506 
The  RURAL  NEW-YORKER 
March  31,  1923 
are  not  the  kind  who  want  to  work  at  the  class  of 
work  necessary  for  one  who  would  pay  off  a  mort¬ 
gage. 
1  know  of  no  really  successf  ul  farmer  who  has  not 
taken  off  his  coat,  donned  overalls  and  earned  his 
farm  by  working  as  he  expected  his  help  to  work.  It 
nearly  always  decides  the  question  of  profit  and 
loss.  I  have  encouraged  and  backed  financially 
some  young  men  who  were  willing  to  work  and 
who  wanted  to  own  farms.  They  do  not  fail.  Did 
it  ever  occur  to  you  that  the  science  of  agriculture 
had  come  a  long  way  before  the  Farm  Bureau  was 
ever  heard  of?  I  am  opposed  to  class  legislation  of 
any  kind.  With  all  sorts  of  information  available 
pertaining  to  any  kind  of  farming,  and  that  can  be 
obtained  for  the  asking,  why  should  we  employ  a 
lot  of  youngsters  to  tell  us  liow  to  run  our  business? 
It  seems  to  me  to  be  a  lamentable  confession  Of 
ignorance  when  farmers  will  stand  for  it.  I  have  no 
excuses  to  make  for  the  business  of  farming,  as 
we  have  two  sons  who  are  farmers,  and  a  daughter 
who  married  a  farmer,  and  our  grandchildren  are 
growing  up  on  a  farm.  I  think  a  farm  life  is  as 
pleasant  as  any.  Our  lives  have  been  full  of  accom¬ 
plished  works ;  some  improvements  each  year  have 
counted  to  make  our  farm  a  better  place  to  live,  and 
better  for  those  who  come  after.  We  have  grown 
enough  wool  each  year,  for  over  40  years,  to  make 
300  suits  of  all-wool  clothing,  besides  growing  quan¬ 
tities  of  mutton.  The  farm  is  more  productive  and 
very  little  fertilizer  has  been  purchased.  The  old 
farm  has  paid  for  many  trips  to  our  larger  cities, 
and  we  have  been  across  the  continent  once.  If  we 
live  we  hope  to  do  some  things  we  have  planned. 
In  fact,  we  look  back  over  our  lives  with  content¬ 
ment,  and  feel  that  we  have  done  our  part  so  far. 
We  have  enjoyed  our  work  and  the  good  things  that 
go  with  a  life  on  the  farm.  H.  R.  perry. 
Rensselaer  Co.,  N.  Y. 
R.  N.-Y. — Many  of  our  readers  will  fail  to  agree 
with  Mr.  Perry  on  this  question  of  the  Farm  Bu¬ 
reau.  The  movement  is  now  old  enough  for  us  to  say 
whether  it  has  really  helped  agriculture  or  not. 
Who  Are  the  “Normal  Minded”? 
Ill  the  “Hope  Farm  Notes”  on  page  290  you  pic¬ 
ture  our  ancestors  “going  out  into  the  wilderness” 
and  “building  a  home,”  and  “being  happy  with  rough 
clothing  and  coarse  food,”  etc.  And  then  you  say 
“no  one  of  normal  mind  can  do  that  now.”  What 
do  you  mean  by  “ normal  mind”?  Do  you  refer  to 
the  mental  attitude  of  the  average  person,  especially 
the  city  or  town  dweller,  toward  present  living  con¬ 
ditions?  I  know  that  people  are  more  discontented 
than  they  used  to  be.  That  is  because  they  are 
spoiled.  We  here  in  America  have  been  providen¬ 
tially  favored  above  every  other  nation  on  earth. 
Yet  we  are  not  satisfied.  The  average  European 
has  never  seen  anything  like  American  life,  with  its 
opportunities  and  its  comforts,  to  say  nothing  of  its 
luxuries.  And  yet  this  same  European  is  as  happy 
uithout  these  things  as  we  are  with  them.  In  fact. 
I  think  he  is  a  little  happier.  The  average  Asiatic  * 
has  still  less  to  be  thankful  for.  and  yet  he  does  not 
complain.  The  people  of  China,  poor  as  they  are. 
are  probably  as  patient  and  contented  as  any  people 
on  earth.  We  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  ourselves. 
But.  would  you  call  this  mental  (and  I  might  also 
add  moral)  attitude  of  ours  & normal  one?  Are  we 
well  balanced?  Are  we  sane?  Do  we  know  what  is 
for  our  own  good?  I  have  my  doubts  about  that.  I 
would  call  this  “state  of  mind”  abnormal,  as  well  as 
foolish  and  wicked.  And  it  is  also  not  true  that 
every  American  thinks  that  way.  I  am  glad  to  be¬ 
lieve  that  many  of  us  back  here  in  the  country, 
inured  to  toil,  unspoiled  by  luxury,  and  contented 
with  our  lot,  are  happier  than  you  may  be  with  all 
that  you  have.  “We  covet  no  man’s  silver  or  gold." 
