bargain. 
“I tell you it takes the old man to 
tell a good horse,” he remarked com¬ 
placently. 
Next day John Henry decided to draw 
a load of straw to market. Hitching the 
team to the hay wagon he drove around 
to the shed and proceeded to load the 
straw. Then with a flourish of the whip 
and a cheery “Git ap boys,” he drove 
round in front of the house, climbed 
down off the load, went in and changed 
his old hat for his Sunday best one, got 
his coat and getting back on the load 
waved his hand at mother and the kids 
and with another flourish of the whip and 
cheery “Git ap boys,” stayed right where 
he was. In vain he shouted, in vain he 
cracked the whip, and finally got down off 
the load, took the splendid bargain (?) 
by the bridle, pulled, coaxed, talked, 
whipped and shouted. Mr. Horse merely 
stood there as if he never intended to go 
again. 
After alternately waiting, coaxing and 
whipping he finally unhitched the horses 
and sadly took his way back to the barn, 
saying to himself as he went, “Who would 
have thunk him a balker?” Returning 
to the house he called his friend up on 
the telephone and told him his experience 
and said: 
“I want you to come and git him jest 
as quick as you can.” 
The friend protested, was sure the 
horse was all right, couldn’t believe it 
possible that he would balk, but finally 
said: 
“I will bring you another one, that I 
will positively guarantee will not balk 
with you.” 
After dark that night he drove up lead¬ 
ing a horse behind his wagon. 
“There, John Henry,” he said, “is a 
horse I know will not balk.” So taking 
horse No. 1 with him he went back home. 
John Henry gazed rather doubtfully at 
horse No. 2. But as he remarked to 
Mrs. John Henry, “perhaps he will work 
better than he looks.” 
Next day he harnessed him up with 
Old Faithful and started to plow the 
garden, Mrs. John Henry and all the 
little John Ilenrys standing in a row to 
watch Daddy plow Maw’s garden. But 
the new horse could scarcely travel, let 
alone drawing the plow. He limped in 
front, he limped behind, he even limped 
sideways. 
“If there is one leg he limps on more 
than the other, it would be hard to find 
which one it is,” said John Henry in deep 
disgust, as he put the poor animal back 
in the barn. 
“No wonder Mr. Jones waited till dark 
to bring him here,” said Mrs. John 
Henry. 
somewhere else for a horse,” said John 
Henry savagely, so that night he tied 
him behind the wagon and returned him 
to Mr. Jones. 
“If you had turned him out to pasture 
you wouldn’t take twice what I asked 
you for him next Fall,” said Mr. Jones. 
“I am not looking for a horse to pas¬ 
ture but one to work,” answered John 
Henry. The next day John Henry went 
to a sales stable where there were a num¬ 
ber of horses for sale, telling the man in 
charge what he wanted. The man said: 
“Yes, sir, I have some splendid work 
horses, and am sure you can find just 
what you are looking for.” John Henry 
looked the different horses over carefully. 
“Better let me sell you this pair of 
iron grays,” said the stableman. 
“No,” said John Henry, “I only want 
one to put with Old Faithful.” 
“Well here are several, all good ones, 
take your pick.” 
John Henry looked them over several 
times very carefully, finally deciding on 
a large fine-looking horse that had just 
been clipped. 
“You certainly know a good horse 
when you see one,” said the salesman. 
“The man that brought that horse here 
to be sold, said he was one of the best 
horses he ever owned.” 
John Henry hitched the new horse, who 
was called Pete to the buggy, tied Old 
Faithful behind and started home. 
“How strange,” thought John Henry 
as he reached home and Pete turned into 
the lane leading to the house before he 
pulled on the rein. “Seems to know just 
where he is going, must be a mighty 
smart boss all right, all right; knows 
jest where I want him to go before I 
tell him.” 
Stopping in front of the kitchen door 
he hollered : 
“Hey, Maw, come out and see if your 
old man ain’t some pumpkins, when it 
comes to picking out a good boss.” 
Mrs. John Henry came to the door, 
stared at the horse for several minutes 
without saying a word. Finally she went 
around and looked at him from the other 
side, and then stood in front of him; 
looked him over once more and said: 
“John Henry, what in the world did you 
go and buy Old Bob back for after all 
the trouble you had with him balking so 
much with you last Summer?” 
“Old Bob nothing.” angrily exclaimed 
John Henry, “this horse is a different 
color than Old Bob was and fatter too. 
“I don’t care.” said Mrs. John Henry, 
“if he is it is because he has just been 
clipped, and it is Old Bob just the same. 
