1206 
Tbt  RURAL.  NEW-YORKER 
centrated,  so  that  they  are  able  to  organ¬ 
ize  both  for  improved  methods  of  produc¬ 
ing  and  for  marketing.  The  time  may 
come  when  it  may  be  necessary  to  find 
some  new  crop.  They  will  do  it,  and  will 
still  be  specialists.  Up  in  that  country 
they  do  not  worry  much  about  unoccupied 
farms.  There  are  just  about  farmers 
enough  for  the  present  size  of  fa^ms,  and 
it  is  better  to  let  the  discontented  farmers 
go,  and  leave  only  those  who  farm  because 
they  would  rather  do  it  than  anything 
else. 
*  *  *  *  * 
As  is  usually  the  case,  farmers  in  this 
section  and  elsewhere  might  learn  much 
from  this  band  of  explorers  who  toiled  up 
this  hill  174  years  ago.  They  floated  on 
through  lake  and  river  into  the  Ohio  Val¬ 
ley.  Now  and  then  they  stopped  and 
“took  possession”  in  the  name  of  the 
French  king.  This  ceremony  consisted  in 
drawing  the  men  up  in  military  order, 
unfurling  the  flag  of  France  and  reading 
a  long  paper  proclaiming  Louis  XV  lord 
of  all  that  region.  Then  they  nailed  a  tin 
plate  to  a  tree  and  buried  a  plate  of  lead 
inscribed  with  a  boastful  claim  at  the  foot 
of  the  tree.  Then  they  marched  off  and 
went  through  the  same  performane  at 
some  other  place.  The  childlike  faith 
At  the  recent  farmers’  meeting  at  the  New  Hampshire  State  College  there  was  a 
procession  of  floats  and  figures  designed  to  represent  various  common  phases  of 
farm  life.  One  man  dressed  as  a  scrub  farmer  walked  along  chained  to  a  poor  cow, 
while  another  well-dressed  man  was  being  led  by  a  good  cow.  The  car  shown  in 
our  picture  appeared  in  the  procession  as  an  illustration  of  an  auto  hog  returning 
from  a  successful  raid.  It  made  “a  hit”  with  the  people — many  of  whom  had  suffered 
from  the  auto  hogs  rooting. 
Hope  Farm  Notes 
Ohio  and  Mississippi  to  the  Gulf  of  Mex¬ 
ico  !  Here  we  were  at  the  top  of  the 
divide.  One  might  take  a  barrel  of  water 
and  pour  half  into  some  stream  on  the 
west  side.  It  would  pass  on  down  the 
hill,  through  the  pleasant  vineyards,  on 
through  the  lakes,  plunging  on  over  Ni¬ 
agara,  on  through  the  St.  Lawrence,  past 
Quebec,  on  into  the  gulf  and  into  the 
ocean.  The  other  half  might  tumble 
down  the  hill  to  Lake  Chautauqua,  on 
through  streams  and  rivers  to  the  Ohio, 
on  past  Cincinnati,  Memphis,  Vicksburg, 
slowly  on  past  New  Orleans  into  the  great 
gulf,  perhaps,  in  ages  of  time,  through 
tide  and  wave,  to  be  mixed  once  more 
somewhere  with  the  other  half  of  the  bar¬ 
rel.  I  can  imagine  how  those  weary 
Frenchmen  sighed  with  relief  as  they 
reached  the  peak.  The  worst  of  their  toil 
was  over,  for  the  weight  of  their  bur¬ 
dens  would  help  carry  them  down  the 
slope.  It  is  a  curious  thing,  but  as  the 
car  sped  on  after  its  brief  rest  I  fell  to 
comparing  this  old  adventure  of  174  years 
"Now  tee  will  drive  up  over  the  old 
French  portage  to  Chautauqua  Lake!" 
