American Agriculturist, September 1,1923 
147 
The Brown Mouse —By Herbert Quick 
^T'vAT sounds good,” cried Haakon Peterson. “Ve’ll do dat!” 
JL ) “Then I want you to work out a building scheme for the school,” Jim went 
on. “We want a place where the girls can learn to cook, keep house, take care of 
babies, sew and learn to be wives and mothers. We want a place in which Mrs. 
Hansen can come to show them how to cure meat—she’s the best hand at that in 
the county—where Mrs. Bonner can teach them to make bread and pastry—she 
ought to be given a doctor’s degree for that—where Mrs. Woodruff can teach them 
the cooking of turkeys, Mrs. Peterson the way to give the family a balanced ration, 
and Mrs. Simms induct them into the mysteries of weaving rag rugs and, making 
jellies and preserves—you can all learn these things from her. There’s somebody 
right in this neighborhood able to teach anything the young people want to learn. 
“And I want a physician here once in a while to examine the children as to their 
health, and a dentist to look after their teeth and teach them how to care for them. 
Also an oculist to examine their eyes. And when Bettina Hansen comes home from 
the hospital a trained nurse, I want her to have a job as visiting nurse right here in 
the Woodruif District. 
“I want a counting-room for the keep¬ 
ing of the farm accounts and the record 
of our observation in farming. I want 
cooperation in letting us have these ac¬ 
counts. / 
“I want some manual training equip¬ 
ment for wood-working and metal work¬ 
ing, and a blacksmith and wagon shop, 
in which the boys may learn to shoe 
horses, repair tools, design buildings, 
and practice the best agricultural engi¬ 
neering. I want some land for actual 
farming, and I want your cooperation 
in a poultry plant somewhere in the 
district. I want a laboratory in which 
we can work on seeds, pests, soils, feeds 
and The like. 
“I want these things because they are 
necessary if we are to get the culture 
out of life we should get—and nobody 
gets culture out of any sort of school— 
they get it out of life, or they don’t get 
it at all. 
“The school I ask for will make each 
of you more money than the taxes it 
will require would make if invested in 
your farm equipment. If you are not 
convinced of this, don’t bother with me 
any longer. 
“TWANT all these things, and more. 
X But I don’t expect them all at once. 
I know that this district is too small 
to do all of them, and therefore, I am 
going to tell you of another want which 
will tempt you to think that I am crazy. 
I want a bigger district—one that will 
give us the financial strength to carry 
out the program I have sketched. This 
may be a presumptuous thing for me to 
propose; but the whole situation here 
to-night is presumptuous on my part, I 
fear. If you think so, let me go; but 
if you don’t, please keep this meeting 
together in a permanent organization 
of grown-up members of the Woodruff 
school, and by pulling together, you can 
do these things—all of them—and many 
more—and you’ll make the Woodruff 
District a good place to live in and die 
in—and I shall be proud to live and die 
in it at your service, as the neighbor¬ 
hood’s hired man!” 
As Jim sat down there was a hush 
in the crowded room, as if the people 
were dazed at his assurance. There was 
no applause, until Jennie Woodruff, now 
seen by Jim for the first time over next 
the blackboard, clapped her gloved 
hands together and started it; then it 
swept out through the windows in a 
storm. The dust rose from stamping 
feet until the kerosene lamps were 
dimmed by it. And as the noise sub¬ 
sided, Jim saw standing out in front 
the stooped form of B. B. Hamm, one 
of the most prosperous men in the dis¬ 
trict. 
“Mr. Chairman—Ezra Bronson,” he 
roared, “this feller’s crazy, an’ from the 
sound of things, you’re all as crazy as 
he is. If this fodl scheme of his goes 
through, my farm’s for sale! I’ll quit 
before I’m sold out for taxes!” 
“Just a minute, B. B.!” interposed 
Colonel Woodruff. “This ain’t as dan¬ 
gerous as you think. You don’t want 
us to do all this in fifteen minutes, do 
you, Jim?” 
“Oh, as to that,” replied Jim, “I just 
wanted you to have in your minds what 
I have in my mind—and unless we can 
agree to work toward these things 
there’s no use in my staying. But time 
—that’s another matter. Believe with 
me, and I’ll work with you.” 
“Get out of here!” said the colonel to 
Jim in an undertone, “and leave the rest 
to your friends.” 
Jim walked out of the room and took 
the way toward his home. A horse 
tied to the hitching-pole had his blanket 
finder fcot, and Jim replaced it on his 
back, patting him kindly and talking 
horse language to him. Then he went 
up and down the line of teams, read¬ 
justing blankets, tying loosened knots, 
and assuring himself that his neighbors’ 
horses were securely tied and comfort¬ 
able. He knew horses better than he 
knew people, he thought. 
