RURAL. NEW-YORKER 
979 
A Farm Woman’s Observations 
New York Potato Crop and Its Prospects 
TTie wholesale merchant, and the young 
potato grower were talking over pros¬ 
pects. The wholesale man, with a life 
of experience behind him, was not rich 
as middlemen go, on account of business 
scruples which no progressive middleman 
is supposed to have, but he had been 
driving about the State considerably of 
late, and being curious about the condi¬ 
tion of the potato vines he saw along the 
way, was asking the young grower what 
he though was responsible for the lack of 
color and spindling appearance of the 
fields this Summer. 
“I)o you think it is the dry weather 
that causes it?” asked he. “And how 
has it influenced the yield so far?” 
“Of course, it is mostly the drought,” 
answered the young grower thoughtfully. 
“I/ast Spring the ground was in perfect 
mechanical condition all through May, 
and most farmers took advantage of this 
to finish up their Spring’s work in that 
month. It was dry then, too, but I think 
more potatoes were planted in May on 
this account than usual, and little if any 
rain came in .Tune. If these had been 
started in April or late June they might 
have made a better showing, for nothing 
is quite so bad for the crop as lack of 
moisture, unless it is too much of it. Now 
we have as a result these fields where the 
vines have shot up without producing a 
tuber.” 
“Hut what if this needed moisture 
comes in good supply? Won’t, thesel 
plants pick up and set over again?” ques¬ 
tioned the wholesale merchant. 
“There's a chance, of course, that some 
of them will,” admitted the young grower. 
“But don’t forget that most of these 
plants are or will be at the stage where 
they are easy victims of the blight in the 
muggy weather of late July and early 
August. Few besides professionals will 
be at liberty or prepared to spray with 
any degree of thoroughness. Then, too, 
most of these vines will have expended 
much of their vitality in growing the re¬ 
markably tall stalk you speak of. Such 
a plant rarely makes a sizable yield; 
when nature makes this supreme effort 
to reproduce the result is apt to be a 
quantity of small potatoes. The mid- 
June plantings are coming up spotty, 
owing to the dryness of their seed bed, 
and a good deal of the stand does not 
show much vigor, but I think it probable 
that this would improve in the event of 
liberal rains in early July.” 
“I see the Government has reported a 
probable yield of ”77,000,000 bushels in 
their estimate, printed July 1. This 
sounds like a short yield when compared 
with the June 1 report,the wholesale 
merchant remarked cautiously. “It. seems 
that New York is not the only potato 
producing State to suffer from the long 
drought. Minnesota, Michigan and Ohio 
were without rain for nine weeks, and 
the early crop has been cut in half, be¬ 
sides reporting much loss from the work 
of the flea beetle. Now we learn that 
Jersey and New York growers are re¬ 
porting the same results, and dealers 
everywhere are getting anxious over the 
prospects of the late crop, which as you 
have suggested are none too good. They 
openly predict a high market for what is 
left of the early crop, injured by the flea 
beetle though it may be. And as one of 
them said to me the other day, it is pos¬ 
sible that the injured crop that could not 
be shipped by the dealer if sold locally 
will net the grower even more than the 
dealer could afford t.<> pay for perfect 
stock, which must pass through a number 
of hands, each extracting a living wage.” 
“I am glad you mentioned that.” said 
the young grower. “It is related to a 
question that New York farmers tire try¬ 
ing to decide this Fall. A New York 
Potato Exchange has been organized in 
the State this year, and a great many of 
us are on the fence as regards joining it. 
We have seen so many of these selling 
associations fail to make good that while 
we want to be convinced the memory of 
those fellows back in Oswego County who 
lost out on their p<-ars seems to hold us 
back. I have talked with many of them 
who received only 40 cents a bushel for 
best Bartletts, and have not yet got their 
money. The idea of this potato exchange 
3eems to me a very good one. They pro¬ 
pose to organize a series of ‘locals.’ each 
made up of a community of farmers 
around certain shipping points who would 
he willing to sign contracts to sell their 
potatoes through the exchange. Each of 
these locals has sent a delegate to the 
State meeting to elect a board of direc¬ 
tors, who establish a State office or cen¬ 
tral. 