That  is  what  Mr.  Merritt  said  as  we 
started  east  out  of  Westfield,  N.  Y.  The 
car,  well  refreshed  with  gasoline  and 
smoothed  with  oil,  after  a  cough  and  a 
sputter,  sped  along  under  the  sheltering 
trees  and  started  climbing  the  hill.  It 
was  August  15.  There  had  been  a  great 
gathering  at  the  picnic  of  the  Hanover 
Farmers’  Club  at  Silver  Creek.  At  a 
dusty  spot  on  the  lake  shore  thousands 
of  people  had  gathered.  Our  car  was  No. 
483  in  line,  and  many  more  followed. 
The  day  was  hot  and  dry,  and  Western 
New  York  seemed  burned  to  a  crisp  ex¬ 
cept  for  the  vineyards  which  stretched 
away  for  miles  on  every  hand.  Some  of 
the  vines  were  as  brown  as  the  soil,  but 
others,  better  cultivated  and  perhaps  bet¬ 
ter  located,  were  surprisingly  green.  •  It 
was  a  wonder  to  me  how  these  vines  could 
reach  down  into  this  dry  soil  and  find 
drink.  The  Hanover  Farmers’  Club  is  a 
great  institution,  working,  I  should  judge, 
like  the  Niagara  County  Farmers’  Club. 
Among  other  activities  it  has  a  famous 
lecture  course,  and  some  of  the  most  not¬ 
ed  Americans  have  appeared  before  it.  As 
an  illustration  of  how  we  may  proceed  to 
do  it  ourselves,  such  a  club  points  the 
way  to  better  things  for  farmers.  If  there 
could  be  1,000  such  clubs  in  New  York 
State,  composed  of  farmers,  managed  by 
farmers,  and  conducted  for  farmers  with¬ 
out  any  attempt  to  manage  or  direct  them 
for  outside  purposes,  there  would  be  a 
great  change  in  farm  history. 
#  ❖  *  * 
After  the  meeting  at  Silver  Creek,  Mr. 
Merritt  drove  me  down  along  the  lake 
shore  through  the  grape  belt.  It  was  a 
ride  never  to  be  forgotten.  It  filled  the 
eye  and  the  mind  with  a  glory  such  as 
must  come  to  one  who  sees  the  ocean  for 
the  first  time.  I  remember  feeling  much 
the  same  way  when,  years  ago,  the  train 
crawled  up  over  the  divide  in  Eastern 
Colorado  and  the  Rocky  Mountains  first 
'burst  into  view.  It  is  a  gently  rolling 
land,  sweeping  back  from  the  lake  like 
great  green  waves.  At  the  tops  of  the 
low  ridges  are  here  and  there  white  build¬ 
ings  which  seem  like  fleck  of  foam  or 
little  whitecaps  at  the  top  of  each  wave. 
At  one  hilly  point  one  can  stand  in  the 
road  and  look  over  full  townships  of  vine¬ 
yards.  It  is  said  that  one  can  see  more 
grapevines  from  this  spot  than  from  any 
other  place  in  the  world,  and  I  can  well 
believe  it.  The  sun  was  at  the  west  over 
the  lake.  A  gentle  breeze  was  stirring  the 
grape  leaves  until  they  sparkled  in  long, 
glittering  waves  of  light.  It  surely  was  a 
land  of  corn  and  wine,  and  brought  back 
to  mind  the  old  Bible  descriptions  from 
Isaiah  and  the  Psalms  which  most  of  us 
have  long  forgotten.  It  was  the  most 
restful  vision  I  have  seen  in  years.  In 
spite  of  the  drought  and  dust  and  doubt 
and  trouble,  one  could  hardly  look  across 
that  great,  glittering  ocean  of  vines  with¬ 
out  feeling,  somehow,  the  great  thought 
of  the  Psalmist : 
“ Thou  crownest  the  year  with  thy 
goodness ;  and  thy  paths  drip  fatness." 
