1258 
The  RURAL  NEW-YORKER 
October  6,  1923 
Hope  Farm  Notes 
That  long-delayed  and  much-desired 
rain  had  come  at  last.  It  seemed  to  come 
grudgingly — like  a  boy  sullenly  scuffling 
his  feet  and  halting  when  he  is  called  in 
to  do  some  work  he  has  neglected.  For 
months  our  crops  had  suffered  because 
the  rain  refused  to  do  its  duty.  The  lawn 
was  brown,  the  strawberries  dwarfed  or 
dead,  the  ground  too  hard  to  plow,  and 
the  apples  half  size.  Over  in  the  lake 
which  serves  as  a  reservoir,  nasty  black 
patches  were  showing  at  the  sides  and 
at  the  bottom.  I  can  remember  when 
this  lake  was  just  a  bright  green  valley 
with  a  little  stream  trickling  through  it. 
A  dam  was  thrown  across  the  lower  end. 
and  the  water,  once  running  aimlessly 
away,  is  now  stored  and  piped  down  to 
the  thirsty  people  grouped  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Hudson.  When  the  lake  is  full 
these  people  may  drive  around  it  and 
congratulate  themselves  that  such  clear, 
blue,  sparkling  wafer  can  be  sent  them. 
When  rain  goes  on  a  strike,  however,  and 
they  see  the  filth  which  accumulates  at 
the  bottom,  they  shudder  and  seem  in¬ 
clined  to  agree  with  the  early  settlers  in 
this  country  that  water  is  a  deadly  bev¬ 
erage.  Of  course  this  water  is  caught 
and  purified  before  it  is  sent  on.  The 
State  looks  out  for  that,  but  it  seems  re¬ 
pulsive  enough  in  time  of  drought  when 
the  reserves  are  drawn  upon  until  the 
bottom  shows. 
*  *  *  *  * 
After  causing  all  these  blotches  and 
scars  on  the  face  of  Nature  you  would 
think  that  the  “kindly  rain”  would  hurry 
to  the  rescue  when  its  chance  came,  iou 
would  think  it  would  try  to  make  us  be¬ 
lieve  it  had  been  detained  by  some  press¬ 
ing  engagement,  but  came  as  soon  as  it 
could.  That  would  be  the  way  of  a 
young  man  explaining  things  to  the 
young  woman  he  wanted  to  please.  In 
truth,  the  rain  came  with  much  of  the 
spirit  that  young  man  might  show  15 
years  later  when  his  wife  wanted  to 
know  why  he  did  not  come  home  and 
spade  the  garden  or  carry  out  the  ashes  . 
We  went  through  several  days  of  mist 
and  fog  and  cheerless  skies,  until  finally 
the  rain  decided  to  start  at  work.  It 
acted  just  exactly  like  some  temperamen¬ 
tal  man  or  boy  who  knows  he  ought  to 
work,  yet  delays  as  long  as  he  can,  just 
to  be  uglv  about  it.  And  it  came  at  a 
hard  time  for  us.  We  were  just  starting 
to  cut  corn.  We  have  no  grain  this  year 
— the  corn  was  all  planted  for  fodder  a 
substitute  for  hay.  'It  is  only  about  half 
size,  but  good  feed,  such  as  it  is.  Frost 
will  be  quite  likely  to  follow  at  the  heels 
of  this  rain,  and  the  corn  must  be  cut.  It 
it  just  about  like  going  in  swimming  to 
cut  and  shock  such  a  crop.  The  rain 
will  help  the  strawberries  and  the  late 
apples.  Our  strawberry  fields  look  like 
patchwork  quilts,  with  great  squares  of 
brown  where  the  plants  have  dried  out. 
Some  of  these  places  were  planted  three 
times — dying  again  and  again.  Now  we 
are  filling  in  with  plants  of  Howard  1». 
That  seems  the  best  all-around  variety 
for  us.  Of  course,  we  cannot  expect 
much  of  a  crop  from  these  plants  next 
year,  but  they  will  make  the  patches  look 
better  and  save  possible  loss  from  another 
drought  next  year. 