“Now what we farmers want to be 
convinced of is that these officers know 
the business of selling potatoes. Are 
they as shrewd and clever as the commis¬ 
sion merchants and wholesalers they will 
be up against in the big game? It seems 
to us that the country will be full of 
these men, and that, the selling organiza¬ 
tion will have to put up a big fight. It 
will call for a leader of more than ordi¬ 
nary intelligence and experience, who is 
able to command a high salary in his own 
profession. In fact, every m.an in the 
organization will have to be able to de¬ 
liver real service, not just amateur work. 
It may sound strange, hut I don’t see 
where these men will be found execept in 
the ranks of the enemy. It looks to us 
as if the exchange must buy them for 
the offices of the first organization, where 
our sons will, I hope, serve an apprentice¬ 
ship and get big experience in a safe 
way. What do von, as a professional 
produce salesman, think of such a plan?” 
The wholesale merchant smiled grimly. 
“I wish,” he said, “that it were possible 
for one to be such a perfect specimen as 
your remarks imply. Of course many of 
us are descendants of a line of merchant 
ancestors, but we speculate too much; 
our trade is like gambling. I can remem¬ 
ber well how, when I was a boy, my 
father bought, thousands of bushels of 
apples on a falling market. Every day 
the market dropped a few cents on a 
bushel I’d wake up in the night and hear 
father pacing (he floor overhead. The 
farmers unloaded the apples they had 
sold us at a price far above the market. 
It took my father several years to pay 
them all, but eventually he did. That’s 
one instance. Another time we bought a 
carload of bananas that spoiled in transit 
through wrong packing. I bought and 
shipped a carload of cabbage last Fall 
that was a dead loss. The man tele¬ 
graphed back that he was compelled to 
dump the whole ear; it cost me .$500. 
Perhaps lie was crooked, but I guess not, 
as much of last Fall’s cabbage went that 
way on account of the hot weather. 
Your exchange cannot avoid these mis¬ 
takes, but naturally experience will help. 
The reason why the dealers who are 
hunting for your early potatoes refuse 
the injured stock is because they have 
learned bow poorly it stands shipping. 
There are men, of course, who know their 
business far better than others, but none 
who do not occasionally guess wrong in 
their speculations. It seems possible that 
they would consider a position on the ex¬ 
change as being a safer, surer thing, 
which might even satisfy that speculating 
strain in their blood.” 
“Humph!” said the young grower, 
“you are not the only class with that 
strain. Last year we planted dear seed 
and got cheap potatoes; this year it 
looked as if our cheap seed would turn 
nothing but the lowest sort of prices, and 
here come predictions of a higher market. 
That,” he finished, “will be the secret of 
the success of the new exchange—the 
speculative strain in the blood of New 
York farmers, who will risk much real 
money to hire efficient officers, to use the 
best methods and experience known to 
big business, and to teach farm boys to 
occupy these positions.” 
Seneca Co., N. Y. mks. r. n. unger. 
A Farmers’ Wife on Children 
While browsing along through a pile of 
old newspapers this afternoon, in sorting 
them over, I happened again upon the 
picture of tlx* young mechanic at work on 
iiis toy bicycle in one of the back num¬ 
bers of The It. N.-Y. We have always 
enjoyed tlx* Rubai, pictures because we 
get so many extra stories out of them. I 
remember this specially good one, and 
some of the pleasant thoughts I first had 
about tlx* resolute little fellow with the 
big wrench. That was long ago, hut see¬ 
ing tlx* picture has set me thinking about 
other little men I have known and their 
interest in farm machinery. One of them 
under school age, who lives across the 
way, was playing in the yard by the 
house when his father called to him: 
“Here, Neil, bring me the pitman to this 
machine, will you?” The child left his 
play and without a question ran to the 
barn and picked up tlx* identical piece 
wanted. His little feet fairly flew across 
the creek and up the hill to the field 
where his father was waiting beside the 
mowing machine. Then dropping to his 
knees he busied himself with tlx* fasten¬ 
ings. his bead bobbing up and down close 
to the older one, until all was in place, 
when lx* came leisurely back to his play, 
happy because he could help. Another 
youngster, less than 10, helped a neigh¬ 
bor, who had poor eyesight, set up a ma¬ 
chine, taken apart for storing in the Fall, 
anil lx* proved very useful to the farmer. 
