656 
Iht RURAL NEW-YORKER 
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THE A. I. ROOT COMPANY 
293 Main St. Medina, Ohio 
8 FX 
BUY 
PLAYSUITS 
DIRECT FROM 
FACTORY 
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We manufacture overalls 
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complete catalog with prices 
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Standish & Alden, Inc 
Box 677, Dept. 109 
HAVERHILL, MASS. 
OOPPSlE- 
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within 300 miles.::;:;,Add extra 
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MONEY BACK IF NOT SATISFIED 
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50 BARCLAY ST., N. Y. 
100 Van Dyk Stoves in -30 cities. 
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Henley’s Twentieth Century 
Book of Recipes and Formulas 
This 800 -page 
book gives 
thousands of 
RECIPES 
covering all 
branches of 
The USEFUL 
ARTS 
PAINTS, GLUES, CEMENTS, TANNING, 
DYEING, SOAP MAKING, ELECTRICAL 
AND CHEMICAL WORK, ETC. 
Valuable for reference. Price postpaid $4 
For Sale by RURAL NEW-YORKER 
333 WEST 30th STREET. NEW YORK CITY 
Spring Weather 
The stage is set for a beautiful day. 
We breakfasted at dawn, with only a pale 
pink light in the east as a promise of fair 
weather, and now, a trifle shivery in the 
chilly air that finds its way even through 
a heavy sweater, I am helping Daddy fill 
some insatiable harrow grease cups. 
Overhead the stare are fading out and 
some feathery clouds have drifted over 
from the northwest to merge into rose 
and silver,• a thin haze has crept about 
the grim outline of our bare April land¬ 
scape, as if to shield it from the bright¬ 
ness of the first searching sunbeams. 
Over in the woods the birds are singing 
the opening overture. The robins always 
begin first and hold the lead, but soon 
other songsters awake and take - their 
place in the great chorus. They are im¬ 
provising, their theme the miracle of an¬ 
other day—the sun is coming up again 
this morning. 
The peepers and frogs have been awake 
all night, but they are used to that. Cer¬ 
tainly there is no hint of languor in their 
cheery rhythm. The kingbird is there 
bestirring himself at his usual task of 
routing crows, and already some of them 
are taunting him with a few savage caws. 
There is no lack of volume, for every 
creature with a voice is singing with all 
his might, and a flock of noisy blackbirds 
bursts into swells that threaten to drown 
school, mother?” Cathy is behind her, 
and I feel the hand of duty. 
There are seed potatoes waiting to be 
cut, but I am going first to see what the 
big harrow has done to the clay hollow. 
Hurrying up the lane along the ends of 
rows already planted I find Daddy busily 
mixing this heavy soil with an 8-inch 
layer of what was once bright yellow 
sand. I think it might safely be said 
that this piece of ground has never pro¬ 
duced a potato. But a day with the 
scraper has turned this hitherto regret¬ 
table hollow into good potato soil; no 
more dismal cultivating through barren 
rows, no more breaking lumps. We think 
that we have simply put back what be¬ 
longed there: grains of sand which the 
wind has been centuries in taking away 
and heaping in knolls. Of course the tops 
of the scraped knolls will be very poor, 
but we remind ourselves that they were 
already quite poor, how the cultivator 
used to slide off the row w;hen we culti¬ 
vated, and the problem it was to keep the 
sprayer from obliterating the next row 
lower down. 
The promise of fair weather has been 
well kept. There is just a hint of green 
in the trees, and the big cherry tree is in 
blossom. The sky is a dull violet blue 
like amethyst, a symptom of drouth ; the 
sun such a brilliant spectacle that we 
cannot look at him. Daddy will soon 
the whole chorus. When a hawk screams 
the music is hushed for a few seconds, but 
soon it is in full swing again. The plain¬ 
tive cry of the killdeer, the occasional 
quick pipe of a pheasant, someone asking 
for Phoebe, the hoarse call of the red¬ 
headed woodpecker are some of the di¬ 
verting features, of which the list seems 
endless. 
