7h<  RURAL  NEW-YORKER 
907 
A  Farm  Woman’s  Notes 
Where  Are  the  Hoe  Men? 
The  oriole  in  the  maple  dribbled  down 
a  halting  melody  and  eyed  two  men  hoe¬ 
ing  in  the  nearby  field.  It  was  late  after¬ 
noon  of  a  hot  day  in  June,  and  the  shade 
of  the  great  tree  lay  in  a  tempting  cool 
shadow  'across  the  end  of  the  planting. 
But  the  men  with  the  hoes  stopped  only 
to  drink  lemonade  from  a  two-quart  fruit 
can  under  the  tree,  and  surveyed  for  a 
brief  instant  the  ground  over  which  they 
had  come,  where  sturdy  young  potato 
plants  marched  by  straight  clean  rows 
to  the  other  side.  Ahead  lay  row  upon 
row  whose  marching  was  obscured  in 
weeds. 
The  last  of  May  had  seen  few  of  the 
hoed  crops  in  Central  New  York  above 
ground,  late  ifrosts  having  cut  down 
tender  plants  with  unaccustomed  severity. 
June  had  ended  the  long  cold  drought 
with  floods  of  rain.  Weeds,  now  on  an 
equal  footing  with  the  crops,  sprouted  up 
in  startling  numbers;  quack  grass  turned 
cultivated  ground  into  meadow  over  night. 
Moisture,  heat,  and  the  pent-up  vigor  of 
delayed  vegetation  had  developed  a  con¬ 
dition  where  everything  needed  doing  at 
exactly  the  same  time. 
Those  who  could  afford  to  hire  had 
hurried  about  looking  for  hoe  men,  and 
were  able  to  discover  only  that  many 
heads  of  farm  families  were  commuting 
to  towTn  jobs,  depending  on  the  seventh 
day  for  the  tilling  of  their  lands.  These 
very  commuters  were  eager,  even  anxious 
to  hire  those  who  came  for  help — a  pe¬ 
culiar  situation.  The  farm  men  went 
home  to  begin  the  grim  grind  of  working 
long  hours,  early  and  late,  alone.  Before 
the  advent  of  the  steel  age,  these  fields 
would  have  been  the  social  meeting  place 
for  numbers  of  hoe  men  jesting,  arguing 
iheir  way  across.  There  never  was  such 
a  time  for  weeds ! 
The  young  potato  grower  had  not  been 
obliged  to  look  for  help  in  four  years. 
He  knew  himself  lucky  in  having  the 
services  of  one  who  never  complained  of 
hard  work  or  long  hours.  Like  the  old- 
fashioned  hired  man.  this  man  would 
faint  from  exhaustion  before  showing  the 
white  feather,  and  was  ready  to  turn  his 
hand  to  anything,  even  washing  the 
dishes  after  an  evening  meal.  In  fact 
after  the  rush  of  work  was  over  he  al¬ 
ways  accepted  this  as  part  of  his  job.  The 
children  loved  him  with  a  strange  deep- 
seated  affection,  and  he  was  a  suitable 
companion  for  them.  What  puzzled  one 
was  the  smoothness  of  his  disposition. 
There  were  no  sharp  corners  to  rub  up 
against ;  he  never  deviated  from  a  certain 
old  standard  of  punctilious  manners  that 
is  rapidly  becoming  extinct  in  manufac¬ 
turing  States.  After  four  years  he  had 
not  changed  in  loyalty.  But  unlike  the 
old-fashioned  hired  man — he  was  black. 
A  flivver  came  to  a  throbbing  pause  un¬ 
der  the  maple,  and  a  stranger  descended. 
The  young  potato  grower  started  house- 
ward,  with  an  air  of  absorption  peculiar 
to  a  farmer  school  trustee.  Ordinarily 
the  stranger  would  have  followed,  having 
come  to  get  an  order  on  the  collector. 
Perhaps  something  in  the  polite  silence 
of  the  black  man  provoked  his  curiosity. 
