766 The RURAL. NEW-YORKER 
Pastoral Parson and His Country Folks 
By Rev. George B. Gilbert 
Dreary Weather. —Here it is the first 
week in May and about as dreary a day 
as one could possibly imagine. A cold 
rain is on, and the air is like Winter. 
The boys had half a day of school and 
went off to play ball after dinner, but 
the rain came on and drove them home. 
They put the cow out on the lawn awhile, 
but the Parson lias taken her in the barn; 
a cold rain does no animal any good. Two 
heifers are in the barn, too. They have 
been in the pasture eating off the wild 
onion, so that the cow can go up a little 
later, and not get enough to spoil the 
milk. The pasture seems to be full of 
this wild onion, but it only bothers for a 
few weeks in the Spring. 
The Geese. —The Parson firmly re¬ 
solved last year that, for him at least, the 
best w’ay was to sell the goose eggs and 
not try to raise geese, lie is still of that 
opinion, although he has had to learn his 
lesson all over again. Two liens hatched 
out five beautiful goslings, which was not 
bad for the early eggs. These were doing 
fine, and the Parson was as proud of 
them as the hen that took care of them. 
But last night a rat reached up through 
a hole in the empty horse stall where we 
put them nights and took two of them. 
We had no trouble from rats for years, 
and had grown over-confident that there 
were none about. The explanation of 
this rat’s presence was soon clear. A 
bag of grain had been placed over the 
hole where the cats go down under the 
barn floor. Had this not happened, no 
rat would ever have been down there. 
The Parson will now (“after the horse,” 
etc.) make a hole through the underpin¬ 
ning of the barn so that the cats can al¬ 
ways get in under the floor. 
The Chickens. —We bought 150 day- 
old chicks and gave them to some hens, 
in addition to what they hatched, and 
to some hens that never sat on any eggs, 
but had been on the nest for a week or 
so. By working the chickens under them 
carefully, a few at a time in the night, 
two out of three of these owned them 
beautifully. On the whole, these have 
done very well, while, of course, we have 
lost some. We gave 25 to each hen. 
and another year, especially when so 
early in the Spring, with more or less 
cold weather, the Parson doubts if he 
would give a hen more than 20. AA'e have 
rather more of the heavier breeds in the 
flock of hens this year, but the Parson is 
going back to a predominance of White 
Leghorns. The Beds and Bocks do sit 
so, making so much trouble and wasting 
so much time! 
The Boy Helper. —The Tarson's boy 
helper is still with him. You will re¬ 
member he is 81 years old, and working 
out by the day. He is one of the very 
best hands to have around you ever saw. 
It is not only that he keeps at doing 
things all day. but he knows so well how 
to do everything. He fairly loves to 
make garden, and when it comes to doing 
anything with an ax, he is more than at 
home. You ought to see the boys’ eyes 
stick out when they saw some fence posts 
he had sharpened. He is rather deaf, but 
can hear if you speak up good and loud. 
Little Ta was no time in getting onto 
this, and nothing pleases the old man so 
much as to hear Little Ta “holler” when 
he goes to speak to him. The vitality of 
this man—going on 82—is certainly as¬ 
tonishing. He gets up at just half-past 
five every morning—sun time, thank 
heaven—and goes to bed at just nine, 
lie eats and heartily relishes all kinds of 
food. However, he does not eat a par¬ 
ticle of sugar—not even in his colfec. 
He not only works all day long, but for 
the most part hurries. It sort of jars on 
the Parson to have a man going on a 
hundred—he nearly said a thousand— 
hustle around so much faster than he 
does. “We will have to have that other 
hammer,” said the Parson. “I will go 
down to the house and get it.” “Oh, no, 
no,” he cries, “don’t you go. I can get 
it in a minute.” So off he runs, licket- 
cut. It happened that the Parson had 
just got home from conducting a funeral, 
and as the old mare was trotting along 
back he mused on the Psalmist’s words, 
“Though some be so strong that they 
come to forescore years, yet is their 
strength then but labor and sorrow.” 