Look, here on his left front leg is that 
odd three-pointed scar where he cut him¬ 
self on the barb wire fence, and the two 
little spots where that old collar made 
his neck sore in haying.” 
“Well, I’ll be switched,” finally ex¬ 
claimed John Henry, "next time I buy a 
boss I’ll take you along, or no knowing 
what I’ll get next time, and say Maw, I 
get you that new dress down to Palmer’s 
you wanted if you will promise not to 
tell what an old fool I be, going and pay¬ 
ing a fancy price for a hoss I pretty near 
give away last Fall to git rid of him.” 
No More Stove Wood. 
I DO know if men folks ain’t the most 
provokin’ animals that live on this 
farm! Here it is 10 o’clock, and not a 
stick of wood cut to make a fire in the 
cooking stove. But dinner’s got to be on 
the table at 12 o’clock or something ter¬ 
rible would happen. Talk about the 
Egyptians, my men folks do certainly ex¬ 
pect me to make bricks without straw! 
Seems to me if I loved to eat like some 
folks do, I could remember to leave 
enough wood cut to cook something, 
every day of my life I've got to pick up 
enough chips and pieces of bark to start 
a fire in the stove, and chop of as much 
wood as I can keep it going, I tell you I’m 
tired, and what’s more I ain’t going to 
do it another day, I’m going to cure them 
once for all, I bet I’ll give them one sur¬ 
prise.” 
L Mrs. Coward, who for more than 35 
years had carried all the water from a 
spring at the foot of a steep hill, and had 
eked out a meager pile of stove wood by 
hacking away at a hand log with a heavy 
ax, in order to have three piping hot 
meals ready for the exacting farmer, her 
husband, the boys and the hired man, 
made up her mind to rebel. Grimly she 
took down the big tin dishpan and put 
on her old sun-bonnet, for this was no 
joke for a patient pack-horse suddenly to 
get balky, and went out to the garden to 
gather the vegetables for dinner. 
City people who get their vegetables 
from a huckster’s wagon at the front 
door, or order their meals over the tele¬ 
phone, sentimentalize over the supreme 
joy of having home grown vegetables— 
and they are fresh and delicious. But 
Mrs. Coward had been up since half past 
four, had cooked an ample breakfast that 
was necessary to satisfy the appetites of 
her farmer men, had swept the big old- 
fashioned rooms and porches, had churned 
five gallons of milk, w'orked several 
pounds of golden butter, then carried it 
all down into the dairy, which instead of 
having a few strong steps, was reached 
by two jumps from one puncheon to an¬ 
other, with the pleasant prospect of land¬ 
ing on a snake at the second jump. So 
she w r as a little tired when she went out 
to gather the delicious vegetables which 
grew in such profusion as the result of 
her faithful hoeing and weeding, for the 
garden on some farms is the “woman’s 
work.” 
Down the long rows of peas she tra¬ 
velled, picking the fine fat pods, full of 
pride that they had filled out so well. 
Then she gathered her apron full of snap 
beans, crisp and tender, then pulled up 
several bunches of beautiful onions. Over 
into the potato patch she plodded, the 
sun was beating down relentlessly on the 
old sunbonnet as she dug into the baked 
ground with an old two-tined fork and 
brought out the splendid “Early Rose” 
beauties, surely they were worth the trou¬ 
ble. It was like finding gold nuggets in 
the Klondike, and it was very exciting to 
see how many one could find in a hill, 
and whether they will be close to the top, 
or deep in the ground. It is interesting 
work, digging potatoes with an old kitch¬ 
en fork, even though the sun is hot, and 
nobody has left enough wood to get din¬ 
ner with. 
Wagging along with her full dishpan. 
Mrs. Coward must go by the apple tree 
at the far end of the garden and get a 
few apples to make some dumplings, for 
farmer men must have a pie or something 
sweet to finish off with, and they liked 
nothing so well as the crisp, brown dump¬ 
lings, with nutmeg and a butter on top, 
and a generous ladleful of rich yellow 
cream, even if they did always forget to 
leave enough stove wood to cook them. 
Back in the house once more, she set 
about preparing the vegetables for cook¬ 
ing. The peas were shelled, the beans 
“snapped,” the potatoes scraped, the on¬ 
ions sliced, and the apples peeled. All of 
the vegetables she put in pans and cov- 
(Concluded on page 1057.) 
“And when it gets dark again, I will 
take him back and tomorrow go look 
IT TAKES THE OLD MAN TO BUY A HORSE. 
