1400 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER 
November 27, 1915. 
HOPE FARM NOTES 
Other Days. 
Part II. 
Thanks. —The little square table was 
set in the sitting room, and Aunt Mary 
Ann put on four plates. There were only 
three of us, but they always did that on 
Thanksgiving Day. Nothing was said 
about it, but I think there was always a 
silent hope that some thrifty old friend or 
some needy new one might come and sit 
with them. Aunt Mary Ann had the 
Chair with its back to the airtight stove. 
Fncle Daniel was opposite, and I sat on 
the draughty side, by the kitchen door. 
The Brahma was giving off its fragrance 
and the vegetables and gravy were steam¬ 
ing as Uncle Daniel stood up by his chair 
to say grace. I have heard a great judge 
of character say that until you can listen 
to a man’s prayer you cannot truly judge 
him. I had Uncle Daniel’s prayer by 
heart, but let me confess that the fra¬ 
grance from old Brahma was more im¬ 
pressive on that day. Here is the ending 
of it: 
“We thank Thee for Thy mighty gifts 
of home and country. And when time 
with us on earth shall be no more may 
we be fitted for a high and nobler exist¬ 
ence in which we may realize the bles¬ 
sings which have crowned our years!” 
I am glad old Time cut off the half- 
century and gave me another chance to 
photograph that scene. Uncle Daniel was 
an old man—one of those short, chunky 
New Englanders who give you a surprise 
when you have been brought up to pic¬ 
ture the Yankee as a long, lanky indi¬ 
vidual. Ilis head was bald and a fringe 
of white hair ran around his chubby face 
:—under his chin. When he prayed he 
did not bend his head, but turned his 
face up as if he were really addressing 
some higher power. He held both hands 
on the back of his armchair. Aunt Mary 
Ann was tall and thin; bony, and with a 
severe expression. Her favorite disci¬ 
pline was to back me into a corner, point 
a long, gnarled finger at me and demand: 
“Are you doing right?” 
It was an appeal to conscience which I 
fear was less effective than the more 
prosaic point of a shingle. There was a 
rag carpet on the floor, an old horsehair 
sofa at one side, a shelf of flowers at the 
window, a picture of General Grant on 
the wall, and the old Farmers’ Almanac 
hanging over the stove. And the solemn 
old clock went ticking on through the 
prayer. 
The Guest. —It was surely with full 
hearts and empty stomachs that we 
finally sat down to old Brahma’s most 
successful brooding. As Uncle Daniel 
sharpened his knife he glanced at the 
empty plate, and I know just what text 
he had in mind, for in those days I could 
repeat most of the four Gospels by heart. 
The highways and byways did not need 
searching or compelling, for they gave up 
their holdings. Before Uncle Daniel laid 
the knife to old Brahma a man turned in 
at our gate and knocked at the door. We 
might easily have found a more reputable 
visitor than Reuben Daly, but it is bet¬ 
ter to let the Lord select our Thanksgiv¬ 
ing guests for us. Reuben was a soldier 
in the war. Some men come out of battle 
well covered with glory and greatness. 
Poor Reuben brought home little beside 
rheumatism and rum—both the condition 
and the habit contracted in the army. 
A Fine Meat.. —Of course things must 
be done in proper form in Weston Center 
as well as on Fifth Avenue. Reuben had 
to explain that he was just going by and 
thought he would drop in and borrow last 
week's paper. Then Uncle Daniel asked 
if he had been to dinner! Of course, 
Reuben had. But wouldn’t he sit up 
and have a piece of pie anyway? Reuben 
was a sly one, too. He was crazy to get 
at old Brahma, but he let himself in with 
a fine compliment : “Well, seeing as how 
you beat the town Mis’ Reed, on mince 
pie, I will try and make room for a 
piece.” So Reuben went out to the 
porch, washed his face in cold water and 
made our table complete. Aunt Mary 
Ann had expected to utilize the balance 
of old Brahma for feeding the minister 
on Sunday, but the old soldier was too 
strong a fighter, and there was no balance. 
Uncle Daniel brought up a pitcher of his 
cider and Reuben remembered that he had 
some hickorynuts in his coat pocket as 
his contribution to the feast. It was late 
when we started and the shadows out¬ 
doors grew darker and darker as we 
finished our dinner. 
Oub Country. —Aunt Mary Ann 
washed the dishes and I wiped them. She 
kept her eye on me, for when Reuben 
Daly, with a cider pitcher at hand, began 
telling about his war exploits, little boys 
went walking about in a dream. What a 
wonderful fighter Reuben must have 
been! He was always driving men out 
of trenches at the point of the bayonet 
or performing the most wonderful things. 
