896 
July 20, 1918 
BVic RURAL NEW-YORKER 
HOPE FARM NOTES 
‘•Seventeen.”—O np night la.'^t wpok, as 
the darkness came on and we settled down 
for a little study, I picked up a book at 
randoms If chanced to be Booth Tarking- 
ton’s “Seventeen,” which my daughter had 
been reading. Somehow I became inter¬ 
ested from the start, and kept right on. 
Of course a man of my years and duties 
had no business spending time over the 
.silly adventures of a lovesick boy. Hall’s 
“Agriculture After the War” is much 
more important, for the author gives what 
seems to me a clear picture of what Eng¬ 
land must do with her land. Then I have 
not finished “Earliest Man,” by Dr. W. 
H. iVIigeod. That seems to me the shrewd¬ 
est guess I have yet read as to what our 
earliest forebears looked like, and how 
they acquired speech, defensive and hoard¬ 
ing habits and a larger skull. Some of 
you may feel well .satisfied to let “Earliest 
Man” rest in the dim past, since our own 
troubles and joys and perplexities must be 
associated with latest man. Yet it seems 
to me that the very latest, up-to-date 
human has retained some of the traits of 
his earliest ancestor. Whenever you stir 
him up to his “elementals” he is quite 
likely to go back to his type. I ought to 
put what little time I have into these 
solid books which represent the high- 
wat(*r mark of great minds. Yet here I 
wasted golden hours on this “Seventeen.” 
; “Love’s Young Dream.” —It is the 
story of a young man 17 yeare old and 
the way he made himself ridiculous over 
a girl of 18. Of course he should have 
known better, but before you condemn 
him too severely I advise you to review 
your own youth with some care and see 
if .vou can remember how you behaved 
while you were “just at that age.” Y'ou 
may now be a solid, hard-headed citizen 
for all I know—.so solid that romance and 
poetry would dodge into an alley or hide 
in thCt woods if they .saw’ you coming. 
Yet it is a five to one chance that someone 
has, .somewhere, tucked out of sight, love 
letters and actual poefr//with your name 
signed to them. The chances are that I 
could go out and find that you have a 
i-omantic record W’hich might not make a 
great hit with your family. It seems to 
be true that ever since “Earliest Man” 
every member of the human family has 
made himself more or less ridiculous at 
about “seventeen.” Then at 87 the man 
seems to be ashamed of his youth and has 
little patience with his children who may 
be not half as foolish or romantic as he 
was over their mother, and mother joins 
him in the lecture, but sighs a little—and 
remembers ! 
The Old Story. —So I let “Earliest 
Man” have a late start and left agricul¬ 
ture still in the future and read ‘‘Seven¬ 
teen” through to the end. That little girl. 
,Tane, w’as as sensible and matter-of-fact 
as her brother was stupid. After I fin¬ 
ished the book I found myself sitting alone 
before the cool, black fireplace. In place 
of a fire we have a great mass of daisies 
and black-eyed Susans betw’een the and¬ 
irons. A thunderstorm had come i)ound- 
ing down the valley, and drojis of rain 
came down the chjmuey and glittered on 
the flow’ei’s. I found my mind going back 
to other days—back to the years which 
group around “seventeen.” I want to tell 
you a little story, and see what you make 
of it. Please remember that the Hope 
Farm man w’as not an actor in this little 
drama. He is simply the historian. The 
boy’s name was George and her name W'as 
Lucy. They were classmates at a fresh¬ 
water college—which means, in the West, 
a rather feeble denominational college in 
a small country town. George was the 
only son of a farmer. His father was well 
advanced in years, not very strong, and 
W’ith but a small farm which had given 
them but a scant income. The mother 
had made the sacrifice in order that her 
boy might have education and the chance 
that goes with it. Look such things up 
and you wfill find that it is usually the 
mother w’ho really endures that the chil¬ 
dren may have their chance. 
The Actors.— George was a big. strong 
country boy—not very quick at thinking 
and not W’ell used to what people call 
“society.” A big powerful fellow, born to 
be a farmer, with a great heart but a 
rather slow brain. Lucy was a town girl 
—daughter of the local druggist—who of¬ 
ten found it necessary to drug some of his 
bills in order to maintain his family. She 
was one of these small, slender girls, not 
strong enough to do heavy Avork—pretty 
much all eyes and a thick mane of black 
hair. Now it has always seemed a strange 
thing to me that these big, powerhil 
men like George go hunting after the 
human bric-a-brac like Lucy. Y^ou would 
think they would naturally look for a mate 
among the strong, solid, sensible counti-y 
girls who are capable of doing their share 
of .sound and serious thinking as well as 
practical housework. George passed them 
by, as thousands of other strong men at 
“seventeen” have done, and fell in love 
with Lucy—a delicate town flower, with 
a keen, active mind, a pretty face and a 
wrist about the size of a broomstick. As 
a teacher or as keeper of a small town 
home she would have been an ornamental 
success, but as mistress of a busy farm¬ 
house she would haA'e wilted like a flower 
cut down by the moAver. I know not AA’hy 
it is that so many sensible men choose 
their mates with the spirit of “Seventeen” 
rather than Avith the sense of 87. Surely 
anyone of the latter age would have 
shaken his head as the big. vigorous fann 
oak and the delicate toAvn flower went by 
together. Yet that is ever the way of the 
Avorld, 
The Villain. —There has to be one in 
every love story., Wliat sort of a passage 
across the sea of life Avould it he if there 
were no one to rock the boat? In this 
case his name Avas Henry and he, too, 
was in love Avith Lucy. And at 87 you 
would have said he was a better mate'for 
her. 'i oil neA’er could get him out on a 
farm. His father Avas the local banker, 
and interested in real estate. Henry was 
a nice, dapper little man, Avell-dres.sed, 
steady, smart and Avith an assured future. 