A Quick Getaway.— Yesterday he and 
the Parson went off down caunty to take 
up and take apart some pews out of an 
old church that is to be torn down. The 
old man enjoyed the auto trip—some 40 
miles—very much. On the way home 
after dark, old Daredevil was running like 
a watch, and the Parson was just in the 
act of remarking to him what a won¬ 
derful thing a Ford car was—10 years 
old at that—when it occurred to the 
Parson how wonderfully well the lights 
were working. They not only lighted up 
in front of the car, but it seemed to be 
so light all around the car; in fact, right 
under the car. On persuading Daredevil 
to come to a halt, the Parson sprang out 
and discovered a roaring fire right plum 
up under the gas tank. Now the old 
man was sitting right exactly over both 
the gas tank and the fire, and the Parson 
realized that when that tank* exploded, as 
lie supposed of course it would, in a sec¬ 
ond, there would be a,very bad hole made 
through that auto top. He ordered the 
old man to get out. Deaf as lie is. lie 
heard it all right, and as he told Mrs. 
Parson on getting home, “He never un¬ 
loaded himself so quick in his life.” By 
pulling out some old sacks that had 
worked "on the exhaust pipe, the fire was 
put out and no damage done. 
Twice Earned.— Not only is the old 
man’s work worth his wages, but lie has 
a lot of old-timers’ yarns that he gra¬ 
ciously throws in to boot. At supper last 
night he was tolling about a woman that 
lived quite alone down in the west part 
of the county. She had to cut and chop 
all her own wood. One day a man came 
along and saw her sawing wood. After 
gazing at her a while, ho remarked : 
“You ought to have a man to do that 
for you.” “I know I had,” she replied, 
Making an Early Start for 
“and I would marry the man that would 
do it.” “AA'hy, I’ll do it if you’ll marry 
me,” lie said. “That I will,” she said, 
“if you will promise you will always get 
mo plenty of wood.” They wont right off 
and got married. “He lias been a hateful 
old thing at times,” she used to say, “but 
I have never wanted for a stick of wood.” 
There was something really touching 
about the whole affair, and the story was 
absolutely true, as the old man gives the 
names of both parties and where they 
lived, for when the man got to be 89 he 
was still carrying in wood, and one day 
he stubbed bis toe on the well stone and 
fell, striking his head. And there they 
found him dead—the wood still in his 
arms. 
Oi.d Mr. Odd, —The Parson used to 
study a small catechism as a boy. It 
began : “Who was the first man?” Then, 
“AA'ho was the first woman?” “AA’bo was 
the strongest man?” “AA'lio was the wis¬ 
est man?” and so on. It did not have 
the question, “AA’ho was the oddest man?” 
That was because the oddest man had 
not yet lived when the first edition of the 
book was printed. lie came along, how¬ 
ever, in due time, and landed down in the 
south end of this county. There he had 
a big farm, and was quite prosperous. 
One of the things be would never allow 
was that anybody should go between him 
and his house when he was headed for 
the door. One time a boy darted between 
him and his house. lie immediately shot 
after the boy, and chased him clear to 
his home, then went around the boy’s 
house and then back to his own house. 
In taking grist to the mill he would never 
pass over the bridge. All other times he 
used the bridge, but never with grist. No 
matter how icy and bad the brook or how 
high the water or smooth his oxen, the 
grist always went through the brook both 
going and coining. He never would cat 
bread made of flour that hadn’t passed 
through the brook. No one ever knew 
any reason for his oddities—it was none 
of their business. He never explained 
them or talked about them. Quite often 
he used to go clamming down in the 
Sound. lie came home on foot with his 
clams, and they must needs always pass 
through a certain barway and come up 
to the house cross lots. One time the 
boys piled the barway full with terrible 
thorn bushes, and tramped them down 
and filled it up again. The smooth road¬ 
way was near by, but nothing doing. He 
deliberately set down his basket and 
cleared away every one of those thorn 
bushes, hands torn and bleeding, and 
went through with his clams. 
