1004 RURAL NEW-YORKER 
With the Farm Women 
Notes by a Farm Mother 
Three Fatitereess Babies. —Out on 
the grass, under the big maples they are 
l)Iaying, these fatherless babes of mine. 
A Year-Old Bal)y 
Their happy laughter comes to me through 
the open door. They have had their 
morning bath and frc'sh. ch'an ‘‘coaties.” 
therefore they are comfortable and enjoy¬ 
ing themselves no matter how high or hot 
the sun. Baby George sits on a cotton 
quilt spread out for him, while Sid rolls 
like a barrel over and over for his amuse¬ 
ment. Laddie has two kitchen chairs 
harnessed for a team and they are draw¬ 
ing a heavy load it seems, judging from 
his talk and the cracking of his whip. A 
fresh breeze is blowing, tempering the 
lieat, and adding to their conifort. Care¬ 
free little men, nothing worries them now. 
The scarcity of flour and the high price 
of bread means nothing to them if their 
own hunger is satisfied. Somehow 
Mamma will manage, they know, and 
their trust is perfect. If we could only 
keep that perfect trust as we grow older, 
and believe as fully in our God, as in our 
baby days we believed in our mothers, 
what troubles and sorrows we might es- 
cape. 
Years of Care. —For the past 18 years 
there has been a baby in the house. Some 
of them were far more care than others, 
but all of them had my constant atten¬ 
tion day and night, and as I look back 
across the years, my chief regrets are 
that I didn’t do more for them and be 
more patient with them. One thought 
Inirts me yet whenever it comes to my 
mind. I was just finishing a big washing 
when my year-old baby boy tired of his 
playthings and began to cry for me to 
take him. But order was first in my 
mind those days, and I felt, that I had 
to finish up first. So I hung up the last 
sock, emptied the water and put board 
and tubs away, then changing my apron 
went to take baby. There he was asleep 
upon the carpet, his curly hniwn head 
pillowed on one arm and tears still wet 
on his round, rosy cheeks. INIamma had 
failed him, he cried and still she did not 
come, .so he had forgotten her neglect in 
sleep, but not quite—for a long quivering 
sigh came from the baby lips as I took 
him in my arms, and I vowed that here¬ 
after the work should wait and not the 
baby. That’s why my “work is never 
done.” I have peeled peaches and looked 
over berries with a baby lying on my lap, 
got meals and set table with a haby on 
my arm, washed and wijied dishes while 
standing on one foot and wheeling the 
baby carri<age back and fortli with the 
other; and many a time . rocked three 
babies to sleep at once, one in a big 
rocker, one in his carriage and the other 
in my arms. Often I was not once off the 
farm for more than a year at a time, 
even to the neighbors’; always washing, 
baking, mending and sewing, and the hun¬ 
dred and one other things a farm mother 
has to do. besides helping in the hay and 
grain fields before the boys were big 
enough. Now that first curly-haired baby 
of the long ago is far away, doing his 
share raising foodstuffs, while his bi’oth- 
ers do what they can on the home farm. 
Horseless ITaying. —This was a horse¬ 
less farm today. Y’'esterday the order 
was given to “draw cheese,” and that 
command is as unalterable as were the 
laws of the Medes and Persians. What 
matter that there was hay to be cut and 
a lot ready to draw in? The cars of the 
company “wait for no man” or boy either, 
.so go. Mid-forenoon the distant rumble 
of thunder was heard and dark clouds 
appeared in the northwest. One of the 
girls suggested drawing what hay they 
could at a time, in on the market-wagon, 
so laughing and shouting, away they went 
and soon they came up from the field 
with all the hay they could load on, some 
pushing, some pulling. So all afternoon 
they worked, only stopping for a drink 
apiece after unloading, and when the sun 
went down they had all but three hay¬ 
cocks in the mow, and no rain fell after 
all, for the dark clouds “went around.” 
No, mother didn’t help, for she was busy 
at the washtub, and the babies needed 
some one to watch them, but all the rest 
of the family at home pitched or loaded 
and had all the fun themselves. 