This  was  an  odd  figure  in  these  parts — a 
genuine  Florida  colored  man — over  six 
feet  tall,  long-limbed,  shortwaisted.  The 
stranger  recognized  the  type. 
lie  waited  idly  for  a  few  minutes 
watching  the  black  man’s  skillful  han¬ 
dling  of  weeds  and  earth,  then  spoke  out 
of  the  stillness. 
“It  must  be  pretty  cold  for  you,  up 
North  here,  in  the  Winter  !”  The  black 
man  turned  briefly  from  his  work  to  say, 
“How  do  you  do,  suh?”  And  when  the 
stranger  had  begun  to  wonder  if  he  had 
heard,  answered,  “Yes,  it’s  mighty  cold 
up  here  in  the  Wintah,  suh !  Mighty 
cold,  but  I  reckon  we  stands  it  about  as 
well  as  the  Northern  folks.  Seems  like 
this  last  Winter  was  hard  on  everv- 
body.” 
"I  suppose  you  have  to  be  very  care¬ 
ful  of  yourself  to  keep  from  having  pneu¬ 
monia.” 
“I  wear  warm  clothes,”  said  the  black 
man  gently.  “Somehow  I  don’t  seem  to 
catch  the  colds  that  white  people  have 
up  here.  They  seem  to  have  colds  all 
the  while.  No,  suh,  I  reckon  it’s  good 
for  me  up  here ;  in  some  ways  I  feel  bet¬ 
ter  for  the  change.” 
The  stranger  stood  for  some  minutes 
in  thoughtful  silence,  trying  to  remember 
where  he  had  heard  that  colored  people 
<ould  not  endure  Northern  Winters.  A 
new  thought  quickened  his  steps  as  he 
followed  the  black  man’s  hoeing. 
“I  understand  that  a  large  percentage 
of  the  younger  generation  of  colored  peo¬ 
ple  are  eager  to  come  North.  Is  that 
true,  or  merely  newspaper  talk?” 
The  hoe  man  hesitated  and  looked 
across  fields,  but  the  stranger  guessed 
that  behind  that  black,  inscrutable  mask 
which  no  white  man  can  read,  he  was  not 
thinking  of  what  he  was  looking  at,  at 
all. 
“They  wants  to  come  all  right,  suh, 
but  they’s  got  no  money  to  come  Avith.” 
“We  understand  that  a  great  many  of 
them  are  already  in  Philadelphia  and  in 
parts  of  New  Jersey,  but  that  they  are 
coming  to  the  cities  and  work  in  indus¬ 
trial  plants.  I  don’t  believe  they  want 
farm  work,”  said  the  stranger  experi¬ 
mentally. 
.“It's  hard  for  Northern  people  to  un¬ 
derstand,”  answered  the  black  man. 
“They  come  to  the  cities  mostly  for  pro¬ 
tection.  Where  they  come  from  it  isn’t 
so  safe  for  a  colored  person  to  live  out 
in  the  country.  You  have  noticed  that 
most  of  the  folks  that  the  Ku  Klux  Klan 
bothers,  lives  off  by  themselves.  So  when 
they  come  up  North  they  naturally  looks 
to  the  city  for  protection.  You  see  if 
they  had  a  good  farm  home  waitin’  for 
’em  up  here,  it  would  be  a  heap  different. 
They  knows  no-bo-dy.”  He  started  on 
hoeing  patiently,  but  the  stranger 
lingered. 
“I’ve  got  a  big  farm,”  he  said  slowly. 
“And  it  would  be  worth  twice  as  much 
to  me  if  I  had  the  help.  My  vvife  and  I 
are  getting  tired  of  working  all  the  Avhile. 
One  gets  to  Avhere  it  seems  as  if  the 
farm  owned  us  instead  of  we  owning  the 
farm.  If  I  could  find  a  good  man  and 
his  Avife — ”  he  checked  himself,  hastily, 
“I’d  like  to  talk  it  over  with  my  wife 
first,  but  I’ll  be  back  to  see  you  one  of 
these  days.  How  could  one  go  about  it 
to  get  a  man  from  the  South?  I  don’t 
like  to  send  money  to  anyone  I  don’t 
know,  Avhite  or  black.” 
