1614 
Wrc RURAL NEW-YORKER 
HOPE FARM NOTES 
Almost before we knew it, October 
came stealing upon us like one who comes 
up behind you and puts cold hands sud¬ 
denly upon your neck. This afternoon 
we were picking the last of the McIntosh 
on the western hill, and I suddenly real¬ 
ized that the shadows are coming earlier. 
There has been a sharp chill in the air 
for the past few nights—not quite a kill¬ 
ing frost, but so close to it that it gave 
us a case of shivers. So tonight the 
children have built a lire in the fireplace, 
and here we are before it. There is a 
heavy nut crop this year, and the chil¬ 
dren have gathered nearly a bushel of 
hickories already. Of course, these should 
be kept for Winter, but at the rate they 
are disappearing tonight there will be 
few left by Thanksgiving. You may help 
yourself from that row of mellow Mc¬ 
Intosh on the mantel over the fireplace. 
There is something of a crowd of us still, 
though the oldest boy has gone to college, 
and Rose has been taken from us. I am 
not quite ready to tell the story of little 
Rose yet. but I will say this: If any 
of you ever attempt to take a little child 
into your family, take an orphan with 
no family ties, or have the case tied up 
just as tight as the law can tie it. 
The big boy went to college. We made 
the trip a sort of family affair—traveling 
nearly 200 miles up into New England in 
the car. I went up on the train and 
came back with them. Of course. I know 
that most people think it better to send 
the children off to settle themselves, but 
we like to make such incidents more like 
a family outing. We had a great trip, 
though it made me thoughtful to see so 
many deserted farmhouses along the roads 
in Northwestern Massachusetts. Coming 
down to Pittsfield I counted 14 such 
houses right on the main road, and no 
one knows how many there are back on 
the side roads. These deserted houses 
were mostly large and well built. I am 
sure that 50 years ago each of them 
sheltered a good family. There were a 
good many orchards along the way—prac¬ 
tically all going to ruin—untrimmed, with 
many dead branches, and full of weeds 
and brush. Yet the towns and cities in 
this section seemed to be very prosperous. 
I notice that most of them have made 
good gains in population. There were 
hundreds of beautiful "estates” where 
rich people spent a few Summer months 
in great luxury. There were some large 
farms, well kept and with an air of pros¬ 
perity. Everything seemed thriving, ex¬ 
cept what we may call small or medium¬ 
sized farming. That appeared to be 
doomed—at least, when conducted on the 
old-time plan. Yet with all these thriv¬ 
ing towns and rich people, it would seem 
as if this section ought to provide the 
finest possible retail market for eggs, 
cream, fine fruit, poultry and line vege¬ 
tables, like asparagus or celery. I did 
not happen to see one young farmer in 
all that long trip. The great ma'ority 
were of middle age or beyond. Why? 
You would think we ought to know, since 
we live under much the same conditions. 
V v ^ 
But why send a farm-raised boy up 
into such a section to be educated? With 
such surroundings a college must be about 
as far removed from sympathy with agri¬ 
culture as it is possible to get. It is true 
that our boy is farm-raised, and a fair 
share of his expenses at college will be 
paid by the income from a small block 
of apple trees which he owns. It is also 
true that such a college cannot carry any 
strong connection with what we call prac¬ 
tical agriculture. It will not teach our 
boy one single thing about fruit-growing, 
poultry, fertilizing or the care of machin¬ 
ery. If, however, you have ever raised 
a family of children, you know as well as 
I do that when it comes to a matter of 
education, it is a case of “man proposes” 
and his wife disposes of the question. I 
had made up my mind never to send an¬ 
other child to college unless that child 
was willing to make some sacrifice in 
order to get through. This thing of send¬ 
ing children to college just because it is 
the custom or habit of certain people to 
send their children, is very much of a 
humbug. My wife and daughter felt that 
our big boy was not trained or ready for 
practical life. His mind was more like 
a rather crude, not fully adjusted ma¬ 
chine. capable of good service if it could 
be adjusted and made over to suit its 
work. It is true that real work out 
among men is the great educator; but 
as I look about me I see many a so- 
called successful man who would be far 
more useful if he could have had a sound 
college training before he went up against 
the world. Such men seem to me like 
great powerful machines, capable of 
turning out great quantities of the 
coarser products of life, but with no 
adjustments which will enable them to 
produce the finer and more delicate goods 
which the world has ever craved. I think 
that sound college training would have 
put these adjustments into the lives of 
such men. 
* * me * * 
I was thinking of this today on the 
hill as we worked in our sunny orchard. 
As I saw this beautiful fruit coming off 
the trees until the baskets stretched out 
in a long crimson streak, the orchard 
somehow seemed to be peopled by men and 
women who had stepped down out of 
history and out of great books to rejoice 
with me at. all this beauty. They were 
the men and women of whom I had read 
and thought all through these long years 
of waiting for the orchard to come into 
bearing. They were the constant and 
unbeatable people who had endured and 
suffered for an ideal—lived lonely lives, 
carried their burden in silence, with a 
great faith which nothing could dim. 
They were there—as the shadows crept 
up from the woods. The pickers could 
not see them, but to me they were real; 
I had known them in books and histories 
for years, until they have become a part 
of life. As the fire warms tonight in this 
black fireplace I know that these phan¬ 
toms on the hill are the best part of the 
apple harvest. Can any human being 
name any more valuable possession than 
the power to call these fine old characters 
out of the pages of history and walk with 
them in silent places? (’an I give my 
children any finer outlook of life than 
that same power to bring out of litera¬ 
ture this great, ghostly baud of human¬ 
ity? That i« what I want my boy to 
have—no matter what he does for a 
living—whether he becomes a farmer, an 
engineer, an artist or a plain farm hand. 