Working by the Whistle. —Once I 
heard a farmer say, who was visiting his 
city cousins, “Well, I’m glad I don’t have 
to work by the whistle.” Now I don’t 
know what branch of farming he was en¬ 
gaged in, but my experience has bee.n that 
in grain, market and dairy farming, the 
farmer tins to work by the whistle half 
the year, anyway. If one sells and loads 
his grain direct to the cars, as we used 
to, it has to be there between certain 
hours of a certain day, and that means 
hours at the fanning-mill and much 
bagging and loading up beforehand. Or 
if one prefers gardening and selling to 
the city trade, in our section one had to 
be on the market square at a certain hour 
or lose his place. And now in dairying, 
one knows the milk has to be at the fac¬ 
tory by a certain time.. So it seems the 
town worker has 1:110 best of it; he need 
not rise so early, and when the whistle 
bloM's his work is done for that day. 
The Farm Chii.p. —But with all the 
inconveniences of our country life, the 
sameness and the loneliness of the long, 
cold Winters, it is the id('al place to raise 
a family of children ; unless of course one 
can afford a home and spacious gi-ounds 
in town. A family from our neighbor¬ 
hood moved to the city some tinn* ago 
from the farm. This week one of their 
little boys was run over by a motorcycle 
and his head so badly injured he was at 
once rushed to the hospital. Poor little 
fellow, to be lying so quiet on a hospital 
cot, when by all the rights of his child- 
Asleep at the StaeJe 
hood he should be out in the open chasing 
butterflies the long Summer day. May 
his recovery be swift and complete, is my 
prayer for his anguished mother. 
Berry Pickers. —There’s a fast grow¬ 
ing row of canned berries on the fruit 
shelves down cellar, thanks to the middle- 
sized children and the kindness of a 
neighbor who gave us permission to pick 
in his raspberry patch. The neighbors 
were “welcome,” but he didn’t want 
stranger and city people to come in autos, 
tramping over the low bushes and destroy¬ 
ing as many as they picked, so he put up 
signs. Ami lo I if some picker didn’t tie 
his horse to a tree directly beneath a 
sign. How’s that for contempt of the 
farmer’s rights? 
Food 8ih>plies. —This is fine growing 
weather. The sweet corn is stretching up 
fast, the tomatoes and cucumbers are 
fruiting, and we have been eating new 
potatoes, wax beans, table carrots and 
Golden Ball turnips for the pa.st two weeks, 
and this is only the 25th of .luly, which is 
doing fjiirly well for our part of New York 
State. There will soon be a row of can¬ 
ned and sweet pickled beans next the 
fruit shelves. lluckleberries are idpe 
now and as soon as we can spare the time 
we must get a share of them. Then will 
come the choke-cherry, so iilentiful in the 
woods here. Mixed with apples they 
make a delicious jelly, and I want to fill 
all my glasses. We will not forget the 
elderberries, either, for they make fine 
liies for Winter, but I shall strain the 
cooked berries and only can the. juice, 
then thicken a little when making pies 
and they are fine. Ground mace or a few 
spoonfuls of vinegar improves them. 
These are busy days indeed for everyone, 
but I hope all the farm mothers will each 
find a little time to enjoy the good old 
Summer while it is yet with us. 
Soi.DiER Families. —Not a word comes 
over the seas from those boys of my 
father’s family, who are “somewhere in 
France.” But as no news is supposed to 
be good news, we hope all is well with 
them. Does soldiering run in some fami¬ 
lies. I wonder? Away back in 1812 niy 
grandfather shouldered arms and did his 
“bit” for his native State, New York. 
Then at Lincoln’s call for volunteers my 
father and his brothers enlisted, and 
served their country till the close of the 
Civil War. And now my cousins are 
“over thei’c.” beside those other brave 
boys of many brave mothers. _ Their 
hearts are anxious, though their lips may 
smile and their trust is in Him’who gave 
His own Son for the sake of humanity. 
May Heaven bless the mothers of our 
country’s brave boys. M. S. 
The ** Blue Day ” Changes Color 
A Gloomy Beginning. —When I awoke 
this morning the sky was gloomy, and 
somehow my heart was too; I am not 
much given to the “blues.” but when I do 
have them they are bad. “There’s churn¬ 
ing. wa.shing, baking and canning to do 
today,” I reflected, “and I don’t feel equal 
to the task.” The kitchen fire wouldn’t 
burn, the boys were cross; and by the 
time breakfast was ready I was “all tore 
to flinders.” The girl and big boy are 
away at our mountain home, .80 miles 
west, canning berries. True, the “girl- 
boy,” is not well. Don is his papa’s chore 
boy, the two little fellows can’t do much, 
so I have no help at all. I hurriedly 
strain away milk, wash dishes, sweep, 
dust, feed chicks and the pet pig, which 
is kept on the buttermilk and scrap. 
