the RURAL. NEW-YORKER 
Pastoral Parson and His Country Folks 
By Rev. George B. Gilbert 
Won and Lost. —The Parson has 
joined a great army—a very great army 
'—tiie army of those who have won and 
lust. lie lias been to a whisk party. 
Now the Parson was brought up on 
cards — yes, largely on whist. Slap¬ 
jack. old maid, casino, whist—that was 
the order of education. But he hadn’t 
played whist for many a year. One of 
the missions, however, is great on playing 
whist. They have whist parties. What 
may he worse, they have prizes—nothing 
much just to add a little zest and fun. 
The Parson did have the goods the night 
lie was down. He thoroughly enjoyed the 
evening. One old-timer thought the Par¬ 
son ought really to play cards lor a liv¬ 
ing! Anyway, the scon* was counted 
the Parson had won the first prize! r l hey 
presented it to him with gusto—a neck¬ 
tie. The Parson ruminated, should lie 
wear it? “There goes the Parson with 
a new tie. see it? He won it at cards.” 
That would sound had. He hung the tie 
up on a gas jet down in the party room. 
He went off to bed. The house was a 
sort of hotel and boarding-house. The 
Parson went down to breakfast the next 
morning. Hi* would take the tie home, 
anyhow, and show it to Mrs. Parson and 
tin 1 boys. But he didn’t have to—it was 
gone. Yes, gone. Providence had re¬ 
lieved the situation. But no. Providence 
could not have sent a boarder to steal it ; 
No matter, it was gone. The Parson ate 
a hearty breakfast. Hi* still plays whist, 
but sonrMioW his score card always gets 
lost before the tally is counted. 
Still Worse. —The Parson has done 
another dangerous thing—he has been 
down to New York. He does not go very 
often, which is lucky. He put up at a 
hotel, lie got there late and got out tu 
good season. 11 in sleep didn’t cost him 
a dollar an hour, but it did pretty near. 
On the way home he foil to reading about 
another fellow who had landed in New 
York. This fellow paid $K for six hours’ 
sleep. That beat the Parson. The clerk 
told this fellow that his was a double 
room. He expected to see a doubly big 
room—far from it. He expected to see 
double beds, or two beds, or a doubly big 
lied in the room. Nothing was further 
from the case. Then the truth dawned 
upon him—it was a double room—the 
price was double what it ought to be. 
His Breakfast. —This man got his 
breakfast at the hotel. The Parson 
didn't—it was too muddy to walk home. 
This man paid 50 cents for two eggs. 35 
cents for a cup of coffee. 25 cents for two 
small pieces of toast and <0 cents for 
three small slices of bacon. The last 
item especially put the Parson to think¬ 
ing. It came home to him more than 
the 25 cents for “the cover” and the 25 
cents for the tip (the waiter waited). 
Had he not a big hog at home, and the 
best he could get would be about $30? 
So when In* got. home ho cut oil and 
weighed three small slices of bacon and 
figured on his hog. It came to $1,400. 
She Was Safe. —This same man had 
a ride in the subway. lie, with the 
crowd, was rushed and jammed and 
crammed into a car. One woman near 
him began to cry. but lie spoke to her 
reassuringly. “You cannot possibly fail 
if you do faint, madam, so don’t be wor¬ 
ried." Then when the Parson got home 
lie began to read his church paper and 
found the whole situation summed up to 
perfection. Speaking of how much chance 
for the development of personality there 
is in these days be says: Industrialism 
is mass movement and mass action. In¬ 
dustrial society throws human beings in¬ 
to cities in unprecedented numbers, 
pours them along its streets in floods; 
jams them into its many-storied buildings 
like rabbits in a warren : packs them intu¬ 
its subways like cattle, to hang on straps 
like apes oil branches; herds them in 
droves to the polling booths to express 
their sovereign will and then counts them 
by millions; rounds them up in great 
drives and turns their philanthropy and 
religion down common runways; con¬ 
scripts them by millions for its wars, 
and then forgets alike their nameless 
graves and the hopes for which they 
fought as it renews the struggle to pos¬ 
sess the wealth of the earth.” 