"No.  suh,”  said  the  black  man  politely. 
“Just  buy  a  reverse  ticket  and  send  him. 
The  only  way  he  can  use  it  is  to  come 
North.  He’ll  be  so  glad  to  get  a  place 
in  the  North,  he’ll  come  to  you  all  right. 
There’s  too  many  waitin’  for  those 
chances.  My  boss  sent  me  a  money  order, 
but  I  reckon  his  havin’  seen  me  made  a 
difference.  I  aim  to  stay  in  the  North 
a  while.  Reckon  what  keeps  me  here  is 
being  treated  like  a  man.  Seems  like 
•  the  privileges  is  Avorth  moh  than  the 
Avages.”  He  lifted  his  old  felt  hat  to 
hide  an  embarrassment  in  speaking  so 
plainly,  and  the  stranger  saAv  that  his 
avooI  Avas  tipped  with  white. 
The  young  potato  grower  Avas  coming 
down  the  row  in  swift  strides,  a  Avhite 
paper  fluttering  in  his  hand. 
“You  carried  my  row,  did  you?”  the 
stranger  heard  him  say  in  a  pleased  tone. 
“I  did,  suh,”  came  the  placid  answer. 
As  the  stranger  climbed  into  his  car 
he  Avas  thinking  “that’s  far  better  than 
working  alone.”  mrs.  f.  h.  unger. 
Notes  from  a  Sagegrush  Farmer’s  Wife 
Hard-working  Students. — 'When  I 
was  asked  to  present  the  diplomas  to  the 
eighth  grade  in  our  District  No.  10.  I 
considered  it  a  great  honor.  It  thrilled 
me  as  I  thought  of  the  unnumbered  rural 
eighth  grade  classes  graduating  at  this 
time.  It  did  not  seem  an  insignificant 
thing  to  me,  but  a  great  one.  From  the 
farms  flows  some  of  the  best  blood  that 
invigorates  the  nation.  We  all  know  that 
great,  numbers  of  our  most  distinguished 
people  were  simple  farm  boys  and  girls. 
I  doubt  if  in  the  cities  can  be  found 
whole  graduating  classes  of  which  it  can 
be  said  that  the  members  have  been  prac¬ 
tically  self-supporting  during  the  last  two 
years  of  the  grades,  and  certainly  an  as¬ 
set  all  their  school  years.  There  Avas 
our  little  graduating  class,  every  member 
already  of  use  in  the  world.  It  was  not 
commencement  for  them.  They  had  be¬ 
gun  life  seriously  some  time  before  this 
event.  So  must  it  have  been  with  that 
son  of  a  farmer,  Abraham  Lincoln.  Wash¬ 
ington,  too,  was  a  farmer’s  son,  though 
a  wealthy  one.  J efferson  also  came  from 
a  wealthy  farm.  But  many  of  our  presi¬ 
dents  were,  the  sons  of  miserably  poor 
farmers — among  them  Arffirew  Jackson, 
Ulysses  Grant  and  Abrahath  Lincoln. 
Great  Occasion.  —  I  wore  the  very 
best  dress  I  had  in  honor  of  the  occasion 
when  I  went  to  the  schoolhouse  to  pre¬ 
sent  the  diplomas.  Our  schoolhouse  is 
a  real  community  center.  Here  it  is 
that  Ave  hold  our  “Literary,”  our  Grange. 
Sunday  School  and  church  services, 
dances,  funerals,  and  political  meetings. 
We  have  a  homemade,  portable  stage,  in 
sections,  and  on  this  the  children  stood 
to  give  a  program  before  the  graduating 
class  finally  formed  in  a  line  and  faced 
the  audience. 
“Shall  I  have  them  march  down  Avhen 
they  have  received  their  diplomas?”  the 
teacher  asked  me. 
“Let  them  remain  on  the  stage  and  re¬ 
ceive  congratulations,”  I  suggested. 
