to show us what you can do with a real building."
Hay making soon arrived and now that the barn had been burned, it was
necessary that the hay should be cut and stacked in the field to be
brought to the new barn later. It was fortunate, indeed, that the
implements did not arrive until the week following the destruction of
the barn and that the ones already delivered had been in the wagon
shed out of danger--consequently they were all saved.
[Illustration: THE SIDE DELIVERY RAKE FLUFFS UP THE HAY AND LETS THE
SUN DO ITS WORK QUICKLY]
[Illustration: THE SELF-LOADER MAKES POSSIBLE THE QUICK STORAGE OF
PROPERLY CURED HAY AND SAVES TONS OF MAN-LIFTING POWER]
While Joe Williams was sorry to lose his barn, yet in a way he was
glad, now that it was gone, for it had always been an eyesore,
standing there between the house and the main road. While his wife,
too, felt sorry for the loss, she was secretly happy that she could
now carry out her plans and build a new house where the old barn had
stood, giving it the prominence it should have. Her husband was sure
this had been in her mind when they located the dairy house, for he
saw it was in the right place to be a part of the group of buildings.
Ruth was in the hay field every day now, helping her uncle with the
work. This work seemed to delight her more than anything she had found
on the farm. She was very busy driving the hay rake one day when John
White's runabout drove up into the barnyard. The banker, however, was
not in the car. His nephew, Eddie Brown, and his chum, Herbert Potter,
were the occupants. Bob, with Tony and four of the neighbors' boys,
were putting the finishing touches on the cow barn and saw them
coming. He was not particularly interested in them; they did not like
farm work any more than he liked them, and their coming always annoyed
him. He was evidently not to be bothered with their society, however,
for they went into the house, and a few minutes later he saw them
going over to the hay field, where Ruth and her uncle were working.
Bob was so busy with his work that he had practically forgotten them
until he looked over and saw Edith at the apiary examining the bees.
With her was Eddie Brown, and Bob smiled as he noticed that Eddie was
standing at a safe distance from the hives.
It was perhaps a quarter of an hour later when Bob again looked over
into the hay field and saw the two boys with pitchforks turning hay,
in a portion of the field that was swampy and full of elderberry
bushes. He was still watching them when he saw Eddie use his fork to
strike at something in the air and a moment later his friend Herbert
did the same thing. Then as he and his helpers watched, the boys
seemed to be striking all around them with their pitchforks. Suddenly
Eddie and Herbert fell to the ground and began to roll, and Bob saw
his uncle stop the team, jump from the mower and rush over in their
direction.
There was no further doubt in Bob's mind what was going on. As soon as
his uncle had gotten near them, he took a bundle of hay and struck in
all directions as he rushed in and got one of the boys by his legs and
started to drag him out.
Ruth, not to be outdone by her uncle, stopped her horse and rushed
back and grabbed Eddie Brown's legs and started to pull him away. She
no sooner had hold of his legs than she snatched off her straw hat and
began waving it frantically around in the air, then turned and rushed
for the house as fast as she could go.
Bob looked to see what had become of Edith, and noticed her leaning
against a tree near the apiary. Even at the distance he was from her,
he could tell she was enjoying the situation as much as himself.
There was no question of what had happened. The boys had stirred up a
nest of swamp bumble bees, and instead of running away from them had
stopped to fight them. It suddenly occurred to Bob that his uncle
liked these two boys about as much as he liked them himself, and he
figured it was perhaps for this reason his uncle had forgotten the
existence of the bumble bees, that he doubtless located when he ran
the mower over them. Perhaps it was also for this reason he would not
let Ruth rake there, but instead set the boys at work with forks.
As he watched, Bob saw them all go down to the brook where his uncle
dabbed wet clay on the stings and where a few minutes later Edith
joined them and escorted them back to the house.
Ruth was so badly stung that she was ill and her aunt put her to bed
at once. The boys sat on the porch for a while, the picture of
distress, listening to Edith narrate the story of the fight. Both of
Herbert's eyes were swollen tight shut and Eddie was able to see out
of only one of his. After sitting restlessly on the porch for a half
hour, they got into their car and started for home.
"What are you laughing at, Tony?" asked Bob, as they watched the car
disappear down the lane.
"The boys no-a like-a da work, and-a the bees they no-a like-a da
boys."
"I guess that's about right," said Bob; "we probably won't see them
again for some time."
XX
GOOD ROADS
As the Fourth of July approached, John White, the banker, and Joe
Williams, proprietor of Brookside Farm, held a number of conferences.
It was finally decided to celebrate the Fourth with a picnic on the
farm.
"I don't think we'll make it exactly a day of rest though," said the
banker, "for I notice your wheat is just about ready for cutting, Joe.
