910 
Tte RURAL. NEW-YORKER 
May 8, 1920 
HOPE FARM NOTES 
I think one trouble with farming this 
year will be a tendency to quit because 
that seems to be the fashion. Without 
anv doubt this is to be a hard year on ac¬ 
count of labor, inability to borrow capital 
or to get supplies, and also bad weather 
conditions. With us the rains and cold, 
high winds continue, so that our soil does 
not warm up as it should. I am told that 
there is far more ice than usual floating 
down the Upper Atlantic, and that this 
partly accounts for these cold winds. I 
know little about that, but I do know 
that the season is so late in our section 
that we can hardly hope to catch up with 
the program we mapped out. As we can¬ 
not change the weather, we must change 
the program. What we fear right now 
is that one of these frosty winds will 
catch our apple trees right in bloom. 
When the first bud throws off its clothing 
to go swimming in the warm sunshine and 
is caught by Jack Frost, the shame and 
chill of it is enough to drive any respec¬ 
table bud out of industry. 
***** 
And then this railroad strike! For 
over two weeks now hardly a pound of 
express or freight has moved over our 
railroad. Many of the farmers have or¬ 
dered seed potatoes, lime, fertilizer, 
trees, and other things, only to have them 
held up somewhere along the road. Some 
of this stuff will be ruined before it 
finally gets here, and the rest will come 
too late to be of any service this season. 
The shipper is not responsible, though 
in most cases the money was paid in 
advance. The railroad • cannot be held 
responsible, and the strikers have no 
responsibili y. We ordered most of our 
supplies very early, and got delivery, but 
many farmers are in bad shape. We can 
see no immediate ending of the strike. 
It is different from anything we have ever 
had before. The question of wages or 
time does not count so much—it seems 
to be a definite effort to break up in¬ 
dustry as now organized, without substi¬ 
tuting anything in its place. My belief 
is that the fight between the railroads 
and the workmen will be kept up more 
or less all through the year. Just why 
these strikers should seek to shut off the 
commuters and keep food from the big 
cities I cannot see. They cannot expect 
to gain public sympathy in that way. 
They are simply driving the big farming 
and commuting classes into a determina¬ 
tion to support a strong and militant gov¬ 
ernment in place of the very feeble group 
we now ha e in power. But all this has 
depressed and discouraged farmers. They 
cannot obt. in proper labor, nor can they 
get supplies. With the present labor 
troubles it is hard to see how fair rail¬ 
road service for farm produce can be had. 
To those of us who can ship right into 
the marke by trucks this will prove an 
advantage, but the outlook for the men 
back from the main roads is not good. 
***** 
Now whenever I talk in this way I 
always get a scolding from people who 
say I am a pessimist. What I have 
stated is the absolute truth of the situa¬ 
tion in this part of the country. It may 
be different elsewhere; I will leave that 
to each one to determine for himself. I 
am as hopeful as the next one, and have 
proved it this year by putting up more 
capital than ever before in a hope that 
we can increase production. If we face 
the truth, however, the outlook is not en¬ 
couraging. Yet nothing can be gained 
by quitting and growling because others 
do. What T fear is that too many will 
accept growling as the fashion in farm¬ 
ing and quit because they think others 
are doing the same. Nothing could be 
worse than that. We must all stand up 
to the rae'. and do our best. I think 1 
told you how the water pipes from our 
spring froze in the ground. The frost 
worked in at least four feet and shut off 
our house supply. When a family as 
large as ours bas had all the water it 
could use for years, prohibition by frost 
seems worse than prohibition by law to 
some of the old-time soakers. The only 
thing left for us was to put the old wind¬ 
mill at work. Now this mill is 22 years 
old, and has faced storm and calm with¬ 
out repairs or great care. When a man 
gets to be 21 be usually votes for less 
work and easier times, but the old mill 
buckled down to labor and turned its 
battered and shaky blades whenever the 
wind blew. It might easily have said: 
“This lazy water pipe has struck for an 
eight-hour day and put the whole burden 
on my overworked joints. It isn’t a 
square deal, and I will quit, too.” 