High  School  Needs. —  During  my 
brief  speech  I  stated  my  hope  that  those 
boys  and  girls  would  continue  their  work 
in  the  high  school.  There  was  a  silence 
so  great  that  you  could  almost  hear  the 
breathing  of  the  big  crowd.  They  regard¬ 
ed  me  solemnly.  I  knew  Avhy.  And  so  I 
added,  “If  the  high  school  does  not  come 
up  to  what  you  want  it  to  be,  it  is  your 
own  fault.  We  country  folks  are  too  in¬ 
different  in  looking  out  for  our  best  in¬ 
terests.  We  have  a  right  to  a  good  high 
school.  We  do  not  pay  counterfeit  money 
for  the  taxes  that  support  the  rural  high 
school  at  Ilazelton,  and  we  do  not  expect 
a  counterfeit  high  school.  If  we  want 
things  different  we  must  attend  the  an¬ 
nual  high  school  meeting  and  make  our 
wants  known,  and  not  only  make  our 
wants  known,  but  Ave  must  insist  on  get¬ 
ting  what  we  want.  Why  do  Ave  take  a 
back  seat  and  alloAv  the  city  man  to  run 
our  affairs?  Because  avc  are  accepting 
his  estimate  of  us.  He  thinks  us  ignorant 
and  lacking  in  initiation.  We  must  not 
accept  his  opinion  of  us  any  longer.  I 
wonder  hoAv  Avell  the  city  man  Avould  fare 
if  measured  by  our  standard?  My  young 
cousin,  Phyllis,  who  has  spent  her  life  in 
a  big  city,  was  walking  through  our  sugar 
beet  field,  when  she  called  to  her  brother, 
‘Don’t  step  on  the  cabbages,  Harry !’ 
Measured  by  our  standard  that  was  ig¬ 
norance,  for  the  smallest  child  here  knows 
a  sugar  beet  from  a  cabbage,  yet  we  did 
not  laugh  at  Phyllis.  Nor  must  we  be 
willing  to  accept  the  laughter  of  the  city 
man  at  our  ignorance  of  his  ways.”  We 
made  an  event  of  that  night,  for  after  the 
diplomas  were  presented,  everyone  filed 
past  the  graduates,  shook  hands  with 
them,  and  voiced  some  pleasant  Avish.  Our 
boys  and  girls  were  made  to  feel  that  they 
had  accomplished  something  worth  while. 
Educating  for  Useful  Work. — I  had 
some  thoughts  on  high  school  work  that  I 
did  not  express  that  night.  I  do  not  be¬ 
lieve  it  advisable  for  every  young  girl  and 
boy  to  continue  beyond  the  eighth  grade. 
Dr.  Bryan.  Commissioner  of  Education 
of  Idaho,  published  an  article  in  Avhich 
he  recommended  that  the  young  people 
study  the  trades  instead  of  the  profes¬ 
sions.  He  said  that  this  is  the  day  of 
the  laboring  man,  and  that  it  was  foolish 
to  spend  so  much  money  and  time  on  edu¬ 
cation  which  brings  so  little  profit.  I 
agree  with  him  when  it  concerns  manual- 
minded  people.  On  one  of  our  farms  here 
lives  a  pretty  girl  of  13  years  who  is  an 
accomplished  housekeeper,  as  good  a  cook 
as  her  mother.  Yet  she  it  was  who 
answered  the  question,  “What  is  the  cap¬ 
ital  of  Florida?”  by  replying  “England!” 
And  all  her  school  work  is  like  that. 
There  is  another  girl  near  us  Avho  dupli¬ 
cates  this  scholarship,  yet  is  a  fine  cook 
and  seamstress.  We  have  several  boys 
in  the  district  who  wil  make  good,  prac¬ 
tical  farmers,  but  to  Avhom  Latin  is  not 
only  a  dead  language,  but  a  buried  one. 
They  tried  studying  it  this  year,  and  told 
me  the  result.  Such  young  people  are 
wasting  their  time  in  going  to  high 
school.  The  machine  in  their  heads  was 
not  meant  to  turn  out  that  sort  of  pro¬ 
duct.  Yet  they  are  eminently  useful  in 
the  work  for  which  they  are  fitted.  You 
cannot  keep  an  education  from  a  man 
who  wants  to  acquire  it,  and  you  cannot 
plaster  one  on  a  man  not  fitted  to  re¬ 
ceive  it. 