Why not use the tractor to draw your new binder instead of the team."
"I'll have to do that anyway, whether I want to or not," smiled Joe.
"How's that?" asked the banker.
"Well, we have two of the finest little Belgian colts you've ever
seen," he replied.
"Indeed!" exclaimed the banker. "They will be worth money to you."
"Yes," said Joe Williams, "those colts will easily bring from $150 to
$250 by next spring."
"Now, you can see why it pays to keep good stock, Joe," said the
banker. "No farmer should waste feed on horses that weigh less than
1600 pounds--from that on up to 2000 pounds is the coming horse in
this country. Look what a difference there is in their capacity for
work and a large horse really eats little more than a small scrub."
After some discussion it was decided that the County Commissioners
should be invited to the picnic, also a representative of the Portland
Cement Association, to tell them about the making of concrete roads,
and that Mr. Patterson, too, should be included in the invitation.
Shortly after moving to town, Bob's grandparents had gone for an
extended visit to their relatives and had just returned to their new
home a few days before the picnic, so on the morning of the Fourth,
the first to arrive at Brookside were his grandparents. Bob was not
only delighted to see them, but fully enjoyed their surprise at the
changed appearance of the farm. Of course, the loss of the barn was
one of the things that made the farm look different, but the neat wire
fence, with its self-opening gates at the main road, the new buildings
which were fast taking shape, and the replacing of the old pond with a
field of fine growing corn, all helped to give the farm a changed
look.
Bob's grandmother had evidently changed her mind regarding the son's
trip to the poorhouse. Her rest from farm labor and the long visit
among old friends had rekindled her interest in all things. She was as
eager as a child and listened keenly as Bob took them from building to
building and showed what had been done and explained the details and
new devices; also the other buildings that were contemplated. His
grandmother was delighted, most of all with the dairy and hen house.
"I tell you, Bob," she said, "you've certainly made the work light for
a woman on this farm, and I'm glad now that Joe has been able to put
in a modern farm equipment. I suppose the next thing you'll be doing
will be to put up a new house and barn."
"Oh, yes, we've arranged that already, grandmother," said Bob. "You
see, when the lightning struck the old barn we didn't have our plans
made or anything, so after John White and Uncle Joe talked it over
they decided to get Mr. Brady, the contractor, to help them out with
the buildings. It would have been a pretty big job for Tony and me to
get them all up this summer."
"You've really accomplished wonders already, Bob, with the dairy
house, hen house and cow barn," said his grandmother.
"These are the contractor's tools and materials over here, grandma,"
said Bob; "he says he's going to have all the buildings finished by
September first."
"Not the new house, Bob?"
"Well, it may take longer for that building, as the house will have to
be plastered and painted, but he has agreed to have the barn up by the
first of September and the house not later than the first of November.
They're all going to be of concrete and fireproof, too, like our
smaller buildings," he said proudly.
"They must be costing a good deal, Bob."
"Not so much, grandma; the contract price for the barn is $2000 and
the house $4500."
[Illustration: THE ELECTRIC-DRIVEN LAUNDRY PERMITS THE WIFE TO KEEP
PACE WITH HER TRACTOR-DRIVING HUSBAND AND BANISHES BLUE MONDAYS]
"My, Bob, that's a terrible amount of money to spend for two
buildings."
"Yes, but wait till you see all we're getting out of the farm this
year, grandma. Now, come over and see the laundry we've fitted up in
the old wash house. Of course, we'll have a real laundry in the new
house, but this will give you some idea of what it will be like," he
said, as he opened the door and showed her in. "This is the washing
machine and wringer, and this is the mangle."
"Why, what's the mangle for?" she asked.
"Oh, that's the machine for ironing the clothes," answered Bob. "They
all run by electricity, too. The waste water from the pond runs a
turbine water wheel and that's connected by a belt to an electric
generator, a machine for changing mechanical energy to electrical
energy, you know; and all we need to do is to throw this switch over
and the wheel starts turning down at the pond and we have current. Of
course, at night we take the current from the storage batteries for
lights, after we shut down the wheel, but these motors require too
much current to use the batteries for them, economically."
"Why, do you have electric lights in the house, Bob?" she asked.
"Not in the house, grandma--only in the new buildings, and the
laundry. We didn't think it would pay to put the lights in the house
for only a few weeks in the summer, when we'll soon have our new house
finished, but, of course, there'll be electric lights in the new
house."
"Well, Bob, it's certainly wonderful the way things have changed in
such a short time. I was admiring your bees as we came up the new
drive. The white hives certainly look nice sitting over there under
the green trees, and such a lot of white chickens, Bob. I never saw so
many in one place in my life before. How many have you now?"
"Almost 1000, grandma," he replied proudly. "Edith mostly looks after
them and the bees."
