JOHN LANDIS.
The Bucks County farmer, John Landis, rather more scholarly in
appearance than men ordinarily found in agricultural districts, was
possessed of an adust complexion, caused by constant exposure to wind
and weather; tall and spare, without an ounce of superfluous fat;
energetic, and possessed of remarkable powers of endurance. He had a
kindly, benevolent expression; his otherwise plain face was redeemed
by fine, expressive brown eyes. Usually silent and preoccupied, and
almost taciturn, yet he possessed a fund of dry humor. An
old-fashioned Democrat, his wife was a Republican. He usually
accompanied Aunt Sarah to her church, the Methodist, although he was a
member of the German Reformed, and declared he had changed his
religion to please her, but change his politics, never. A member of
the Masonic Lodge, his only diversion was an occasional trip to the
city with a party of the "boys" to attend a meeting of the "Shriners."
Aunt Sarah protested. "The idea, John, at your age, being out so late
at night and returning from the city on the early milk train the
following morning, and then being still several miles from home. It's
scandalous!"
He only chuckled to himself; and what the entertainment had been,
which was provided at Lulu Temple, and which he had so thoroughly
enjoyed, was left to her imagination. His only remark when questioned
was: "Sarah, you're not in it. You are not a 'Shriner.'" And as John
had in every other particular fulfilled her ideal of what constitutes
a good husband, Sarah, like the wise woman she was, allowed the
subject to drop.
A good, practical, progressive farmer, John Landis constantly read,
studied and pondered over the problem of how to produce the largest
results at least cost of time and labor. His crops were skillfully
planted in rich soil, carefully cultivated and usually harvested
earlier than those of his neighbors. One summer he raised potatoes so
large that many of them weighed one pound each, and new potatoes and
green peas, fresh from the garden, invariably appeared on Aunt Sarah's
table the first of July, and sometimes earlier. I have known him to
raise cornstalks which reached a height of thirteen feet, which were
almost equaled by his wife's sunflower stalks, which usually averaged
nine feet in height.
Aunt Sarah, speaking one day to Mary, said: "Your Uncle John is an
unusually silent man. I have heard him remark that when people talk
continuously they are either _very_ intelligent or tell untruths." He,
happening to overhear her remark, quickly retorted:
"The man who speaks a dozen tongues,
When all is said and done,
Don't hold a match to him who knows
How to keep still in one."
When annoyed at his wife's talkativeness, her one fault in her
husband's eyes, if he thought she had a fault, he had a way of saying,
"Alright, Sarah, Alright," as much as to say "that is final; you have
said enough," in his peculiar, quick manner of speaking, which Aunt
Sarah never resented, he being invariably kind and considerate in
other respects.
John Landis was a successful farmer because he loved his work, and
found joy in it. While not unmindful of the advantages possessed by
the educated farmer of the present day, he said, "'Tis not college
lore our boys need so much as practical education to develop their
efficiency. While much that we eat and wear comes out of the ground,
we should have more farmers, the only way to lower the present high
cost of living, which is such a perplexing problem to the housewife.
There is almost no limit to what might be accomplished by some of our
bright boys should they make agriculture a study. Luther Burbank says,
'To add but one kernel of corn to each ear grown in this country in a
single year would increase the supply five million bushels.'"