Two figures emerged from the school- 
house door, and as he turned toward 
his home after his pastoral calls on the 
horses, they overtook him. They were 
the figures of Newton Bronson and the 
county superintendent of schools. 
“We were coming after you,” said 
Jennie. 
“Dad wants you back there again,” 
said Newton. 
“What for?” inquired Jim. 
“You silly boy,” said Jennie, “you 
talked about the good of the schools all 
of the time, and never said a word 
about your own salary! What do you 
want? They want to know?” 
“Oh!” exclaimed Jim in the manner 
of one who suddenly remembers that he 
has forgotten his umbrella or his pocket- 
knife. “I haven’t thought about that 
at all, Jennie!” 
“Jim,” said she, “you need a guard¬ 
ian!” 
“I know it, Jennie,” said he, “and I 
know who I want. I want—” 
“Please come back,” said Jennie, 
“and tell papa how much you’re going 
to hold the district up for.” 
“You run back,” said Jim to Newton, 
“and tell your father that whatever is 
right in the way of salary will be satis¬ 
factory to me. I leave that to the 
people.” 
Newton darted off, leaving the school¬ 
master standing in the road with the 
county superintendent. 
“I can’t go back there!” said Jim. 
“I’m proud of you, Jim,” said Jen¬ 
nie. “This community has found its 
master. They can’t do all you ask now, 
nor very soon; but finally they’ll do 
just as you want them to do. And, 
Jim, I want to say that I’ve been the 
biggest little fool in the county!” 
CHAPTER XXII 
AN EMBASSY FROM DIXIE 
S UPERINTENDENT JENNIE sat 
at her desk in no very satisfactory 
frame of mind. In the first place court 
was to convene on the following Mon¬ 
day, and both grand jury and petit 
juries would be in session, so that her 
one-room office was not to be hers for 
a few days. Her desk was even now 
ready to be moved into the hall by the 
janitor. To Wilbur Smythe, who did 
her the honor of calling occasionally, 
she remarked that if they didn’t soon 
build the new court-house so as to give 
her such accommodations as her office 
really needed, “they might take their 
old office—so there!” 
“Fair woman,” said Wilbur, as he 
creased his Prince Albert in a parting 
bow, “should adorn the home!” 
“Bosh!” sneered Jennie, rather 
pleased, all the same, “suppose she 
isn’t fair, and hasn’t any home!” 
This question of adorning a home 
was no nearer settlement with Jennie 
than it had ever been, though increas¬ 
ingly a matter of speculation. 
There were two or three men— 
rather good catches, too—who, if they 
were encouraged—but what was there 
to any of them? Take Wilbur Smythe, 
now; he would by sheer force of per¬ 
sistent assurance and fair abilities 
eventually get a good practice for a 
country lawyer—three or four thou¬ 
sand a year—serve in the Legislature 
or the State Senate, and finally be¬ 
come a bank director with a goodly 
standing as a safe business man; but 
what was there to him? This is what 
Jennie asked her paper-weight as she 
placed it on a pile of unfinished ex¬ 
amination papers. And the paper¬ 
weight echoed, “Not a thing out of the 
ordinary!” And then, said Jennie, 
“Well, you little simpleton, who and 
what are you so out of the ordinary 
that you should sneer at Wilbur 
Smythe and Beckman Fifield and such 
men?” And echo answered, “What?” 
—and then' the mail-carrier came in. 
Down near the bottom of the pile 
she found this letter, signed by a 
southern State superintendent of 
schools, but dated at Kirksville, Mis¬ 
souri: 
“I am a member of a party of south¬ 
ern educators—State superintendents 
in the main,” the letter ran, “en tour 
of the country to see what we can find 
of an instructive nature in rural school 
work. I assure you that we are being 
richly repaid for the time and expense. 
There are things going on in the 
schools here in northeastern Missouri, 
for instance, which merit much study. 
We have met Professor Withers, of 
Ames, who suggests that we visit your 
schools, and especially the rural school 
taught by a young man named Irwin, 
and I wonder if you will be free on 
next Monday morning, if we come to 
your office, to direct us to the place? 
If you could accompany us on the trip, 
and perhaps show us some of your 
other excellent schools, we should be 
honored and pleased.” 