There’s neA-er much scraps fer him, only 
potato and cabbage parings, etc. 
Baking and Churning.- —The bread is 
set to rise, and I go to churn. Another 
hour is gone. The bread is put in oven ; 
the boys washed, then my “babykins” 
must be given a scrub and dressed. While 
I usually enjoy this task above all it is 
trying today; she kicks, and frets and 
squirms; buttons won’t stay buttoned and 
pins come unhooked and I lose patience 
and scold her. The .sweet mouth quivers 
and I hurriedly snatch her to my bieast 
and cover the sweet face with kisses. 
The Pe.ssimist Calls. —.lust as I’m 
preparing to put her down, a neighbor 
drops in. a well-meaning man, kind and 
good ; but I grow impatient as he tells of 
the mistakes made by the President and 
his Cabinet. Gen. Foch, and all the rest. 
He, like me. is grouchy today; nothing is 
right, schools, churches, everything, even 
the Aveather is wrong, and I am glad Avheu 
he goes. I sit AV'ondering for a AA’hile if 
my life is any benefit to the AAmrld. Does 
my family or anyone else appreciate any¬ 
thing I do? I knoAV my neighbors c.innot 
think I’m any benefit to the neighborhood, 
as I am not able to do any outside AA’ork. 
My family claims all my time. I Avonder 
if husband thinks he could have done bet¬ 
ter by marrying someone else. I call to 
mind many Avomen Avho are better house¬ 
keepers than I. They plan their Avork 
better than I, and never seem to be 
rushed. As I sit baby in her crib and go 
to build a fire in the shed to heat Avash 
AAmter, a tear courses doAvn my cheeks. 
I am just about convinced that I really 
am a failure. 
Washing and Cooking. —It is nearly 
nine o’clock, and I am sure I cannot get 
the clothes out by noon. I already have 
beans on to cook, so dinner Avill not be 
such a task, but I cannot get any com¬ 
fort out of that, or anything else today. 
As I build the fire a cheery Amice says, 
“Let me build it, Hon.” husband’s pet 
name for me. “I can’t plow before noon. 
The ground is too wet, so I will help 
you.” 
“Oh, no,” I protest, “you have too much 
to do. I don’t Avant you to help me.” 
“Well, I’ll helj) you anyhow. You are 
Avorked too much; no other Avoniau could 
ever do as much as you do and get along 
so Avell, I knoAV. Mr. J- Avas saying 
this morning that he thought you tiie mo.st 
ellicient Avonian he eAmr kncAV ; and I told 
him you were Avonderful.” 
The 8un Comes Out.—Hoav a feAv 
Avords can change everything! The sun 
shone out brightly, the birds’ songs filled 
the air, the clothes came out of the kettle 
Avhite as snoAV and Avere SAvinging on the 
line at 15 minutes of 11. The bread was 
a puffy, golden brown. Dinner is on 
time. After the dishes are Avashed and I 
sit resting, baby boy comes in and says: 
“I love you, mamma, and True, and Don, 
and pajia, and all of us loA'es you ; papa 
said you Avere the SAveetest mamm.a ever 
he saAV.” 
Distant Friends.—Taa-o letters came 
in the mail, one from a farm mother in a 
Northern State, and one from a dear old 
lady in Florida. Both tell me Iioav much 
they have enjoyed my writings, and I am 
glad to think I am able to help others a 
little in this Avay. I suppose after all I 
am a little help in the Avorld. I know 
husband and the boys loA'^e me. tb.ough 
the latter are noisy, rattling and thought¬ 
less. Yet our home is full of Ioa’c, and 
after all that’s far bett(>r than gold. The 
children are like most others; they quar¬ 
rel and even fight occasionally, but they 
loA'e each other dearly. All almost idolize 
the baby. Many of my folks and ad my 
neighbors thought it an aAvful thing that 
Ave liad such a large family, but ooav I 
notice the.A’’ come in very handy, and tAA'o 
August 24, 191S 
or three of the very ones who bewailed 
the large family have asked us to give 
them one of the children. Maybe I will, 
but it Avill take me several years to de¬ 
cide the question. 
