862 7*e RURAL NEW-YORKER 
Pastoral Parson and His Country Folks 
By Rev. George B. Gilbert 
After Church. —It really is a ques¬ 
tion what the young people are going to 
do Sunday afternoons, in the old days 
in New England the people stayed at 
church all day, taking their dinner. It 
seems a great pity that this custom was 
ever broken up. Now the people who 
have cars go off in them long before 
church, as a rule, and the boys in the 
small villages play cards under the' trees, 
and the girls, for want of something bet¬ 
ter, promenade up and down the street. 
But last Sunday, in a small village, near¬ 
ly 40 of us went over on the ball field 
right after Sunday school, where we had 
picnic lunch and games till four o’clock. 
Such a good time as everyone had! 
Commercialized Sunday. —There has 
been a great stir about Sunday laws in 
our Legislature this Spring. In the big 
cities ball games are pulled off and the 
moving picture houses are in full swing. 
If the churches had furnished recreations 
and athletics in the afternoon and moving 
pictures at night, would this have ever 
come about? Could we expect the young 
people to sit and do nothing all the after¬ 
noon? The Parson was reading in one 
of our church papers about a Sunday 
afternoon ball game in which a bishop 
and two clergymen took a leading part. 
Surely the times do change. If we could 
only “turn the hearts of the fathers” to 
their boys to be their leaders and com¬ 
panions, and do more and talk less. There 
was an old fellow ever in the west part 
of the county, lie was forever advising 
and jawing and scolding his boys. One 
day they all went out to the yard to yoke 
up the cattle. Circumstances prompted 
the old man to give the boys a big call- 
down about swearing. Now it so hap¬ 
pened lie always went barefooted all Sum¬ 
mer. Just as he had finished his sermon 
the nigh ox planted his hoof plump on 
the old man’s bare toes! Was the ser¬ 
mon lost? 
Another Church. —You will remem¬ 
ber the church with the swallows and 
bats —54 behind one blind? Well, tin* 
Parson expects to begin dispossess pro¬ 
ceedings soon. Ilis denomination has 
bought the property, and it will be fitted 
up as a religious and community center 
for that Ideality. The bats will have to 
take to the belfry, and the swallows to 
the sheds. Half of the sheds will be 
taken down and the rest shingled. In 
these days of autos only a few are needed 
anyway. 'Over at another church the for¬ 
est: fires crept up and burned our nice 
sheds, newly made over and shingled. 
We really needed them more for the wood 
as well as for the horses. We shall prob¬ 
ably have to put up something in their 
place. Some time ago the sheds at this 
church blew down in a big storm. The 
Parson had a feeling that perhaps the 
Lord in a high wind blew them down, but 
it must surely have been the devil that 
burned them up. 
Vacation Time. —The boys will soon 
be out of school for the long Summer, 
and the oldest boy, naturally enough, be¬ 
gins to think about earning some money 
for his coming last year in high school. 
It is hard to know just what is best to do. 
So many are out. of work and need work 
for them and their families that it hardly 
seems right for a young fellow to take a 
job if he can possibly got along without. 
The Parson will urge that he take a 
course in a business college. There seems 
to be a fairly good one right in town, and 
he could board at home while taking it. 
Though he has been to school steadily 
for 11 years, somehow he has got to learn 
to write. Mrs. Parson declares positive¬ 
ly that he has had five entirely different 
systems of penmanship—is it any wonder 
that his writing is atrocious? Then, too, 
every boy in these days ought to learn, 
if possible, how to write on a typewriter. 
Of course, one can pick it up after £, 
Ta and Clossie Watch the Geese 
fashion, as the Parson did. but, of course, 
it is never done right. The Parson never 
uses any but his big fingers. To be able 
to do it right, and perhaps be fairly ex¬ 
pert at it, would be a tremendous help to 
any man all through life. Then, too. he 
might take a course in shorthand. What 
a help such a thing would be to a fellow 
in college in taking down notes and lec¬ 
tures! Yes, if not too expensive for the 
tuition, the Parson will urge a business 
course for his vacation. 
