1558 
7ht RURAL NEW-YORKER 
December 20, 1924 
Hope Farm Notes 
THE CHRISTMAS BABY 
Part I. 
It seems to be one of the well-estab¬ 
lished rules of literature that in order 
to tell a Christmas story properly one 
must have a little child—and good ears! 
All that we love and reverence about 
Christmas is centered about a baby. The 
greatest song ever heard on earth was 
sung on Christmas Eve. A little handful 
of shepherds watching their flocks among 
the lonely hills made up the immediate 
audience, though the world through al¬ 
most countless days and nights has lis¬ 
tened. It might almost seem, therefore, 
that the man who had no little one at 
home, and to whom music and the laugh- 
t - of childhood were like mere dreams, 
could have no real part in the joy of 
Christmas. 
So at least it seemed to my old friend 
Frank Henry as he sat milking old Spot 
on that memorable Christmas Eve. There 
is one thing about a deaf man which some 
of you might envy—he has ample time 
for reflection. That may be a nrivilege 
where one has led a clean and reason¬ 
ably heloful life, but it becomes a pen¬ 
alty where regrets come tumbling out of 
the dark alleys along behind. There can 
be no finer place for reflection than a 
clean comfortable barn -where one may 
sit on a milking stool beside a cow like 
old Spot, and pull out the milk. The 
thud of the milk as it strikes into the 
pail seems like an accompaniment into 
which your thoughts run like a song. 
* * # * * 
And Frank Henry had much to think 
about. The bright lantern hung from a 
post behind him—showing the bright 
whitewashed walls and the row of stan¬ 
chions. There w T ere only a few cows left, 
for Frank had seen the trouble coming 
in dairying, and had been working away 
from the cow 7 s into sheep. Over on the 
other side of the barn his new woolly 
friends were resting contentedly in their 
pens. It somehow 7 ran into Frank’s 
thought as he milked that far back in the 
years the sheep on those wild hills of 
Judea had seen the glory and heard the 
great music. It is a curious thing, but 
somehow a deaf man comes to know his 
animal friends in a wav that few others 
ever can know them. I think that such 
men unconsciously pick up something of 
the curious silent language which enables 
our barn friends to communicate, and 
tell their story. The black cat sat be¬ 
hind the cows 'with wise eyes fixed on the 
milker. Well he knew that his Christ¬ 
mas present would be poured into the 
dish behind the door. The dog sat in the 
shadow near the door alert—eager to 
help his friend whenever needed. The 
horses stamped in their stalls. The 
young team pretended to be outraged be¬ 
cause Frank had driven the tractor onto 
the barn floor in front of them, but old 
Black, the farm veteran, knew that while 
gasoline does not smell as well as Tim¬ 
othy and oats, it can save many a back¬ 
ache an 1 strain. A bright moon looked 
in at the windows back of the cows. To 
those who could hear it the w 7 ind sang 
like a harp as it blew through the wire 
fence around the barnyard. Outside the 
snow 7 sparkled and the air was crisp and 
clear. Surely an ideal Christmas setting 
for the barn folks, and Frank Henry 
sensed something of it as old Spot gave 
down her milk. 
* * * * * 
Yes, he could not complain. He had 
made good at farming. He had married 
the neighbor’s daughter—an only child. 
The tw 7 o farms together had prospered be¬ 
yond their hopes. They had home, compet¬ 
ence. money ahead and love-—all that any 
farmer could ask for, and whatever sat¬ 
isfies a farmer is the greatest estate in 
the world. And yet there were shadows 
over their lives. Frank stopped his milk¬ 
ing to listen. Another man could have 
heard the stamp of the horses, the low 7 
ci of the sheep, the crunch of old Spot 
as she chewed her hay, the impatient 
cry of the cat as he called for his supper, 
the hur of the wind outside, the snap of 
the fros in barn timbers. Frank heard 
nothing of them even though he strained 
liis ears to catch the sound. He realized 
perhaps for the first time how 7 much these 
simple sounds mean in the life of a farm¬ 
er. One may get on without listening to 
the noises which men and women make 
in their efforts to communicate. Much 
of their tab. is artificial and unessential, 
but nature wastes no sound. All her 
tones have meaning and pin-nose. Frank 
thought of that as he sat there milking. 
All through his life he would stand in 
silence, unable to hear these voices of na¬ 
ture which mean so much to a farmer. 
Who can blame him for pulling at old 
Spot, as if he were trying to tear away 
the barrier which shut him away from 
sound? The old cow 7 stopped eating her 
supper and turned her head to regard 
him in wonder. With any other milker 
she would have kicked him over but as a 
barn lady of long experience, she knew 
that some allowance should be made for 
her old friend. 
And there had never been any child 
in their home ! That seemed the crown¬ 
ing irony of fate. Here w 7 as this fine 
house, this beautiful farm, this great¬ 
hearted woman—all the framework for a 
complete child picture and no little one 
to fill it. It must be wonderful—this 
love for children. Here was 'mild old 
Spot, years before she fought and killed 
a dog that attacked her calf. Here he 
was milking tonight so that the hired 
man could go home early, and get a 
little pine tree for his children ! No win¬ 
der the great story of Christmas was 
w-oven around the life of a helpless baby. 