Not a “Thing.”- —Whatever else may 
be true, it cannot be said that a farmer is 
only a thing and never can be anything 
else but a “thing.” His job is not like 
tin* man’s who put 4.000 square sticks in 
a hole a day and they come out round 
sticks. And then to do this day after day 
and week after week and year after year! 
11 is work is always changing and he can 
always make it better himself. lie can al¬ 
ways be learning more about it. fin- he 
will never do more than barely begin to 
know all there is about the ground under 
his feet or the cow in the barn or the hens 
on the roost. He is largely his own boss, 
high priest of his own family, and the re¬ 
sponsibility and tb<‘ reward rest with him. 
The Mail Box. —The Parson has had 
some wonderfully encouraging mail, and 
wishes he could write at length to all 
who kindly write him. Here is a man 
who tells about his observations on the 
weather. It often goes in cycles of the 
week, so that if you get to having rainy 
Sundays>you will most likely have them 
for several in succession. The Parson 
has often noticed this himself—especially 
as regards Sundays! As long ago as he 
was in a divinity school, lie remembers 
the Dean spoke of this same thing. The 
writer tells the Parson that his suggestion 
along this line has saved the day for many 
an outdoor gathering and picnic. Here 
is another letter with a very substantial 
enclosure toward any needy poor on the 
route. \Ye have gotten along fine with 
the interest money for tin* little widow, 
and she will not need to have any worry 
along that score. She has some potatoes 
to sell, and the Parson will look out for 
them and bring them to town for her, as 
she has no horse now. 
A SURREY.—After service the last trip 
down a man came up to say he wanted the 
Parson to help- him get a two-seater of 
some kind. lie had to borrow the wagon 
he came to church in. Now, when a man 
borrows a wagon to come to church in— 
nearly four miles—he certainly ought to 
lie helped in getting one. The Parson has 
found just the thing—a fine one that cost 
$275 iii its day and was never used but 
little. All handmade and of real hickory, 
only of course autos have come in and 
such wagons go begging. The Parson has 
got it home here; it is out in the barn, 
and soon he will take it down, making a 
25-mile trip with it. It will cost the man 
just $10. There is solid satisfaction look¬ 
ing out of the church door and seeing that 
surrey pull around the corner, carrying a 
good pewful. It used to be a Congrega¬ 
tional surrey, but now it will roll gently 
down the valley, passing tin- ol<l Metho¬ 
dist. church with a slight hush of its ac¬ 
customed rattle, and climb up over the 
hill to join the Episcopal fold. 
The Printing Press. —And here come.* 
a letter telling lmw a printing press had 
been shipped to the boys from some good 
man down in New Jersey. “It is like 
parting with a friend.” he writes, for he 
used it for many years, and from the sam¬ 
ples sent did most beautiful work. But 
lie is getting older now and has given it 
as a present to the Parson’s boys. The 
big boat tugged it up through the ice in 
the river and Old Jim and the Parson 
brought it home—weighing some 2.000 lbs. 
in all. The man paid the freight on it 
and gave money to buy paper to print on. 
What is still better, he is coming up a lit¬ 
tle later to set. it up for the boys and 
show them how to use it. They are plan¬ 
ning on doing a great business with it 
especially in making tickets for all sorts 
of entertainments. 
No Coat Needed. —The Parson is sit¬ 
ting upstairs as In* writes, and has just 
had to remove his coat. It is plenty warm 
without it. Down in the cellar is that 
one-radiator furnace, They certainly are 
great things. It is hotter upstairs than 
down. No need to worry about the cham¬ 
bers—just open the doors and the wel¬ 
come heat will walk in and drive the cold 
out of there in a hurry. Our hallway 
and stairway are all open, and we shall 
probably have to put a door at the top of 
the stairs to keep the heat downstairs, 
especially in the morning, when first 
warming up the house. You don’t need 
much heat upstairs as a rule till after¬ 
noon. The furnace is great for wood and 
chunks. Most of the farmers around here 
set them up themselves. Would that 
every farm down country could have one! 
