The  RURAL  NEW. YORKER 
courage  right  then  and  there  and  em¬ 
phatically  said  “No,  you  won’t.”  That’s 
how  I  felt.  But  they  were  tired  and 
hungry,  and  had  never  had  much,  and 
strangely  enough  I  thought  of  a  little  old 
lady  who  used  to  tell  me:  “This  is  the 
first  chance  I've  had  in  my  lifetime  to 
find  a  place  where  I  could  have  a  change 
without  paying  my  hoard.” 
It  was  very  hot  weather  and  I  well  re¬ 
member  what  the  city  is  like  in  July, 
so  I  took  them  in  in  a  spirit  of  charity — 
thinking  that  perhaps  they  would  stay 
only  a  day  or  two  and  then  move  on. 
They  stayed  10  days.  They  seemed  full  of 
joy  to  be  hack  iu  the  old  town — full  of 
enthusiasm — going  around  here  and  there, 
so  one  night  when  they  seemed  in  au  un¬ 
usually  happy  state  of  mind  after  a  lib¬ 
eral  supper  of  hot  biscuits,  strawberries 
and  cream,  cheese,  milk,  aud  chocolate 
layer  cake,  I  asked  them  if  they  wouldn’t 
like  to  come  back  to  the  farm  when  they 
retired.  I  never  will  forget  the  emphasis 
of  their  reply.  “Retire,  to  a  farm ! 
Never.  Perhaps  to  a  boat  and  cruise  up 
and  down  the  shore.  That  would  he  some¬ 
thing  like.  But  the  country — never!’ 
They  must  have  had  a  good  time  and  en¬ 
joyed  themselves,  because  the  last  thing 
they  said  when  they  started  back  to  the 
city  was:  “We’ve  had  such  a  good  time 
that  we’ll  be  back.  We  can  get  a  few 
days  over  Labor  Day  and  you  11  see  us 
again,  sure!” 
And  these  are  people  whom  we’d  never 
think  of  writing  or  visiting. 
And  so  I  sit  here,  when  I  ought  to  be 
working,  thoroughly  tired  out  and  se¬ 
riously  thinking  over  this  uninvited  com¬ 
pany  matter.  1  am  by  no  means  the  only 
one  in  this  very  neighborhood  who  has 
had  such  an  experience.  It  is  very  com¬ 
mon.  One  of  our  neighbors  who  has 
a  sightly  place  on  the  hill,  was  so  worn 
out  from  tramp  company,  as  she  called 
it,  that  she  literally  closed  her  spare- 
room  and  quietly  said :  “I  am  not  able 
to  take  care  of  company.  T  have  all  that 
I  can  do.”  She  felt  that  she  had  to  take 
a  decided  stand  in  self-defense,  there 
were  so  many  coming.  But  now  she  has 
the  reputation  of  being  “mean”  and 
“queer.” 
Another  neighbor  was  completely  worn 
out  by  her  brother’s  wife  and  two  boys 
who  came  on  early  year  after  year.  This 
brother’s  wife  was  a  strong,  able-bodied 
woman,  and  instead  of  helping  with  some 
of  the  work  that  she  herself  and  the  chil¬ 
dren  made,  she  would  settle  down  in  the 
forenoon  with  a  book  on  the  screen ed-in 
porch  while  my  friend  did  the  work. 
Meantime  the  two  boys  were  running 
through  the  tall  grass,  chasing  the  hens 
and  driving  the  calves  to  distraction.  My 
neighbor  stood  this  yearly  invasion  as 
long  as  she  could,  and  last  Spring  wrote 
her  brother  that  she  was  not  well,  and 
was  not  able  to  have  his  family  that  Sum¬ 
mer.  She  has  not  heard  from  him  since. 
I  have  other  friends  who  have  decided 
to  take  boarders  so  that  they  could  hon¬ 
estly  say  that  their  rooms  were  full,  and 
they  say  that  they  don’t  work  any  harder 
than  when  they  had  so  much  company, 
and  now  they  have  something  to  show  for 
all  their  hard  work  in  the  Fall.  They 
also  know  when  they  are  coming  and 
going.  ,  .  , , 
We  have  always  been  a  hospitable 
family,  and  have  always  enjoyed  a  cer¬ 
tain  amount  of  company.  I  well  remem¬ 
ber,  as  a  child,  being  sent  to  the  top  of 
the  hill  day  after  day  where  I  could  look 
off  and  see  any  teams  headed  our  way  so 
that  mother  could  have  some  idea  how 
many  potatoes  to  cook  for  the  dinner.  It 
seemed  as  if  there  was  a  steady  proces¬ 
sion  of  relatives  and  old  friends  coming 
and  going.  Every  year  mother  would 
send  the  team  down  into  the  valley  for  a 
crippled  old  lady,  Aunt  Viny,  who  had 
been  a  famous  cheese  maker  in  her  day, 
and  who  looked  forward  to  spending  a 
few  days  with  us  in  cheese  making  time, 
and  who  liked  to  go  out  with  us  to  the 
press  for  a  drink  of  the  fresh  whey  and 
a  taste  of  the  rind  when  we  turned  the 
new  cheese  in  the  hoop.  And  she  al¬ 
ways  told  us  that  we  put  on  too  heavy 
a  weight  at  first.  Then  we  had  many 
others,  some  “old  stragglers,”  as  mother 
called  them,  who  always  were  hungry, 
and  who  came  with  a  bag  in  plain  sight. 