What  the  Child  Needs. — I  believe 
there  are  four  things  in  which  the  farm 
child  should  recede  training  all  through 
Here  are  a  lot  of  high  school  girls  who  have  wearied  of  riding  in  busses  to  and 
from  school.  It  costs  the  parents  of  these  pupils  $7,000  a  year  to  haul  them  five 
miles  tAvice  a  day.  Recently  the  girls  made  “sandwiches”  of  themselves  in  elec¬ 
tioneering  against  a  proposition  to  build  an  addition  to  the  school  building,  in  reach¬ 
ing  which  they  were  hauled  about  nine  miles  each  school  day.  The  girls  helped  to 
get  out  a  vote  that  killed  the  proposition,  and  now  there  is  hope  that  their  town 
Avill  have  a  high  school  of  its  OAvn.  The  contest  Avas  waged  between  the  two  Illinois 
towns  of  Park  Ridge  and  Des  Plaines.  The  school  to  which  they  were  transported 
is  a  township  school  of  the  town  of  Maine,  Cook  County.  Park  Ridge  outvoted 
Des  Plaines  by  65(1.  ‘  j.  l.  graff. 
the  grades,  and  as  much  more  as  he  has 
capacity  to  accept,  and  these  are,  self- 
respect,  leadership,  good  English,  and 
power  to  speak  and  think  while  standing 
before  a  crowd.  The  farmer  is  too  hum¬ 
ble;  he  is  too  patient  and  long-suffering; 
he  allows  others  Avho  have  not  his  inter¬ 
est  at  heart  to  make  laws  governing  him  ; 
he  sometimes  has  a  brilliant  brain,  crip¬ 
pled  by  the  English  in  which  he  ex¬ 
presses  himself — I  do  not  know  how  it  is 
in  the  East,  but  out  here  the  language  of 
the  farm  is  generally  incorrect.  The  boys 
and  girls  here  are  getting  good  drill  in 
speaking  in  public — particularly  the  boys 
—  through  the  Grange  and  the  Literary. 
But  the  generation  to  which  I  belong  is 
almost  entirely  inarticulate.  That  is  one 
of  the  reasons  for  the  lack  of  leadership 
among  farmers.  They  who  cannot  speak, 
are  usually  compelled  to  follow.  At  least, 
they  lack  the  power  of  organization,  and 
they  cannot  make  their  thoughts  into 
driying  plans  that  others  will  turn  into 
action.  The  farm  child  must  be  given 
the  ability  to  express,  that  he  may  de¬ 
mand  and  get  his  rights,  as  his  father 
has  not  done.  He  must  be  taught  that  it 
is  noble  to  feed  the  Avorld,  but  ignoble  to 
submit  to  act  as  its  doormat. 
ANNIE  PIKE  GREENWOOD. 
A  Baker’s  Trouble  with  Bread 
I  am  interested  in  a  bakery  and  for 
the  last  Aveek  bread  has  been  coming 
back.  The  best  of  flour  and  yeast  are 
bought.  Bread  is  all  right  when  fresh, 
but  in  24  to  36  hours  the  center  gets 
soggy,  and  the  smell  is  sickening.  Our 
yeast  man  tells  us  it  is  the  “rope.”  Could 
you  let  me  know  the  cause  of  this?  Is 
it  the  yeast?  It  can  hardly  be  the  flour, 
as  we  had  a  new  car  come  in,  and 
use  of  this  flour  did  not  stop  the  trouble. 
Bakery  and  everything  is  kept  in  a  clean 
and  sanitary  condition.  What  is  the 
cause?  f.  a.s. 
NeAv  Jersey. 
