56 
‘Ihe RURAL. NEW-YORKER 
January 10, 1020 
HOPE FARM NOTES 
What is the matter icith the Hope 
Farm Red hens in the neio egg-laying 
contest? 
I wish I knew. They are at the tail 
end of the procession. Some people call 
“tails” when the penny is tossed up, but 
I fear that no one will back my Reds this 
year. I cannot say they are quitters, for 
they haven’t even begun. Only three out 
of the 20 have begun to lay, and this trio 
seems ashamed to admit that egg-laying 
is their business. 
Are they well bred? 
The majority of them are as well bred 
as any Reds in the country, and a number 
of them were selected by one of the best 
experts I know of. “Well bred?” It 
may be that hens are something like hu¬ 
mans. I know human specimens who 
are so exceedingly “well bred” that they 
have become too polite to work. They 
might be willing to sweat a little over golf 
or tennis, or shake themselves when en¬ 
tertaining friends, but the sweat of com¬ 
mon work is vulgar. Not all well-bred 
people are like that, but most of those 
•who advertise their breeding are. Pos¬ 
sibly my pullets consider that eating and 
singing constitute the chief duties of Red 
ladies—born to the purple! However, I 
will back them yet! 
Yom must be a cheerful soul to back 
tail-enders. 
I have to be. I think I have backed 
more “tail-enders” than any man of my 
age! Those birds have the blood in them 
and it will finally tell. I purposely se¬ 
lected young pullets, expecting them to 
start about December 1 and keep up 
through the season. We evidently carried 
the idea too far, and selected birds that 
were too young! When they do start 
they will make a showing. In the last re¬ 
port the leaders in this contest had laid 
over 500 eggs, while our birds laid only 
46. It looks like a walk-over, but I bank 
on blood, and we still back our tardy 
young pullets for a place. There have 
been poultry-keepers who waited patiently 
under an even more discouraging outlook. 
Where in the world did they live? 
In Labrador. I have been reading “A 
Labrador Doctor,” by Dr. W. T. Grenfell, 
and one of the most inspiring works I 
have ever found. Dr. Grenfell says that 
the fierce dogs and the fearful cold make 
it impossible to keep live stock, yet such 
food as meat and eggs is of great neces¬ 
sity to help out the diet of fish and seal 
meat. One day Dr. Grenfell found a 
•poor woman guarding an aged rooster, 
k whieh was kept, in the house. 
“Have you got a hen?” 
“No, doctor. I had one, but she died 
last year.” 
“Then why do you keep that rooster?” 
“Oh! I hope some day to get' a hen. 
I’ve had him five years. He can’t go out 
and walk around because of the dogs, so 
I keep him under that bench.” 
Now. if that woman can wait five years 
for a hen to match her rooster, I ought 
to be patient with my well-bred pullets. 
These hens may be said to be at col¬ 
lege, making a poor record. If yon had 
children at college making such a record, 
would you bring them home? 
I do not know. It would depend on 
the child, its pedigree and its disposition 
We have thus far put four children at 
college. I shall never send any more 
unless they know what they go there for, 
and have the ambition and bulldog de¬ 
termination to work through and hang to 
something in the way of ideals. 
You recently said that the greatest 
trouble with the modern boy is his father. 
Do you think that a fair statement? Is 
not the mother mostly at fault? 
Before asking me look about among 
your friends or people you know and 
study the relation between father and son. 
Of course. I know how many good men 
excuse mean qualities in their children 
by saying: “It’s the poor Smith (or 
Brown) blood”—meaning the inherited 
qualities from the mother’s side! When¬ 
ever I hear men talking that' way it seems 
to me a sad commentary upon their own 
common sense or judgment, for if the 
wife’s family is so inferior, why did they 
—in their great wisdom—marry into it? 
I once saw two cases of the treatment of 
“mother’s boy” which affected me greatly. 
Tell us about them. 
Once I was waiting at a railroad, sta¬ 
tion. A crowd of boys were idling about 
smoking cigarettes—just in that danger¬ 
ous condition between youth and manhood, 
when character is washed clean or 
smeared with mud. Suddenly a man of 
about my age rushed around the corner, 
caught one of the boys by the collar and 
kicked him—meanwhile cursing him like 
a pirate. The boy wriggled away and 
stood off at a little distance facing the 
man. Then I saw that they were father 
and son. And on the boy’s weak and 
dissipated face I recognized the likeness 
of his mol her—a weak and silly woman, 
who had probably spoiled her boy. The 
father had lost a 1 ! control of himself, and 
thus, of course, lost the respect of his 1 
boy. As they stood facing each other it 
seemed to me that “mother’s boy,” in spite 
of “the dirty Harding blood” showed more 
real character than his father. The man 
looked at the boy for a moment, shrugged 
his shoulders and then turned abruptly 
and walked off. I felt that I had been 
looking upon one of the soul tragedies of 
life. I have no doubt that man saw, for 
the moment, in that boy’s face the old 
beautiful conception of what his wife once 
meant to him. He walked away with the 
slow, lagging step of one who knew that 
he had thrown out and trampled in the 
mud the most beautiful gift which God 
can ever bestow. 