"What will you do with so many, Bob?"
"Oh, we'll sell a lot and keep some for laying. Just wait till you see
our books next spring--you'll see how it pays."
At eleven o'clock the neighbors began to arrive in automobiles,
buggies and wagons; each brought a full basket with them. Bob's aunt,
Maria and the two girls were as busy as bees in the kitchen preparing
coffee and lemonade, and Bob's nose detected the odor of fried
chicken.
Joe Williams had taken the tractor and binder and gone to the wheat
field and was busy cutting his wheat. As fast as the farmers arrived,
they adjourned to the field to see the tractor work. As the wheat
field was not far from the meadows, they all had a chance to see Bob's
apiary, where Tony was busy hiving a colony of bees that had swarmed
that morning.
At twelve o'clock Joe Williams stopped the tractor and came over to
join his guests. Lunch was served under the trees surrounding the
house. As soon as they were all assembled, the baskets were opened and
Bob's aunt and the girls served the hot coffee, lemonade and fried
chicken. When the dinner was finished, John White, who was accompanied
by his wife, Mr. Patterson and a strange gentleman, arose and said:
"We have gathered here at Brookside Farm to renew old acquaintances
and make new ones, and I know no better day on which to strike a blow
for liberty from hard work than the day on which we celebrate our
National Liberty.
"Before going into the details of how you may gain that liberty, we
are going to sing 'America'; then after that we're going to sing a new
song composed by one of the young ladies living here at Brookside
Farm--Miss Edith Atwood. She has made copies of the words so you can
all help sing it; you'll find the tune easy and perhaps familiar to
some of you. Let's stand while we sing 'America'," and as they arose
Tony stepped forward with his flute and led off with the tune.
"Wait! wait!" exclaimed the banker; "you're all free men, singing your
National Hymn. Don't be afraid to sing out--there isn't a third of you
singing. Now let's get together and ALL sing--sing like the free men
we are and intend to remain. All ready!" and he led off with a fine
baritone voice.
There was not a person there who did not sing his best and it was
surprising how many good voices there were among them. When they had
finished and seated themselves, Ruth passed around the copies of the
new song. Much against her protest, she was wearing a dress to-day.
"Now we'll try the new song," said the banker, "but first we'll have
Tony play the air through so that you may learn the tune. All ready--
now let's have the song," and as Tony started the air again they sang:
OH, HAPPY, HAPPY FARMER (Tune, "Oh, Mother Dear Jerusalem") Oh, do you
know the joy that comes from living on a farm, When you have power to
do your work, and steam to keep you warm?
Oh, happy, happy farmer, his life is free from care--An auto in his
garage, and good roads everywhere.
They sang it with a will--not once but three times.
"That's a good song," said the banker; "one with a sermon, and that's
the kind that lasts. I hope you'll all remember it. I want to
congratulate Miss Atwood on the happy thought so ably expressed by the
song.
"Now I want to talk to you men for a few minutes. Some of you were
here last spring when we made Joe Williams doubly happy while he was
away getting married, by doing his spring plowing by power. You have
seen his tractor working this morning in the wheat field, and you can
all judge of the advantage of the use of power by the acreage he cut
since morning. Most of you have also looked at the new concrete
buildings that Joe Williams has erected here at Brookside, and you
must all admit that they are well designed and well-built, permanent
buildings. Of course, the cow barn is not quite finished, and the main
barn and the house will not be finished until fall, but the work has
proceeded far enough so you can get a good idea of what it's going to
mean to Joe Williams and his goodwife to have these conveniences to
work with. Just look out into the barnyard there at that array of
machinery; it looks almost like machinery hall at the State Fair, and
I want to tell you men that there's not a piece of machinery in that
whole lot that you should not have on your own farms, and you can get
them just the same as Joe Williams got his, if you want them. It
doesn't pay to work with poor tools, any more than it pays to get a
half crop where you could get a full crop if you managed rightly. Good
tools reduce labor and increase speed so that you can accomplish a
great deal more with less work than with a poor outfit. Not one of you
could drive by that new fence, with concrete posts, on the main road
this morning, without realizing the permanent nature of it, and
without wishing you had your own farm fenced in the same way.
"I don't suppose you men appreciate the fact that the wire fence on
concrete posts costs only $2 per rod, which is $1 a rod less than a
five-board-high fence with chestnut posts would cost. Did you ever
stop to figure up how many actual hours you spend each year cleaning
out your fence rows? Compare that time with the labor spent on
producing potatoes and figure out how many more bushels you could have
raised this year if you had spent that time looking after them rather
than looking after your fences. Speaking of that, did you ever see a
finer field of corn in your life than the old pond bottom is producing
this year? Do you know that the corn there is already forty per cent.
higher than the corn in the adjoining field, and that they are raising
four stalks to the hill in that field instead of three in the other
field--and that's a thirty-three per cent. increase right there.