The oiling completed, Daddy gets out 
the crank for starting. As the motor goes 
into action a flock of excited R. I. Reds 
scurries around the corner of the barn. 
They have actually learned to associate 
the noise with much desired grubs and 
angleworms, and have often 'been known 
to follow ridiculous distances up the road 
with such expressions of mingled faith 
and disappointment that we blush to re¬ 
call it. But they are not to he disap¬ 
pointed this morning, as one of them ad¬ 
vertises by gulping down a fat white grub, 
and the big red rooster is kept quite busy 
showing them all where there is a fine 
juicy morsel. 
We left little Jane asleep, but perhaps 
the sound of the tractor has awakened 
her, as it usually does. I will steal into 
the house very carefully, and if she is not 
awake—but she is, and standing up in 
her little legged night clothes she invites 
me to “Toek a baby.” How does one girl 
baby come to have red hair, brown eyes, 
s.uch a winsome face and so much love to 
give away? No doubt I am spoiling her, 
hut I have not the firmness to insist that 
she lie down quietly and go to sleep 
again, as modern mothers are supposed 
to do. A little fat hand pats me on the 
back all the way cait to the kitchen fire, 
and then “O-o-o. mamma,” and here comes 
a hug. In a few moments Cathy will be 
dressed and ready to take charge. Cathy 
is a very dear girl who has come to live 
with us lately. She is very pale from too 
much mill work, hut we are trusting to 
old Grace’s milk and our country sun¬ 
shine to tip the balance in our favoi. 
Already little Jane adores her, and does 
not object to mother’s going out-of-doors. 
Here is Elsie, too. “Ts it almost time for 
have another strip of land ready for plant¬ 
ing, and it will be time to cut seed. But 
as we turn to go back to the house Elsie 
comes Hying out. News! That much is 
to he guessed from her excitement. When 
she comes near enough she calls out: 
“Oh, Daddy, the station agent says there’s 
a colored man waiting for you; he just 
came on the train.” Colored people have 
been very few and far between in Elsie’s 
experience, hut as for me, it is just like 
being handed a ticket and told to amuse 
myself. 
This man has come from Florida. lie 
is an expert in truck farming, and I sus¬ 
pect that he knows more about the raising 
and coddling of early potatoes than we 
ever shall, for he has spent his life where 
“spuds” are raised by hand, planted with 
the sprout straight up instead of indis¬ 
criminate dropping just anyhow. lie 
lias come through the early potato sec¬ 
tions in Virginia, Maryland and New Jer¬ 
sey since the freeze has laid waste the 
green growing fields. We feel for the 
owners of these crops, and are glad that 
it is possible for these plants to send out 
more shoots and produce a fair yield. You 
should see the store of seeds Mr. Perkins 
has spread before our interested Northern 
eyes. We had never seen a cotton seed 
before, and when we see the melon and 
cantaloupe seeds how our mouths water, 
just from fancying our garden next Sum¬ 
mer. 
We have been waiting to see how little 
Jane would look when she saw our col¬ 
ored friends, hut I will have to say here 
that she shows a decided preference in 
their favor. There is a strong bond of 
sympathy between the two families; 
Daisy and Mr. Perkins are childless. 
When I see how they are drawn to 
Elsie and little Jane I realize that our 
chiuldren are very lucky indeed. They 
will never lack for companionship, and 
Daisy has the knack of telling stories. I 
itm hoping that if we make them at home 
here they will always want to stay 
“up Nawth.” What they will miss most 
is the company of their own people; they 
April 30, 1921 
are stranded here in a country of stran¬ 
gers who stare too curiously and then 
draw away. For one who has been used 
to a great deal of laughter and good fel¬ 
lowship it is a lonesome outlook, hut as 
far as we can we intend to make up this 
deficiency. 
The sun sprouts were planted April 
fifth. We did not need the experience of 
the Southern growers this year to show us 
that this is undeniably plain speculation. 
We shall watch the thermometer, and 
when it gets around 40 the cultivator will 
he started, throwing another layer of soil 
over green leaves. But so far the sprouts 
have not broken ground, and we are hop¬ 
ing for some cold weather to keep them 
under for a while longer. We have had 
a great deal of this treacherous warm 
weather. It is sure to freeze afterwards. 