Later on this same lad, then in his 
’teens, came along where a binder was 
tying up bundles of different sizes in a 
way to puzzle the men folks, and he could 
point out the trouble and tell how to fix 
it. Worry never puts any crimp in a 
child’s mind, and he is usually pretty 
clear in his reasoning. 
It pays you to be chums with him, too. 
How can you help it, anyway? As I was 
taking my seat in church a few Sabbaths 
ago my glance chanced to fall upon a 
small boy sitting across the aisle, and he 
immediately tossed me a quiet little sa¬ 
lute. I smiled back at him and my heart 
kept on smiling all through the services. 
You know the feeling. It is like yours 
was when you read about how little Rose 
arrived back at Hope Farm. You find it 
again in Mrs. Unger’s quaint home notes. 
The poet calls it “Just be glad.” We owe 
a debt of gratitude to the children for 
keeping alive in us the sense of youth and 
love. 
I stumbled, too, upon the picture of the 
little girl catching the butterfly on the 
cover page of another Rural. I like that 
picture because it reminds me of a little 
girl I used to know. Something in the 
child’s face, too, as she stands with her 
hands in position for the final sweep, 
makes you feel she has more in mind than 
just catching a butterfly. Is it a butterfly 
or a moth? I imagine she could tell us 
easily, and many more things she has 
learned about these little neighbors with 
wings. If hers is a home visited by THE 
R. N.-Y. I shouldn’t wonder if we read a 
letter from her sometime on the children’s 
page, telling us all about it. That was 
like our good farm paper to make room 
for a “Roys’ and Girls’ Page.” Better 
farmers and farm writers will come of it, 
and how much we all enjoy the breezy let¬ 
ters of our young journalists. I like to 
think, when I see the picture of some 
boys watching a muskrat’s nest, or be¬ 
coming interested in their gardens, that 
here may be another John Burroughs or 
a second Luther Burbank, who will write 
a book some day and dedicate it to his 
father or mother or The R. N.-Y. as a 
mark of gratitude for the encouragement 
given him in his nature studies. There’s 
nothing besides quite so interesting to a 
growing child as the free, outdoor life on 
a farm. The hodged-in existence of city 
children seems pitiable in comparison. I 
can remember a little boy corning out of 
the city into the country for the first 
time who was afraid and cried a good deal 
because there was so much sky. And 
just today while on my “trek” through 
th£. pile of old papers I saw again the 
article telling how a young girl came in 
from school one day and asked her mother 
if it was truly so that there were real 
stars in the sky as her teacher said. Her 
mother thought it a strange question, and 
she said she thought so, too. But she 
had always heard about stars and fairies, 
and when she found out the fairies only 
lived in our hearts she supposed tlx* stars 
were just “make believe,” too. If there 
were - eal stars when would she see them? 
Her parents hurried her to a physician, 
who found a blindness creeping upon her 
which will be overcome, it was said, so 
she will some day see the stars. The 
writer of the article calls attention to the 
beauty of the child’s face, imagining 
stars in a blank heaven, to encourage the 
failing faith any of us might have. And 
it has its lesson, truly. But to me it 
seems almost unbelievable that a child of 
1.1 had never heard her mates discuss the 
Rig Dipper and other groups of stars 
with zest enough to convince her there 
were real ones, even though she could 
not see them herself. This may be ac¬ 
counted for in her having been city 
reared—the article did not say—with 
only a narrow strip of sky in sight be¬ 
tween the buildings. If so, her mates as 
well as she had missed one of the finest 
scenes we have in nature’s great outdoor 
picture gallery—the wonderland of stars. 
a farmer’s wife. 
Weaving Chair Seats 
In a recent issue of The R. N.-Y. I 
noticed a request for directions for rush- 
seating chairs, so f will try to answer it. 
The rush used is tlx* ordinary cat-tail 
that grows in our bogs and marshes. It 
should ‘be gathered in August, as soon as 
tlx* tips begin to dry. The rush is spread 
on the floor in a darkened room, where a 
good circulation of air may he had, and 
allowed to stay until thoroughly dry. The 
night before it is to be used it should be 
wrapped in a wet cloth, and the next 
morning, if not pliable enough to twist 
without breaking, it should he sprinkled 
with water. One or more pieces may he 
used, according to the degree of fineness 
desired in the work. One makes a fine 
strand, two a medium and three quite a 
coarse strand. 