*  *  *  *  * 
And  now  our  car  set  its  teeth  more 
firmly  into  the  chains  and  started  up  the 
hill  over  the  “old  French  portage.”  As 
we  sped  up  the  steep  hills  I  could  imagine 
the  group  of  men  who  174  years  ago  slow¬ 
ly  and  painfully  crawled  up  these  steep 
paths.  Our  car  was  refreshed  with  oil 
and  gas,  but  these  Frenchmen  and  In¬ 
dians  had  but  small  portions  of  wine  and 
plain  food  to  spur  them  on.  Francis 
Parkman  tells  how  in  1749  the  Governor 
of  Canada  sent  Celoron  de  Bienville  with 
a  company  of  white  men  and  Indians  to 
take  possession  of  the  land  in  the  Ohio 
Valley  in  the  name  of  the  French  king. 
On  the  15th  of  July  this  band  left  the 
lake  at  the  point  where  Portland  now 
stands  and  carried  their  canoes  and  bag¬ 
gage  up  the  steep  hills  and  through  the 
woods  to  Lake  Chautauqua.  Here  they 
embarked  and  sailed  down  the  lake  into 
the  outlet,  and  through  it  finally  into  the 
Ohio  River.  As  we  sped  up  the  hill 
through  the  vineyards  and  grain  fields  I 
could  picture  this  toiling  band,  sweating 
and  groaning  through  the  hot  Summer  day 
at  their  toilsome  work.  Dodging  and 
winding  through  the  great  trees,  they  car¬ 
ried  their  boats  over  to  the  lake.  It  seems 
today  like  an  incredible  story — an  im¬ 
possible  work.  I  can  hardly  imagine  a 
'band  of  modern  Americans  going  through 
such  a  performance  for  the  benefit  of 
some  distant  and  mythical  king  who  could 
not  possibly  mean  anything  real  to  them. 
'Men  have  told  me  how  in  their  youth 
they  burned  up  energy  and  life  fighting 
their  way  across  deserts  or  over  moun¬ 
tains  or  through  fearful  swamps.  They 
were  fighting  for  life  or  wealth,  or  per¬ 
haps  for  the  one  woman  in  the  world.  I 
can  realize  their  motives,  but  as  we  sped 
easily  up  these  steep  hills  I  could  not  un¬ 
derstand  the  wild  spirit  of  adventure 
which  led  these  old  pioneers  to  their  fear¬ 
ful  task. 
***** 
TTp !  Up!  Still  up  we  climbed,  until  the 
car  stopped  before  a  plain  white  sign. 
This  announced  that  the  streams  which 
were  flowing  to  the  west  made  their  way 
to  the  Atlantic  Ocean  through  the  lakes 
and  the  St.  Lawrence  River,  while  those 
which  ran  east  passed  on  through  the 
ago  with  the  great  adventure  of  life.  For 
life  is  much  like  climbing  up  over  a 
divide  in  search  of  a  new  country  which 
we  are  to  occupy  in  the  king’s  name.  In 
youth  we  carry  our  burdens  up  the  hill 
buoyed  up  by  the  spirit  of  adventure.  AAre 
know  that  the  streams  which  flow  past 
us  run  back  into  the  strong  tumult  of 
life,  but  we  Care  little  so  long  as  the  sum¬ 
mit  is  not  in  sight.  Sometimes  we  think 
that  when  we  reach  the  top  we  will  drop 
the  burdens  and  rest  or  play.  At  last 
we  stand  before  the  signboard  where  the 
streams  run  east,  or  on  to  the  calm,  peace¬ 
ful,  dreamy,  faraway  gulf.  It  must  be  a 
kindly,  pleasant  land.  (We  do  not  care 
to  stay  on  the  windy  divide,  but  we  pack 
up  our  burdens,  as  these  old  Frenchmen 
did,  and  follow  the  pleasant  streams  on¬ 
ward.  And  one  would  think  that  the  bur¬ 
dens  which  galled  us  so  on  the  climb  up 
from  the  west  ought  to  help  us  along  as 
we  pass  on  down  to  the  gulf!  But  usu¬ 
ally,  I  fear,  that  is  not  so. 
*  *  *  *  * 
'It  was  interesting  to  see  how  the  coun¬ 
try  changed  as  we  climbed  up  this  divide. 
