706 
JShe RURAL NEW-YORKER 
May 10, 1017. 
WO MAN A N D HOME 
When Jim Ferguson “Went Back” 
The Mechanic Turns Farmer 
By the Brown Owl 
It was rho noon hour at Mill No. 3, 
anrl outsido in the warm early Autumn 
sunshine sat a lonj; row of men from 
the many different departments of the 
great mill. The talk shifted from one 
subject to another rather aimlessly until 
little Sam llathway. a .steam-fitter, sud- 
df'nly yanked his greasy black cap into 
a more comfortable jm.sition on his tow 
head and said, “Now if a fellow just 
hiid a little place of his own—” 
It was usually Sam llathway who 
would begin it, and then the talk grew 
animated and each had something to tell 
of what he had read or heard about farm 
life. In that long line of skilled work¬ 
men not one had ever lived outside of 
city or village limits, and their personal 
knowledge of country living was lim¬ 
ited to occa.sional trips into the open 
with their families, or letters from rela¬ 
tives who lived in the country. Occa¬ 
sionally there was a man whose wife 
had spent her girlhood on a farm, and 
of course that fact alw.-iys put her hu.s- 
band into the “expert'’ class on all dis¬ 
cussions of farm life. 
This group of workmen from Mill No. 
.3 was not unusual. It is nearly always 
the case when such men come together 
and exchange views that the majority of 
them will declare the ideal spot to live 
is “on a little jdace of your own in the 
country.” 
'i'here are those who carry the idea 
that the city workman longs for the 
farm life simply because he imagines 
that “farmers have nothing to do but 
chores and then sit around the house 
the rest of the day.” I have heard far¬ 
mers give that as their opinion more 
than once. “O, it’s the easy time those 
fellows are after,” says Mr. Farmer; 
“they think we have nothing to do but 
shovel the vegetables into the cellar in 
the Fall, and crops just grow all by 
themselves.” I have had a good oppor¬ 
tunity to know just what is back of 
that almost universal desire of the city 
workman to get into the country, and 
Mr. Farmer is away off the track when 
he imagines it is all “the lure of ea.sy 
money.” I believe that deep in the 
make-up of every man there lies a craving 
for the open fields, undimmed by clouds 
of smoke, and where he may hear the 
song of birds instead of the screech of 
mill or factory whistles. It’s a sort of 
a call of the soil that somewhat resem¬ 
bles the “call of the wild” in .Tack Lon¬ 
don’s dog story of that name. 
Those men know what hard work is 
as well as IMr. Farmer, who often car¬ 
ries the idea that the city workman has.a 
mighty easy time of it working un¬ 
der a roof all day, and not having to 
take the weather as it comes. He never 
stops to think how he would like the 
same sort of a life that is ordered by a 
.screeching whistle, and where all day long 
the eyes of the workmen see nothing but 
flying wheels and belts, and their hearing 
is dulled by the never-ending roar of ma¬ 
chinery. Mr. Farmer works ahso, works 
hard, and he also mu.st be on time with 
his work but with this difference; when 
he looks up from his work his eyes rest 
on things far different from dusty mill 
walls, and no matter what the weather 
may be he can fill his lung.s full of air 
that is pure and clean. Just what this 
means is rather hard for country resi¬ 
dents to fully realize, for they take for 
granted the ble.ssings of pure air just as 
they do the sumshine, but how would any 
of them like to work in a hot dusty mill 
by the side of a man in an advanced 
stage of tubei’culosis? There is no State 
law that I know of that protects healthy 
workmen from this menace. If there is 
any such law I have yet to hear of its 
being enforced. 
One trouble with Mr. Farmer is that 
he has been out in the open so long that 
he often fails really to see what a beau¬ 
tiful world he is living in. He looks at 
the sky, for instance, with only his 
weather eye. Of course there are excep¬ 
tions, but I wish I knew more of them 
than I do. 