And  do  not  despise  us  because  we  lack  what  may  be 
called  “the  American  spirit”;  for  let  me  assure  you 
that  we  are  a  part  of  and  help  to  make  up  that  very 
“democracy  such  as  America  was  destined  to  be” — 
the  plain  people  of  the  land.  We  generally  think 
straight,  vote  right,  and.  when  necessary,  respond 
to  the  colors.  “Money  rules”  only  those  who  are 
ruled  by  it.  It  cannot  touch  the  man  or  the  woman 
in  whose  heart  there  is  no  root  of  this  foul  weed. 
“For  the  love  of  money  is  the  root  of  all  evil,”  and 
“godliness  with  contentment  is  great  gain.”  “Hav¬ 
ing  food  and  raiment,  let  us  therewith  be  content.  ’ 
Dutchess  Co.,  N.  Y.  burton  coon. 
R.  N.-Y.— Perhaps  the  word  “normal”  was  not  the 
best  for  what  we  had  in  mind.  We  meant  the  pre¬ 
vailing  feeling  among  most  of  our  young  people.  We 
think  this  feeling  of  discontent  and  dissatisfaction  is 
due  to  environment  and  very  much  to  our  modern 
system  of  education.  What  Mr.  Coon  says  about  the 
spirit  and  feeling  of  many  country  people  is  true, 
and  it  is  to  be  the  saving  grace  of  democracy. 
Another  Side  of  the  Picture 
In  the  Spring  every  farmer’s  thoughts  lightly  turn 
to  the  profits  he  is  surely  going  to  make  this  Fall. 
He  as  lightly  forgets  the  profits  he  failed  to  make 
the  Fall  before,  and  probably  the  Fall  before  that, 
and  cheerfully  goes  in  debt  for  high-priced  seed, 
liigher-prioed  fertilizer,  a  new  hired  man  (provided 
the  species  isn’t  totally  extinct),  and  any  and  sundry 
expenses  of  new  machinery,  needed  repairs  and  the 
like,  which  will  ali  be  paid  for  when  the  frost  is  on 
the  pumpkin  and  the  corn  has ,  been  shocked,  as 
usual,  into  the  dealer's  bumper-crop  bin. 
No,  it’s  no  joke,  the  farmer's  condition  this  Spring 
in  up-State  New  York.  If  we  have  deluded  our¬ 
selves  into  thinking  we  have  seen  hard  times  ere 
this.  I  wonder  what  we  call  the  times  we  find  our- 
selves  in  these  bankrupt  months.  For  that  is  just 
what  we  are — hundreds  of  us— bankrupt.  Already 
several  chattel  mortgage  sales  have  been  adver¬ 
tised  in  the  writer’s  town ;  I  know  of  many  back-to- 
tlie-landers  who  are  simply  leaving  their  farms  to 
the  birds  and  bugs  and  are  going,  or  even  went  last 
Fall,  to  town,  there  to  eke  out  a  precarious  exist¬ 
ence.  but  at  least  a  temporary  living.  Others  are 
selling  off  their  dairies,  while  probably  nine  out  of 
19  who  are  left  are  once  more  adding  a  mortgage  to 
the  old  place,  or  are  preparing  to  borrow  much  more 
money  than  they  can  afford  or  will  ever  be  able  to 
pay  off  in  this  world. 
I  can’t  see  where  the  millions  that  Congress  has 
just  appropriated  are  going  to  help  the  farmer.  To 
my  notion,  he  would  have  been  much  better  off  to 
have  been  made  to  go  on  or  out  with  no  more  finan¬ 
cial  help  whatever.  These  Federal  subsidies  for  agri¬ 
culture  are  only  going  to  prolong  the  ailments  of  a 
very  sick  man.  The  farmer  is  not  given  this  money 
to  get  himself  out  of  former  debts — brought  on 
through  no  fault  whatever  of  his  own — nor  to  plant 
paid-for  seeds  upon  which  he  may  possibly  cash  at 
another  harvest.  Far  from  it.  He  is  merely  paying 
off  old  debts  with  new  debts ;  he  is  being  enabled  to 
borrow  more  money  than  was  ever  before  possible 
with  which  to  plant  every  inch  of  available  land  he 
can  scare  up.  And  to  what  purpose?  Why,  merely 
to  grow  the  bumpiest  kind  of  bumper  crops  to  give 
away  to  bricklayers  earning  .$15.  up.  a  day;  to  rail¬ 
road  brakemen  earning  $75  a  week  as  a  matter  of 
course;  to  the  miner  who  can  hold  up  the  farmer 
and  everyone  else  for  any  wage  he  pleases,  and  kill 
us  off  at  the  same  time  from  lack  of  adequate  heat 
in  a  terrible  Winter.  These  and  a  million  more  the 
farmer  borrows  for,  that  he  may  compete  with  his 
farmer  neighbor  to  see  which  can  sell  the  world’s 
absolute  necessities  the. cheapest,  all  ending  by  giv¬ 
ing  them  away,  as  last  Fall. 