Well, we will hope for the best and keep 
our eyes open. mbs. f. h. ungeb. 
He Should Stay on the Farm 
I suppose you have enough to worry 
about without being bothered with the 
troubles of a farm boy; but such is my 
confidence in your good judgment that I 
thought you might be able to help me out. 
I have been a reader of Tiie R. N.-Y. 
ever since I was able to read. I am now 
39 years of age, and ever since I have 
been old enough to reason with my par¬ 
ents have been trying to make anything 
of me hut a farmer. First came music 
lessons. I had, so my teacher said, con¬ 
siderable ability, so when other boys of 
my age were beginning to learn to milk 
I was drumming on the piano. I do not 
now regret these lessons, for my music 
has since brought me much pleasure. 
But the Great War came and my brother, 
who was an ex-service man, went in. 
The music lessons were dropped and I 
went to work on the farm to take my 
brother’s place. Our farm is a small one, 
keeping but nine or 10 grade cows, the 
Chief business being hens. Mother and I 
managed to keep the hen business alive 
till the war was over. I had been inter¬ 
ested in chemistry while in high school, 
and my parents thought I would make a 
chemist, so in the Fall of that year I en¬ 
tered the State University. It did not 
take me long to find out that I was not 
going to be satisfied with my calling, 
loving the great outdoors too much to 
ever make a chemist and spend my life 
working over fuming acids and chemicals. 
I was also disgusted with college life in 
general, as it seemed to me that the big¬ 
gest part of the student body was there, 
not because of high ideals or purposes, 
hut to find a way of making a living with¬ 
out soiling their hands. Of course, I ex¬ 
pect I am wrong, hut it looked that way 
to me. Most of those who came there 
with high ideals and aspirations were 
looked upon as “nuts.” I tried to change 
my course to agriculture, hut could not 
do it that year, so I dropped out, with 
the intention of coming hack the next 
Fall I did not go back, and since then 
I have been looking over pamphlets sent 
out by two of your State (New York) 
agricultural schools. They seem to offer 
a practical course, everything that one 
could get. in college minus the “frills,” at 
less expense and in less time. Now this 
is the question. “Shall I go back to col¬ 
lege or shall I enroll in one of these 
schools?” Expense lias nothing to do 
with the matter. I believe in purebred 
live stock, and next to my parents and 
a few friends, I think more of a Guernsey 
cow than anything else in the world. 
I have been taking the Guernsey Breed¬ 
ers’ Journal for nearly a year, and have 
been studying the different blood lines of 
the breed. I believe that it is time for 
the farmers to stop “knocking” his “pro¬ 
fession” and sending his children away 
from the farm. If the farmer doesn’t be¬ 
lieve in himself, how does he expect any¬ 
one else to? If you can find time to an¬ 
swer this letter, I will be very grateful 
Vermont. c. n. B. 
That is a fine letter, and we are only 
too glad to answer it. As for “troubles, ’ 
they are made lighter by going over the 
stock which others can present. We have 
to be cautious in giving advice, for it is 
no small thing to change or influence the 
future life of any ambitious young per¬ 
son. In many cases we cannot state 
positively, as the personality is not clear. 
In this case, however, we do not hesitate 
to advise this young man to carry out his 
plan and stay on the farm. Here seems 
to be the case of a natural farmer, and 
in these times it would be little short of 
criminal to try to induce such a man to 
leave the country We think one of the 
secondary schools of agriculture will serve 
him well. 
Peanut Oil Soap 
I thank you very much for the trouble 
you took to answer my question about 
making soap of peanut oil. I experi¬ 
mented with the oil by adding to it crack¬ 
lings, meat skins, etc., when making up 
my supply of “lye soap,” and found I 
could use about a pound of the oil and 
2% lbs. of cracklings, etc., to three quarts 
of water and a can of lye. It seems to 
make the soap white and nice to use. 
Texas. mbs. w. m. 