Instead of that the old mill shook itself 
and took hold of the pump with a mighty 
heave, as if to say: “It is an injustice 
and a wicked thing to shut off that water 
right now and I don’t believe in doing 
business in that way. I was here long 
before that pipe was laid. These folks 
haven’t used me right. They haven't 
oiled me or kept me in good renair. but 
tbe emergency job is mine, and I’ll stand 
by it as best 1 can.” 
And so through the hard Winter the 
old mill has been right on the job. work¬ 
ing its rheumatic arms whenever the 
wind blew and keeping our tank fairly 
Well filled. And the other day Jack Frost 
got ashamed of himself and took his 
thumb out of that pipe. The water came 
pouring out—a little rusty at first, but 
finally running as soft and clear as ever. 
And I felt like taking off my hat to the 
old windmill. 
And so I think we must stand by the 
job as well as we can while the present 
disturbance has its thumb in the pipe. 
Quitting because others do is no practice 
for grown-up men. I know tbe hard 
conditions as well as anyone, but we must 
not let them run entirely over us. Let's 
frankly acknowledge the truth of the 
farm situation and then stand up and 
face it with the best plans and the best 
plowing we know. 1 have seen this thing 
worked out 50 times in all sorts of busi¬ 
ness. C here was that time, years ago, 
when 1 acted as “barker” for a tent show. 
It was ot West, and the State fair was 
to be held in a near-by city. That was 
the day when side shows bloomed on the 
fair grounds like flowers in Spring. Big 
Bill Graham had his tent all ready, but 
his “artists” had mostly gone back on 
him. =-The tenor singer was on a spree. 
The “sword-swallower” very appropri¬ 
ately had a touch of stomach trouble, and 
two ladies of the party had gone with 
a handsomer show. Bill had very few 
and feeble attractions left, but he was 
game, and with far more grit than quit. 
He had hired a half-witted man to dress 
up the part of “wild man of Borneo,” and 
he came out to our neighborhood for help. 
I was to put on a big, black moustacne 
and act as barker for the show. Then 
I was to take that hair off and recite 
Mark Twain’s story of the stammering 
man, and extracts from “The Widow 
Bedott,” wearing a dress belonging to 
the school teacher. Then, with a pillow 
under my vest and a cap borrowed from 
a German hired man, I was to give 
“Sockery and the Old Blue Hen”—this 
last, by the way, written by our old 
friend, George A. Cosgrove. Billy was 
to black up and give a stump speech. 
Tom was a good singer and could play 
the banjo, and Frank, who could play 
the cornet, was to stand outside and en¬ 
tice the crowd with his music. Bill fig¬ 
ured that the crowd would not be over- 
critical, and that these amateurs, with 
his few veterans, would tide him over. 
***** 
We were on deck, but things went 
wrong from the start. The tent was 
pitched too far to one side, and the crowd 
mostly rushed to hear a big Greenback 
speech. Very few came our way, except 
what seemed to be a Sunday school dele¬ 
gation. This crowd came and sat under 
the trees to eat their lunch. It looked 
like a frost, and Frank packed up his 
cornet and started to quit. 
“No good.” he said. “We can't get 
any crowd out. What’s tlie use?” 
Then I got a life lesson showing the 
difference between quit and grit. Big 
Bill Graham rose up out of the slough 
of despond and got a grip on Frank’s col¬ 
lar. 
“Say. young fellei*, what did I hire you 
for? To quit cold? Not much. I hired 
you to blow that horn, whether we sold 
a claim or not. Now get out thex^e and 
blow. That’s all for you. Blow that 
horn! Make a noise or I’ll pump wind 
with my boot. Get out in front and. blow 
your horn!” 