On  the  west  side  the  evidence  of  drought 
seemed  to  be  more  apparent  as  we  went 
up.  Here  and  there  were  signs  before 
farmhouses : 
"Llease  do  not  ask  for  water.” 
The  modern  car  lias  to  cool  its  fevered 
throat,  no  less  than  the  horse,  which  it 
has  displaced.  No  doubt  the  French  and 
the  Indians  toiling  up  this  hill  found 
springs  and  little  brooks,  but  they  were 
all  dried  up  now.  Yet  over  the  hill  on 
the  east  side  there  was  every  evidence  of 
moisture.  The  grass  and  the  trees  were 
green,  and  now  and  then  the  bed  of  a  lit¬ 
tle  stream  showed  water.  The  vineyards 
went  with  us  along  the  road  for  some 
miles  back  from  the  lake,  as  far  as  the 
influence  of  the  water  to  moderate  the 
temperature  extended.  It  seemed  as  if 
the  area  in  cultivated  vineyards  stopped 
as  abruptly  as  the  trees  stop  growing  at 
timber  line  in  the  Rocky  Mountains.  As 
we  passed  out  of  the  vineyards  we  en¬ 
tered  a  section  of  general  farming  and 
dairying,  and  the  change  was  very  appar¬ 
ent.  There  was  an  evident  falling  off  in 
the  appearance  of  prosperity.  There  were 
more  unpainted  barns  and  houses,  fewer 
gardens  and  flowers,  and  more  of  that 
general  appearance  which  stamps  a  man 
or  a  farm  or  a  section  where  there  is  a 
hard  struggle  for  existence.  The  grape 
growers  have  their  ups  and  down,  but  on 
the  whole  their  country  gives  evidence  of 
prosperity  as  compared  with  other  sec¬ 
tions.  For  one  thing,  they  have  a  crop 
which  lends  itself  to  wide  co-operative 
work.  They  are  specialists,  and  are  con¬ 
which  led  these  men  to  think  that  this 
rigmarole  of  leaving  plates  and  reading 
proclamations  would  hold  this  land  for 
the  king,  without  actual  occupation,  was 
just  about  equal  to  the  faith  of  some 
people  who  think  that  when  a  law  is 
passed  by  the  legislature  its  enforcement 
is  all  settled  without  any  effort  on  their 
part.  Years  later  some  American  boys 
while  in  roaming  found  one  of  these  old 
leaden  plates  and  melted  part  of  it  up  for 
bullets.  Much  they  cared  for  King  Louis 
and  his  proclamations.  The  French  lost 
Western  America  because,  after  all  their 
toil  and  enterprise  they  did  not  under¬ 
stand  that  we  must  do  it  ourselves.  At 
the  time  I  speak  of  the  French  and  the 
English  were  maneuvering  for  the  French 
and  Indian  War.  There  were  about  G0,- 
000  white  men  on  the  French  side  and 
not  far  from  a  million  in  the  English 
colonies.  The  French  were  perfectly  or¬ 
ganized  in  every  way,  while  the  English 
were  divided  into  a  dozen  States  or  col¬ 
onies,  each  one  so  jealous  of  the  other 
that  they  could  not  work  together.  I  am 
at  the  end  of  my  space,  but  I  would  like 
to  go  on  and  show  how  this  contest  be¬ 
tween  a  small  organized  force  and  a  much 
large  unorganized  body  was  almost  ex¬ 
actly  like  the  present  industrial  conflict 
between  unorganized  farmers  and  the 
smaller  organized  band  of  middlemen  and 
politicians  now  preying  upon  country  peo¬ 
ple.  For  we  who  sped  up  the  hill  in  1923 
have  much  the  same  political  and  indus¬ 
trial  problems  of  those  who  carried  their 
canoes  through  the  roads  in  1749.  I  will 
take  space  to  show  that  some  day. 
h.  w.  c. 
When  is  a  Road  a  Highway? 
Several  years  ago  we  purchased  a  farm 
in  Western  New  Jersey  in  Hunterdon 
County.  Some  time  after  we  learned  that 
the  road  to  the  farm  and  passing  through 
it  was  not  a  public  highway,  but  a  lane. 