Gum in Her Hair. —Sit has just come 
in from school with a great mass of gum 
in her long hair. Poor Mrs. Parson is 
terribly upset over it. It is a dreadful 
thing to get out. In her own case as a 
child, she says her hair had to be cut off 
on account of it. Some boy while march¬ 
ing in line behind her put it on. Why 
do people bring up a boy like that? In 
fact, so few try to bring up their children 
at all. They just turn them out to do 
as they please. Anything to get rid of 
them. If you can afford it, hire some¬ 
one else to bring them up—don’t do it 
yourself, anyway. How much money he 
makes is the generally accepted measure 
of a man. How much public service and 
good he does is the part measure of a 
man. IIoav he brings up his boys is the 
real measure of a man. 
A Baby Woodchuck. —Sit is fairly 
out of the room when George arrives 
with a live baby woodchuck in liis hands. 
He has just caught it in a trap. Its leg 
does not seem to be broken at all. They 
love and caress it like a kitten. Now 
they have gone downstairs and are put¬ 
ting it in a box to keep a while. Clossie 
is now pulling some smartweed to give it 
to eat. With several more traps in the 
hole, there bids fair to be a meal of young 
woodchuck in order about tomorrow. 
Such excitement and pleasure the boys 
are getting out of this trapping. They 
are pitting their wits against those of 
the old woodchuck, and so far the latter 
has come out ahead. George claims it 
dug around his traps and stones three 
times in one day. Two traps right near 
each other is the best way to get these old 
fellows. A little cash spent for traps on 
a farm for the boys is just about the best- 
money you can let go. A few of them 
set up in the pasture will turn the irk¬ 
someness of getting the cows into an as¬ 
tonishing delight. Don’t try to shoot the 
woodchucks yourself or let the hired man 
do it. Let the boys trap them. 
The Geese. —There has been a general 
tendency around here to set the geese and 
let them raise up the goslings rather than 
set the eggs under hens. Some have de¬ 
clared they will never put them under 
hens again. As soon as the old goose 
begins to hatch it is better to take the 
goslings out from under her and put them 
in the house till she is through. Of her 
brood of nine, our mother goose has not 
lost a single one. We have sold several, 
mostly to people who have bought eggs 
somewhere, and got only one gosling, and 
want another to keep it company. There 
has been an unprecedented demand for 
eggs this year. Sit has had quite a wal¬ 
let full of money all the Spring. We 
shall probably keep over two families of 
geese another Winter and cater to the 
goose-egg trade. Our geese seem to be 
the largest anywhere around, old Jerry 
tipping the scales at nearly 20 pounds. 
The Lame Goosie.' —A rat or some¬ 
thing got hold of one of the legs of one 
of the goslings the hen hatched and 
gnawed it quite badly. The bone was 
broken and we put splints on it and fussed 
with it; we finally had to amputate it. 
He got around quite a bit with his one 
foot. Mother got very fond of him, tak¬ 
ing care of him and carrying him out 
water. How he would talk to her when 
she went to him. He had a mate of the 
same hatch who stuck by him most faith¬ 
fully. He never left him, even to go over 
to the brook, and when anything came 
around it always ran to protect him. It 
was really wonderful the care this one 
took of poor, lame goosie. But the other 
day, in trying to get some water on a 
little sidoliill, poor lame goosie flopped 
over on his back and could not right him¬ 
self. Mother found him there dead and 
brought him around to the Parson with 
her eyes full of tears. Such a brave fight 
for life he had made—always talking 1o 
you about it. So with the handicapped 
in the human family. The heart goes 
out more and more to those who are less 
fortunate, and a greater measure of love 
makes compensation for their loss. 
The Hay Crop. —Here it is June 13, 
and we planned to mow the clover today. 
It is all ready to cut, and might have been 
cut last week if we could have gotten to 
it. It has been very dry here for a couple 
of weeks, and the rainfall was light all 
through May. There was quite a shower 
Saturday night, but the ground today is 
about as dry and hard as ever. George is 
cultivating the corn and potatoes, so as 
to keep in what moisture there is. The 
paper says fair weather, but, unfortu¬ 
nately, weather reports will not dry hay. 
As long as the sky is all clouded over and 
the wind dead south, we will not mow. 
The hay crop is very light in Connecticut. 
Probably the very open Winter had a 
good deal to do with it. Potatoes look 
fine everywhere. With plenty of rain 
there ought to be a good crop. One very 
good thing is the almost absolute absence 
of potato bugs. The Parson has not even 
seen an old hardshell this year. Will the 
improved methods of spraying and much 
more frequent spraying for blight entirely 
exterminate them? It rather looks that 
way, and it would be a great thing if 
they did. 
