422 
‘Ihc RURAL. NEW-YORKER 
HOPE FARM NOTES 
Just at this time many people seem to 
be concerned about what they call ‘‘the 
unseen world.” That means the state of 
existence after death. Maeterlinck, the 
Belgian poet, came to America to give^his 
opinion, but failed through lack of Eng¬ 
lish. Sir Oliver Bodge, a great scientist, 
is here with what he calls proof that we 
may learn how to communicate with those 
who have passed away. Quite a number 
of readers have written asking what I 
think or know' about all this. Most of 
those who write me seem to be living in 
lonely places, and under rather hard con¬ 
ditions. They have all lost wife or hus¬ 
band, parent, child, or some dear friend. 
Now', like most other reasoning people, I 
have tried to imagine what really happens 
to a human being after what we call 
death, and I have had some curious ex¬ 
periences, which you might or might not 
credit. When I was a boy I was thrown 
much into the society of avowed spirit¬ 
ualists. I knew' several so-called ‘‘medi¬ 
ums” and attended many ‘“seances.” The 
evident clumsy and vulgar “fakes” about 
most of these things disgusted me, yet I 
must admit that some of these “mediums” 
did possess a strange and peculiar power 
which I have never been able to under¬ 
stand. 
* * * * * 
Most, of these sincere “mediums” seemed 
to be people w'ho had suffered greatly and 
carried through life some great affliction 
or trouble which they constantly brooded 
over. I have come to believe that the 
blind, the deaf and all seriously afflicted 
see and understand things which most 
others do not. An afflicted person is 
forced to devolop extraordinary power in 
order to make up for the loss of the miss¬ 
ing limb or organ or faculty. Tho blind 
man must learn to see with his fingers 
and his ears. The deaf man must hear 
with his eyes or develop a sort of quick 
judgment or instinct of decision. The 
man plunged into grief or despondency at 
the loss of fortune, friends or health must 
rise out of it through some extraordinary 
development of faith and hope and will¬ 
power. Someone has said that the blind 
or the deaf man is “half dead.” and in his 
efforts to do anything like a full man’s 
work in the world he must borrow 
power from the great “unseen world!” 
For example, I will ask you this question : 
Take a woman like Helen Keller, without 
sight or speech or hearing. Take a man 
who is totally deaf and also totally blind 
-—how would they know, physically, when 
they are dead? I think I can understand 
why it is that real advancement in true 
religion and Christian thought has for the 
most part been made by some “man of 
sorrows.” or people who through great 
affliction have been forced to go to the 
“unseen world” for help ! 
s< * * * * 
Tears ago, in a Western State, there 
lived a farmer. I do not know whether 
he is living now or not. Perhaps he will 
read this. Perhaps he has gone into the 
silent country to learn what influence the 
little child liad with the great Ruler of 
the universe. This man was deaf. 
Through long years his hearing had slowly 
failed, and its going had left a dark dis¬ 
couragement upon him. He owned his 
farm and was moderately well-to-do. A 
hard worker and honest man, he w r ent 
about his work mechanically, through hab¬ 
it. with a great hunger at his heart. He 
did not know what it w'as—a longing for 
human sympathy and love. Ills wife was 
a good woman, but all her childhood had 
been starved of sympathy and poetry, and 
she could not understand. She made her 
husband comfortable and loved him in her 
strange, inexpressive way, but it is hard, 
after all, to get over the feeling that the 
afflicted are abnormal and strange. They 
had no children; their one little girl had 
died in babyhood. Sometimes at night 
you would see the deaf man standing in 
the barnyard at the gate, looking off over 
the hills to the west, whei'e the clouds 
were glorious in the sunset. And his 
practical wife would see him standing 
there with the empty milk pail on hie 
arm. She could not understand the vis¬ 
ion and glory, the message from the un¬ 
seen world which filled her husband’s soul 
at such times. So she would go out to 
the barnyard, shake her dreaming bus 
band by the shoulder and shout in his ear : 
“Wake up and yet that milking done!" 
She meant well, and her husband never 
complained. She meant to save his money, 
but he knew in such moments that money 
never could pay his passages off through 
the purple sunset to the “unseen land.” 
tf * * , * # 
Some day I think I will tell some of the 
“Adventures in the Silence” which fall to 
the daily life of the deaf man. One Sat¬ 
urday afternoon this farmer and his wife 
drove to town together. While the wife 
was doing her shopping the man walked 
about to meet some of his old friends. As 
he stood on the street a sharp-faced wom¬ 
an came out of a store followed by a little 
child. It was a little, black-haired thing, 
with great brown eyes which carried the 
look of some hunted wild animal. A 
poor, thin little thing, with a shabby dress 
and tattered shoes. As she passed the 
child glanced up at the farmer and saw 
something in his face that gave her con¬ 
fidence, for she smiled at him and held out 
her little hand. The woman turned sharp¬ 
ly and the frightened child stumbled over 
a little stone. 
