176 
February 1, 1919 
A Visit to Chimney Top 
What It Is. —Chimney Top Rook is a 
solid rock, something like 100 feet high, 
situated on a high pinnacle of Chimney 
Top Mountain in Washington County, 
East Tennessee. This mountain is about 
3,000 feet above sea level, and it means a 
long hard climb to reach the rock. It 
takes a person with plenty of nerve to 
climb the rock after it is reached. It was 
on a quiet, peaceful Sabbath afternoon in 
early November that I. in company with 
my 14-year-old son and two neighbor boys 
of about the same age, visited the rock. 
While going up the mountain I bragged as 
much as the boys about how “I'd go up 
on the rock,” “I'd never hi 1 afraid,” etc., 
but when I stood beneath it. and gazed up 
at its awful height, saw its solemn gran¬ 
deur. I felt weak and trembly. All the 
blood in my body seemed to be surging 
in the ends of my toes. I seemed to be 
standing in the very presence of God, and 
the boys had to go up and come back two 
or three times before they could persuade 
me to make the ascent. I have had others 
tell me they felt the very same the first 
time they ever saw this piece.of nature’s 
handiwork. 
A Wondekttti. Bit OF Nature. —There 
are steps on the north side, carved, I sup¬ 
pose, by nature, and it is no hard job to 
go up if your nerve doesn’t fail you. When 
the top is reached you find yourself on a 
flat surface about the size of an ordinary 
room, solid stone, and wh n n you get cour¬ 
age to look around you feel well retv”'d 
for all your climb. First the rock itself 
is divided into three or ur s-< t n . r ■•’■'.o 
lower than the main r<Hv. and ia 1 o’ ing 
across from one to tin' other I <■:’a only 
think of the grand cathedrals of Europe 
of which I have read, or of some grand 
castle of stone. Here and tlwe on the 
face of the rock are bunches of forms end 
lichen, and a few dwarfed p’nos which 
have rooted in cracks and fissu’-'s in the 
stone. Just underneath the rock is a 
spring, which seems very strange wVn 
one thinks of the great height of the 
mountain. < >u looking down it seems 
strange to look into the tops of the trees 
directly below you; one expects to look 
up, not down, at a tree top. 
A Wide Prospect. —On either side <- r 
the mountain one can see for miles and 
miles; in the valleys below there are 
farms, the houses resembling chicken 
coops; woodlands, hills, more mountains, 
valleys, through which flow creeks whose 
banks are dotted, here and there, with 
old-fashioned buhr mills, turned by wafer 
power. There are villages and hamlets, 
their church spires pointing heavenward. 
A peaceful, quiet scene, too lovely for 
pen of mine to convey more than a faint 
idea of its beauty. 
Reverence. —Down in the vn'ley it 
might be easy for some to doubt the ex¬ 
istence of a God; but up here never, 
surely; it is too glorious, too grand, ever 
to have happened by chance. It is too 
near Heaven for the doubts of earth to 
creep in, and I find myself wondering if 
when I get to Heaven I shall not look 
back on earth scenes, as I look on them 
row from this height; how dwarfed seems 
the world below me, how small the things 
for which men strive, when viewed from 
these hills of God. Here in the quiet, 
solemn stillness of the Sabbath, shut 
away from all the din and strife of the 
world below, the only sounds a cow-bell 
tinkling far below, the birds’ songs, and 
the sighing of the wind through the pines, 
I can easily understand how it is that we 
mountain people never can wander so far 
away but the mountains call us back. 
No matter where we go, in our daydreams 
we can see the high, sun-kissed peaks; 
the cool valleys whose streams reflect the 
starlight; ever in our nostrils the scent 
of the pines; in our home-loving hearts 
the longing £pr our friends and. neigh¬ 
bors. and the scenes of our childhood. 
Tiie Mountain People. —In the coves 
of these mountains there dwell the kind¬ 
liest. and most hospitable people on earth, 
a bit old-fashioned, perhaps, but all the 
more lovable on that account. This would 
be a heaven on earth for tramps; the 
only reason we have so few is because we 
are so far from the railroad. The people 
“raise their living,” as they are wont to 
say ; a few chickens, ducks, turkeys, pigs, 
calves or colts; buy the things which can¬ 
not be raised, and everyone takes life easy, 
though since the war came up every man 
is doing all he can, and many of our boys 
are wearing the khaki; some of them 
asleep in France. 