Out in the haymow I had a fairy tale 
book in which there was a story of the 
great things which came out of a magi¬ 
cian’s box. I know now with the cyni¬ 
cism of years that Reuben Daly’s great 
war performances came out of the cider 
pitcher. A sad performance too for hon¬ 
est Baldwin apples. In that darkening 
room, however, wiping my dishes, I be¬ 
lieved every word of it and I am glad I 
did. Then finally the war stories died out 
and Uncle Daniel and Reuben sat silently 
looking at the glowing crack in the “air¬ 
tight” stove. Year after year at Thanks¬ 
giving I have seen the older people do 
this. It is a part of the day, a part of 
the prayer—a part of the thanks for life. 
I remember how Reuben Daly broke the 
silence: 
“Yes, sir. I know I am an object fox - 
laughter and a failure. Rum is my 
ruin, and I got the habit in the army. 
The army won, but I fell down and lost. 
And yet, I fought! Thank God we’ve 
got a country. It doesn’t mean so much 
to me, because rum has ruined me, but 
this boy and all that follow on after him, 
will have a country where men will be 
free. I helped do it, but I lost out and 
yet— Thank God we've got a country /” 
I stood there with a half wiped cup in 
my hand right at the point of Aunt Mary 
Ann's reproachful finger and let those 
true words “Country” and “Rum” soak 
into my brain. It was apparently true 
that when a man let Rum master him he 
was like the man without a country that 
Uncle Daniel had read about. Uncle 
Daniel, not quite knowing what else to 
do, moved the cider pitcher a little. 
Reuben took another glass and then his 
mood changed. Leaning back in his 
chair he shut his eyes and began to sing : 
“We are tenting to-night on the old camp 
ground, 
Give us a song to cheer 
Our weary hearts—a song of home 
And friends we love so dear. 
“Many are the hearts that are weary 
to-night, 
Waiting for the war to cease; 
Many are the hearts longing for the right, 
To see the dawn of peace!” 
I suppose some of you may have been 
at the opera when Caruso or some other 
great singer poured out the very soul of 
music, and men and women sat wet-eyed 
and silent under the spell of his voice. It 
is wonderful, but to my mind no more so 
than the feeling that came to Uncle Daniel 
and me in that darkening room as the old 
soldier went back to the glory of better 
days. Aunt Mary Ann hardly counted 
in the audience. She was deaf, and ha l 
no great opinion of the influence of Reu¬ 
ben Daly on boys. So she broke the 
spell by pointing to me and then at th? 
warning face of the clock. She reminds 
me of the farmer in “Snow Bound” : 
“A prompt, decisive man; no breath 
Our father wasted—boys, a path!” 
All she said was “Chores!” It was 
enough, for the cow was still outside and 
the wood box was nearly empty. 
Coding Back. —So I pulled on my cap 
and mittens and went out to do the 
chores. The sky had cleared somehow, 
and off over the western hill a few stars 
were to be seen. Before I picked up the 
armful of wood I stood looking off to 
those stars. There was great peace in 
my little heart. Thanksgiving had 
brought it. "Thank God tce've got a 
country!” I did not know just what it 
meant to have one, but some day when I 
grew up I could hunt those stars. And 
as I stood there by the wood pile, out of 
range of Aunt Mary Ann’s finger, a hand 
seemed to take me by the arm and pull 
me toward those stars. There I was in 
my big chair before the fire with two of 
the cherry-tops pulling me by the arm. 
“Come now, wake up! Supper is 
ready. You’ve been asleep atcful long!” 
They pulled me out to supper. Mother 
sat waiting for me, inclined to be a little 
impatient, but she looked at me with 
curious eyes. 
“You must have had a fine sleep!” 
They may call it sleep, but to me it 
will ever be a journey back into a far 
country—a beautiful journey which I 
shall always remember. My little cherry- 
tops pulled me at least 50 years away 
from that wood pile—nearer the stars. 
You people of middle age, when the 
Thanksgiving twilight comes on—I hope 
you too can sit before an open fire and 
believe with me that it was just a happy 
journey with youth. 
“Thank God we've got a country!” 
That’s all I say, and I try to think that 
“country” means home! H. w. c. 
Suggestion to Nurserymen. 