Mother  was  charitable,  and  she  always 
gave  them  something.  Her  favorites 
generally  got  a  good  piece  of  the  salt 
pork.  But  most  of  our  comers  and  goers 
were  old  friends  and  relatives,  people  like 
ourselves,  who  took  right  hold  and  hon¬ 
estly  tried  to  help  with  the  work,  people 
whom  we  liked  to  visit  ourselves  in  our 
turn. 
Now  that  there  are  so  many  autos  and 
so  many  people  almost  living  on  the  road, 
we  country  people  are  thoroughly  well 
acquainted  with  the  uninvited  guest  who 
deliberately  plans  on  a  meal  or  a  bed. 
FRANCES  BARNARD. 
Tennessee  Notes 
The  farmers’  song  has  changed  from 
too  dry  to  too  wet.  June  and  July  were 
exceedingly  dry,  and  August  has  been  ex¬ 
ceedingly  wet,  but  not  too  wet  for  bugs 
and  worms  to  thrive.  In  picking  a  basket 
of  green  beans  one  has  well  nigh  as  many 
bugs  as  beans,  speckled,  striped,  mottled, 
and  all  colors,  and  while  they  are  very 
pretty  to  look  at,  one  does  not  care  for 
them  at  all  in  the  bean  basket.  Cab¬ 
bage  worms  and  even  beetles  have  thrived 
exceedingly  well  on  the  cabbage  patch.  I 
have  used  insect  powders,  flour,  black 
pepper  (and  the  latter  did  surely  put  a 
stop  to  the  cucumber  bugs),  and  all  other 
remedies,  but  none  seemed  to  put  a 
quietus  on  the  worms.  Then  in  the  to¬ 
bacco  patch  we  pick  worms  until  it  seems 
that  we  farm  people  have  not  only  the 
whole  world  to  feed,  but  billions  of  in¬ 
sects  as  well.  Even  the  potatoes  are 
gnawed  by  moles  or  ground  mice,  beans 
destroyed  by  the  rabbits,  corn  pulled  up 
by  the  crows,  chickens  carried  off  by  the 
hawks,  and  now,  to  cap  the  climax,  the 
blackhead  has  struck  our  turkeys.  We 
had  such  a  nice  drove,  and  first  thing  I 
knew  they  were  dying  like  flies.  I  tried 
remedy  after  remedy,  until  a  friend  told 
me  of  permanganate.  I  sent  to  the  drug 
store  for  some  and  did  not  know  just 
how  to  use  it,  but  I  dissolved  one  heaping 
teaspoonful  in  a  gallon  of  water  and  wet 
their  bread  with  the  mixture.  Those  too 
sick  to  eat  I  crammed.  I  have  not  lost 
any  more  so  far,  though  they  look  very 
shabby,  and  it  will  take  weeks  for  them 
to  regain  their  lost  weight.  This  remedy 
is  poison  and  should  be  kept  out  of  the 
way  of  children.  It  is  best  to  use  in 
their  drinking  water,  but  our  own  had 
access  to  water,  and  will  not  drink  it. 
Fruit  is  scarce,  so  I  save  the  peelings 
for  jelly  when  canning  apples,  quinces 
and  crabs. 
We  needed  a  cistern  at  our  new  school- 
house.  The  children  wanted  children’s 
day.  The  majority  were  green  in  such 
matters,  as  well  as  myself,  but  we  got  to¬ 
gether,  and  after  searching  through  our 
papers,  scrap-books,  and  at  last  locating 
a  book  that  contained  children’s-day  ma¬ 
terial,  we  went  to  work.  We  drilled  and 
trained  them  for  two  weeks,  bought  four 
rolls  of  crepe  paper,  tacked  sheets  over 
the  blackboard,  twisted  pink  paper  cut  in 
strips  woven  under  and  over  against  the 
sheets,  and  fastened  to  ends  and  sides. 
