1026 
Tht RURAL. NEW-YORKER 
Hope Farm Notes 
THE GLORIOUS FOURTH 
Part II 
The new mower blade is here, and the 
click of the machine calls the boy back 
to his scythe. This sun is getting hot, 
but it is splendid weed-killing weather, 
after all. There is a little smell of gun* 
powder in the air. It may be the ghost of 
the smoke from the guns fired by the Hes¬ 
sians in that raid 145 years ago. This 
country was overrun by raiding parties 
from New York. They were after live 
stock and grain—anything they could 
steal. Our farmers organized a system 
of observation, and many a Paul Revere 
unknown to fame has gone galloping over 
these hills warning the farmers of a Brit¬ 
ish raid. At the warning the farmers 
would drive their live stock off into the 
woods, with such other possessions as 
they could carry. One of these raids 
reached out to our quiet valley—quieter 
by 500 per cent than it is now. Our old 
stone house was evidently here then, and 
most of the family took to the woods over 
the western hill, driving the stock before 
them. All but old grandfather! His 
rheumatism was bad, and he had a stock 
of stubborn Dutch blood which would not 
permit him to run from a Hessian. So 
he started hoeing corn, as I take it, right 
where I am hoeing strawberries today. 
The Hessian soldiers found him and tried 
to make him tell where the cattle and 
sheep might be found. The old man pre¬ 
tended he was deaf and dumb, and kept 
on hoeing. Ever since man started to 
climb up into civilization the blind and 
the deaf have been made largely immune 
to personal violence. Under most condi¬ 
tions the old man would have had a bay¬ 
onet run through him, but as it was a 
big Hessian kicked him a couple of times 
and the soldiers marched on along our 
road. I understand they had a small can¬ 
non with them, and at the top of the hill 
they stopped and fired without special 
aim at the little valley. We have a small 
cannon ball which the old farmer just 
south of us plowed out of his field. Old 
grandfather kept on hoeing until the sol¬ 
diers started back to New York, empty- 
handed. Then the farmers came back 
with their stock—and they had something 
of a new breed. That big Hessian who 
had kicked grandfather had strayed too 
far into the woods. The Dutch farmers 
had caught him, and here he was, safely 
bound, on his way to the Paramus church, 
where these prisoners were kept. And 
when they heard what this big brute had 
done to grandpa those rough men favored 
what they called Bible justice—“an eye 
for an eye and a kick for a kick.” One 
big man wearing a boot that would be 
called No. 16 in these days offered to sub¬ 
stitute for grandpa and do the kicking. 
It is said that the old man, instead of liv¬ 
ing up to the old Hebrew idea of justice, 
brought a dipper of water from the spring 
and gave the Hessian a drink ! Here I 
am, an Outlander, working the same 
piece of land, and supposed to be. four 
generations nearer perfection in Christian 
spirit, but it would be a great temptation 
for me if I had a chance to boot such a 
character. 
* tK 5j! SC 
But that smell of gunpowder still per¬ 
sists, and now I am able to account for it. 
Down the very road where the Hessians 
came in that old day marches another 
army. These soldiers have designs on 
me, the same as the Hessians had on old 
grandfather, and I have not been warned 
so that I can run my property off into the 
woods. The first I know I am looking 
into the muzzles of three pistols. I have 
often wondered what I would do in case I 
was held up, and here it has come at last, 
right in broad daylight on “the day we 
celebrate.” The most approved perform¬ 
ance in such cases is to hold up your 
hands, but in this case 1 just catch up 
the smallest of the highwaymen and toss 
her up to my shoulder. For these are 
only toy pistols, and the raiders are three 
littie girls, Rose, Rita and Camille. They 
have even used up all their caps, the fire¬ 
crackers have all popped, and the tor¬ 
pedoes have all exploded. I think five 
cents apiece will satisfy these little rob¬ 
bers and I can throw in a little live 
stock. Over by the barn in the new or¬ 
chard are three good-sized woodchuck 
holes. The fact is there are more wood¬ 
chucks on this new farm than I ever 
thought it possible to group on 20 acres. 
I had no idea I was such a live stock 
owner until I found all these holes. The 
way to satisfy these little raiders with 
their toy pistols is to give each of them 
a woodchuck hole—with all its possibili¬ 
ties ! So they make their own selection. 