The  condition  Avith  Avhich  this  baker 
is  enmeshed  is  Avhat  is  commonly  knoAvn 
as  rope.-  This  disease  is  caused  by  Avhat 
is  known  as  the  mesentereus  bacillus.  This 
bacillus  decomposes  constituents  of  the 
dough,  usually  the  protein  matter  of 
flour,  breaking  it  down  into  a  viscous 
substance,  having  a  brownish  tinge  and 
a  very  disagreeable  characteristic  odor, 
which  usually  makes  its  appearance  in 
the  center  of  the  loaf  and  then  develops 
toward  the  exteriors 
We  Avould  advise  the  baker  to  use  from 
one  pint  to  one  quart  of  strong  vinegar 
per  100  lbs.  of  flour.  This  increases  the 
acidity  of  the  dough  to  a  point  in  Avhich 
this  bacillus  will  not  grow,  and  conse¬ 
quently  this  trouble  will  be  eliminated. 
He  should  also  scour  his  dough  troughs 
and  other  utensils  with  which  the  dough 
has  come  in  contact,  finally  cleaning  the 
same  with  a  strong  vinegar  solution.  The 
infection  may  be  brought  about  by  in¬ 
oculation  through  the  air  or  through 
some  constituent  of  the  dough,  probably 
(he  flour.  This  can  only  be  determined 
by  investigation. 
euioie.  lactic  acid  per  100  lbs.  of  flour 
will  also  eliminate  the  rope  development. 
The  introduction  of  either  vinegar  or 
lactic  acid  should  be  carried  on  until  the 
materials  now  on  hand  are  consumed  and 
a  reasonable  length  of  time  thereafter 
until,  the  baker  is  reasonably  sure  that 
the  infection  has  been  eliminated  from 
the  shop. 
We  might  add  that  it  is  advisable  to 
bake  the  bread  a  little  longer,  that  is 
longer  than  he  is  accustomed  to  doing. 
C.  A.  GLABAU. 
Technical  Director  Baker’s  Weekly. 
“Better  late  than  never”  to  preserve 
smoked  ham  for  Summer  use;  bur 
*ate>\  is  done  the  greater  will 
be.  the  danger  of  trouble  with  insects 
lor  years  we  have  fried  the  hams  we 
wanted  to  keep  for  Summer.  We  think 
the  best  time  to  do  this  is  in  late  Winter 
oi  call}  Spring,  when  it  is  warm  enough 
to  open  doors  and  windows  and  let  out 
the  smoke  during  the  frying  process. 
Cut  the  ham  in  slices,  removing  the  rind 
and  the  smoky  outer  edge  of  each  slice. 
Frying  pans  or  dripping  pans  mav  both 
be  used,  and  keep  two  or  three  of  them 
busy,  frying  the  ham  until  it  is  broAvned 
over,  and  packing  as  fried  in  its  own 
gravy,  m  a  sterilized  crock.  Should  it 
lack  sufficient  gravy  to  cover  well,  heat 
other  pork  drippings  or  lard,  and  cover 
with  this.  W  hen  cool  cover  with  clean 
wrapping  paper  or  waxed  paper,  then 
with  the  crock  cover  or  a  plate,  and  set 
in  a  cool,  dry  place.  When  using,  take 
out  as  much  as  desired  and  heat  it  in  a 
frying  pan  or  tin  until  crisp,  and  I  think 
no  “warmed  over”  taste  will  be  detected. 
The  last  of  January  we  finished  ham 
which  had  been  packed  in  a  crock  since 
early  last  Spring,  and  it  had  kept  per¬ 
fectly.  As  for  the  bones  and  “trimmings,” 
the  former  form  the  foundation  for  dump¬ 
ling  stew,  and  the  latter  always  go  into 
the  chickens’  feed  ;  thus  nothing  is  wasted. 
Dumpling  Stew. — Into  the  kettle  in 
which  a  ham  has  been  cooked,  and  while 
the  contents  are  boiling  hot.  drop  the  fol¬ 
lowing  batter  by  spoonfuls:  One  egg 
(beaten  light),  one  cup  sweet  milk.  tAvo 
teaspoons  baking  powder,  sifted  with  two 
cups  of  flour,  one  teaspoon  salt.  Beat 
batter  several  minutes.  Cook  20  minutes 
at  boiling  point  in  covered  kettle.  Serve 
at  once.  g.  K.  b. 