One great reason why farming has fallen 
into a subordinate place is because too 
many of us have come to think that poetry 
and vision are to be ranked as among 
the effeminate things of life. 
* $ * * * 
Of course, I know what some of you 
successful farmers will nay when I claim 
that the women would far better decide 
about the education of our children, and 
that modern agricultural education is be¬ 
coming too material and too political. 
Women are the natural teachers. They 
know their children far better than the 
men ever can. Their instincts are keener, 
their ideals are higher, and as a rule they 
have finer intuitions. Of course I know 
there are exceptions to all rules, but I 
think Nature has especially fitted tin' fe¬ 
male of the species for the task of educat¬ 
ing the young. If any man feels that his 
wife is fitted to bear and rear his children, 
he will do well to step back and let mother 
decide how John and Mary shall be 
trained. Eight times in 10 when the man 
tries to interfere in such things he will 
get out over his head—where lie cannot 
swim. I think, too, that women are to 
have more to say about such things in the 
future. Of course, the nineteenth amend¬ 
ment merely gives women the same voting 
privilege as men, but that privilege will 
carry them still further. Mother and 
her daughter voted at our primary—we 
all went to the polls together. I can see 
that women are to take this new right 
seriously—in a way that many of us did 
not realize. Many a woman who has 
felt hopeless in past years will now take 
new interest and courage, and will use 
her ballot to defend or to help her chil¬ 
dren. As children belong to the woman 
far more than to the man, it is eternally 
right that the mothers should decide about 
their training. The truth is that the 
average man has long tried to boss the 
entire household, and in doing so has 
started some things which made him ap¬ 
pear ridiculous. We had a big Wyan¬ 
dotte rooster once, who was one of these 
“all-family men.” The little brown hen 
was brooding a nestful of little chicks, 
when the neighbor’s Plymouth Rock 
rooster came over the fence. Old Wyan¬ 
dotte attacked him and drove him off. 
Then the victor paraded himself before 
the brown lieu, and when she left her 
brood to get. her breakfast, Mr. Wyan¬ 
dotte proceeded to show her how to care 
for a family. He squatted down on those 
little, fluffy, living balls, broke the leg 
of one and wounded another with his big 
spurs. The little brown hen very prop¬ 
erly flew’ at him and drove him off. lie 
stood in the corner and sulked when he 
should have scratched up worms and 
carried them to his wife. Did you ever 
seen man who acted like that Wyandotte? 
$ * $ * * 
As for why I think agricultural educa¬ 
tion is getting off the track, that is too 
long a story for tonight. We have six 
children left at home, including the Jap¬ 
anese boy. They are all at school and 
apparently doing well. I know that I 
cannot possibly work their problems in 
mathematics, and I am stumped by many 
• if their examination papers. Cherry-top 
is studying Latin; happily mother and 
her daughter are good at that. Many a 
man will snort in disgust at the idea of 
studying a dead language, yet do you 
know' it. is one of the deep regrets of my 
life that I never had a chance to study 
that and other languages when I was a 
boy. Our children are all musical. 
October 16, 1020 
Cherry-top is studying the violin and d 0 
ing well at it. It is a pleasant thing to 
see him and the two little girls playing 
together. Just, now they are practicing 
some of the college songs which, no doubt 
their brother is singing right at this time’ 
Now there is another thing about farm- 
raised children. Music will never In ,, 
corn or milk cows or pick apples, yet it 
is one of the finest things that any farmer 
can have as a companion. If any child 
showed a fondness for music, or any in¬ 
clination for it, I would go without mv 
dinner, if need be, in order that the child 
might have a chance to learn at least 
the rudiments of the gentle art. Better 
music in the soul than meat in the stom¬ 
ach. Most of us would be better off with¬ 
out meat, anyway*—many of us live only 
about half a life because we have no 
music. At any rate, we intend to make 
this house as much like a home as pos¬ 
sible. If our bx'ood scatter, as it un¬ 
doubtedly will, sometime we will try to 
tie them here in spirit, even if they break 
all the halters of material power tint 
we can put on them. 
* * * * * 
But how is business? What you sav 
may be all right, yet, after all, “money 
makes the mare go.” Even in dear old 
New England they charge 100-cent dol¬ 
lars for educating a boy. How is the 
farm doing? You are right about money 
and the marc—even in these gasoline 
days. Sometimes they force the mare too 
fast and too hard. Perhaps if I say the 
farm is doing "so-so,” I will get it. right 
Up to October 1 our sales were $112 more 
than for nine months last year, while 
expenses were about $500 more! \V ( > 
have more to sell than we had at this 
date last year, and we may come out 
even. It will depend on prices for ap¬ 
ples. Thus far apple prices have run 
about. $1 a barrel under last season’s! 
It looks now as if they would go lower 
A. heavy storm last week blew down thou¬ 
sands of barrels all over this section. 
Many of these will be picked up and 
rushed to market. That, of course, 
smashes down the price. Wo would ali 
be better off if every one of this windfall 
fruit could be left on the ground, but. 
no individual wants to lose it while all 
the rest are selling. Sell for vinegar? 
Well, the fruit might bring 50 cents per 
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