HOUSE-CLEANING
After dinner I telephoned the veterinary surgeon that I wanted another
team. He replied that he thought he knew of one that would suit, and
that he would let me know the next day. I also telephoned two "want
ads." to a morning paper, one for an experienced farm-hand, the other
for a woman to do general housework in the country. Polly was to
interview the women who applied, and I was to look after the men. That
night I slept like a hired man.
Out of the dozen who applied the next day I accepted a Swede by the name
of Anderson. He was about thirty, tall, thin, and nervous. He did not
fit my idea of a stockman, but he looked like a worker, and as I could
furnish the work we soon came to terms.
A few words more about Anderson. He proved a worker indeed. He had an
insatiable appetite for work, and never knew when to quit. He was not
popular at the farm, for he was too eager in the morning to start and
too loath in the evening to stop. His unbridled passion for work was a
thing to be deplored, as it kept him thin and nervous. I tried to
moderate this propensity, but with no result. Anderson could not be
trusted with horses, or, indeed, with animals of any kind, for he made
them as nervous as himself; but in all other kinds of work he was the
best man ever at Four Oaks. He worked for me nearly three years, and
then suddenly gave out from a pain in his left chest and shortness of
breath. I called a physician for poor Anderson, and the diagnosis was
dilatation of the heart from over-exercise.
"A rare disease among farm-hands, Dr. Williams," said Dr. High, but my
conscience did not fully forgive me. I asked Anderson to stay at the
farm and see what could be done by rest and care. He declined this, as
well as my offer to send him to a hospital. He expressed the liveliest
gratitude for kindnesses received and others offered, but he said he
must be independent and free. He had nearly $1200 in a savings bank in
the city, and he proposed to use it, or such portion of it as was
necessary. I saw him two months later. He was better, but not able to
work. Hearing nothing from him for three years, a year ago I called at
the bank where I knew he had kept his savings. They had sent sums of
money to him, once to Rio Janeiro and once to Cape Town. For two years
he had not been heard from. Whether he is living or dead I do not know.
I only know that a valuable man and a unique farm-hand has disappeared.
I never think of Anderson without wishing I had been more severe with
him,--more persistent in my efforts to wean him from his real passion.
Peace to his ashes, if he be ashes.
That same day I telephoned the Agricultural Implement Company to send me
another wagon, with harness and equipment for the team. The veterinary
surgeon reported that he had a span of mares for me to look at, but I
was too much engaged that day to inspect the team, and promised to do so
on the next.
When I reached home, Polly said she had found nothing in the way of a
general housework girl for the country. She had seen nine women who
wished to do all other kinds of work, but none to fit her wants.
"What do they come for if they don't want the place we described? Do
they expect we are to change our plans of life to suit their personal
notions?" she asked.
"It's hard to say what they came for or what they want. Their ways are
past finding out. We will put in another 'ad.' and perhaps have better
luck."
Wednesday, the 7th, I went to see the new team. I found a pair of
flea-bitten gray Flemish mares, weighing about twenty-eight hundred
pounds. They were four years old, short of leg and long of body, and
looked fit. The surgeon passed them sound, and said he considered them
well worth the price asked,--$300. I was pleased with the team, and
remembered a remark I had heard as a boy from an itinerant Methodist
minister at a time when the itinerant minister was supposed to know all
there was to know about horse-flesh. This was his remark: "There was
never a flea-bitten mare that was a poor horse." In spite of its
ambiguity, the saying made an impression from which I never recovered. I
always expected great things from flea-bitten grays.
The team, wagon, harness, etc., added $395 to the debit account against
the farm. Polly secured her girl,--a green German who had not been long
enough in America to despise the country.
"She doesn't know a thing about our ways," said Polly, "but Mrs.
Thompson can train her as she likes. If you can spend time enough with
green girls, they are apt to grow to your liking."
On Thursday I saw Anderson and the new team safely started for the farm.
Then Polly, the new girl, and I took train for the most interesting spot
on earth.
Soon after we arrived I lost sight of Polly, who seemed to have business
of her own. I found the mason and his men at work on the cellar wall,
which was almost to the top of the ground. The house was on wheels, and
had made most of its journey. The house mover was in a rage because he
had to put the house on a hole instead of on solid ground, as he had
expected. "I have sent for every stick of timber and every cobbling
block I own, to get this house over that hole; there's no money in this
job for me; you ought to have dug the cellar after the house was
placed," said he.
I made friends with him by agreeing to pay $30 more for the job. The
house was safely placed, and by Saturday night the foundation walls were
finished.
Sam and Zeb had made a good beginning on the ploughing, the teams were
doing well for green ones, and the men seemed to understand what good
ploughing meant. Thompson and Johnson had spent parts of two days in the
potato patches in deadly conflict with the bugs.
"We've done for most of them this time," said Thompson, "but we'll have
to go over the ground again by Monday."
The next piece of work was to clear the north forty (lots 1 to 5) of all
fences, stumps, stones, and rubbish, and all buildings except the
cottage. The barn was to be torn down, and the horses were to be
temporarily stabled in the old barn on the home lot. Useful timbers and
lumber were to be snugly piled, the manure around the barns was to be
spread under the old apple trees, which were in lot No. 1, and
everything not useful was to be burned. "Make a clean sweep, and leave
it as bare as your hand," I told Thompson. "It must be ready for the
plough as soon as possible."
Judson, the man with the buggy, reported at noon. He came with bag and
baggage, but not with buggy, and said that he came to stay.
"Thompson," said I, "you are to put Judson in charge of the roan team to
follow the boys when they are far enough ahead of him. In the meantime
he and the team will be with you and Johnson in this house-cleaning. By
to-morrow night Anderson and the new team will get in, and they, too,
will help on this job. I want you to take personal charge of the gray
team,--neither Johnson nor Anderson is the right sort to handle horses.
The new team will do the trucking about and the regular farm work, while
the other three are kept steadily at the ploughs and harrows."
The cleaning of the north forty proved a long job. Four men and two
teams worked hard for ten days, and then it was not finished. By that
time the ploughmen had finished 6 and 7, and were ready to begin on No.
1. Judson, with the roans and harrows, was sent to the twenty acres of
ploughed ground, and Zeb and his team were put at the cleaning for three
days, while Sam ploughed the six acres of old orchard with a
_shallow-set_ plough. The feeding roots of these trees would have been
seriously injured if we had followed the deep ploughing practised in the
open. By August 24 about two hundred loads of manure from the
barn-yards, the accumulation of years, had been spread under the apple
trees, and I felt sure it was well bestowed. Manuring, turning the sod,
pruning, and spraying, ought to give a good crop of fruit next year.
We had several days of rain during this time, which interfered somewhat
with the work, but the rains were gratefully received. I spent much of
my time at Four Oaks, often going every day, and never let more than two
days pass without spending some hours on the farm. To many of my friends
this seemed a waste of time. They said, "Williams is carrying this fad
too far,--spending too much time on it."
Polly did not agree with them, neither did I. Time is precious only as
we make it so. To do the wholesome, satisfying thing, without direct or
indirect injury to others, is the privilege of every man. To the charge
of neglecting my profession I pleaded not guilty, for my profession had
dismissed me without so much as saying "By your leave." I was obliged to
change my mode of life, and I chose to be a producer rather than a
consumer of things produced by others. I was conserving my health,
pleasing my wife, and at the same time gratifying a desire which had
long possessed me. I have neither apology to make nor regret to record;
for as individuals and as a family we have lived healthier, happier,
more wholesome, and more natural lives on the farm than we ever did in
the city, and that is saying much.