I can tell you that one unseen woodchuck, 
down in the ground, is less of a white 
elephant and more of a satisfaction than 
a big herd of cattle which refuse to eat 
up a chattel mortgage, and there are 
many such on this “Glorious Fourth.” 
The little girls sit down by these holes 
and wait awhile in the vain hope that 
woodchuck will come out to visit his new 
owner. No such luck. A woodchuck is 
wiser than a man. When he gets to a 
safe place he knows enough to stay there, 
and not to play tag with fate by running 
out into danger. When I play tag I 
want some playmate with shorter arms 
and more clumsy feet than fate. This 
modern army reminds me of the Indians 
in their plan of conducting a siege. The 
red men seldom had the patience to plant 
themselves before a white man’s fort and 
stay right there through rain or shine 
until food or water ran out. They were 
too impatient — some sudden desire or 
panic seized them and off they ran for 
other scenes. I doubt seriously if the 
original white people could ever have es¬ 
tablished themselves in this country if 
the Indians had been able to hang to the 
siege as patiently as white men did. It 
is evidently the discipline and hangdog 
self-control of civilization which gives 
one race superiority over another. At 
any rate these little girl raiders are tired 
of watching for the woodchuck, and they 
go marching back to the house waving 
their little flag, and snapping their empty 
pistols at an occasional turtle or toad. 
* * * * * 
This hoe of mine isn’t doing its full 
work somehow. I am killing only one 
blade of grass where two ought to lose 
their heads. Wasted energy is poor stuff 
for this hot day. The edge of this hoe is 
too dull—that’s what is the matter. The 
way I do is to buy a regular hoe and then 
have the blacksmith cut off a piece so 
as to leave one sharp corner and a nar¬ 
row side at the opposite end. Then we 
grind the edges on the grindstone so that 
they cut like knives, and slice rather than 
chop the weeds. The sharp, keen corner 
enables us to work in close to the plants. 
I find it a habit of ragweeds to work in 
close to the strawberry plants, as if 
seeking protection. It’s the old trick of 
making love to the jailor’s daughter in 
the hope that the jailor will give them 
extra privileges. Let these little things 
alone and first you know they are so 
big that you cannot pull them without 
ripping out the plant. The sharp corner 
of this “cut-off” hoe will dig them out 
and save your fingers. It is time to 
sharpen up, so I sit down under a tree, 
take the big file out of my pocket and 
proceed to put an edge on that hoe. The 
sword and the hoe have ever been com¬ 
panions. The sword may conquer a 
province, but it can never be held un¬ 
less the hoe follows and makes the land 
productive. The hoe may be a clam¬ 
shell tied to a stick, or a piece of modern 
steel shaped and sharpened to be most 
effective, but unless the land can be 
tickled with it there can be no laughing 
harvest. And it is the edge of the weapon 
that decides its value. The Romans had 
very sharp swords, and with them they 
cut the life and independence from many 
a province. But the hoes which followed 
the sword were too dull and clumsy. The 
land did not respond, farming in these 
conquered provinces failed and down 
went Rome as a consequence. They tell 
of an old man who lived up among these 
hills at the time the Declaration of In¬ 
dependence was signed. This old fellow 
had served at Quebec nearly 20 years be¬ 
fore. There he captured a sword from 
a French officer-—brought it home and 
hung it on the wall, where it slowly 
rusted. His folks were inclined to be 
Tories, and when the Americans rose in 
rebellion the family remained neutral — 
much to the old man’s disgust. Then 
came the great news from Philadelphia 
of what happened on that first “Glorious 
Fourth.” Without a word the old man 
took that sword from the wall, called one 
of the boys, and marched to the grind¬ 
stone. The boy turned the handle and 
pouring water out of the dipper on that 
stone, the old man put a razor edge on 
that sword. Then with a flourish of his 
old arms he made a sweeping cut at a 
bunch of weeds and sliced them off to 
show what he would do to the Hessians 
if he got at them. And the story goes 
that the old man’s act shook that family 
out of its neutrality and made Americans 
out of them. The hiss of that sword on 
the grindstone,_ the old man’s wavy white 
hair, the fire in his eye and, I have no 
doubt, the vigor of his “Jersey Dutch” 
somehow brought before them the vision 
of this old man on the Plains of Abraham 
on that foggy Fall morning when the 
English army climbed up the rocky cliff 
and beat the French back. That day 
changed the destiny of a continent. The 
old man thought it meant freedom. Now 
he found it meant simply America for 
King George. That old sword on the 
grindstone meant America for Americans 
—a new nation for a new breed of men, 
and the hiss of the grindstone taught 
his family more than all his words could 
do. Strange that I should think of these 
things as I sit here running this file over 
the edge of a hoe. It is not likely that 
the snarl of this file will arouse my family 
to any very noble agricultural deeds. It 
is more likely to “set their teeth on edge,” 
and no one turns to patriotism in that 
condition. But it’s the edge that counts 
and the way you use the edge. Sitting 
here among the Jersey hills, filing my 
hoe, I can go back into the centuries 
and visualize the meeting between Rich¬ 
ard the Lion-hearted and Saladin. They 
met to arrange terms of peace and, as no 
doubt men have done ever since Adam, 
fell to bragging about their skill in the 
use of steel—swords, hoes, plows or the 
economical use of razor blades. To show 
his power Richard put a steel bolt on a 
block and with one sweep of his mighty 
sword cut the bolt in two. Saladin threw 
a light gauzy veil into the air and with 
one stroke of his razor-like short sword 
sliced the web-like veil in two. The 
smash with the sword represents the 
manner of youth. The quick slice with 
the razor-edge belongs more to age—and 
I press a little harder with my file. 