A Busy Day. —Yesterday (Sunday) 
we had a fairly busy day. The Parson 
preached two regular sermons, had one 
Sunday school class, baptized seven per¬ 
sons, preached a baccalaureate sermon 
and made some GO miles with the old car. 
By the time the 40-minute baccalaureate 
was done, the Parson had just about told 
all he knows. He felt a good deal like 
the young fellow who had been waiting on 
a girl for quite a long time, and at last 
one evening took her out for a ride. Hav¬ 
ing jogged along for a spell, he asked 
her if she would marry him. She very 
promptly said “Yes,” after which there 
was a long pause. The fellow never 
opened his head, and it got quite embar¬ 
rassing At last the. young lady asked: 
“Why don’t you talk, John?” “Talk, 
dear me, no.” said he. “I’ve said too 
much already.’ 
The Old-timer. —Well, the old-timer 
has gone home to do his haying. You 
will remember he is going on 82 years old. 
He really has quite a lot of hay—last year 
selling it for $40- at the baru. All this 
hay the old man expects to cut by hand 
and rake Avith a small rake and cart to 
the barn on a Avheelbarrow. Some of 
the farm boys now would think that 
rather slow work. But the old man will 
do it cheerfully—all alone, keeping his 
oavu house, and, above all, Avill do it re¬ 
markably well. Everything he does he 
does well. When he hoes a garden there 
isn’t a weed left in it. George hoed a 
couple of rows of potatoes and the Par¬ 
son considers him a good lioer for a boy, 
but the old man immediately hoed them 
over again. He seems to be a real lone 
remaining example of the old-time hired 
man that the Hope Farm man Avrote 
about. He showed the Parson the work- 
shop and Avoodhouse he built. He lieAved 
out everything but the boards, and de¬ 
clared, rightly, that if it blew over and 
over you could stay right inside it, for it 
certainly Avould never collapse. Before 
he Aveut he laid a stone "wall underpinning 
for one side of the garage, and every stone 
was solid like a rock before he ever left it. 
Ills Glasses. —The old-timer found it 
A’ery hard to see. To the Parson his spec¬ 
tacles seemed to be quite unsuited to him. 
So the Parson decided to boos't his own 
dragging acount Avith St. Peter. He took 
the old man to a specialist—the best in 
the city. There a careful and searching 
test was made of each eye. From there 
the Parson Avent to the spectacle makers, 
armed with a wond'erful and unreadable 
paper, covered Avith strange hieroglyphics. 
In a few days he took the new product 
to the old-timer, making no reduction 
from his Saturday’s payroll. The Parson 
expected a cry of delight as from a blind 
man beholding the glory of tl - day. But 
it Avas far from it—very far . mu it. The 
old man snatened them from his face in 
utter derision. He could “hardly see at 
all in them,” far worse than seeing “men 
at trees, Avalking.” “I will go to the T> 
and 10’ tomorroAV and get me a pair of 
June 25, 1021 
glasses,” said he. And he did, and has 
used them ever since. 
Too Well Known. —The Parson would 
dearly love to go and tell the joke to the 
specialist, but he has been so kind to the 
family that the Parson does not know 
just how he Avould take it, and he cer¬ 
tainly Avould not offend him for the world. 
One must always use a bit of caution in 
talking Avhcre he is well known. It re¬ 
minds the Parson of a Senator from Ohio 
who had been thoroughly stump-speaking 
his section of the State. At last, on the 
night before election, he came home to 
make a great address in his home toAvn. 
Surely such Avarm acquaintances and 
near-by neighbors should be saluated dif¬ 
ferently from strangers about the county. 
“Fellow citizens and neighbors,” he cried, 
“I know you far too Avell to address you 
as ladies and gentlemen.” 
June-time 
When the first bobolink comes to the 
hay lot AA’e know that avc are once more 
on the threshold of that delightful period 
known as June-time Over in the center 
of our big green field a Avhite speck ap¬ 
pears here and there against the glow of 
emerald, the first blooms of a 20-acre 
flower bed of just spuds. The roses out 
on the laAvn are dropping petals, the holly¬ 
hocks- making bud-stalks; the faint, SAveet 
odor of the blossoming grapevine on the 
trellis perfumes the soft, Avarm air. The 
swallow's are bringing mud for their nests 
against the barn rafters, and their swift 
wings cut the air in Avide, graceful sAvoops, 
a dart of blue and silver Avith orange- 
broAvn collars primly worn under solemn 
expressions. 