If  the  (fatrmer  had  been  refusdd  all  aid  of  a  financial 
nature  he  would  have  cured  himself  much  sooner, 
lie  would  have  been  powerless  to  plant  his  acres; 
he  would  have  raised  what  he  could  at  practically 
no  cost,  and  what  he  harvested  at  the  end  of  the 
season  would  have  cost  him  nothing  but  his  labor 
t  >  grow,  and  would  have  brought  twice  or  three 
times  as  much  as  the  crops  he  is  now  proceeding  to 
plant  in  countless  array,  He  would  still  be  in  debt 
for  past  years,  of  course,  but  by  the  enforced  defla¬ 
tion  of  farm  land  and  crops,  as  against  the  resulting 
far  higher  prices  for  what  was  raised,  he  would  be 
automatically  saving  a  little  and  paying  it  in  against 
the  debts  of  prior  unprofitable  years.  In  the  end  he 
would  come  out  clean  with  half  the  work  to  his 
credit  that  he  now  takes  on. 
As  it  Is,  we  are  going  to  keep  right  on  with  the 
vicious  circle.  This  new  mountain  of  easy  credit  is 
going  to  bamboozle  the  farmer  into  thinking  that  at 
last- all  is  well,  and  all  he  need  do  is  to  borrow  as 
much  as  he  needs  and  the  harvests  will  do  the  rest. 
Yes,  they’ll  “do”  him  all  right,  just  as  they  always 
have.  Such  borrowing,  long-in-debt  farmers  will 
end  by  losing  every  spear  of  grass  they  ever  owned, 
because  bumper  crops,  with  Europe’s  breakdown, 
can  only  mean  'below-cost  crops — crops  not  worth 
harvesting — while  the  borrowed  money  so  hopefully 
acquired,  goes  right  on  accumulating  interest,  while 
at  the  same  time  it  is  a  constant  temptation  to  bor- 
row  more  and  more  to  tide  off  the  eventual  reckon¬ 
ing. 
My  advice,  for  what  it  is  worth,  is  to  not  borrow 
money  at  this  time.  I  believe  that  it  is  easier  for 
the  farmer  to  borrow  now  than  it  ever  was  before, 
but  until  the  times  show  a  material  change,  until 
enough  farmers  have  been  ruined  to  bring  agricul¬ 
ture  back  to  normalcy,  the  average  farmer  runs  a 
vast  danger  when  he  goes  in  debt,  even  for  the  most 
legitimate  purpose. 
We  are  told  that  the  habits  of  the  American  peo¬ 
ple  are  changing  where  their  food  is  concerned.  We 
know  that  potatoes  are  hard  to  sell,  and  The  R. 
N.-Y.  has  explained  that  substitutes  have  greatly 
taken  their  place.  Unless  potatoes  are  advertised 
into  the  homes  of  everyone  again,  as  they  well  might 
be,  but  will  not  be,  inasmuch  as  that  would  mean  the 
co-operating  of  potato  growers  and  a  deduction  of  a 
cent  a  bushel  for  the  purpose,  we  may  as  well 
let  up  on  the  big  potato  acreage.  Western  farmers 
have  grown  potatoes  on  a  huge  scale  since  the  war. 
It  has  been  a  tendency  of  the  times  to  keep  up  the 
acreage  taken  on  for  the  war,  with  a  constantly  de¬ 
creased  consumption,  a  lowered  national  pocketbook, 
and  ideal  crop  years  handed  us  by  old  Nature.  As 
a  consequence,  potatoes  are  a  pretty  poor  gamble 
now,  but  it  is  likely  that  as  many  as  usual  will  be 
grown  for  1923,  as  habit  and  hope  are  a  bad  team 
to  buck,  as  farmers  must  all  agree.  I  can  see  no 
profits  on  potatoes  for  the  Fall  of  1923. 