When one of tho.se city workmen finds 
himself in the country on a place of his. 
own, he drink.s deep of the beauty 
around him because it has been denied 
him for so long, and some fine morning, 
when he pulls the cultivator around at 
the end of the row of corn he will make 
the terrible mistake of letting old Prince 
nibble the grass in the fence corner while 
he throws himself flat on his back, pulls 
his hat down, to shade his eyes, and 
drawing deep full breaths, watches some 
tiny, fleecy, white clouds spread over 
the blue Summer sky. The very joy of 
being alive at that minute is quite 
enough for him. Then if he has stopped 
near the fence next the I’oad Mr. Far-- 
mer is just sure to come hurrying .along 
home from the milk station. He Iso 
has been looking at the fleecy clouds', but 
with only that weather eye of his. He 
pull.s up on the reins, and the fat old 
black horse speeds up and sets the empty 
cans to dancing while Mr. Farmer saj's 
to himself, “That sky means rain about 
tonight or in the morning, and that cul- 
tivating's got to be done.” Then he 
spies “that city man” lying motionless on 
hisi back inside the fence, while his 
hor.se, which ten to one is far from fat, 
nibbles the grass in the fence corner. 
Mr. Farmer's whole being fills with 
contempt, and right there comes a mis¬ 
understanding that tends to drive those 
two men apart when they should be 
friends. The pity of it! Mr. Farmer 
pulls on the reins impatiently and the 
fat old horse lets out another link, while 
its owner says wrathfully as he watches 
the flying heels of his horse : “Rain com¬ 
ing, and there is that lazy city cinss lying 
flat on his b.ack a.sleep at ten o’clock 
in the morning.” 
But we’ve got a long space away from 
Mill No. 3 and V the noon hour will be 
over if we don’t hurry. Sam llathway 
was deep in his sujjject by this time, 
and his listeners either nodded approval 
or added something from their own point 
of view, 
“Why, it was just the other night,” 
continued Sam, “I was a readin’ of a 
feller that had to gather his eggs in a 
bushel basket. Just think of a binshel 
of eggs in Winter, when decent eggs are 
five cents apiece.” 
“Yes,” said a big millwright, “an’ ye 
wouldn’t hev to go ask any bo.ss if ye 
could lay off while ye went out and sold 
’em.” 
Then a new voice spoke, it was that 
of Pat Hogan an engineer and what his 
fellow workmen called a crackerjack ajt 
his trade. Hogan earned $40 a week, 
but i)aid $30 a month for rent and had 
a family of six children to provide for. 
“Ye .see, boys, it’s like this. When 
ye've got yer own place, if ye’d be laid 
up sick a spell, there would be no worry 
at all about the pay envelope not cornin’; 
things would be a-growin’ an’ yer hens 
a-layin’, even if ye were on the flat of 
yer back. Ye can bet yer sweet life I’ll 
git Minnie an’ the kids into the coun¬ 
try jist as soon as I git enough on me 
hip to buy the place I’ve got me eye 
on already.” 
At the end of the long line of men sat 
,Tim Ferguson, silent for a wonder, for 
.Tim had always been one of the chief ad¬ 
vocates of country living. He had meant 
to tell the boys this noon, but somehow 
he couldn't. He was going to miss them 
all more than he had imagined. 
“What would the boys say,” thought 
.Tim as he listened quietly to their talk, 
“if they could ju.st .see that letter.” The 
evening before, when he had returned 
from work, his wife had met him at the 
door with the letter in her hand. 
“It's settled, Jim,” she called gaily. 
Then followed a happy evening when 
future plans Avere discu.ssed and the eager 
(piestious of tbe children answ'ered. A 
farm, not too large, had been found that 
seemed to fill their needs exactly. After 
it was paid for there was just $400 left 
in the bank to .Tim’s credit. After talk¬ 
ing it over they finally decided to remain 
in the city until Spring. .Tin’s pay was 
$4 a day and at the rate they had been 
saving there would be quite a little more 
to add to their nest egg by Spring, 
However, their plans had to be changed, 
as the people from whom the farm had 
been bought suddenly decided that they 
did not want to live on the farm another 
Winter even if no rent was charged for 
the house or the cow that had been 
bought with the place. So .Tim gave in 
his two weeks’ notice, much to the dis¬ 
appointment of the superintendent, who 
looked upon .Tim as one of his best men. 
The “boys” gave him their hearty ap¬ 
proval. “If ye wasn’t goin’ so fer away,” 
declared the little steam-fitter, “we’d all 
jist light in on yez some Sunday fer a 
good old-fa.shioued boiled dinner.” 