It is said that, humorists are apt to 
have sad faces. These birds have played 
practical jokes on tiger George until it is 
the great ambition of his life to catch just 
one of them. George is a dignified cat, 
rather proud of his record for bringing in 
game. He distinctly resents being laughed 
at and made foolish. So Avhen strolling 
grandly from barn to house, tail up, eyes 
and ears alert, it is annoying to have 
these sAvalloAVs dropping doAvn from no¬ 
where and crying aloud “TAveet” in his 
ear as they swoop by. Two of such ex¬ 
periences and he turns defensive, lying 
on his back, claws distended and jaws 
apart, making futile grabs after them as 
they pass by AA'ith their chuckling, tri¬ 
umphant note, until by and by they for¬ 
get him and he scrambles up an humbler 
if not a wiser cat. 
Little Jane is out in front of the big 
barn doors, standing surrounded by eager¬ 
eyed Bed liens, for whom, in her own 
quaint vocabulary, she is “shelling.” The 
corn is very dry and picks off easily, a 
kernel at. a time; now that the cob is 
empty, there are more in the granary. 
“Please, oh! she want shell!” That hen 
looking so pale and tottery is the one 
Elsie rescued from starvation in the hid¬ 
ing place she had chosen for her nest, 
and from which Ave dragged her forth 
willy-nilly, tail foremost. First aid for 
a starving creature is a drink of water, 
Avhieh Elsie set before her in a little can. 
She drank in great gulps, but refused 
grain and turned to grass, Avhieh she is 
almost too Aveak to break. Elsie has vol¬ 
unteered as special nurse, though the 
good old hen is somewhat embarrassed 
by her attentions. “Mother, she couldn’t 
have lived another day,” thrills she, less 
saddened, I hope, by last week’s tragedy 
of the little Avrens Avho lost their mother 
and Avere buried with full honors and a 
little girl’s tears. Not every tale has a 
happy ending. 
It is nearly 10 o’clock; time to take 
daddy a drink, for it is going to be a hot 
day. As she spies the glass can filled 
Avith water, red-headed, Bed-surrounded 
little Jane cries out in glee: “She go 
find daddy and the man !” For her Mr. 
Perkins, our colored friend, is a being set 
apart. Mother introduced him as a nice 
man, and Man is the only name hie goes 
by, signifying a person Avho answers all 
questions without fail and’ every time he 
is called. It has come to be a fine game 
to call out “Man” just to hear the reply. 
“What you want, baby?” or perhaps a 
faint “hoo-hoo” from way across lots, for 
she seems to love the sound of his soft, 
gentle, Southern voice. 
The sun is blazing down upon the fields, 
and in the dry grass the bug orchestra is 
beginning to Avield its bows. The crickets 
who play second fiddle must practice a 
white before their locust leader arrives, 
though they seem to be doing very well as 
it is. From a tall weed in the bay lot 
across the fence the bobolink, in* his 
striped suit of black and broAvn, swells 
his little throat and turns loose bis sil¬ 
very-toned reproduction of purling brooks, 
leaping waters and the rustle of whisper¬ 
ing leaves over parched meadow's quiver¬ 
ing in the heat. Daddy and Mr. Perkins, 
each with a white horse on a single culti¬ 
vator, are toiling towards us between 
green rows which need a dust mulch. As 
little Jane gives daddy the can, iron-gray 
Dan and white Molly curve their sweating 
necks to look for the broad-topped three- 
quart pail I may be carrying, and rumble 
their teeth expectantly. Dan takes a few 
swallows, then leaves the finish for Molly. 
Molly’s nose is smaller, and she can reach 
quite to the bottom, so that soon there 
is not a drop of water left. 
We are standing near the pasture gate, 
just a few rods from the lily pool. It is 
cool under the elms, and as the horses 
need a little rest, we go down to see Iioav 
Avell w r e did the work of planting yester¬ 
day. A 0x8 ft. excavation connected with 
the spring which holds 18 ft. of water, 
means labor for some one. and this fell on 
(Continued on page 8G8) 