He lacked George’s big mu.sde and solid 
character, but his brain was quicker and 
there Avere more electric lights on the road 
ahead of him. George saw his duty ahead 
—to care for his parents later on. Henry 
had no such encumbrance—his parents 
Avere w’ell able to care for themselves and 
him too if need be. You Avill all say that 
a slim and sensible girl like Lucy Avould 
quickly see that life Avould mean for years 
a form of .servitude Avith (Jeorge and .a 
fonn of freedom Avith Henry. But at 
“Seventeen” the difi’ei-ence betAveen servi¬ 
tude and freedom is not so distinct as it 
is later Avhen wrinkles and a gray hair or 
two sharpen the A’ision. I>uey chose the 
big farmer. They were not engaged, but 
there Avas an “understanding” Avhich 
neither of them understood. Henry un¬ 
derstood also, and he Avaited for his time 
—as all the villains in the love stories do. 
It usually come.s. 
Th Plot. —-In the early Spring George’s 
father fell sick Avith rheumatism. He 
W!is badly crippled, and he grieved and 
Avorried over the farm Avork. There Avas 
a great pile of stable manure to be hauled 
out, ground to be ploA\’ed for oats and the 
hired man could not possibly do it all. So 
mother Avrote Geoi’ge about the trouble, 
and urged him to come home for the 
Spring vacation and help. George had 
planned for a visit Avith Lucy, but at the 
home call he fell in like a good soldier. 
The college president gave him an extra 
week and Avithin 24 hours George Avas at 
home Avith overalls and boots on. digging 
aAvay at that manure pile, while mother 
sang at her AA’ork and father smiled as he 
hobbled about Avith his cane, and then 
Henry felt that time and the hour had 
met for him. So Avhen Saturday came he 
harnessed his fathei‘’s horse and droA’e to 
Lucy's house. She sraa’ him coming and 
began to think of all sorts of excuses, but 
he Avas Avise. 
“Gome. Lucy,” he said. “Let’s drive 
out to the farm and surprise George, right 
at his Avork. He Avill be tickled to death 
to liaA’c us come!” 
And Lucy forgot all her excuses and, 
trying not to seem eager, drove away Avith 
Henry for the farm ! 
The ’Tragedy.—I t Avas one of those hot 
Spring days, Aviudless and moist, Avhen the 
air seems hotter than in .Tune, and A\’e all 
feel that we must imitate Nature and take 
off our Winter clothes. The dapper young 
man and the dainty young Avomaii riding 
along the country road did not look like 
the villain of a play leading the heroine ; 
into trouble, but at “Seventeen” you never 
can tell. Out on the farm George and the 
hired man had st.-irted to make a great 
dent in that manure pile so that plowing 
for oats might start on Monday. ’Fhc 
hired man Avas a veteran, and after two 
loads he pulled off his boots and stockings 
and rolled up his trousers in order to do 
a better job. He looked so comfortable 
that after dinner George followed him 
and, barefooted, they Avent at their job 
like two farm giants trying to clean the 
stables. .\nd they Avere right in the heat 
and heart of their job Avhen a shining 
buggy carrying a shining-eyed girl drove 
into the yard. I think if they had only 
seen mother first it might haA'e been a 
little different, but Henry saAV father sit¬ 
ting out under a tree. 
‘‘Good day, Mr. Gray. Avhere’s George? 
We Avant to surprise him !” 
“He’s out behind the barn I” 
Then the fathc r saAV the girl and re¬ 
membered, but it Avas too late, for Henry 
drove on around the barn before i)oo'r 
cripj)l_ed father could give warning. And 
the villain and the unsuspecting heroine 
droA'e around into the barnyard and came 
directly upon George and the hired man 
barefooted, hot and i-edolent at their use¬ 
ful job! ’Fhe villain’s plot had Avorked 
out! If this dainty creature had been a 
farm girl she Avould have seen at once 
that George Avas a bigger man than ever 
for doing this Avork to help his father. 