Half and Half. —There was a certain 
pole up on the steep side hill of the pas¬ 
ture where he used to go and get the 
cows. lie used always to run swiftly to 
this pole, grab it and swing around it 
three times before driving down the cows. 
This he invariably did. One night the 
boys went up and sawed the post most off 
on the uphill side. The next night they 
hid in the bushes. The old man rushed 
and grabbed the pole for a swing, but, 
alas, off it snapped, and the two went 
tumbling and rolling down the steep hill 
together, he keeping fast hold of the pole. 
One of his boys (he had four of his own) 
remarked that he had something of a tum- 
ble. “That’s all right,” said the old man, 
“I was on top half of the time.” 
IBs (’hair. —He always sat in the 
same chair, and the chair always stood 
practically in the same place. He was 
never known to go away and sit down, 
as he would sit in no other chair. One 
time they invited him to come over in the 
second town from there, nine miles away, 
and spend the evening, with apples, cider, 
cards, etc. They would have him now; 
he would walk over after chores and 
hardly stand up till late in the night and 
walk home again. It happened to Be a 
very rainy night. It was after midnight 
when they heard a rap on the door. There 
the Thanksgiving Turkey 
stood Ephraim—with his chair on top of 
his head. He quietly passed into the 
house, placed his chpir on the floor and 
sat down in it. 
The Haunted House. —There was a 
farmhouse near the old man’s place which 
was quite vacant, and the owners thought 
of selling it. For some reason the old 
man did not want it sold to unknown 
parties—perhaps he had an eye on it him¬ 
self. Soon reports were spread abroad 
that it was haunted. In fact, terrible 
noises were heard to come out of it. One 
night there was a party just up at the 
next house, and it was known that a 
group of boys and girls would be going 
by tlie house. What unutterable sounds 
came from the old house as they ap¬ 
proached it! AU were terribly affrighted 
save one sort of a daredevil fellow, who 
declared lie was going into the house. In 
he went, and when in and the noises re¬ 
doubled in fury, he declared that they 
came out of the chimney. “I will build 
a fire in the fireplace,” said he. He got 
a big bundle of straw and touched the 
match. There was a yelling then that 
beat the spooks, and down came the old 
man. Mad? Well, never mind. It was 
some time before he heard the last of it. 
An Odd Ciiubcii. —Well, the Parson 
was down about where the old man used 
to live the other day. In fact, he was 
sweeping out the church to make ready 
for a gathering there. Placed high up 
on the long, white pillars that supported 
the roof, the edges of four barn swallows’ 
nests could be seen and two pairs of barn 
swallows began to scold bitterly because 
the Parson stirred up such a dust with 
his broom. That was a little odd. Then 
the Parson heard much noise from behind 
one of the old front blinds. lie got up 
on a pew and lighted a match and peered 
eagerly through f he dusty pane. Then 
he counted. II< got up to fifty, fifty-one, 
two. three, four—yes, there were 54 bats 
huddled together, bat fashion, in the top 
of that old window. That was quite odd. 
Odder Still.—T hen an old-timer came 
May 28, 1921 
in and held gentle confab with the Parson 
of days gone by, as he still wielded the 
broom, for it was most a year since the 
Parson had swept the place before. “How 
did this church happen to run out and 
close up in this way?” “Well,” said the 
old-timer, “a good many queer things 
helped its downfall along.” The Parson 
egged him on a bit. “I well remember 
the night that two of the last and best 
men got up and walked out of the church, 
never to return.” “What lost two men 
at once?” asked the Parson, “and at an 
evening service.” “Well, it was on a 
prayer meeting nig 1 ’: that they went out.” 
“What could have Happened on a prayer 
meeting night?” asked the Parson. 