Now down where Frank lived his fam¬ 
ily thought themselves top-notehers, and 
they were not in the habit of being ad¬ 
dressed in that way, but the business 
look in Bill’s eye was enough to overcome 
almost any habit. So Frank got up on 
the platform and limbered up his cornet, 
while Bill towered behind him—a picture 
of dominating power. 
“Liven ’em up,” said Bill. The word 
“jazz” was not then in the language or 
Bill would have used it. It did look dis¬ 
couraging, with no one near at hand but 
that solemn group under the trees. Even 
the “wild man of Borneo” looked out 
through a rip in the tent while the rest 
of us “artists” grouped about. 
The first notes of that cornet were 
very dim and quavering, but Frank gained 
in breath and nerve as he played. The 
crowd kept eating. Bill was a good 
judge of human nature, and he was 
watching tbe people. 
- “Play a Sunday school tune,” was his 
order. 
I never considered Frank as a young 
man with any sense of humor, and per 
haps I am the only one v?ho sees any 
humor in the incident; but at the com¬ 
mand he raised the cornet and began a 
song very popular at that time. “Shall 
We Gather at the River?” Frank played 
it well. The clear, golden notes rang out 
over the grounds like a challenge. Those 
folks under the tree had begun to gather 
up their baskets, but at last they stopped 
to listen. 
“Give ’em another like it,” said Bill 
when the last note died away, and Frank, 
with his nerve now fully restored, raised 
his cornet once more and played softly, 
“Oh, Come, All Ye Faithful.” 
***** 
And they came. The leader was a 
big be a rded farmer. He led the way as if 
he said : “Here is a show that we must 
patronize.” I think it was Darwin who 
said “Man is a gregarious animal.” At 
and rate, whoever said it was right, for 
the average human is essentially a being 
of the crowd. He likes to group with 
his fellows, and he takes most of his 
initiative from others. So when this 
group of faithful started others fell in and 
within five minutes, as Frank played on, 
we had the desired- crowd at our door. 
Big Bill growled in his ear: “Didn’t I 
tell you so? What you have to do is to 
yet out and blow your horn! Now you 
bark!” This latter remark was ad¬ 
dressed to me. 
It may be that some who read this may 
remember the incident, and how a human 
Instant Postum 
still sells at the same low price as 
before the general rise in costs 
—and great is the number of 
families who” now use this 
table beverage in place of 
coffee. 
Attracted to its use by continued low 
cost, they found its agreeable coffee¬ 
like flavor much to their liking. 
With no health intent behind their 
action they discovered better nerves 
followed the change. 
All Grocers sell Postum 
and your trial is invited 
“There*s a Reason’* 
Made by POSTUM CEREAL CO., Inc. 
BATTLE CREEK, MICHIGAN 
KBannek 
COMPRESSED AIR SPRAYER 
A sturdy sprayer with a heavy brass or galva¬ 
nized iron tank, capacity 4 gallons. It has a 
brass, 2-inch diameter 
pump. A few strokes and 
you have a strong press¬ 
ure to deliver a fine, misty 
spray, or a coarse spray 
(as you desire)through the 
automatic brass nozzle. 
£|H' T 
H NO 
BANNER” 
Co *pi?essEo Am Spraye* 
Ri«.k'CTICM5 
• * *M 
• Tti 4 CO. 
The No. 22 Banner is built 
for hard service. Be sure 
to ask your dealer for it 
by name. 
Write for special literature on 
this sprayer and price for brass 
or galvanized iron tank — if your 
dealer cannot supply you. 
D.B. SMITH & CO. 
Utica, N. Y. 
We make SO different styles 
and sizes of sprayers. If in» 
terested in smaller or larger 
sprayers send for catalog. 
F> 
& 
ca 
When you write advertisers mention The R. N.-Y. and you’ll 8 et a 
quick reply and a “square deal.” See guarantee editorial page. 