It  never  occurred  to  us.  for  various  rea¬ 
sons,  among  these  reasons  being  the  fact 
that  there  are  at  least  six  properties,  or 
rather  seven,  abutting  along  this  road. 
Our  farm  of  about  70  acres  is  an  old  one, 
and  was  originally  a  large  tract  of  hun¬ 
dreds  of  acres,  which  were  gradually  sold 
off  into  farms  of  from  70  or  more  acres 
each.  We  later  learned  that  this  road  or 
lane  has  been  a  driftway  or  right  of  way 
to  a  half  dozen  places  beyond  our  farm 
for  between  40  and  50  years.  We  own 
the  old  homestead  and  the  house  is 
situated  from  the  main  highway,  on  this 
said  lane,  more  than  an  eighth  of  a  mile 
distant.  Before  reaching  our  land,  there 
are  two  properties  bordering  on  each 
September  22,  1923 
side  of  the  lane.  Each  of  these  owners 
disclaims  any  and  all  ownership  in  the 
road,  claiming  to  own,  not  to  the  mid¬ 
dle  of  the  road,  as  is  customary,  but  only 
to  the  fence  lines.  The  entrance  to  these 
two  properties  is  from  the  main  highway, 
although  one  uses  a  lane  or  foot  road 
from  his  house  to  the  lane  in  question. 
Six  owners  beyond  us  must  pass  through 
the  lane,  through  our  property  and  past 
our  house.  We  learned  that  the  custom 
in  the  past  has  been  for  all  owners  to  put 
in  their  labor  and  teams,  etc.,  and  keep 
the  road  in  repair.  We  have  on  several 
occasions  repaired,  to  the  best  of  our 
ability,  several  bad  places  on  the  lane, 
but  we  can  get  no  help  from  the  neigh¬ 
bors,  and  they  will  do  nothing  toward 
keeping  it  in  condition.  There  is  one 
stream  just  beyond  our  boundary  line, 
which  at  times  is  pretty  full  and  requires 
a  sort  of  bridge,  also  another  near  our 
house,  which  is  not  a  permanent  stream, 
but  more  a  cut  for  carrying  off  the  heavy 
rains  and  thaws  in  the  Spring,  etc.  It  is 
claimed  we  own  the  lane  from  the  main 
highway  to  the  end  of  our  boundary,  at 
least  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  The  road  is  no 
longer  a  right-of-way,  but  a  public  high¬ 
way.  It  is  a  short  cut  from  the  State 
road  and  our  nearest  village,  to  a  large 
town  some  four  or  five  miles  away  over 
the  hill.  The  traffic  for  a  by-road  or 
lane  is  very  heavy.  Several  Sundays  I 
have  counted  from  25  to  30  automobiles 
and  vehicles  passing  between  nine  and 
five.  Some  of  these  cars  are  very  heavy 
and  at  times  they  cut  deep  ruts  into  the 
road.  One  great  moving  van.  weighing 
tons  and  heavily  loaded,  came  through 
not  long  ago,  broke  down  one  of  the  cul¬ 
vert  crossings,  and  weakened  the  others 
considerably. 
The  road  commissioners  claim  it  is  not 
a  public  road,  and  they  will  do  no  work 
on  it,  and  never  have  since  we  have 
owned  the  place.  Our  taxes  are  very 
heavy,  having  doubled  in  the  last  three 
years.  We  pay  road  taxes,  but  the  por¬ 
tion  of  road  of  considerable  distance  and 
use  to  us  we  must  either  repair  our¬ 
selves  for  the  benefit  of  public  traffic  or 
else  suffer,  which  is  what  we  are  doing, 
for  we  haven’t  the  money  or  the  labor 
to  keep  it  in  repair,  nor  the  proper  ma- 
chinery.  We  cannot  shut  the  road  off, 
as  the  six  farms  beyond  us,  and  the  fact 
that  it  is  a  short  cut  to  the  town,  which 
I  mentioned,  have  the  right-of-way.  If 
some  valuable  mineral  were  to  be  found 
under  that  portion  of  the  lane  from  the 
main  highway  to  our  house,  I  fear  we 
would  have  great  difficulty  in  proving  and 
maintaining  our  entire  ownership  in  the 
said  road. 