It AA'as Enough. —“Well, if you must 
know,” quoth the old-timer, “while the 
minister was making his prayer he 
winked, yes, winked. It wasn’t because 
the old kerosene lamps were so bright, 
either. It was at one of the girls of the 
congregation !” The Parson paused and 
leaned on the old broom. Perhaps he 
was sweeping the very spot where this 
took place. Certainly, he had just swept 
the spot where this minister stood. He 
looked back at it, not altogether without 
feelings of awe. Few can do two things 
well at the same time at best. But when 
one does two things as divergent, in char¬ 
acter as these two were, lie gets out of the 
class of the everyday. The thing was 
unusual; in fact, it might be said to 
have been odd, very odd. “Having dis¬ 
covered some of the oddities of Air. Odd.” 
said the Parson to himself, “I have now 
for a surety discovered the church he 
ought to have been brought up in—per¬ 
haps he was; who knows? 
A AA'easel.— Since writing the above 
we are quite convinced that it was not a 
rat, but a weasel, that got the goslings. 
AA r e have lost one more and a few chick¬ 
ens. One of the neighbors has had trouble 
also. AA'e learn, too, from a woman who 
has lost four little goslings that lice are 
apt to infest them and kill them. An 
application of lard on the head seems to 
prevent this. Our old white goose is 
now parading the lawn with nine beauti¬ 
ful little babies. The Parson greased 
their heads this morning as a prevention. 
More Potatoes. —AYe planted more po¬ 
tatoes this year than we have before. It 
seems to the Parson that they might 
stand for a fairly good cash crop next 
Fall. Many who lost on them last, year 
are not planting this year, especially the 
backyard crowd. Most of the work on 
the potatoes comes in the Summer when 
the boys are at home. “How many do 
you think we will have on this piece?” 
asked Clossie as we gathered up the tools. 
“AA'e ought to get 100 bushels,” said the 
Pai’son. “Pa.” added the boy, “will you 
give ’em all away?” AA r ell. well. 
A Farm Woman and Rural Schools 
It was my great privilege to spend 
Farmers’ Week at Cornell last February 
and among the lectures and conferences 
which I attended, there stands out most 
A'ividl.v the story of the farm home sur¬ 
vey. told by Dr. Buby Green Smith. 
This survey was taken in 1919 by the 
IT. S. Department of Agriculture, and 
in our own State was compiled by the 
speaker. 
One does not always trust figures, and 
only after an hour’s study of the original 
replies to questions asked did I feel 
satisfied that the truth was told. The 
answers tell so much of bard work, of 
little rest, of no pleasure except that 
which comes of loving effort for the 
comfort of one’s own, and most touching 
of all, of loyalty to home in spite of 
bitter knowledge of hard conditions. A 
study of the pamphlet by Florence E. 
Ward, called ‘The Farm AA'oman’s Prob¬ 
lems’ is well worth one’s time. 
Now it is true that, there are many 
and great disadvantages connected with 
city life. As Miss Ward truly says, a 
study and survey of living conditions in 
the lives of city women would bring to 
light many handicaps in home equipment 
and convenience. 
During one afternoon at Cornell, sev¬ 
eral classes of public school children and 
their supervisor of music gave a concert 
which could never be forgotten. Little 
folks of 10 and 12 with a real knowledge 
of music and h real joy in the best music 
are easily remembered. 
What does our average small country 
school give to our children of such cul¬ 
ture? Is it not a fact that a poor child 
in a city like Ithaca, the child of a 
laborer, with just public school chances, 
has a great gain over the child of a 
farmer—not only in music and art, but 
in the ordinary branches? AA r e want the 
best for our children, and the woman 
on the farm will work 14 hours a day 
cheerfully for their comfort, but can any¬ 
thing make up for the lack of educational 
opportunity? 
The Committee of Twenty-one has 
been organized for the purpose of giving 
help in solving this problem, one of the 
greatest in our State. Shall we help 
in the work or binder by hasty suspicion 
and criticism? 
AA T e country women can live and live 
well in our farm homes ..ithout gas or 
electricity. If we must, we can forego 
the rest and the pleasure which the 
normal woman craves and needs, but 
country life can never successfully with¬ 
stand poor schools. AA r e have them to¬ 
day in many places. The mother on the 
farm, if she becomes thoroughly aroused, 
with the heli» of the Committee of Twen¬ 
ty-one. can, I believe, change the whole 
situation. G. A. r. 
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