" H. W. C. 
(To be continued.) 
Pastoral Parson and His 
Country Folks 
(Continued from page 1024) 
to stop a mule braying. An old colored 
woman spoke up and said that tying a 
brick on his tail would accomplish the re¬ 
sult. The preacher looked earnestly at 
the congregation for a few minutes and 
then gave some sound advice: “Let him 
that is without sin among you, tie the 
first brick.” 
Intolerance. —The Parson was down 
at Seaside Heights over a Sunday while 
in New Jersey and had an unusual ex¬ 
perience—even for him. As is his wont, 
he went to church. The minister seemed 
to be a very young fellow, presumably 
just out of a seminary, or perhaps still 
in a seminary. He spied the Parson, 
who had on a clerical vest that day, and 
asked if he were a minister. The congre¬ 
gation was very small and the young min¬ 
ister told us before lie began that his ser¬ 
mon was. not, suited at all to us, and he 
doubted if he would preach it. He said, 
however we will have a season of prayer, 
as he considered that locality needed 
praying for especially. He certainly 
made a most astonishing prayer. Almost 
his first remark was that he thanked God 
he was saved. Before he got through he 
thanked God he was not a sinner. Above 
all, . he thanked God that he believed 
God’s Word absolutely and literally, 
every single word, just as it is written. 
Then he entered into a perfect tirade 
against those who did not look at tne 
Bible just as he did, winding up by de¬ 
claring that they would all be “damned.” 
The Parson’s Turn.— When he final¬ 
ly finished, he called on the Parson to 
offer prayer. Whatever might be said of 
the Parson’s effort, it was certainly in de¬ 
cided contrast to the other. His prayer 
seemed to rather nettle the fellow, and he 
then jumped up and evidently delivered his 
system of the sermon he bad prepared. It 
was another tirade, worse than the first, 
during which the bulk of the people who 
lived in that vicinity "and all people who 
didn’t believe thus and so were 
“damned”; this was his favorite word. 
As he touched upon those who, he said, 
were trying to tear the Bible to pieces, it 
seemed as though he would break a blood 
vessel. Perhaps the Parson did what he 
shouldn’t have done, but he just couldn’t 
help it. He riz right up when the young 
fellow got through and asked him if he 
could say a few words. This may be an 
unusual proceeding, but really the pew 
ought to have a chance to rise up and 
July 2G, 1924 
, -<1111.0 LU. -LUIS 
plan would be good for the pew and still 
better for the pulpit. In the Parson’s 
churches everyone has abundant oppor¬ 
tunity to express their opinion on any 
matter whatsoever at the frequent busi- 
ness meetings held after the service, in 
which everyone, from babies to grand¬ 
mothers c-an take part. The Parson gave 
them about 20 minutes on the sin of In¬ 
tolerance and self-satisfaction. 
A \ acaiton. Closson has been aw r ay 
on a sort of a vacation for over two 
weeks. Part of it was with friends at 
the shore. It undoubtedly did him good; 
he looked fine and tanned and healthy. 
