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WOMAN AND HOME 
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| We are more than glad to have the op¬ 
portunity of printing notes of experience 
from Rev. George B. Gilbert, of Connect¬ 
icut. Mr. Gilbert does his work among 
the hills in a lonely region where one gets 
close to the very soul of hill farming. 
'Phis is the sort of work that counts.] 
UTTOW is your motherV” said I to the 
Xllittle boy who lives on the old farm 
under the hill a full mile from any neigh¬ 
bor. “How is your mother this Winter : ’ 
> “She ;3 not at home,” said he, “she is 
in New York.” 
“And will she be at home soon?” said I. 
“No.” said he, “she is gone for all Win¬ 
ter; she’s nursing.” 
And then I saw through it all. This 
woman had lost one boy in the big city 
and she was determined to keep the two 
left, out in God’s open country. So this 
brave little soul went down to the big 
city and worked all Winter, and the fa¬ 
ther cut the wood and kept the house. I 
think I met him coming in to market the 
other day—alone. The boys were in 
school. Why not have brought mother 
along, too? Didn’t she deserve it? 
•Httdn’fl /. e’ worked and denied enough? 
Wouldn’t it do her good to get out and 
see something and somebody? When the 
babies are small mother can’t go and we 
get out of the notion, but T remember one 
day when I was hitching up and suddenly 
mother appeared at the barn door. 
“Sister is big enough now, the boys are 
in school, let’s all go.’ It just took me by 
surprise and I hesitated. 
“Will it take long to get ready?” 
Wasn’t that like a man? 
“I’ll be ready in a minute,” and away 
she flew to the house. I just pulled the 
buggy back in the barn, got out the ex¬ 
press, pulled the back seat off the silage 
cutter, for there would be four to go. and 
such a good trip we had ! I guess what 
makes the road so long to market is be¬ 
cause we’ve left mother, drudging, at 
home. But often it’s the woman’s fault. 
She consents too easily to become a 
watehwoman, to “look after the place.” 
But no one will carry it off, and yeggmen 
are not back on the lonely bills. 
But away over those burnt hills is an¬ 
other brave little soul of a woman. 
Through the long, cold Winter she lived 
with four little ones while father is 
working in New York. The time for the 
fifth little one came while yet the snow 
was deep and the boy that went a mile 
and a half to the nearest telephone to ask 
the doctor to come as quick as he could, 
got the answer that the roads were too 
bad for him even to try it. And the little 
fellow trudged back with that message! 
I wonder what our city cousins would 
think of this! A woman came to 
help as best she could from over 
the hill, and the mother answers us 
cheerily that she likes the country 
and would not go back to the city. 
Sometimes T ask people if it is the busi¬ 
ness of the church . work for good roads. 
Good roads to heaven are grand good 
things, but on that night a good road for 
the doctor would be fully as handy, and 
a good road to market might have kept 
that little woman’s “strong right arm” at 
home to help and comfort her. 
One night a while ago, as T turned the 
key in the parish house door, after a sup¬ 
per and social, I turned to give one more 
good night to a woman and her three 
fine sons as they entered the woods for 
their two-mile walk home. This mother 
had risen very early, hurried every min¬ 
ute o f the day, with her housework, her 
cows .a the barn, her 125 hei,o, her gar¬ 
den. her cake for the social, and with 
supper things put away had walked two 
miles to church, helped with table and 
putting up the dishes, and now, after 
midnight, was beginning the two miles 
up hill toward home. And two New York 
Gity doctors gave her up to die! One of 
them, however, said, “perhaps if you take 
her to the country to live and keep her 
out of doors, there might be a last 
chance.” So her husband went and had 
an hour’s talk with the editor of Tiie R. 