But could you, could any girl in her place 
Avith dainty, violet-scented clothes see 
that this smeared and SAveating man was 
digging out the truest gold of life Avith his 
manure fork? Hardly, I fear, Avhen one 
is “seventeen !” You Avill remember the 
poor hero in Hugo’s “Toilers of the Sea.” 
If he could only have cleaned and shaved 
and dressed before the girl saAV him I 
You May End It.—W ell, how did it 
come out? i)id the villain get aAvay with 
it? Did true love triumph? Did they all 
live happily ever after? I am not going 
to tell, but in this case I Avill leave it to 
your own knowledge of human nature to 
end it as you think best. 1‘erhaps Lucy 
AA'as so shocked that George could never 
be the same again and .so she married 
Henry, Perhaps she saw what Henry had 
done, and it made her think moi’e of 
George. Perhaps she married him and 
settled doAV’n on the farm, making up with 
her keen brain what she lacked in 
strength. I knoAV of cases Avhere these 
keen, delicate AA'omen have induced their 
husbands to take up neAv lines of farming 
Avhere headvA-ork counted for more. Per¬ 
haps Geoi’ge followed her aAvay from the 
farm and became a second-rate teacher or 
clerk rather than a first-rate farmer. All 
of these are possible in such a case and 
the beauty of this story is that you may 
end it to suit yourself. Yes, “seventeen” 
is a sort of silly time of life, yet what a 
pity that we cannot carry the best of the 
folly up to 77. H. W. C. 
Is the Robin a Friend ? 
A ^ort time ago there was a note in 
The K. N.-Y. advocating an open season 
on robins. No doubt this AA’as read al¬ 
most with disgust by many fair and well- 
meaning people, considering it the con¬ 
tracted viewpoint of the traditional mis¬ 
erly farmer, too small to contribute a little 
fruit to this beautiful harbinger of Spring, 
the little robin redbreast, talked about to 
us, as children, by our grandmother, and 
taught to love and protect from our ear- 
lie.st recollection. But, after all this, hoAv 
about it? What are the facts. 
Times change; things move. We are 
getting continually neAv knowledge about 
matters and things, and with ncAV knowl¬ 
edge come neAv viewpoints; viewpoints 
that are acknowledged to be right, though 
they might have been considered unthink¬ 
able a short time in the past. People, 
animals, birds, even in.sects, and many 
other things are judged and treated ac¬ 
cording to their habits, actions, etc. I 
think Ave can all remember the time when 
recommending the killing of the Kaiser 
Avas, or Avould have been, vei’y unpopular. 
Today, to say the least, one Avould hardly 
be cast into prison for such a recommen¬ 
dation. Why is this so? Simply because 
it has been recently found that his meth¬ 
ods, habits, actions, etc., are injurious to 
the people. With the robin, too, Ave are 
getting neAv knov.’ledge (some of us—oth¬ 
ers have had it a long time), and because 
new knowledge, a new viewpoint. 
We have 15 or 20 good-sized sweet 
cherry trees. _ We had rather come to ex¬ 
pect the robins to take all of these, but 
had not expected them to injure the Mont¬ 
morency cherries much; hoAvever, this 
year the loss already on about 100 trees 
is unbelievable. I Avould not have be¬ 
lieved it myself had I not been called upon 
to go among and examine them. As late 
as this past month, when a house cat de¬ 
stroyed a robin’s nest near the house W’e 
Avere tempted to get rid of the cat. I am 
noAV ready to take a firm stand against the 
robin, and believe, too. Ave must have an 
open season on robins, or many Avill be 
forced for self-protection to break the 
laAV. I still have an open mind, and any¬ 
one with actual evidence that robins do 
more good than harm is invited to come 
forward and submit the same, as the 
greatest good to the greatest number 
must always prevail. avm. iiotaling. 
Columbia Co.. N. Y. 
Tfie 
Balance' 
as between POSTUM 
and other tabic 
beverascs 
is in favor of the 
Wholesome, 
drink. 
POSTUM 
is all this and more. 
Ifs most delicious. 
Besides there's no 
waste, and these 
are days when one 
should Try 
INfSTAINJX 
Gentleman s Country Home and Farm 
containing 248 acres; 11-room mansion, with all conve- 
4 tenant houses, horse-bani, cow-barn, tobacco 
shed and all necessary outbuildings: the soil is in tlio 
highest state of cultivation, successfully growing alfalfa, 
tobacco, wheat, corn, potatoes, etc.; price, $32,000* 
$16,000 can lemain on inortgrage. 
JOHN L* MUSSER, 249-251 Woolworth Illdp., I^maaster, I*a, 
IF you want books on farming of 
any kind write us and we 
will quote you prices 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER 
333 West Thirtieth Street, New York 
m 
i 
w. 
V* -i; 
v/2 ■ 
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