***** 
So  night  settled  down  upon  us,  wet  and 
dismal.  The  air  was  full  of  that  thick, 
cloggy  moisture — too  wet  to  call  fog  and 
not  quite  wet  enough  to  fall  as  rain. 
Dark,  dismal  and  drenching  —  that  is 
about  what  I  would  call  it.  The  last 
thing  I  looked  at  as  the  day  ended  was 
our  little  patch  of  cotton.  It  stood  up  in 
the  drenching  fog,  bright  and  cheerful, 
covered  with  bloom  and  with  a  few  big 
bolls  all  ready  to  open.  It  was  as  good 
as  a  sermon  (better  than  some  I  have 
heard)  to  see  this  Southerner  up  here  in 
an  uncongenial  climate,  facing  the  death¬ 
dealing  frost,  drenched  si«d  uncomfort¬ 
able,  yet  smiling  and  happy  as  though 
basking  in  the  unending  sunshine  of  Cuba 
or  Mexico !  The  Darso  or  seed  sorghum 
alongside  of  the  cotton  has  matured  its 
crop,  but  it  seemed  sullen  and  hateful,  as 
if  it  missed  the  hot  drying  winds  of  Okla¬ 
homa.  and  despised  this  Jersey  fog.  But 
the  cotton,  much  further  from  home,  and 
with  more  to  complain  about,  stood  up 
bright  and  cheerful,  still  putting  out  flow¬ 
ers  as  if  defying  the  frost  to  do  its  worst. 
On  cold  and  dismal  days  I  have  seen  our 
little  Jersey  stand  with  head  up.  full  of 
hope  and  energy,  while  the  Holsteins 
stood  dull  and  sullen,  with  drooping  head 
and  dejected  appearance.  The  cotton 
seemed  to  me  like  a  human  being  with  a 
dash  of  French  or  Irish  blood  to  give 
temper  and  flash  to  the  steel.  Other  races 
might  have  the  stolid,  bulldog  quality  and 
determination  to  fight  it  through,  but 
somehow  they  lack  the  sparkle  and  dash. 
***** 
I  thought  about  this  all  through  sup¬ 
per.  It  fitted  into  a  book  I  am  trying 
to  write  at  odd  hours,  and  after  the  baked 
apple  I  started  at  it.  The  night  seemed 
darker  and  more  dismal  than  ever.  It 
was  too  warm  for  an  open  fire,  so  I 
snapped  on  the  electric  light,  sat  at  the 
desk  and  prepared  for  a  good  evening.  And 
then,  all  of  a  sudden,  the  light  went  out. 
Something  went  wrong.  There  was  a 
sore  finger  somewhere  on  the  giant  hand 
which  stretches  up  among  our  hills  and 
brings  us  light  and  power.  It  must  have 
been  a  burnt  finger  which  failed  to  func¬ 
tion,  and  here  we  were  left  in  “utter 
darkness.”  And  we  were  quite  unpre¬ 
pared  for  it.  Like  the  foolish  virgins,  we 
were  caught.  Our  lamps  were  not  trim¬ 
med  and  burning.  In  fact,  the  lamps 
were  not  in  order,  and  there  was  only  a 
poor  supply  of  tallow  candles.  When 
people  get  in  the  habit  of  living  in  a  cer¬ 
tain  way  they  seldom  bother  to  provide 
substitutes,  and  when  the  machine  breaks 
down  they  are  lost.  I  notice  pretty  much 
the  same  thing  in  the  difference  between 
pupils  in  a  highly  organized  town  school 
and  those  who  come  from  a  country 
school.  The  town  children  are  usually 
machine  made.  Once  let  the  organized 
plrogram  that  has  been  arranged  for 
them  break  down,  and  they  are  lost — as 
I  was  when  my  light  went  out.  I  do  not 
suppose  it  would  be  possible  for  you  to 
fully  realize  what  it  must  mean  to  sit  in 
darkness,  unable  to  hear  a  sound.  You 
know  that  others  are  near  you,  in  the 
same  room,  but  you  have  no  idea  where 
they  are  or  what  they  are  doing  or  say¬ 
ing.  You  cannot  safely  get  up  and  move 
about,  for  you  remember  all  the  sharp 
corners  or  edges  in  the  house.  It  is  in 
many  ways  the  strangest  feeling  in  life, 
especially  where  one  has  a  dash  of  curi¬ 
osity  or  sprightliness — like  the  Jersey 
blood  in  the  cow.  or  the  French  or  Irish 
in  the  human.  In  such  darkness  the  deaf 
are  many  times  worse  off  than  the  blind. 