Here is a chance to do some good 
work. This suggestion from a recent ex¬ 
perience which put me to the bad by 
considerable. I ordered a hedge from one 
of your excellent advertisers and hoped I 
would have a word back whether hedge 
was on hand and when shipment would 
be made. After a week I received word 
that shipment had been made; next day, 
Saturday, at noon, I found hedge had ar¬ 
rived, no trench opened, because of con¬ 
stant travel. We hoped to put hedge in 
and trench - closed before night; we got 
extra help, but found soil we were taking 
out not fit to go back, so telephoned for 
good loam ; could get only one single¬ 
horse load, just enough to enable us to 
heel in the hedge. At least two nights 
of anxiety ahead of us; it stormed Mon¬ 
day some more. Here is my conclusion: 
If we could have known whether we were 
to receive the hedge and about date of 
shipment we could have had trench ready, 
loam on hand, done away with necessity 
of building fence for protection, less anx¬ 
iety. Are not all good nurserymen re¬ 
sponsible for many worries because of be¬ 
ing weak in their order system? I like the 
way one advertiser does it. He prompt¬ 
ly acknowledges order, states when he ex¬ 
pects to ship order, and requests cus¬ 
tomer to preserve card for future refer¬ 
ence in case of any wish to write about 
his order. It will be a big help to buyers 
if you can convince and assist every ad¬ 
vertiser to adopt a good post card system 
to use in acknowledging orders. 
Massachusetts. w. a. mann. 
SAVE HALF Your 
Paint Bills 
By using INGERSOLL PAINT — proved 
best by 66 years’ use. It will please you. 
Only paint endorsed by the “Grange.” 
Made in all colors—for all purposes. 
DELIVERED FREE 
From the Mill Direct to You at Factory Prices. 
INGERSOLL PAINT BOOK —FREE 
Tells all about Paint and Painting for Durability. 
How to avoid trouble and expense caused .by paints 
fading, chalking and peeling. Valuable information 
free to you, with Sample Color Cards. Write me. DO 
IT NOW. I can save you money. 
O.W. Ingersoll, 246 Plymouth St., Brooklyn, N.Y. 
When you write advertisers mention Tiie 
R. N.-Y. aaa you'll get a quick reply and a 
“square deal.” See guarantee editorial page. 
E. Frank COE 
FERTILIZERS 
The Business Farmer’s Standard 
for Over 55 Years 
Reliable Agents Wanted 
Write to Agency Manager 
The Coe-Mortimer Company 
51 Chambers Street, New York City 
The Threshing Problem 
ff 1 J Threshes cowpeas and soy beans 
uOI VPQ from the mown vines, wheat, oats, 
rye and barley. A perfect combina¬ 
tion machine. Nothing like it. “The machine I 
have been lo-king for for 20 years.” W. F. Massey. 
"It will meet every demand.” II. A. Morgan, Di¬ 
rector Ten 11 . Exp. Station. Booklet 29 free. 
ROGER PEA & BEAN THRESHER CO.. 
Morristown, Tenn. 
Wood Saws 
From $10 Up 
Sev-ral sizes, all strongly 
built, adjustable bearings 
on Mandrel. 
W rite for Cuts and Prices. 
Lewistown Foundry & Machine 
Company, Lewistown, Pa. 
SAVE GASOLINE MONEY. 
Y OU C AN BUNN WORTHLESS HU3BISK !H 
LEFFELN“£ 
Bum coal, wood or any fSL 
old thing. Never balk, yF.. 
nimple and easy to run. H l jjgPrlt 
Sure Dower and plenty Hz 
of it for all farm power- 
driven machinery. Give Bft 
steam and hot water for Mt 
scaldintr and other pur- 23 
poses. Have hundreds. w Hj g.-.—rr WE 
of uses—many irnpos— * MMl 
sible with fraaolino jd 
outfits. 
Free Book " j. u tfpB 
the Himplicity, durn- 
bility and cheapnmH 
of Leffel Steam Kn- rfM 
trncH. Write for it 
today. 
JAMES 1.FFFFL R CO. 
Box 
Springfield, Ohio 
m I , ,IC Unglue for all Small Farm Jobe 
Hie Junior has the same superior quality as 
the larger, higher-priced Domestic Engines 
Orchardists and fanners find it most econom¬ 
ical and labor-saving. Runs pumo, cream 
separator, grindstone corn-sheller ‘ and all 
machines requiring light power. We also 
make Dump and Dower -Spraying 
Machinery. Send for 
bulletin 131 and tell us 
your engine wants. 
Domesllc Engine ana Pump Co. 
Box 503, Sh'poensburg, Pa. 
Weight 
376 lbi. 
Ready to 
run when J 
reoeived. 
THE GENUINE' 
SMITH. 
STUMP PULLER; 
K-v**** Smith Grubber £0 
CATALOG FREE-OEPT- 55. LA CRESCENT - ‘ 
When a farmer makes money it is due to wise buying 
as well as wise farming. Buying paint wisely, for 
instance, means buying paint that protects and lasts. 
zinc 
in paint gives it some new qualities valuable to the 
farmer. Therefore every farmer should know about 
Zinc paints. 
Let us send you the book that tells you. 
The New Jersey Zinc Company 
Room 455, 55 Wall Street, New York 