"Here's a hen house that will easily accommodate five hundred laying
hens. Do you ladies appreciate what that will mean to 'Aunt' Bettie
Williams this winter, selling eggs when all your hens have quit
laying? I want you ladies while you're here to talk with her; she'll
be glad to tell you about her plans. If any of you ever saw a better
dairy in your life, I'd like to have the address of it. You can see
what it would mean to you to have such a dairy house of your own, and
the whole thing, including the icehouse, cream separator, etc., only
cost $450. If you would like to get a similar equipment and didn't
have a penny and had to borrow the cost from the First National Bank,
and pay interest at the rate of six per cent, it would mean only $27
a year, or the wool from four sheep. I want you all to see the herd of
Holstein cows before you go away to-night. One cow alone is averaging
twenty quarts per day from pasture land, which will mean nearly thirty
quarts per day when they are stabled and the feeding can be
regulated."
[Illustration: WELL-BUILT CONCRETE ROADS BRING THE MARKETS AND YOUR
NEIGHBORS NEARER, INCREASE THE VALUE OF THE FARMS AND START AN
EPIDEMIC OF NEW FENCES WITH CLEAN FENCE ROWS]
At the mention of this amount of milk, all the farmers looked at each
other.
"How many cows does it take to give that much milk?" asked one of
them.
"Just one," replied the banker, "and, besides this one, there are
several others that give almost as much.
"While I wanted you to inspect the new buildings and see the cattle
and machinery--that is not the main reason I asked you to come to
Brookside to-day. We are fortunate to have with us Mr. Barth, of the
Portland Cement Association, whom I have asked to speak to you briefly
on the advantages of good roads."
"It has been a great pleasure for me to be permitted to be a part of
this gathering here at Brookside Farm," said Mr. Barth, "particularly
as the subject I have to discuss bears directly on the possibility of
such gatherings.
"Good roads, my friends, like good manners, commend themselves
wherever used. It is very noticeable along improved roads the tendency
of the farmers to improve the appearance of their homes and other
buildings. In fact, the presence of good roads seems many times to
stimulate latent self-respect into practical expression. Social
institutions, such as schools, churches and public amusements, are
more or less dependent in the country upon road conditions. Think what
it would mean to you to have a consolidated school where the more
advanced grades and even high school subjects could be taught, a
building containing an auditorium, where you could meet any season of
the year. I have attended many concerts and even listened to grand
opera singers, but I want to say right here I've never had my heart
stirred by music before as it has been stirred here this afternoon.
Think of the advantages to a community of being able to develop the
talent displayed here--what it would mean to you people yourselves to
be able to get together, especially in the winter, and sing. What a
great benefit and uplift it would be in any community.
"Now, good roads make consolidated schools possible and give you these
advantages.
"Take the benefits you now derive from rural free delivery of mail--
the happiness and home comforts it has brought; nothing contributes so
much to its efficiency and regularity as good roads.
"It is a matter of common observation that when any community has
passed from a condition dominated by bad roads to a condition which is
characterized by good roads, land values in that community advance.
The cost of hauling farm produce to market is probably not so much
increased by the grades as by the bad condition of the road surface.
The trouble with unimproved earth roads is that they are muddy for
many months in the year.
"Do you know that you can haul six times as much over a good concrete
road surface as you can through average mud? Or putting it another
way, for the same load hauled one mile in mud, you can go six miles
over concrete.
"The Bureau of Statistics of the Department of Agriculture has
collected much data that shows the waste of time and money by farmers
using dirt roads.
"Why has Joe Williams put power all over Brookside Farm? I'll tell
you: for the same reason that you men are going to put it on your
farms next year--not because the work is made easier, but because it
saves time--lets one man do easily the work of three or four. That's
why. Do you want to spend six hours hauling a load from town to your
farm, or from your farm to town, when you can do it in one hour?
That's what they mean when they tell you about conserving man power.
Good roads and only good roads will do that for you.
"Now, just a moment more and I am through. There are a number of
different materials for the construction of road beds, but in the
speaker's opinion none that will give the universal satisfaction of
well-placed concrete. In your community, roads should not cost over
$1.75 to $2 per square yard. One thing I would advise you not to do:
don't make your roads too narrow. Remember the sides should have well-
built shoulders, well graded away from the sides of the road bed.
Don't use less than a width of twenty feet--you'll always be glad you
had the foresight to make them wide enough. I thank you."
"The next three speakers," said the banker, "you all know; they are
your County Commissioners. They are modest men, every one of them, and
don't like to make speeches, so I have promised to let them off with
just a short announcement. I believe Mr. Wilson has something to say
to you."