A chair which is to be rush-seated 
should have an open frame instead of a 
seat. A strand of rush tightly twisted 
is laid over the upper side of the frame 
close to the right hand corner, with the 
short end turning down. The long end 
is brought down back of the frame up 
and around the right side of the frame 
close to the corner, binding the short end 
tightly. It then passes across the frame 
over the left side (coming out below 
where it came across), up and around 
the upper part of the frame close to the 
corner. The strand must be kept tightly 
twisted as it is brought along. Next pass 
it down across the open frame to the lower 
side, when it is brought over the frame, up 
and back of it around the left side close to 
the corner, across the open space to the 
lower right hand corner, when it passes 
around the frame close to the corner, 
then down over the lower side of the 
frame, back and up to where it started. 
Continue this process until the frame is 
filled. I think perhaps the sketch will 
explain better than words. 
If two or three rushes are used to make 
a strand new pieces are joined by simply 
twisting a rush in where needed. They 
should he of uneven length, so no two 
ends will begin at the same time. When 
tlx* frame is partly filled short waste 
pieces are stuffed into the corners between 
tlx* upper and lower layers of rush. By 
so doing it will make the seat hard and 
fi rm. 
If the frame is square the diagonal 
lines (formed by the crossing of the 
strands) will meet in the center, but if 
tlx* frame is broader in front than the 
hack (which is usually the case) the two 
lines on the right and left will reaeh 
before they reach the center (sketches 2 
and 3). In this case the strand of rush 
starting at the bottom will he brought up 
and over the upper side of the frame, and 
the lines of rush below it, back and down 
to the lower side, where it is brought 
over and back. It then goes up again 
and over the upper side of the frame. 
This is repeated until the open space in 
the center is entirely filled (sketch 3). 
When the seat is thoroughly dry give two 
coats of white shellac. T. b. n. 
My Best Labor Saver 
I am sorry for anyone in this scorching 
weather who has no source of heat in her 
kitchen but a wood fire. Those who have 
electric power are better off than I, but 
my four-burner oil stove, with oven, is 
certainly a heavenly institution these 
days; yes, I use the word “heavenly” 
advisedly—the big range with a wood fire 
savors too much of hades to suit ine. 
In the morning I light two burners 
and prepare my breakfast, turning off all 
the fire before coming to the table, so that 
while we eat there isn’t a spark in the 
house. A hot fire is ready for any pur¬ 
pose within three minutes, and is as 
quickly removed when the work is done. 
When I bake the food is prepared in a 
cool kitchen before lighting the stove. 
Nothing is injured at all by standing on 
my cabinet a few minutes while the oven 
heats; 15 minutes is ample time to allow 
for the hottest oven possible, and with 
everything ready to set in one does not 
especially mind the heat while only watch¬ 
ing the process once in awhile. With 
my glass door I need not even open the 
oven unless something needs to be turned 
about or removed. 1 still use common 
flat irons, but I can iron comfortably in 
another room, so that the only objection 
to tlx* plan is carrying the irons, and I 
can do that more easily than I can “tin¬ 
ker” a poor-working iron as much as some 
people do. I also have a good hay-box 
which my brother and I fixed up in about 
The Completed Chair Heat 
10 minutes one morning, and which goes 
splendidly with the oil stove, though it 
should also (anil more surely) accompany 
every kitchen range that must be used 
in Summer. Try these things and don’t 
“melt down.” It doesn’t pay. 
MRS. E. M. A. 
Hope Farm Notes 
(Continued from page 972) 
there was Neighbor Harlow, come there 
for tlx* same errand—to help Seymour 
Brown with his ties. The man had gone 
through the same struggle as my boss and 
hail overcome the poisons of anger by do¬ 
ing a kindly deed for a friend in trouble! 
No wonder these lifelong friends sat on a 
log like a couple of girls. All they knew 
was that they got mad foolishly and 
“worked it off.” The modern scientist 
could show them how the emotion of 
anger started these “internal laborato¬ 
ries” and set these glands at work. Will 
it do us or our children any good to have 
such things investigated and made clear? 
It seems to me that the emotion of anger 
may be made one of the most useful forces 
in the world if we can learn to work it 
off in some constructive way. H, w. c. 