“You awkward little brat!” shrilled the 
woman, “take that!” and with her heavy 
hand she slapped the thin little face. Then 
something like the love of a lioness for her 
cub suddenly started in that farmer’s 
heart. Many foolish jokes have been made 
about “love" at first sight,” but it is really 
nothing short of a divine message when 
two lives are suddenly welded together 
forever. Under excitement the deaf are 
rarely dignified, but they are strangely 
and * forcibly emphatic. The woman 
quailed before the roar of that farmer, 
and the little girl ran to him and held his 
hand for protection. A crowd gathered, 
and Lawyer Brown came running down 
from his office. 
“I want this child,” said the farmer. 
“You know me ; get her for me !” 
It was not very hard to do. The wom¬ 
an had married a man with this little girl. 
The man had run away and left her (I do 
not much blame him), and this “brat” 
had been left on her hands. 
“Take her and welcome.” said the sharp- 
faced woman. “A good riddance to bad 
rubbish.” . 
So Lawyer Brown fixed it up legally 
and the deaf man walked off to where his 
wagon stood, with the little girl hanging 
tight to his big finger. 
* * * * * 
When the woman came with her load 
of packages she found her husband sit¬ 
ting on the wagon seat, with the little girl 
sitting on his lap. She had found that 
she could not make him hear, so she just 
sat there looking into his face, and they 
both understood. But the good woman 
did not understand. 
“What do you mean by picking up a 
child like you would a stray kitten? Put 
her down and leave her here.” 
But that was as far as she got. Her 
husband looked at her with a fierce glare, 
and there was a sound in his throat which 
she did not like. I can tell you that when 
these good-natured and long-suffering men 
finally assert themselves there is a great, 
clumsy force about it that cannot be re¬ 
sisted. And when they got home and the 
little child sat up at the table between 
them, something of mother love stirred in 
the woman’s heart. She actually tried to 
kiss the little thing, but the child trembled 
and ran to the farmer and climbed on his 
knee. The woman paused at her work to 
watch them as they sat before the fire, 
and something that was like the beginning 
of jealous rage came into her heart, for it 
came to her that this little one had seen 
at once something in her husband’s life 
and soul which she had not been able to 
understand. 
There was something more than beau¬ 
tiful in the strange intimacy which sprang 
up between the deaf farmer and the little 
girl. In some way she made herself un¬ 
derstood, and she followed him about day 
by day at his work, or during his lonely 
walks'of a Sunday afternoon. You would 
see her riding on the wagon beside him, 
standing near as he milked, or holding his 
finger as he came down the lane at sunset. 
On a sunny Sunday afternoon you might 
come upon them sitting at the top of a 
high hill with the old dog beside them, 
looking off across the pleasant country. 
And as the shadow's grew' longer they 
would come home—the farmer carrying 
the little one and the old dog walking 
ahead. I cannot tell you the peace and 
renewed hope which this little waif 
brought to that farmer’s life through the 
feeble yet mighty force of love. And the 
farmer’s wife would look out of the win¬ 
dow and see them coming. She could not 
walk with her husband through lonely 
places and make him understand, because 
she had never learned how. Yet the little 
one was drawing the older people closer 
together, and showing them more of the 
greatest mystery and the greatest meaning 
of life. But there came a Sunday when 
the little one could not walk over the hills. 
The day was bright and fair. The farmer 
stood looking sadly at the cool shadows 
of the pines on the distant hill, and the 
old dog put his head on one side and re¬ 
garded his master curiously. They could 
both hear the voices of the hills calling 
them away. And the voices came to the 
* February 23, 1920 
little one, hot and weary with fever, toss¬ 
ing on her little bed upstairs. The doctor 
shook his head when they called him. The 
child was done with earthly things—sure¬ 
ly called off into the unseen country just 
as love and home had come to her. The 
farmer went up into the sick room, where 
his wife sat by the little sufferer. This 
man had never regarded his wife as a 
handsome woman, but he was startled at 
her face as he bent over the child. For at 
last, in the face of death and sacrifice, 
love had really come to that woman’s 
lonely heart, and Hie joy of it illumined 
her face like a lamp within. 
The farmer was lef* alone with the 
child. She knew him an 1 beckoned him 
to come near, and moved h er lips to speak. 
The man lay on the bed b' side her and put 
his ear close to the littl mouth, but try 
as he would he could not hear her mes¬ 
sage. I suppose there can be no sadder 
picture in the book of time than this de¬ 
nial by fate of the right to hear the last 
message of love from one passing off into 
the long journey from which there conies 
no report. Hopeless and bitter with dis¬ 
appointment, the man found pencil and 
paper and a large book and gave them to 
the child. Sitting up in bed, with a last 
painful effort, the little one slowly wrote 
or printed a single sentence and gave it to 
him with her little face aflame with love. 
He hid the note in his pocket as his wife 
and the doctor came in—for this message 
from the unseen world seemed to him too 
sacred for other human eyes. 
A 
The woman watched her husband close¬ 
ly and wondered why he seemed so cheer¬ 
ful as the days passed by. The little one 
was no longer with him, yet he went 
about his work with cheerfulness and 
often with a smile. She could not under¬ 
stand, but now and then she Avould see 
him take from his pocket an envelope, 
open it and read what seemed to be a let¬ 
ter. He would sometimes sit before the 
fire at night, silent and thoughtful. A r 
she went about her work she would see 
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