“Go it, ould man,” said Pat Hogan. 
“I’ll be .a-doin’ the same thing mesilf 
one o’ these foine days.” 
It was a lovely day in October that 
the Fergu.sons arrived at their future 
home. Mrs. Ferguson had spent her 
girlhood on a farm, and to her it was 
like going back home again. There were 
four children, the olde.st not quite seven. 
and the baby 10 months old. How those 
children enjoyed themselves romping all 
over the place, ^ and asking countle.ss 
questions! 
.Tim spent the first few days looking 
things over, and the more he looked the 
more he found that would have to be re¬ 
placed with new. He had bought the 
farming tools with the place, but he 
found eA’erything so nearly worn out 
that it looked very much as if there 
would have to be a new outfit right 
through. One day .Tim came into the 
house and said, “Come out here, Kate, 
and see what I have found.” Out at 
one side of the garden stood a part of a 
currant bush, and on looking farther 
they found where, three long rows of 
currant bushes had been dug up. 
“They just trimmed the place like a 
Chri.stmas tree. Kate.” .Tim said, but it 
wasn’t until long afterwards that he 
found out the extent of the trimming. 
As long as the farm was being sold to a 
stranger from the city there had been 
p'Tanty of opportunity to exchange many 
farm tools for i)oor old discarded tools 
belonging to relatives, and even a pump 
had been pulled up and traded for a 
poor old thing that had to be replaced 
inside of a week after they w'ent on the 
place. When .Tim looked the jdace over 
he had taken the owner’s word for .a 
good deal, and had not inspected the farm 
tools. His chief concern was the warmth 
and condition of the house, which was 
really a very good one. 
“We shall just have to buy a horse 
right away,” said .Tim, soon after they 
got to their neAV home. There was a 
carriage and a harness that might do for 
a while. 
On inquiring, .Tim found the neighbor¬ 
hood full of horses that would be for 
sale, their owners really anxious to see 
the new neighbor supplied (for cash of 
course) with a re.ally kind gentle animal, 
perfect in every respect. .Tim knew as 
much about buying a horse as those same 
farmers would know about buying the 
fittings for a steam engine. Kate looked 
rather anxious when .Tim told her their 
neighbor wanted $200 for that bay horse 
of his. 
“It might be Avell to be careful, .Tim,” 
she cautioned, but .Tim assured her that 
they had left all the “sharks” behind in 
the city, and wrote out his check for the 
$200. The new horse proved to bo kind 
and gentle enough but they soon found 
out that he had been a voter for many 
season.s, and in a little over a year he 
died of old age. Thej' found out after¬ 
wards (there are always plenty to in¬ 
form you then) that Old I’riuce was 
nearly 30 years old when they bought him. 
Early in November, the cow that came 
with the place began to dry up. She 
Avas apparently a good coav, but old, so 
another coav had to be bought in order 
that the children Avould have plenty of 
milk. Another neighbor became much in¬ 
terested in the Avelfare of those children, 
and he had a fine coav just fresh that 
Avould be “just the checker”; eighty dol¬ 
lars, “seeing you’re new neighbors.” put 
the COAV into .Tim’s stable. When he led 
her aAvay the farmer said: “Noav that 
COAV likes to be'messed. She’s ready for 
a pail of slop any time day or night.” 
This proved to be no fairy tale. That 
cow Avas so old her teeth Avere unfit to 
cheAV hay, and she had to be fed soft 
feed. .Tim sold her in the Spring for 
$20 to a dealer Avho was picking up 
cattle of all grades. “I’m shipping a 
hull carload of ole bandboxes jest like 
’er,” he said. 
It AA'as nearly Christmas before .Tim 
came to understand his farmer neighbors. 
About that time, a man who owned a 
small farm about four miles from .Tim’s 
place, had his house and barn destroyed 
by fire—leaving his family and stock in 
desperate circumstances. Before the 
next night came his family and stock 
Avere comfortably housed and plenty of 
food provided to last until Spring. In 
fact the family had more to be com¬ 
fortable with than they had had before 
(Continued on page 713) 
The Mill Hands Discussing Farming 