We  made  some  large  letters  to  spell  “Wel¬ 
come”  out  of  Christmas  tinsel,  and  fas¬ 
tened  them  to  a  paper  background  up  at 
the  top  of  sheets.  Meanwhile,  we  invit¬ 
ed  our  county  superintendent  and  presi¬ 
dent  of  the  school  board  (we  still  need 
benches,  you  know),  also  the  president 
of  the  East  Tennessee  Sunday  School 
Association,  and  two  ministers.  They  all 
accepted  the  invitation,  and  came,  too. 
Busy?  Well,  rather;  but  we  had  plenty 
of  dinner,  and  sold  ice  cream  and  lemon¬ 
ade.  We  have  the  cistern  ready  to  ce¬ 
ment,  the  pump  and  guttering  all  ready 
to  put  up.  The  children  received  many 
compliments,  and,  poor  things,  some  were 
frightened  ;  first  public  appearance  makes 
your  heart  go  pit-a-pat,  but,  taken  all 
together  it  was  a  successful  day,  one 
whose  memory,  I  hope,  shall  be  long  in 
being  completely  effaced.  Some  claim, 
and  no  doubt  they  are  right,  that  the  ma¬ 
terial  cooked  up  would  be  worth  more 
than  wlmt  is  made.  From  a  financial 
standpoint  we  may  come  out  behind,  but 
who  can  compute  the  worth  to  the  neigh¬ 
borhood,  the  children,  and  the  people  in 
general?  I  believe  in  keeping  alive  the 
neighborhood  spirit,  and  unless  we  give 
them  a  chance,  how  will  there  be  any 
leaders?  It  is  what  we  sorely  need.  One 
waits  for  another;  all  are  willing  to  help 
or  do  their  part  if  there  were  only  some¬ 
one  to  take  the  lead.  It  is  only  by  co¬ 
operation  that  we  farm  folks  can  ever 
hope  to  better  our  condition.  We  first 
have  to  learn  what  we  want,  and  then  go 
after  it.  It  is  the  neighborhood  that 
hangs  together  and  shows  a  solid  front 
that  gets  paved  roads,  or  pretty  much 
what  they  want.  mrs.  d,  b.  p. 
Canning  Summer  Squash 
I  wonder  how  many  of  our  R.  N.-Y. 
family  can  Summer  squash?  I  am  so 
enthusiastic  about  it  I  just  must  tell 
others.  It  is  the  easiest  vegetable  in 
the  garden  to  can,  and  if  you  had  a  dish 
of  fresh  and  one  of  canned  Summer 
squash  side  by  side  you  would  be  unable 
to  tell  the  difference  either  in  taste  or 
appearance.  I  cut  it  in  good-aized  dice 
and  pack  in  the  can  as  tightly  as  possible 
(using  quart  cans,  for  it  does  not  go  as 
far  when  opened  as  string  beans  or 
peas)  ;  add  salt  and  fill  cans  with  warm 
or  hot  water,  place  in  boiler  or  steam 
cooker  and  boil  two  hours.  When  opened 
prepare  in  any  of  the  following  ways : 
Creamed. — Pour  off  nearly  all  the  wa¬ 
ter  or  boil  down  and  add  a  little  sweet 
cream,  butter,  salt  and  pepper.  Serve 
very  hot.  Deliciou“ 
Mashed.— -Process  as  above,  only  mash 
fine,  add  seasoning,  and  surround  with 
chopped  green  peppers  fried  in  a  little 
butter  a  few  minutes. 
Patties. — Mash  and  add  half  cup  flour 
and  three  eggs.  Drop  by  spoonsful  on 
hot  buttered  griddle.  Brown  on  both 
sides.  Delicious  served  with  cold  corned 
beef  and  scalloped  potatoes.  Cabbage 
salad  is  a  nice  addition  to  this  meal  also. 
Fritters. — Try  it  in  the  Summer  ’ this 
way :  Put  through  meat  chopper  enough 
raw  squash  for  your  family,  also  one  or 
two  green  peppers.  Add  a  dash  of  to¬ 
mato  if  liked,  seasoning,  two  or  three 
eggs,  and  flour  enough  to  hold  it  together 
somewhat.  Fry  on  hot  griddle  in  same 
manner  as  patties. 
Stuffed. — Cut  several  small  squashes  in 
two,  so  they  will  set  up  in  baking  pan. 
Hollow  out,  season  the  shells  with  salt 
and  pepper,  and  stuff  with  a  mixture  of 
bread  crumbs,  green  peppers,  onion,  to¬ 
mato,  a  little  sweet  corn  or  rice;  one  can 
use  almost  any  combination  of  left-overs 
or  odds  and  ends.  Toss  all  up  together 
a  few  minutes,  in  frying  pan,  stuff  the 
shells,  cover  with  crumbs  and  bake  un¬ 
til  squash  is  tender — about  half  an  hour. 
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