Frank sat there thinking what life would 
have meant to him if there could only 
have been some little one to grow up in 
his home. He and the child could have 
found some common language. They 
could have talked together. 
Only the day before Julia, the colored 
woman who came to help Mary with her 
work, had uttered the sad cry of the 
childless w 7 oman : 
“It aint right, Mis’ Henry, it aint 
right. Here’s me and Abram with our 
house paid for and a little money ahead, 
without no children. We’d give a child 
all the love there is w r hile lots of these 
folks has a houseful of children but no 
love for them at all. It aint right.” 
And Frank, as he thought of it. re¬ 
membered how 7 he had read somewhere: 
“The colonel's lady and Judy O’Grady 
are sisters under their skin.” 
* * * * * 
Just as Frank finished milking the dog 
started up, barked, wagged his tail and 
walked toward the barn door. That was 
his way of telling Frank that Mary had 
been blowing the big horn for supper. 
They w r ere going to the Christmas tree 
at the church—that, had been all ar¬ 
ranged. So Frank hastily put his cans 
into ice water, looked around at his barn 
friends and carried his milk pail to the 
house, with the dog at his heels. He 
stopped in the shed, took off his barn 
boots and put on his slippers. Supper 
was ready. Mary had given him just 
what he liked to eat, but as they looked 
across the table at each other they knew 
that the hired man with his great table 
full of children, eating his coarse food, 
was happier than they were. As you 
may know 7 a skillful wife learns to direct 
and manage her husband without, much 
sound. Frank found his black clothes 
and his clean shirt laid out for him and 
he dutifully put them on. To tell the 
truth he would much rather have kept 
at home reading his book, but he ap¬ 
preciated what Mary said : 
“If you don’t go to church now 7 and 
then people will forget that I have any 
husband !” 
It must be said that the average 
church service makes very little appeal 
to a deaf man. I have heard various 
clergymen tell me that there must be 
some very uplifting influence about their 
service even to one who cannot hear. Per¬ 
haps my testimony will not be consider¬ 
ed as coming from an expert, but at least 
some services that I have attended are 
quite depressing. But at. a Christmas 
service you at least have the tree to 
look at. - - 
The church was near by. There 
seemed little need of bringing out the 
car, so Frank and Mary walked, and the 
usher put them well up in front. The 
church w 7 as crow 7 ded—as it should be on 
Christmas Eve. The little child of the 
family had led them all out to service 
for once. At one end. just above the pul¬ 
pit, was a great Christmas tree ablaze 
with candles and glittering with colored 
toys. Frank had donated the tree—cut¬ 
ting it in his swamp with Mary along 
to select, it. Much of the bitterness passed 
out of Frank’s heart as he sat there in 
the midst of that happy group. Right in 
front of him the hired man’s family filled 
an entire pew 7 . It was not often that 
such an outfit was given a place on the 
broad aisle, but Christmas • is ever a 
time when the lowly are exalted. 
***** 
The minister opened the big Bible on 
the pulpit and read a few 7 verses. Mary 
found the place in her Testament and 
handed it to Frank. 
'‘And this shall he a sign unto you ; 
ye shall find the hahe icrapped in suad - 
idling clothes , lying in a manger. 
“And suddenly there teas with the 
angel a multitude of the heavenly host 
praising God and saying: 
“Glody to God in the highest and on 
earth peace, good will toward men.” 
Then the minister turned a few pages 
and read once more: 
“Arise and take the young child and his 
mother and flee into Egypt.” 
Frank found himself repeating this 
over and over in his mind. That is 
rather a curious trick of the deaf. Per¬ 
haps I should not call it a trick, either; 
it is more like a freak of memory. Then 
the space in front of the tree was filled 
with little girls. Two of the hired man’s 
children w r ere there, starched and curled 
and rosy, on terms of equality with the 
pampered youngsters of Judge Browne, 
Terms of equality? 
Far ahead! 
For little Rosa Nordberg could sing 
like the Swedish nightingale, while the 
Browne girls could hardly croak. Mel¬ 
ody is more democratic than money, and 
these little girls began singing. Frank 
followed them with his printed slip. 
i€ 
This is public 
ownership at its best 
Sec’y of Commerce 
Herbert Hoover 
Kansas 
Write for These 
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Hn 5foeal Christmas 
ADVENTURES IN SILENCE 
By HERBERT W. COLLINGWOOD 
This is the first serious attempt to interpret the peculiar 
and adventurous life of the hard-of-hearing. One of the 
greatest writers of American fiction after reading this book 
in manuscript said: 
“You do truly and wonderfully portray the life of 
the silent world. It will help us all to understand our 
own life better.’’ A” 
Another reader says: 
“It is a remarkable combination of the deepest pathos 
and the finest humor.” 
Beautifully bound in cloth. 288 pages. 
Price $1.00, postpaid 
Rural New-Yorker, 333 West 30th St., New York 
Gentlemen:—Enclosed find $1.00 for which mail me a cloth-bound 
copy of “Adventures in Silence. ” 
Name. 
Street or R. F. D... 
Post Office. 
- 75 #. •, 