In  the  dairying  game,  every  man  is  dissatisfied 
and  wondering  how  he  can  gain  himself  while 
knocking  out  his  neighbor.  Perhaps  this  policy  is 
constructive  and  apt  to  get  worth-while  financial 
results,  but  impartial  authorities  doubt  it.  The 
fact  is,  farmers  will  not  co-operate ;  once  they  get 
into  an  organization  they  want  their  cake  to  eat  and 
have,  too,  and  this  is  impossible  to  work  during  the 
growing  pains  of  any  great  corporation’s  growth.  I 
frankly  doubt  if  the  farmer  ever  gets  anywhere  by 
co-operation.  He  is  so  constituted  that  he  cannot 
and  will  not  throw  in  his  lot  with  his  fellows,  will 
not  tolerate  the  merging  of  his  individuality  with 
that  of  his  neighbors,  will  not  trust  or  support  any 
effort  which  he  cannot  directly  control  as  he  does 
his  plowshare.  If  I  am  wrong,  then  appearances  are 
deceiving  indeed. 
So  we  are  in  a  bad  way.  Our  milk  during  the 
Winter  is  fairly  profitable,  if  feeds  do  not  jump 
around  too  much  in  cost,  but  Winter  milk  will  not 
carry  the  Summer  milk  surplus  at  a  profit.  Cab¬ 
bages  are  a  fine  gamble;  you  win  about  one  year  in 
four,  and  they  are  a  most  awful  crop  to  control  and 
harvest  for  the  fun  of  it.  This  last  Fall  witnessed 
a  bumper  crop  of  cabbages,  and  most  of  us  fed  ours 
to  the  cows,  as  one  couldn’t  get  a  dealer  to  look  side¬ 
ways  in  the  direction  of  a  field.  Came  the  late  Win¬ 
ter  months  and  cabbage  leaped. into  the  limelight. 
It  was  and  is  in  the  luxury  class,  and  here  and 
there  are  a  few  purely  lucky  growers  who  were  able 
to  keep  theirs  in  fair  condition  and  are  now  cashing 
in  on  that  luck.  Cabbage  is  the  biggest  gamble  of 
any  crop,  but  farmers  stick  to  it  like  a  brother,  and 
don’t  intend  to  have  any  big  years  slip  up  on  them 
without  being  ready.  So  plant  all  you  want  to.  It 
makes  palatable  cow  salad  at  $3  a  ton. 
Hay  is  plentiful  most  years,  and  when  it  isn’t  no 
one  lias  any  to  offer.  I  am  not  a  fruit  farmer,  not 
even  a  hen-fruit  farmer,  'but  fruit  seems  to  shift 
around  like  about  everything  else,  and  probably 
most  of  the  tree  men  break  even.  I'm  not  capable 
of  discussing  their  ups  and  downs,  at  least. 
As  for  eggs  and  hens,  everyone  thought  that  the 
market  would  surely  be  glutted,  what  with  the  boom 
eggs  got  through  the  war  and  'the  way  everybody 
immediately  built  a  palatial  henhouse,  but  the  little 
white  and  brown  eats  hold  up  their  heads  with  the 
best  of  them,  and,  I  imagine,  are  actually  keeping 
the  wolf  away  from  more  woodshed  doors  this  Win¬ 
ter  than  perhaps  some  farmers  would  confess.  The 
writer  doesn’t  like  hens  and  doesn't  know  enough 
to  keep  hens,  and  doesn’t  intend  to  have  hens, 
whether  the  old  wolf  swallows  us  or  not.  hence 
those  who  are  finding  them  a  rock  of  ages  have  our 
envy  and  admiration,  but  that’s  all.  We  don’t  go  in 
for  pigs,  either,  at  this  farm,  and  I  don’t  know 
w  hether  they  are  doing  their  bit,  where  kept,  to  help 
out  the  crisis  or  not.  I’ve  heard  say  that  some 
thick,  well-cured  ham,  'baked  in  milk,  was  food  for 
the  gods,- but  it's  so  long  since  I’ve  tasted  any  real 
meat  that  this  particular  flavor  is  forgotten.  Yes, 
it’s  been  a  long,  hard  Winter. 
We  are  advised  everywhere,  including  the  columns 
of  The  R.  N.-Y.,  to  sell  our  produce  at  home  when 
possible.  The  writer  has  always  done  this,  having 
a  roadside  market,  but  even  the  roadside  market  is 
being  done  to  death,  and  soon  will  be  as  great  a  field 
of  competition  as  any.  We  are  advised  to  take  our 
produce  to  town  and  there  dispose  of  it  to  as  good 
advantage  as  possible.  The  hill  farmer  invariably 
sells  his  surplus  this  way,  but  it  must  make  his 
blood  boil ;  my  own  boils  for  him. 
Such  a  farmer,  for  instance,  will  take  a  load  of 
nice  potatoes  to  town  and  will  offer  them  to  a  gro¬ 
cer.  The  grocer  knows  all  right  'that  the  farmer  has 
come  several  miles  with  his  heavy  load,  that  he  is 
not  going  to  return  with  it  provided  he  is  offered  any 
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