He seemed glad to get home and quite 
willing to help around the place, and yet 
and yet—as Mrs. Parson and the Par¬ 
son both decided, it is not well for a 14- 
year-old boy to be company for too long a 
time. Leave it to the other boys, how¬ 
ever, to take whatever “airs” he might 
have acquired out of him in pretty short 
order. Ihe Parson gave him a little pri¬ 
vate talk about monopolizing the conver¬ 
sation too much at the table, or among 
his elders and betters. He was quite 
above the realm of common goslings when 
tie got home, and had to be reminded 
about every time to feed and water them. 
But he is getting in line now, and in a 
week or two will probably water the calf 
without being told. 
Bushels of Turtles. —Little Ta has 
tound several turtles around lately, and 
he plays with them and then finally thev 
sneak away. Of course it is only ocea- 
sionally that one is picked up in the 
grass. But the other day the Parson saw 
la tugging the bushel basket toward the 
upland lot. The Parson could not im¬ 
agine what he was after. “I am goin°- 
after turtles,” said he. Bless his heart 
He never dreamed but that he could go 
and pick up a bushel of turtles if he 
wanted them, just as you would pick up 
a bushel of cobblestones. It seemed hard 
to disillusion the little fellow. Youth 
looks out into the world and expects just 
to go out and pick up anything it wants, 
let we who are older learn that most 
good things come pretty hard in this 
world, probably harder than they ought 
A h armer Dinner. —Since writing the 
above we have just had dinner, for it is 
now Monday. There are 10 of us to sit 
down at the table. Soon there will prob¬ 
ably be 11 for the rest of the Summer, 
lhat makes a comfortable family. Eight 
children^ around will tend to keep one 
from dying from lonesomeness. We had 
a big dish filled with string beans and 
peas and new potatoes, all boiled to¬ 
gether, and served in milk and a gener¬ 
ous supply of cream. This, with bread 
and butter and a little sliced cold shoul¬ 
der was enough for a king. While one 
doesn’t want to turn the cold shoulder to 
people too often, yet some boiled smoked 
shoulder in the icebox is about the handi¬ 
est and least expensive line of meat one 
can have around a farmer’s house We 
always buy a big shoulder and put up a 
kick if there is too much fat about it. 
Gut up in the food chopper with a little 
salad dressing mixed in to make it hold 
together, it makes about as good sand- 
wiches as any would care to eat—and a 
little meat goes a long way. 
Church and Fireworks.—I suppose 
one does not often see the church steps 
littered with the debris of fireworks, but, 
honest to goodness, we did have some time 
down to the old church the other night. 
We had $5 worth of fireworks. A lot of 
sparklers ; these are so safe, and the little 
children can run around with them, and 
some Roman candles and some skyrock¬ 
ets. At another smaller mission we had 
$2 worth. Then out here at the nearby 
hall the other night we had quite a dis¬ 
play. By buying the day after the Fourth 
we got $7.25 worth for $4. The collection 
in the hat among the crowd that came 
more than paid for the display. We had 
games and dancing, and a fine time. The 
new county Scout leader was out and 
showed us some new games, and every¬ 
body seemed to have a fine time. Next 
year we shall probably have all our cele¬ 
brations just after the Fourth. Why not 
learn to bye-lo when young? A mother 
was singing “Bye-lo. bye-lo, baby” as she 
rocked the cradle. “Good, good,” shouted 
her husband, as he heard her through.the 
window. “Great, great; you teach him to 
buy low, and I’ll teach him to sell high a 
little later.” 
A Reporter. —But here comes a re¬ 
porter from Hartford, and the Parson 
will have to stop. These reporters are 
rather a bother and sometimes we refuse 
to see them, especially when they ’phone 
for appointments. They will twist and 
distort things so that one gets terribly 
provoked. This man was down for two 
or three hours Saturday when we were 
trying to clean up haying, and now he is 
coming again today to finish up this won¬ 
derful, as he thinks, whole page write-up 
in the Hartford Times. When the Par¬ 
son added a rocking chair to each mission 
for mothers to rock babies in the report¬ 
ers had great headlines to the effect that 
we had thrown out all the pews and sub¬ 
stituted rocking chairs. Now that we 
have added a baby carriage as a part of 
the permanent equipment of the church, 
the Parson supposes they will claim that 
the whole primary department of the Sun¬ 
day school is filled with baby carriages, 
and all the children are rolled around the 
church to illustrate the falling of the 
walls of Jericho. 
