Vol. LXX'VIII. 
Published Weekly by The Rural Publishing Co., 
333 W. 30th St., New York. Price One Dollar a Year. 
NEW YORK. MAY 10. 1019. 
Enteral ; 
Office ar 
Second-I 'las 
ew York. N. 
s Matter. June 26. 1379. at tlie Post 
Y.. under the Act of March 3, 1370. 
No. 
caudle at both ends. My wife works even harder 
than I. With her own hands she goes through the 
long daily routine of household cares on a farm, and 
being a direct descendant of the original “Old Dutch 
Cleanser,” no halfway measures prevail. She raises 
and cares for the chickens and turkeys that add 
$300 per year to the farm income. She helps with 
the milking when her own work will allow, and 
The Agent and the Fanner Talk It Over. Fig. 211 
often when it does not. and churns, works and 
prints 40 pounds of butter weekly, no light task in 
itself. If she has a spare moment, she drops down 
to rest, for her work is a sore test for her strength 
and years. I would be helpless without her. Can’t 
she get help? Don’t ask foolish questions. You 
know as well as I that there are not servants enough 
for the overworked town ladies, so why should a 
plain country woman butt in? They outbid her 
every time with short hours and high wages. 
RETURNS AND EXPENSES.—With tlie help of 
a boy for eight or 10 months of the year our income 
exceeds $2,000 per year, not counting our own flour, 
meat. milk. eggs, butter, fruits and * vegetables, no 
small amount. This is nothing to boast of. and yet 
when under our handicaps you dig it out of a none 
too willing soil, you will know that you “have been 
somewhere and seen something.” • Where does it all 
go to? Oh. yes. we know to a cent. It pays the 
interest, taxes, insur¬ 
ance. labor, fertilizers, 
repairs, necessary sup¬ 
plies and the many 
other expenses of the 
farm, but very little to 
the proprietors. Not a 
cent goes for tobacco 
or liquors, and no 
movies, no musical in¬ 
struments. no flivver 
with its accompanying 
gasoline and repairs 
and no seashore excur¬ 
sions. One $16.50 suit 
of clothes has done 
service for good for 
seven years, and the 
rest of the time it is 
blue denims and bro- 
gans for mine. Not 
that I object to the 
uniform or feel that 
I disgrace it. Imt what 
city man would stay 
by a business that 
would not afford him 
at least one good suit 
a year? Our only lux¬ 
ury is a daily paper 
to keep us in touch 
with the outside world. 
SEVEN YEARS’ 
WORK.—At the end 
of seven years let us 
face our s i t u a t i o n 
squarely. On the one 
hand, we have added 
$150 to our original 
equipment: we have 
built two wood hoop 
silos, the cheapest pos¬ 
sible kind, no roof and 
earth floor, but filled 
with good silage for 
Winter and Summer 
feeding. Our herd of 
cattle has grown from 
one cow and two calves 
to 15 in number, headed 
by a registered Guern¬ 
sey bull: thanks to the 
manure, our fields be¬ 
gin to talk back when 
we speak to them, and the farm is slowly rising in 
value because of improvements, local and otherwise. 
On the other hand, our buildings, implements and, 
team are seven years older and sadly needing repairs 
or replacement, our mortgage has grown from $1,500 
to $2,000. and we owe an additional $1,000 to banks 
or otherwise. We have even drawn on our meager 
life insurance to see the thing through, something 
that no one with dependents should think of doing, 
and as I said in the beginning, we have never been 
able to make any headway usaiust our iudebteduess 
The Confession of a “ Profiteer ” 
And He Lives on a Farm 
S TARTING IN DEBT.—Yes, I am a profiteer. I can 
no longer conceal my awful guilt. Out of my ill- 
gotten gains I have actually lived in a more or less 
riotous fashion the past two years, and have paid my 
mercenary creditors as much as $200 each year. But be¬ 
fore you condemn me 
too severely, listen to 
my story. Seven years 
ago my wife and I came 
to this farm of 60 cul¬ 
tivated acres, the sav¬ 
ings of a lifetime of 
work in other lines. 
The soil is of good 
type and well drained, 
but with depleted fer¬ 
tility and with old and 
ill-adapted buildings. 
The farm had not the 
“scratch of a pen” 
against it, but to get 
an outfit we mortgaged 
it for $1,500. IIow piti¬ 
ful and poor an outfit 
such a sum will buy 
only those know who 
have tried it. but by 
dint of borrowing and 
exchanging with neigh¬ 
bors we have got along. 
We took this step light- 
heartedly. Surely one 
prosperous year, or at 
most two, would clean 
it up and leave us free 
to make the improve¬ 
ments we planned. 
T HE DAIRY 
ROUTE. — We chose 
the dairy route. Not 
that we were keen for 
the hard work we 
knew lay before us, 
but the condition of 
tlie farm insisted on 
it. We were too far 
from our local market 
to sell milk, and had 
no shipping market, so 
were compelled to 
make butter. We have 
stuck to our text 
through thick and 
thin. No galley slave, 
chained to his bench, 
had a more slavish 
task or put in longer 
hours, although they 
may have been more 
monotonous. I am only an average farmer. No one 
will ever hold me up to the gaze of an admiring 
world as a bright and shining example. I am not 
a whirlwind for work. Naturally no one is when 
verging on 60, but 1 am a plpdder who stays on the 
job “till the cows come home.' 1 ” Even in midwinter, 
when the farmer is popularly supposed to be taking 
bis 40 winks, and toasting his shins. 4:45 A. M. sees 
us up and at it, and sometimes 8:30. more often 9 
or 9 :30 I*. M., sees the close. No daylight foolish- 
nos for us. We use all there is, uud burn the 