Canning.— At four o’clock I start a 
fire and can the preserves which were 
prepared yesterday and the scant cupful 
of sugar sprinkled over them to draAv out 
the juice. All my preserves are made 
Avith a very small cup of sugar to each 
can this year, and most apples and ber¬ 
ries Avithout any sugar at all. I think 
perhaps I shall be able to get sugar next 
Winer; if not I knoAV I will have sorg¬ 
hum, for we have it coming on nicely, and 
it is a fair substitute. 
Ea'entide. — After preparing uncle’s 
supper—he likes an early supper—I go 
to milk, gather eggs and feed the chicks, 
strain away the milk in the cool, dimly 
lighted spring house, then back to house 
to prepare the cold supper, and after 
dishes are put aAvay we sit on the porch, 
just my old sAveetheart and I, and talk 
over bygone days, plan for the future of 
the children and ourselves; speak softly 
of the boys Ave knoAV and love Avho are 
fighting tonight perhaps “over there.” 
The stars come out one by one. The 
golden moon _ comes sloAvly up over tlie 
distant purplish mountains, the children’s 
laughing A’oices are heard coming up the 
lane. They come trooping in, kiss us 
good night and go to bed ; and I look back 
over the events of the day and think that 
it hasn’t been such a dark day after all, 
though it Avas a gloomy morning, and it 
is usually in the Avay Ave look at it. If 
we try to think we’re happy soon we Avill 
be, and if A\'e think the reverse it will be 
What a Plain Country Woman Thinks 
Warm Weather Work.—T his is the 
trying month of the year—.stifling days 
and SAveltering nights, and the usual 
chores and AA'ork to be performed some- 
hoAV just the same. It is hard work to 
keep sweet-tempered and the nerves 
steady Avhen the thermometer hovers 
around 90 degrees in the shade for Aveeks at 
a stretch. We were a bit back on our farm 
Avork, as practically every family is this 
year who are trying to do eA'en more than 
their part. The tAvo acres of cattle beets 
needed Aveeding badly for several w'eeks, 
and yet the men couldn’t find the time 
to do this long back-breaking ta.sk. So I 
volunteered, and during the first hot 
Avoek in August and the last hot days in 
•Inly I weeded beets. My neck and back 
Avere “burned to ,a crisp,” it seemed to 
me, and my poor knees Avere so stiff and 
.sore that movement for a long time 
afterward was pure agony. But the 
beets are AA’eeded and Ave are all caught 
up now, and my protesting muscles creak 
and groan no more. Husband says that 
if the stock make “40-pound” records 
next Winter on those beets, I can take 
the glory. They surely should be grate¬ 
ful enough Avhen eating this succulent 
“coAv salad” to do their A’ery best for the 
weeder Avoman. 
War Belief.—E very Wednesday after¬ 
noon through the Summer I have re¬ 
served for the young girls of our neigh¬ 
borhood who meet at our house to knit 
and seAV for soldiers and Belgian babies. 
They call themseh^es the War Relief 
Girls, and Avhen school commences I hope 
the teacher Avill form a .lunior Red Cross 
branch in our district. My girls greatly 
enjoy their helpful dutie.s. They have 
made a quantity of manila paper scrap¬ 
books seven by nine inches, and in them 
neatly pasted gay pictures, cartoons and 
“jokes.” These scrap-books are one of 
the fcAV things in demand noAV at head¬ 
quarters for the enjoyment of convales¬ 
cent hospital soldiers. The guiuwipos. 
fracture pilloAvs, etc., are not desired any 
longer, as transportation space is at sucli 
a premium. War “stuf!’,’’ Kaiser .jokes, 
and the like, are taboo in these books, 
we are reminded. My girls are noAV in¬ 
dustriously scAving on a Belgian baby 
layette of daisy cloth. They are also 
knitting a large hospital afghan of bits 
of left-over Avorsteds Avhich are mainly 
don.'ited by relatiA’es and friends. These 
.-ifghan blocks are knit six inche.s square 
and there are 90 squares required for th(> 
larger size. These are .set together Avith 
A Chinese Shoemaker. See page 1012 
black or white crocheted yarn. We are 
talking of taking our afghan to the 
county fair this Fall, and the girls are 
(Continued on page 1012) 