I  walked  into  our  front  room,  where  I 
knew  half  a  dozen  people  were  sitting.  I 
could  not  tell  what  they  were  saying,  or 
where  they  were.  It  might  have  been 
better  if  little  Rose  had  been  there,  but 
she  was  far  away.  I  remembered  the 
case  of  my  deaf  friend  of  years  ago,  who 
called  on  his  girl  one  dark  night,  intend¬ 
ing  to  propose  to  her.  In  came  his  rival, 
one  of  those  “smart”  young  fellows. 
Their  hearing  is  good,  but  otherwise  their 
ears  might  well  be  fitted  upon  a  donkey. 
Right  in  the  middle  of  the  conversation 
the  kerosene  lamp  went  out,  and  there 
wasn’t  a  drop  of  oil  or  a  candle  in  the 
house.  Sister  Mary  started  over  to  the 
neighbor’s  house  to  borrow  some  oil.  and 
the  three  important  actors  in  the  drama 
were  left  alone  in  the  dark  !  No  use  for 
me  to  repeat  what  has  often  been  said, 
that  the  relations  between  two  men  and 
a  woman  have  done  about  as  much  to  de¬ 
velop  history  and  change  the  world  as 
anything  you  can.  think  of,  and  what  was 
a  comedy  for  one  man  and  a  tragedy  for 
the  other  was  enacted  in  the  darkness  of 
that  sitting  room.  The  deaf  man  sat 
(here  like  a  man  alone  in  the  silence.  He 
had  no  idea  what  the  others  were  talking 
about,  until  Mary  came  back  with  the  oil. 
Then,  with  the  return  of  the  light,  he 
found  that  in  the  darkness  his  girl  and 
the  other  man  had  come  to  an  under¬ 
standing  and  were  engaged !  It  was 
rough  on  the  deaf  man.  but  they  say 
“all’s  fair  in  love  or  war.”  and  the  rough 
places  were  made  smooth.  For  as  the 
light  came  my  friend  thought  he  saw  a 
silly  look  on  the  girl’s  face,  a  lack  of 
character  which  had  not  appeared  to  him 
before — while  there  was  a  look  on  sister 
Mary’s  face  which  made  him  realize  right 
there  that  this  was  the  girl  for  him  !  He 
had  not  appreciated  her — had  not  known 
what  she  was  until  that  moment. 
sj:  :jc  sje  :Je 
I  wonder  what  you  would  think  about 
if  left  in  the  dark  under  such  conditions! 
It  may  come  to  you  some  day,  and  if  you 
take  my  advice  you  will  stock  up  your 
mind  with  poetry  and  the  best  thoughts 
you  can  possibly  train.  At  such  times 
the  subconscious  pours  out  its  mental 
hoardings  like  a  flood ;  things  that  you 
have  forgotten  pass  in  tumultuous  re¬ 
view.  To  me  there  came  that  night  the 
curious  attack  upon  modern  youth  which 
I  heard  from  an  old  man  not  long  ago : 
“Why,”  he  said,  “young  folks  now  are 
too  fresh  and  wasteful.  They  all  want  to 
use  the  front  door.  'When  I  was  a  boy 
we  were  made  to  use  the  back  door,  and 
wipe  our  feet  on  the  doormat.  My  young 
folks  go  stamping  in  the  front  door,  car¬ 
rying  in  mud,  spoiling  the  carpet  and 
wearing  out  the  sills.  *We  were  taught  to 
keep  the  front  door  for  Sundays  and  fu¬ 
nerals  or  parties.  My  young  folks  have 
no  respect  for  it.  Use  it  every  day. 