T HERE was more of this courteous 
and deferential letter, all giving 
Jennie a sense of being saluted by a 
fine gentleman in satin and ruffles, and 
with a plume on his hat. And then 
came the shock—a party of State of¬ 
ficials were coming into the county to 
study Jim Irwin’s school! They would 
never come to study Wilbur Smythe’s 
law practice—or her work as county 
superintendent—never!—and Jim was 
getting seventy-five dollars a month, 
and had a mother to support. More¬ 
over, he was getting more than he had 
asked when the colonel had told him 
to “hold the district up!” But there 
could be no doubt that there was some¬ 
thing to Jim—the man was out of the 
ordinary. 
Jennie wired to her southerner for 
the number of his party, and secured 
automobiles for the trip. She sent a 
note to Jim Irwin telling of the pros¬ 
pective visitation. 
She was glad of the automobiles the 
next Monday morning, when at nine- 
thirty the train discharged upon her 
a dozen very alert, very up-to-date, 
very inquisitive southerners, male and 
female, most of whom seemed to have 
left their “r’s” in the gulf region. It 
was eleven when the party parked 
their machines before the schoolhouse 
door. 
“There are visitors here before us,” 
said Jennie. 
“Seems rather like an educational 
shrine,” said Doctor Brathwayt, of 
Mississippi. “How does he accommo¬ 
date so many visitors in that small 
edifice?” 
Once inside, Jennie felt a queer re¬ 
turn of her old aversion to Jim’s meth¬ 
ods. It was so utterly unlike a school 
as Jennie understood the word, that 
she glanced back at the group of edu¬ 
cators with a little blush. The school 
was in a sort of uproar. Not that up¬ 
roar of boredom and mischief of which 
most of us have familiar memories, 
but a sort of eager uproar, in which 
every child was intensely interested in 
the same thing; and did little rustling 
things because of this interest; some¬ 
thing like the hum at a football game 
or a dog-fight. 
On one side of the desk stood Jim 
Irwin, and facing him was a smooth 
stranger of the old-fashioned light¬ 
ning-rod-agent type—the shallower and 
laxer sort of salesman of the kind 
whose sole business is to get signa¬ 
tures on the dotted line, and let some 
one else do the rest. 
Standing back of him in evident dis¬ 
tress was Mr. Cornelius Bonner, and 
grouped about were Columbus Brown, 
B. B. Hamm, Ezra Bronson, A. B. Tal- 
(Continued on page 148) 
to eidvertising 
W HY is a man who travels 
only at night like an 
unadvertised product? 
Sounds like a sticker but its 
not half as hard to answer as 
you might think. 
The man who travels only 
at night doesn’t dare show his 
face in the light of day, and an 
unadvertised product doesn’t 
dare show itself in the light 
of publicity. 
They are both things to be 
avoided. 
You certainly wouldn’t 
trust the night prowler in your 
house — but how about the 
unadvertised product, the 
product that doest dare show 
its face in print ? 
When you get right down 
to brass tacks there isn’t much 
difference. 
A good product always in¬ 
creases its sales by good 
advertising, but a poor one 
inevitably fails if it advertises. 
There’s a sound reason for 
this: No matter how extensive 
or good the advertising of a 
product may be, still if the 
product itself isn’t exception¬ 
ally good people won’t buy 
it a second time; no more 
than they would trust a man 
the second time after they 
caught him lying once. 
To sell a product in adver¬ 
tising, you |have to give it a 
pretty good reputation; you 
have to say mighty nice things 
about it and claim all kinds 
of superior qualities for it. 
Then when people try it and 
it doesn’t live up to its claims, 
naturally they won’t buy it 
a second time. 
Manufacturers know this— 
or they ought to by now. So 
when they have a mighty good 
product to sell they’re not 
afraid to advertise it, because 
they know that publicity will 
increase its sales. All they 
have to do is to introduce it 
to people and they’ll buy it 
again and again. 
But, if their product isn’t the 
best, and wouldn’t live up to the 
good things they would have to say 
about it in an advertisement, they 
know that they would only lose 
money by advertising, for once tried, 
no one would buy the thing again. 
And if people only buy a product 
once the best advertising in the 
world won’t pay. 
The • answer is simple. In the 
long run you protect yourself by 
buying advertised products. May¬ 
be you’ll get stung once or even 
twice, but not nearly as often as if 
you bought just any old thing that 
came your way. 
Does it pay to give a thought to 
advertising? Just try and see. Then 
we’ll bet that you’ll agree, it pays 
many times over in just saving you 
from buying poor worthless stuff— 
for you’ll find that advertising acts 
as a guide to the good things in life 
Jldvertising ^Manager 