A Fertile Land. —Fruit of all kinds 
do well here; berries, nuts and grapes, 
besides persimmons, haws, etc., grow wild. 
The mountains are aglow with wild flow¬ 
ers from the violets in March till the 
golden rod is cut down by frost in October. 
In Winter great bunches of ferns rear 
their heads above the snow, and the pines 
and cedars against a lilac sky on a gray 
day in Winter are as lovely a sight as I 
ever saw. These Southern mountains are 
full of treasures as yet undreamed of per¬ 
haps, but chief among them are the kindly 
people, whose simple, noble lives are a 
blessing to the world. They toil, love, live 
and die without ever knowing that lives 
such as theirs are heroic. MRS. n. 
Recipes Against Melancholy 
The reading of “Winter on the Hills” 
in a recent number of your paper brought 
to my mind that I might pass on to other 
women some of the little devices by which 
I have made country Winters fly by more 
quickly. My plans for Winter begin in 
the rushing Summer days. Whenever any 
especially delightful thing comes to my 
The RURAL NEW-YORKER 
notice, I hoard it up for the Winter days, 
if it can be carried out then just as well 
as in Summer. By late Fall I have a 
score or more of tempting tasks waiting 
to be done, when the rush of the fruit 
season and corn-husking is over. Conse¬ 
quently I have ceased to think of the Win¬ 
ter season as a time when I shall be im¬ 
prisoned by the snow and bad roads, but 
as a period when I shall be more free to 
carry out happy plans. 
All sorts of pleasing things I see as I 
look upon my hoard for this Winter. They 
vary as greatly as the gifts you draw from 
a grab-bag. What is this tiny one? Oh ! 
some recipes I have clipped from The It. 
N.-Y. and other papers. I longed to try 
out these recipes when I first saw them, 
they sounded so good, but I was too busy 
at the time. As I look down the list I 
see that two are checked. Yes, I tried 
those this very week and found them 
great. The quince and apple marmalade 
would tempt the most fastidious palate, 
and the Southern mammy’s beet pickles— 
we have finished the sample, and a big 
kettle of beets are on the stove cooking 
at this very moment. 
On my desk lies a star map, which 
the children and I are putting into good 
use every clear Winter night ; even five- 
year-old lassie enjoys the fun. You ad¬ 
just the map daily, and there lies before 
you a very up-to-date map of the heavens. 
You know just what to look for and 
where to look for it. The older children 
and I have ransacked every bookcase in 
Save the learning of songs for Winter 
days and evenings. Make the most of 
every national holiday and family _ birth¬ 
day. The Winter months are rich in 
special days that children love to cele¬ 
brate. As soon as a celebration of any 
kind is over, our five-year-old lassie im¬ 
mediately inquires, “What comes next, 
Christmas or Easter?” And, if told that 
it is Thanksgiving, she begins to cut out 
all the pictures of turkeys that she can 
find. She is determined not to be behind 
time in her preparations. 
It is possible that you think these 
things too trifling to interest you. But 
trifles go a long way in making us happy 
or sad. I wish you would clip out this 
quotation from Sidney Smith and read it 
once a week; 
“Never give way to melancholy ; resist 
it steadily, for the habit will encroach. 
“I once gave a lady two and twenty re¬ 
ceipts against melancholy ; one was a 
bright fire, another to remember all the 
pleasant things said to her, another to 
keep a box of sugar plums on the chimney 
piece and a kettle simmering on the hob. 
T thought this mere trifling at the mo¬ 
ment, but have in after life discovered how 
true it is that these little pleasures often 
banish melancholy better than higher and 
more exalted objects; and that no means 
ought i" be thought too trifling which 
can oppose it, either in ourselves or in 
others.” 
AN ISOLATED FARMER’S WIFE. 
Hoffman’s clover 
On the Top of Chimney Top 
be house in search of Greek tales. And 
low they can tell you all about that fa- 
nous winged horse Pegasus that flies high 
,n the even sky at this time. Hawthorne’s 
ale of Pegasus they like best. 
For many years I have longed to take a 
correspondence course in dressmaking and 
millinery, but until this year it did not 
seeni practical. Now, with the price of 
ready-made clothing soaring so high, and 
with dressmakers so hard to reach and so 
expensive, it seemed a necessary pleasure 
that I should learn to make our own 
dresses and hats during the Winter 
months. I have but started into each 
course, but I must say that, although I 
have a college degree, I never before found 
lessons more fascinating or helpful than 
these. 