No more icy chill in the chambers for 
the children at night. What could do 
more to make them content with the old 
farm ! Save up some money this Summer 
and order one ready for next Fall, is the 
Parson’s advice. If it lies between a one- 
pipe for the women folks or a six-cylinder 
for yourself, there’s only one answer. 
Saves Work. —The amount of dirt it 
saves, as compared with stoves, is aston¬ 
ishing. Practically no dust seems to come 
up into the house from it. It saves work 
for the men folks, too. as the wood does 
not have to be worked up as fine, and is 
just (lumped down the cellar window, 
right where it is to be used. The stove¬ 
pipe that connects the furnace with the 
chimney can be covered with asbestos, so 
that very little heat comes out into the 
cellar. We are going to move our potato 
bin over near tin* hatchway, where it was 
inclined to freeze before, and the Pax a 
thinks all kinds of vegetables will keep 
in that end of the cellar as well as they 
have been keeping over in the further end 
where the furnace is now. 
The Ice Crop.—-I t used to cost the 
Parson about $12 a year to get the it e 
crop ill. some of the neighbors filling with 
him at that. But now we have a full 
team of our'own. with one to pack in tin 1 
ice-house, one to drive team, and two on 
the pond. The crop was poor this year, 
but in one Saturday, by working a little 
late, we got as much as we shall probably 
use. We have learned to make the cakes 
much smaller than we used to do—so 
much easier to handle in every way. 
The Movies. —The Parson happened 
down to one of his village missions some 
time ago on a Saturday night and saw the 
movie house was aglow with electric 
lights. The day of the movies had been 
changed from Friday to Saturday. "I 
will go to the movies.” said the Parson to 
himself, “and see what they are like here.” 
So after supper he went to the hall. 
Some of the church people were there, 
and practically till of the children. It was 
astonishing what young children were 
there. Of course all the boys in town 
were right there—right up on the front 
seats. The entertainment was to be in 
two parts, the latter being of a more 
comic nature. 
The Pictures. —The first reel had to 
do with high lift 1 in New York City. 
Whoever got it up certainly did the job 
well, for as a vivid and never-to-be-for¬ 
gotten lesskin in the filth and vulgarity 
and unspeakable rottenness of high life 
it was certainly a masterpiece. There sat 
our Sunday school children drinking this 
all in with open eyes—and mouths. To 
make the instruction complete the last 
February 26, 1921 
reel took to the filth and crime of the 
lower or underworld, as it is called. This 
was the back room or dive of a New York 
saloon where the easily led and innocent 
country girl had quickly landed. This 
bar-room. dive, drunken dance and brawl 
between half-naked girls and sailor boys 
was tin 1 good-night lullaby for our Sunday 
school children to go home and go to bed 
on. 
A Cure. —Could such a thing in our 
small villages be stopped? The Parson 
thinks it could, and very quickly and sim¬ 
ply. There are many fathers and mothers 
who do not go to these things. - There is 
also a well-to-do property holding class that 
go oil to the big towns where they go out 
for an evening in their cars. Quite a few 
of this latter-class, especially the women, 
attend church. Before the sermon the 
Parson most always talks about current 
events and matters that have happened 
since last he was there. The next morn¬ 
ing. before the sermon, he told them of 
his visit to the movies, and also just what 
In* saw. “as far as the sanctity of the 
place, common decency and tin - law would 
allow.” He assured them that a similar 
report of the previous evening’s movies 
might be expected every Sunday morning, 
lie was true to his word. Now it hap¬ 
pened in this particular town, and the 
Parson believes there are mighty few 
towns in which it wouldn't happen, the 
character of these movies took on a won¬ 
derful change for the better. Of course 
the Parson reports tin - good ones just the 
same as the others. 