It  is  obviously  unfair  and  out  of  the 
question  for  us  to  keep  this  road  in  re¬ 
pair  for  the  traffic.  All  the  traffic  must 
pass  through  our  property  and  past  our 
house,  but  we  rarely  use  the  lane  be¬ 
yond  our  property,  and  we  have  only 
one  horse,  so  that  our  use  of  the  lane 
is  limited.  AVe  got  up  a  petition  stating  the 
facts  and  urging  the  road  commissioners 
to  take  over  the  care  of  the  road,  as  it 
is  no  longer  a  right-of-way,  but  a  public 
thoroughfare,  but  the  local  township 
board  would  do  nothing.  The  main  roads 
in  all  sections  are  bad  enough,  I  mean 
the. dirt  roads  and  also  some  of  the  others. 
It  is  hard  on  our  wagons,  and  racks  the 
wheels  to  pieces.  But  this  lane  is  be¬ 
coming  worse  and  worse,  full  of  ruts 
and  loose  stones,  and  a  few  heavy  rains 
will  probably  make  it  dangerous. 
Can  you  give  us  some  counsel  as  to 
what  to  do  or  how  to  go  about  having 
this  road  taken  over  as  a  public  thor¬ 
oughfare  and  given  at  least  some  repair? 
In  the  case  of  dangerous  places  in  the 
road,  surely  we  cannot  be  liable  for  dam¬ 
ages,  in  case  of  accident?  The  farm  has 
been  worked,  but  very  little;  we  can 
get  no  proper  help.  AVe  have  offered 
half  shares  to  get  it  worked  but  have  had 
no  success  so  far  in  getting  a  good  farm¬ 
er  to  work  it.  AVe  have  at  last  found  a 
good  man,  who  is  repairing  fences  and 
looking  after  the  fruit  trees  and  culti¬ 
vating  some  of  the  land,  but  we  have  not 
been  able  to  do  anything  but  just  keep 
going.  My  sister,  who  is  a  widow,  and 
I  own  the  farm  jointly.  I  have  a  “job” 
in  one  of  the  large  cities,  and  go  home 
week-ends.  My  health  is  not  the  best  and 
I  ought  to  be  on  the  farm,  and  would 
gladly,  and  I  love  it  beside,  yet  condi¬ 
tions  are  so  bad  for  the  farmers  it  is  al¬ 
most  impossible  to  get  a  living  out  of  it. 
All  of  the  farms  near  us  but  two  have 
changed  hands  once  at  least  in  three 
years  and  some  a  third  time. 
MRS.  F.  A.  c. 
We  are  unable  to  determine  whether 
or  not  road  in  question  is  a  public  high¬ 
way.  In  one  place  you  state  it  is  not 
a  public  highway  and  later  you  say  it  is 
a  public  highway.  A  search  of  the  rec¬ 
ords  of  the  clerk  of  your  township  will 
probably  determine  whether  or  not  it  is 
a  public  highway.  If  it  is  you  can  com¬ 
pel  the  township  to  keep  it  in  repair.  If 
it  is  not  it  would  seem  as  if  you  and  your 
neighbors  might  get  together  and  agree 
as  fo  the  working  of  the  same,  or  as  to 
closing  the  same  from  general  traffic. 
N.  T. 
“That  man,”  said  the  famous  physi- 
can,  “has  btigoraitic  detruilsiS  sponzul- 
ium,  and  I’m  charging  two  thousand  dol¬ 
lars  to  diagnose  his  case.”  “Beg  par¬ 
don,”  interrupted  the  dazed  medical  stu¬ 
dent,  “what  did  you  say  he  has?”  “He 
has  two  thousand  dollars.” — Credit  Lost. 
