198 
Wic RURAL NEW-YORKER 
January 31, 1020 
HOPE FARM NOTES 
I suppose every person of middle age 
wears a mask. It is his face, and as the 
y'ars go by it settles into an expression 
of the man’s chief aim in life, if he can he 
said to have one. That is why a shrewd 
observer can usually tell much of a man's 
character by looking keenly in his face 
and observing him under excitement. One 
of the most observing dairymen I know of 
says he can tell the quality of a cow by 
looking at her face. 1 notice that the ex¬ 
pert hen men who select birds for the poul¬ 
try contest spend considerable time look¬ 
ing at the hen’s eye and face! There 
she seems to show whether she is a bad 
egg or a good one! Lady Macbeth put it 
well when she said to her terrified hus¬ 
band : 
“Your face, my thane, is as a book 
Where men may read strange matters.” 
We all go about wearing a mask, and 
those who care how they look may well 
ask how the mask is made. 
Se $ si: ❖ f- 
I once roomed with a young man who 
used to get before a mirror and practice a 
smile and a laugh, lie was a commercial 
traveler, and thought it paid him to laugh 
at the jokes and smile as he talked. So 
he trained the muscles of his face and 
throat into a machine-made twist and 
noise which represented hit; stock in 
trade! lie wore a mask. I have heard 
people say that face powders and mas¬ 
sage and tricks of rolling the eyes about 
gave them a mask of beauty. Not long 
ago I talked with a great business man 
Who had simply given his life up to the 
accumulation of property. He had suc¬ 
ceeded. but this success had stamped his 
face with a mash as hard and flinty as 
steel. This man sat and told me that a 
good share of his money had been made 
by his ability to read character in the 
face. When he found a man showing in¬ 
decision or fear in his features this man 
knew he could handle him as he saw fit. 
He claimed that thought or sentiment had 
little to do with it; it was simply what a 
man did or did not do which made the 
mask of life. As for this theory that char¬ 
acter or sentiment “light a candle be¬ 
hind the face and illuminate it.” lie said 
that was simply “poetic nonsense.” “If 
a woman wanted to be thought beautiful 
after she get to be 40 she must rub the 
beauty in from the outside.” 
* (f * * * 
This seemed to me a mighty cynical 
theory, for the most beautiful women 1 
know of are over 50 and never used any¬ 
thing but soap and water to “rub the 
beauty in.” They wear a mask which 
seems like concentrated sunshine, and it 
comes from within. Yet my friend sat 
there and spoke with all the conviction of 
a man who has only to write his name on 
a piece of paper to bring a million dollars 
to support his word. And he had come to 
think that i- about the only support worth 
having. I asked him if he had ever read 
Hawthorne’s story of “The < lid Stone 
Face.” No. he had never heard of it be¬ 
fore—had no time for fiction or dreaming. 
So I told him the story briefly; of the boy 
who grew up among the hills, within sight 
of the “old stone face.” This was a great 
rock on the side of a high mountain. The 
wind and the storm had slowly eaten it 
away until, when viewed from a certain 
angle, it bore a rude resemblance to a 
human face. It was a stern, gloomy, 
thoughtful face, and it seemed to this boy 
to have been carved out of the rock by 
the very hand of God to show the world 
an ideal of power and majesty on the hu¬ 
man countenance. To most of the neigh¬ 
bors it was merely “the old man of the 
mountain”—merely a common rock with 
an accidental shape. But this boy grew 
up to manhood believing in his heart that 
God had put on the lonely mountain his 
ideal of the mask of noble human charac¬ 
ter. And the boy went through life think¬ 
ing that if he could only find a human be¬ 
ing witli a face like that on the mountain 
he would find a great man—one carrying 
in his life a great message to mankind. 
And so. whenever he heard of any great 
statesman or poet or preacher appearing 
anywhere within reach this man traveled 
to see him in the hope of finding the mask 
of the “stone face” upon the celebrity. He 
was always disappointed. These great 
men all showed on their faces the marks of 
dissipation or pride or some weakness of 
character, along with their power. He 
would come back and look up at the face 
on the mountain—always showing the 
same calm dignity and strength whether 
the happy .Line sunshine played over it. or 
whether the January storm bit at its rude 
features. So this man lived his simple 
life and died—disappointed because he had 
never been able to find God’s ideal char¬ 
acter worked out in a human face! One 
by one men who were considered great 
came to the valley, only to disappoint this 
man, but finally, after long years of wait¬ 
ing and searching, the neighbors sudden¬ 
ly found that their friend, who had carried 
the ideal so long in his heart, also carried 
on his face the nobility and grandeur of 
the figure on the mountain. Search for 
the ideal in others had brought it home 
to his own life. 
* * $ * * 
To my surprise, the rich and strong man 
who. 1 supposed, had no poetry or senti¬ 
ment in his heart, listened attentively and 
nodded his head. 
"I have seen that stone face in the 
White Mountains. Your story of Course is 
a mere fancy. There might have been 
some idle dreamer to whom that happened. 
I will not deny it, because I know of a 
case which is somewhat in the same line. 
I confess that 1 would not believe it had 
I not seen it myself.” 