There is Hope. —Yes. there is hope that 
some day the churches may come to¬ 
gether, and where there are four or five 
there may be some day one church— a 
community church—as it should be. The 
other day in the Parson’s town there was 
an interesting gathering. The head mo¬ 
gul and missionary superintendent of the 
Congregational Church of this State was 
there. The head spellbinder and conven¬ 
tion secretary of the Baptist Church of 
the State was there. The head circuit 
charger and district superintendent of 
the Methodist Conference had intended to 
be there, but sent a representative, and 
the head chief spook of the Episcopal 
Church of the county was there. There 
we. for lesser lights, including the Par¬ 
son. were with them, discussed the matter 
of combinations of churches or “federat¬ 
ing" churches where it could or ought to 
be done. Better say “ought” than “could” 
so fiir. to be sure, but the latter will never 
come without a deep sense of the former. 
Sound Talk. —“As for our church in 
that town,” spoke up one of the head men. 
“it ought to be treated as surplus of kit-' 
tens would be—taken out and drowned.” 
(This was not the Baptist man.) 
“As for our church in that other town.” 
spoke up another head man. “we crowded 
in there after another church was already 
on the field, and have not and never had 
any business there. It is up to us to as 
gracefully get out as we hastily got in.” 
And so this wonderful meeting went on 
anti the map of the countv was gone over. 
The heads of these churches are to go to 
some of their churches and admonish them 
to come together, and. if need be. take 
away any outside financial support they 
may be getting. 
Boys and Farming. —The children 
have undergone a sort of general promo¬ 
tion in the farming lint* this Spring. 
Shelley, with his high school and music, 
has to leave so early and gets home so 
late that lie is excused from chores alto¬ 
gether. and helps out on Saturdays. 
George is promoted from being the poul- 
tryman and is now the dairyman. He 
has entire charge of the barn and sells 
seven quarts of milk a day for 70 cents. 
He has this money as his. and is about to 
buy himself a new suit. IIis barn is as 
slick and clean as you please, and every¬ 
thing must lie exactly in its place. He 
has bought him a searchlight and goes off 
to deliver his milk each night to a milk¬ 
man who takes it to the city in the morn¬ 
ing. 
The Poultry man.—C lassic has been 
boosted up from the water fowl to the 
liens. He has entire charge of them, and 
gets 15 cents for each dozen of eggs he 
brings in. He keeps very accurate ac¬ 
counts and gets his pay every single 
night. The Parson thinks this last is a 
great thing. It just takes the heart right 
out. of a boy's interest in any work if he 
is slow in getting his pay. The enthu¬ 
siasm of some older people slightly chills 
at the thought of rewards deferred to 
some uncertain period after the resurrec¬ 
tion. 
The Geese. —The geese will fall to Sit. 
and if she gets as much as Classic did last 
year it will be about $20. He just sold 
the eggs last year and did not try to do 
much with raising goslings. We have 
just about pasturage for the three old 
geese and the two sheep, without any 
more. 
Fifty-fifty. -The Parson ran across 
another case of fifty-fifty the other day. 
though it Wiis not like the case of the 
sausage meat with its one horse to one 
rabbit. lie was coming along by the old 
Hurt place when he remembered being 
told somewhere that a new family from 
the city had just moved in. In fact it 
had come that day. It was toward night, 
and seeing some people over the cowyard 
fence, lit* pulled up Jim to pass the 
time <rf day. The man stood there, vio- 
lentlv rubbing his hands and wrists. “Are 
you hurt?” asked the Parson. “No, no,” 
said the newcomer. “But T have been 
trying to milk for the first time. It hurts 
my wrists something awful. But then I 
have got one side of the cow done, and 
(Continued on page 337) 
The Jioj/s Know When Marbles Are Dae 
