1246 
THE HiUHi-A.lv NEW-VOKKER 
October 16, 1915. 
HOPE FARM NOTES 
A I-ittee Talk. —This is the sort of 
night when I feel like having a little per¬ 
sonal talk with you. Such talks do not 
get very far perhaps, and do not bring out 
any great wisdom or instruction. Still, 
somehow it does us all good at times just 
to talk out what is in us. It is Saturday 
night in early October. There has been a 
day of hard rain, and as night closed in 
the wind rose, while the air grew sharp 
with a touch of cold. It is as black as 
your hat outside. A sparkle of light here 
and there shows that the neighbors are on 
deck and we know that our barn ani¬ 
mals, from the Red hens to big Tom, are 
safe and dry, with enough to eat. The 
Red rooster has his head under his wing, 
no doubt dreaming of the great record bis 
daughters are to make at the egg-laying 
contest. Big Tom stretches in comfort in 
his box stall. He and Broker pulled a 
big load to market last night in the rain, 
and now they have a right to the best 
room in the barn. Brownie is still some¬ 
thing of an invalid. She got gay and care¬ 
less one day, and fell on her knees, cut¬ 
ting them to the bone. She has carried 
bandages ever since, but it is nearly over, 
and soon she will be dancing along the 
road once more. Bob and Jennie are 
veterans now. Their dancing days are 
over and they know where they put their 
feet. 
Coheokt. —Right here in this room we 
have no cause for complaint. There is a 
bright light and a roaring fire with flame 
that mounts up into the black throat of 
the chimney. On a night like this I do 
not care to write at a desk or table; it is 
better to pull the big chair up near the 
fire, put a board across your knees and 
write on that. I think you can talk bet¬ 
ter in that informal way, and if writers 
would but know it, the best literature is 
that which enters the heart and brain like 
simple “talk”—the natural language. I'p- 
stairs the two little red-faced girls are 
asleep. You see I have dropped the hair 
question. These girls have rosy faces- - 
who would not after eating six or seven 
good red apples each day? The three 
boys are here, lined up before the fire. 
The two smaller ones are thumbing over 
a “catalogue” for the fiftieth time to see 
if any bargain which fits into their bank 
account has escaped them. They thumb 
with one hand and hold a mellow apple in 
the other. The older boy is studying. He 
is in the public school, and the State of 
New Jersey provides books, paper, pencils 
and all the rest of the outfit This boy 
has developed a good habit of study. 
Night after night he sits here with me be¬ 
fore the fire boring at his lessons. I find 
that when he cannot have my chair In¬ 
takes another with a board across his 
knees, working as I do, and working when 
I do. Some of you may well stop right 
here and think that out. Your little folks 
will most likely form their habits from 
you. They have their eye on you, and 
the pen of imitation is writing on their 
little brain in drops of blood the record 
of daily living you set before them. 
Sometimes a bookkeeper makes a wrong 
entry of figures or a wrong statement of 
fact and has to erase it The page is 
never the same again. There is always a 
smear or dull spot on the shining paper. 
When these little folks grow up and find 
they have made a false entry on the book 
of life by copying the habits of father or 
mother, they will face one of the hard 
problems of humanity. They must either 
go through life a little ashamed to show 
their books, or else try to scratch out the 
entry, and that always leaves a scar. 
Warm Houses. —The rest of our folks 
are scattered about the house busy at 
reading or mending. We have started a 
gentle fire in the hot-water heater—just 
enough to take off the chill. As Winter 
begins to lay out its heavier clothing as 
it is doing to-night, it comes to me very 
clearly that the two great essentials for 
comfortable country living are warmth 
and water. No one can be happy in a 
cold house, for chill kills cheerfulness 
every time. As for water, if I could have 
the power to put running water, warm 
and cold—a constant and unfailing sup¬ 
ply—into every farmhouse 1 would wash 
out half the troubles of agriculture. 
Can You Do It?—O f course I have 
heard men say that all this talk about 
water and warm houses is bad, because 
such things would make their folks lazy 
and tender. These men argue that be¬ 
cause they were brought up under hard 
conditions their family should not have 
any better! Your old ancestors and mine 
lived in caves or rude huts, wore the 
skins of wild beasts and did their work 
with a sharp stone tied to a stick. Why 
not live as they did? They were not as 
“tender” as you are! I think these argu¬ 
ments fall to the ground at a touch. I 
think it is the full duty of every farmer 
to make his home just as comfortable as 
he possibly can afford. Right now, be¬ 
fore this fire, as Winter comes on, is the 
time to think it out. I meet some men 
who have the farm paid for and some 
little capital ahead, yet the home does not 
have the comforts which wife and chil¬ 
dren need. I think these men make a mis¬ 
take. They should take some of that sur¬ 
plus money and make sure of water and 
warmth in the house. I think that is a 
duty to the family and a duty to farm¬ 
ing as a business. There are many 
others who have not paid for the farm, 
or who are tenants, and have little capi¬ 
tal. They cannot be expected to fit up 
the house in all details, but can they not 
do somclhing before Winter sets in? Our 
spring on the hillside frittered away its 
beautiful water for years. Now it pro¬ 
vides a water supply for our house equal 
to any in the city. Is there any spring 
or brook near your house? How much 
will it cost to pump water from your 
well to a tank? How long will it take 
to bank up the house to keep wind from 
working into the cellar and up through 
the floors? I feel sure there are cracks 
in your house and around the windows 
where the wind comes in. How long will 
it take to fill them so as to krep out the 
cold? If you do not burn coal, is the 
shed full of dry wood well split? 
Have Something !—But here we are 
neglecting the social side of life, and our 
“talk” is getting too close to a lecture. 
Say, boys, pass back that plate of apples. 
We should have eaten three apiece by this 
time. We must make up the average. 
Some like a McIntosh, others a Northern 
Spy. Greening is good, though Baldwin 
is a little hard yet. As for me, this Fall 
Pippin suits. If it only had a red jacket 
it would be the leader of all on our hills. 
I neglected to say that I know where 
there is a pan of baked apples—McIntosh. 
They were cored, a little sugar put inside 
and then baked slowly until a thick jelly 
formed on them! If I go softly I can 
probably find them before the women folks 
have time to protest against our eating 
up part of to-morrow’s dinner! When it 
comes to baked apples I think it a great 
risk to let them go over night. If pos¬ 
sible, I will hunt out a few doughnuts. 
Now boys, put that big apple chunk on 
the fire. The call for bed wall soon come 
—take my advice and eat one more Mc¬ 
Intosh before you go. The night seems to 
grow darker somehow. I was in hopes 
the stars would show, but they are blottod 
out, and off here among the hills we are 
left with our books and our friends and 
our apples and our thoughts. The last- 
named will dominate life, and the first 
three will determine thought. So have 
another apple, pull your chair up to the 
fire, and let us bilk over the things you 
can do this mouth to put warmth anl 
water into the house. h. w. c. 
“I TOLD my girl the other night that if 
she didn’t marry me I’d hang myself in 
front of the house.” “What did she say?” 
“She said: Oh. don’t do it. You know 
that father doesn’t want you hanging 
around here.”—Philadelphia Ledger. 
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THE RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
333 WEST 30th ST., NEW YORK. 
% 
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sfo//y r iYOoct 
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