So he told his story, and I give if as 
nearly as possible in his own words: 
“It must have been 15 years ago that I 
was returning from a business trip to 
I'lurope. On the boat I met a college man 
from my city, an expert in modern lan¬ 
guages. Wo were much together on the 
trip, and one day we went down into the 
steerage to look over the immigrants. , My 
friend figured that this group of strange 
human beings talked with him in 15 dif¬ 
ferent languages or dialects. One family 
in particular interested me. They were 
from (he south of Poland; a man and 
woman of perhaps .‘15, with two little 
boys. They were of the dull, heavy, ox¬ 
like type—mere beasts of burden in their 
own country. The woman seemed to me 
just about the plainest, homeliest creature 
I had ever seen. Low forehead, flat fea¬ 
tures, small eyes and great mouth, with 
huge hands and feet, she seemed, beside 
the dainty women of our own party, like 
some inferior animal. I offered her a 
good-sized hill—they looked as if they 
needed if—-but the woman just pulled her 
two black-eyed boys closer to her and 
refused to take it. 
“They passed out of my mind, until one 
fine, sunny morning old Sandy Hook 
seemed to rise up out of the water, and 
we headed straight for New York Harbor. 
I stood with my college friend in front, 
looking down upon the'steerage passengers 
as they crowded forward to get their first 
view of America. Strangely enough that 
little Polish- family that had interested 
me stood i-iglvt below us. and my friend 
could hear \\*hal they were saying. The. 
ship crawled, pp-the harbor, past Staten 
Island, ‘.and:, the it-came to the Statue of 
Liberty, Moet of us have become so fa¬ 
miliar with this bronze beauty that we do 
not even glanceraf it. I think her strong, 
fine face and uplifted torch mean little 
more than old-time habit to many Amer¬ 
icans. Nut so-with that flat-faced; plain 
Polish woman.- As we came even with 
the ‘bronze goddess’ this woman tore off 
tin- little shawl'she had tied around her 
h°ad. reached out her hand and talked ox- 
e ;, edly to her husband. My college friend 
listened to t-lic conversation and laughed. 
“■ What is she saying?’ I asked. 
“ ‘Why, the poor, homely thing is tell¬ 
ing lier husband that it would be the pride 
and joy of her life if she could only be as 
beautiful as that statue—if her face were 
only like that.’ 
“ ‘That is the limit. What is lie say¬ 
ing?’ ” 
“ ‘Just like every other husband. He 
is telling her that to him she is handsomer 
than the old goddess, and for good meas¬ 
ure he tells her that under freedom in 
America she will come to look like ‘Miss 
Liberty.’ ” 
“In all my life I had never heard any¬ 
thing so ridiculous, and I laughed aloud. 
The little family below us looked up at the 
sound and saw we were laughing at them. 
A great shadow fell over their day dream 
and they were silent until we docked, 
though T noticed that they stood hand in 
hand all the way. The story seemed so 
good that I told it everywhere, and it was 
called the standard joke of the season. 
* * * * $ 
“It faded out of mind and I never 
thought of it again until about 10 years 
later one of the foremen in the factory 
died suddenly. I asked the manager who 
should be put in his place. 
“ ‘Well,’ he said, ‘there is a man out in 
the shop just fitted for it. I can’t pro¬ 
nounce his name, but I will bring him in.’ 
“He did; a great black-haired man who 
looked me right in the eye as I like to have 
people do. 
“ ‘How long have you been in this 
country?’ I asked. 
“ ‘Ten years. You may not remember, 
but 1 came in the ship with you ; in the 
•steerage, with m.v wife and two boys.’ 
“It flashed into my mind at once; this 
was what Aineriea had done for the man. 
and I smiled as I thought of the flat-faced 
woman who wanted to look like the God¬ 
dess of Liberty, and the man whose faith 
in America was such that hi; told her this 
dream could come true. 
“The man more than made good. It is 
wonderful how things happen in this coun¬ 
try. Those two black-eyed boys were at 
school with my boy and played on. the 
football team with him. They were all 
three to go to college together. 
“Then you know lmw, before we entered 
the war. the women organized to do Red 
(’roos work? One day my wife came 
home and told me how a Polish woman 
had made the most wonderful talk before 
her society. Before we knew it America 
had entered the war, and we were all at 
it. You couldn’t keep my boy here. He 
volunteered the first week after war was 
declared, and these two black-haired boys 
belonging to my foreman volunteered with 
him. and they all went over the sea to 
tight for America. 
“I had not seen their mother, and I was 
curious to see wliat she looked like after 
American competence and success had 
| 
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plays tricks with 
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breaks your rest 
try 
Instant 
POSTUM 
This economical bever¬ 
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Made by 
Postum Cereal Co. Battle Creek,Mich. 
Sold by Grocers and General Stores. 
iMiiiiiiiiiiiiimii niiHiiiiiiirmTiiiiniiHiiiiimii mumiim miuiT 
Last Big Block of the Canadian Pacific 
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There is a small tax on 
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Twenty years to pay back. 
M. E. THORNTON 
Supt. of Colonization 
Canadian Pacific Railway 
944 First Street, E., Calgary, Alberta 
For all information about 
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sell yc 
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O * VADIAN PACIFIC HY., 
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