N.-Y. abput country work and life, and 
Woman’s Lot on the Lonely Road 
As Seen by the Pastoral Parson 
farming, and they sold their good paying 
business and came among us to find that 
which money cannot buy. Surely noth¬ 
ing but the love of woman, which cer¬ 
tainly passes man’s understanding, could 
move from the stir and rush and variety 
of the big city to the old two-chimney 
house of the Stone School District. 10 
miles from the railroad and, with indomi¬ 
table pluck, carry the burdens of a house¬ 
hold and regain health which seemed 
wholly lost. One thing in particular had 
made her much worry. All hearts had 
been set on it that Joe, the youngest boy, 
should have an education. I came in for 
a drink one forenoon from the lot by 
th(> house and found her with mother in 
tears. The Fall term was only a week 
off. he was ready for high school, but 
the nearest was seven miles. But an 
advertisement in the local paper brought 
quick results; a fine place was secured 
to do chores, and now he is in his sopho¬ 
more year. I went down unexpectedly 
one day and .Toe rode with me, and when 
Jack barked and his mother came out and 
her boy put his arms around her—well, I 
just went out to look at the henhouse, 
and a fellow gets that too rare kind of 
pay that fills the heart. What seems to 
become of that good old custom of doing 
chores for your board and going to school? 
My opinion and actual experience is that 
a boy that works in tin 1 open three hours 
and studies two will learn more than one 
who works none and studies five. And 
isn’t a boy who hustles some for his edu¬ 
cation quite as likely to make use of it as 
one who spends his spare time on the 
street corners and in the railroad depots 
chinning with the girls? 
A more serious problem, however, for 
the mother on the lonely road, and that is 
the education of her daughters. Who 
has had experience and can help in this 
line? I know a woman so far back that 
all the seven children rush to tin* window 
to see a team go by; a cultured, talented 
woman, educated in art, has a daughter 
just finished the work of the district 
school. 
An exceptionally bright girl, she ought 
to go on with her books, and especially 
she ought to have a musical education. 
She can play some hymns for ns in church 
now, and has never taken a lesson—just 
worked it out herself. I wonder if the 
country teacher could not be trained to 
give music lessons, getting of course pr’d 
for it by the parent. Has anyone had any 
experience with correspondence courses in 
music on the oigan or piano? In some 
cases the minister’s wife can give lessons, 
and a grand thing it is if she can. The 
lonely house on the back road needs more 
music and more cheer. The graphophone 
has helped some, but records cost all the 
time, and unless expensive ones are 
bought, you get sick of the old ones. I 
wish tin* old-time fiddler would come back 
again to his place in the chimney corner. 
The old-time husking party and Aunt 
Dinah’s quilting party have gone, and 
what is going to take their place? Where 
can the boys go to see Nellie and take her 
home? 
One word more to the country woman 
on the back country road : When you go 
to church, don’t hurry home. Put Dob¬ 
bin’s feed in the back of the wagon and 
take a lunch for the little ones if you 
want, and stay and visit a while. We 
sometimes stay five hours down in our 
church. A little odor of coffee in the 
meeting house might well take the place 
of some of the brimstone. Swap eggs 
with Sister Smith, if you want to. and 
get some of that early sweet corn seed 
from Sister Jones. Mrs. .Tust-froin-the- 
Gity is not as stuck up as you think if 
you visit with her and have a bite to¬ 
gether. She will give you some of her 
giant nasturtium seeds, if you mention it, 
and then you will go home feeling as 
though you had had a day off. The ser¬ 
mon has renewed your ideals of life and 
its sociability has taken away the lone¬ 
someness of the lonely road, and you go 
at Monday’s washing with tin* humming 
uf a psalm tune in your heart. 
W E think this coming season will be 
a good one-for-the Summer boarder 
business. The • ar will keep people in 
this country, and thousands must econo¬ 
mize and thus avoid the fashionable re- 
• 
sorts. This should give increased oppor¬ 
tunity for farmers and their wives to 
try keeping hoarders. We begin this 
month with the plain story of one woman 
who has tried it with some success. Not 
everyone is suited to this work. The 
true boarding-house keeper is born—not 
made—and is not much of a poet at that. 
The business is worth considering by 
many farm women who have comfortable 
house's and good-natured and helpful men. 
Starting the family garden. Let the man alone and he does a good job- 
talking politics. 
Properly directed—and fed—he does well. 