Perchance you do not like sewing; then 
try cooking lessons, or English lessons, or 
whatever strikes your fancy. One Win¬ 
ter I devoted to kindergarten work. If 
you have children you will like that. An¬ 
other Winter I took a course in short 
story writing just for the fun of tack¬ 
ling a new proposition. My friends say 
they enjoy my letters more now. May¬ 
hap your friends would appreciate your 
taking the same course some Winter. 
Possibly the coming of the little white 
mail wagon does not interest you now ; 
but it will when you have lessons coming 
and going every week. I must confess 
that, although T have traveled from the 
eastern coast to the western, and from 
Florida to Alaska, I have never yet suc¬ 
ceeded in becoming so blasd that the ap¬ 
pearance of the mail wagon coming down 
the hill has failed to send me flying or 
wading to the mail box, according to the 
season. 
Separation from onr friends will prob¬ 
ably be of longer duration this Winter 
than ordinarily, on account of the Spanish 
influenza, so we should work our gray 
matter a little harder than usual to de¬ 
vise various and inexpensive ways of mak¬ 
ing the time pass merrily. Did you ever 
try a large flower box as a means of en¬ 
tertaining children? It affords hours of 
entertainment. Let it be their very own, 
and let them dig up the soil and replant it 
as often as they like. All children like to 
watch seeds sprout. No matter if they do 
pull up the beans so often that, the plants 
die. More can be planted. Do not worry 
yourself about whether the box looks ar¬ 
tistic or not. It probably will not. Place 
an oilcloth under the low table on which 
the box rests, and let the children have a 
good time. When they are tired of dig¬ 
ging they can easily clean up any dirt 
that has fallen on the oilcloth. 
A Plea for Better Roads 
One. and by far the greater cause of 
high prices is poor distribution of what 
the farmer has put many hard hours of 
toil into raising; then, in order to got any 
cash, he must sell to the peddler who 
makes his own price and lowers the farm¬ 
er’s self-respect when he is compelled to 
take it. It is one of the most depressing 
sights to go through the country districts 
and find so many houses either closed for 
fhe Winter or deserted and dilapidated. 
One of the worst features is that so many 
farms have been bought up and used by 
wealthy people for Summer homes. We 
cannot blame the farmer for disposing of 
his land, often at a good price, when we 
know the conditions under which he tries 
to earn his living, but these fields which 
were once productive are now idle and 
soon become useless even for pasturage. 
The farmer who worked the land prevent¬ 
ed this because lie must, in order to keep 
the fields and pastures in condition to feed 
the stock formerly kept. Twenty-five 
years ago more than 300 milch cows were 
kept, besides all the young cattle, pigs and 
general farming done, in this neighbor¬ 
hood. Today within this same radius of 
three miles it is hard to find 100 cows and 
very little other stock. This is only typi- 
wliere general farming has been carried 
on. 
Why has all this condition come about, 
and what can be done to overcome it? 
One explanation is that the farmer who 
took pride in the production from his 
place has grown old and unable to carry 
it on. The young people, as well known, 
have found other fields more attractive 
and lucrative. Better education has been 
partly responsible for this, and it is to 
better education along agricultural lines 
to get boys and girls interested and to 
make it interesting for them, that we 
must look for the future repopulation 
of these 1 farms once so fertile. Much is 
being done along this line 1 and tin 1 great 
army of boy reservists and the farmerette 
is our hope for the future. 
But these farmers are going to demand, 
first of all, good roads on which to con¬ 
vey their produce to market. Connecticut 
is expected to appropriate at this session 
of the General Assembly $4.000,000 to 
build better roads. How much of this 
sum will be expended to benefit tin 1 roads 
leading to the farms? Many small towns 
are heavily burdened with debt, and road¬ 
making is their worst problem, especially 
in the hill districts. Here is the opportu¬ 
nity of the State to benefit the farms and 
the tillers thereof. Good roads will mean 
farms once more under cultivation and 
better prices for the farmer who is the 
deserving member of it. 
MRS. W. E. IIOLCOMR. 
Litchfield Co., Conn. 
There is a certain Centerville kiddy 
who frequently evinces a perspicacity be¬ 
yond his years. One day he was observed 
vigorously to scratch his head; where¬ 
upon someone asked him : “ What makes 
you scratch your head?” “Because,” said 
the youmrster. “I’m the only one that 
knows it itches.”—Toronto Sun. 
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