Here is another picture: Years ago I 
worked in the same building with a fine, 
well-bred man, who carried a great sor¬ 
row. His boy was a drunkard. He was 
naturally weak, a failing which. I think, 
he fairly inherited from his mother. The 
Spanish-American War ruined him. I re¬ 
member him one day as he staggered into 
his father’s office—insolent and ugly. The 
father was having an important business 
conference, and he might have been justi¬ 
fied in ordering the boy out or turning 
him over to some helper. Instead of that 
the man got up and said: “Excuse me, 
gentlemen ; we will finish this tomorrow. 
My first duty is to my boy.” That strong, 
fine business man could only see the ideal 
of his dead wife in the weak, flushed face 
of his boy. I saw them goiug up the 
street together—the big, fine man with his 
arm about the boy—guiding him home! 
It seemed to me as I saw him go that the 
man’s face blazed with the fire and glory 
of love, for he was making the truest use 
of that most beautiful gift of God. 
But when do the finest relations be¬ 
tween father and son come out? 
Probably in their written correspond¬ 
ence. Read the letters which pass be¬ 
tween parent and child if you would know 
how they regard each other. Many of 
us feel but little responsibility for what 
we say. Words come easily to the 
tongue, and are not recorded. When we 
put our thoughts upon paper, in enduring 
ink, there comes a new sense of respon¬ 
sibility. and we know that the years can¬ 
not wipe it out. It takes a good man to 
put a frame of work around his picture so 
that his boy will keep it framed in the 
parlor of memory. I have met men who 
say they never wrote an open friendly 
letter to their boy—though the latter is 
grown up! They frankly confess that 
they would not know how to do it. If 
you want to know how such a corre¬ 
spondence may be carried on, read “Theo¬ 
dore Roosevelt’s Letters to His Children.” 
You will get a new idea of the man from 
those simple letters, and perhaps realize 
better how those four Roosevelt boys 
came to give such a remarkable war 
record. 
Did the Hope Farm folks have a pleas¬ 
ant Christmas? 
We did ! Never better. We had just 
our own family, but there was crowd 
enough at that. I was surprised to see 
how many of our friends substituted goose 
for turkey this year. Ten years ago the 
great majority of people on the trains, 
just before Christmas, would carry a tur¬ 
key. Now no one does it, with turkey 
at 75 cents a pound. We voted on the 
question of killing our gander, but the 
majority said let him live. So we had 
three Red chickens. Besides that, we 
roasted one or two more and sent them 
to friends. We had a good dinner, and 
the corners of the world contributed to it. 
Hotv teas that? 
Parcel post. Clark Allis sent us a 
case >f bottled apple juice from Western 
New York. Then came another big pack¬ 
age from Boston, some apples from Mis¬ 
souri and a package of nuts from Cali¬ 
fornia. It did seem as if the corners of 
the country were being drawn together at 
our table. In the late afternoon our folks 
all went up to the big community Christ¬ 
mas tree. They sang carols as the light 
of the new moon glittered on th<> snow. 
Then Santa Claus appeared with two 
horses and a sled, and every child got a 
present. The largest boy carried little 
Rose in line and she actually saw and 
shook hands with Santa Claus! Then we 
all came home and had a little tree of 
our own. 
Expensive presents, I suppose! 
No; the entire outfit could have been 
bought for a few dollars. We do not be¬ 
lieve in expensive giving. Our children 
have been brought up to get as much sat¬ 
isfaction out of 10 cents as many do out 
of $10. We find out ahead of time what 
each one really needs or desires, and try 
to have it for Christmas. I know people 
who twist and turn in their efforts to buy 
expensive things—even to cars for their 
children ! A mistake both for the chil¬ 
dren and the parents as well. I take it 
that the greatest need of society today is 
a revival of the simple virtues of old days. 
These simple virtues can only come out of 
simple lives, and simple lives can only 
remain simple through simple deeds and 
satisfaction with simple needs. There 
were two gifts on that tree, however, that 
will rank with the most munificent gifts 
of 1919! 
What were they? Hope Farm must 
have struck oil, or have you fallen heir to 
some great fortune? 
No; they tell me that in all New Jersey 
there is not enough oil or coal to pay for 
striking. I think this year will give us 
a very close call between income and ex¬ 
pense. Ptill m^llicr find T Hint we 
Coffee troubles 
Vanish 
when the table drink is 
changed from coffee to 
Postum Cereal 
Its rich flavor makes 
it fully acceptable to 
those who like coffee 
but find coffee doesrit 
like them. 
This healthful table beverage 
has not increased in price 
At Grocers and General Stores 
Two Sizes 
Usually sold at 154 and 25$ 
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ANALYSING 
PHOSPHORIC ACID Grade A 28.00% Grade B 16.00% 
BARIUM SULPHIDE 7.00% 7.00% 
MANURE IS NO MORE A COMPLETE RA TION 
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