“And  look  at  the  way  they  eat  but¬ 
ter  !  When  I  was  a  boy  we  had  pork 
gravy,  except  when  visitors  came,  and 
we  sold  our  butter.  Even  then  each  one 
had  a  little  pat  and  no  more.  Now  these 
young  folks  will  eat  a  chunk  of  butter  as 
big  as  a  biscuit.  They  even  eat  it  on 
doughnuts  and  ginger  bread  !  Why,  if  I 
had  done  that  when  I  was  a  boy  I’d  have 
been  whipped  for  it. 
“And  saving  money !  When  I  was  a 
boy  we  put  every  penny  into  a  bank  and 
saved  it.  You  never  caught  us  buying 
soda  water  or  candy  ;  we  had  no  allow¬ 
ance  ;  we  saved  every  cent.  Now  look  at 
what  these  young  folks  do.  Blow  in 
every  cent  they  get  for  foolishness.  ‘Hav¬ 
ing  a  good  time’  they  call  it.  What’s  a 
‘good  time’  amount  to,  I’d  like  to  know? 
“And  look  at  the  new  food  that  has 
come  in  with  all  this  fool  talk  about  ‘nu¬ 
trition.’  When  I  was  a  boy  the  women 
saved  all  the  bread  scraps  and  made  a 
fine  bread  pudding.  Now  they  say  that’s 
old-fashioned.  They  give  up  some  whip- 
ped-up  stuff,  with  no  substance  to  it.  It’s 
wrong.” 
Proper  Food  Selection 
Nourishment — Grape-Nuts  with  cream  or 
good  milk  contains  every  ele¬ 
ment  necessary  for  perfect  nu¬ 
trition. 
Digestibility —  Grape-Nuts  is  partially  pre¬ 
digested  by  20  hours’  baking. 
It  is  easily  assimilated  by  child 
or  adult. 
Flavor—  Grape-Nuts,  made  of  wheat 
and  barley,  is  sweet  with  nat¬ 
ural  sugar  self-developed  from 
the  grain  in  the  making.  It  has 
a  delightful,  nut-like  flavor. 
Character ~  Grape-Nuts  is  real  food— the 
kind  you  can  depend  upon  for 
strength  and  energy.  Its  crisp 
granules  invite  thorough  mas¬ 
tication,  thus  helping  to  keep 
the  teeth  and  gums  healthy. 
Sconomy 
'A 
m 
P 
*  si 
McJ&J  JHdlWi 
•-  ... .. 
f 
y 
Postum  CereaTf  " 
weal  Company  iK. 
_  B.lU.Cr.1,.  Muh.Us; 
& 
,  A  FOOcT~ 
t*4  **«""••»  «i  tfatt 
“wouftl,  urf  Kxftutou,  >ttr. 
■S ft 
ECONOMY 
trul  part  U  *  tuaJ  u  »«itocnt  to 
•wiury  pcn«a  Mon  uj  u  uc<  « 
mtm  *CV  tttMHT  TWtkVt  OZV 
Grape-Nuts  is  so  compact  that 
a  package  contains  many  serv¬ 
ings;  and  each  serving  pro¬ 
vides  unusual  nourishment. 
A  portion  for  the  cereal  part 
of  a  meal  costs  about  one  cent . 
Grape-Nuts 
FOR  HEALTH 
“There’s  a  Reason  ’ 
Made  \>y  Postum  Cereal  Company,  Inc., 
Battle  Creek,  Michigan. 
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 
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“You  do  truly  and  wonderfully  portray  the  life 
of  the  silent  world.  It  will  help  us  all  to  under¬ 
stand  our  own  life  better.” 
Another  reader  says : 
“it  is  a  remarkable  combination  of  the  deepest 
pathos  and  the  finest  humor.” 
Beautifully  bound  in  cloth.  288  pages. 
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