barring none," said the speaker, by way of introduction. "If any one
had told me six months ago that we would have a farm within two miles
of our county seat, fenced with wire and permanent concrete posts,
with modern permanent fireproof buildings, all equipped with modern
power-driven machines and owned by one of the happiest farmers I have
ever had the pleasure of meeting, I should have been afraid that
someone would have awakened me, for I would have been sure it was a
dream. But right here on Brookside Farm are all these things, and I'm
told that when Joe Williams gets through with his improvements, there
will be even more than I have described. What's more, his books
already show that he is making a handsome profit from his farm this
year, and that, my friends, doesn't include the returns from his sand
and gravel pit. It has been fortunate for him that he had this sand
pit on his farm, but aside from that, the farm itself shows that it's
going to pay a big return on the investment. Of course, the sand and
gravel pit has helped him in getting his equipment quickly, and in
that he has been fortunate. But the thing I want to say to you men is
that the Commissioners are in hearty accord with the statements just
made by Mr. Earth, regarding concrete roads. We feel that you are
entitled to better roads, that the county will be greatly benefited by
the building of these roads. Of course, the state will pay half the
cost of these roads, the county one-fourth, but the balance of the
cost will have to be borne by you. I know there is no one here who
wants to spend six or even three hours in hauling a load the distance
he ought to be able to haul it in one hour if the roads were in good
shape. We're going to advertise for a bond issue for ten miles of new
concrete roads, six miles of the road will be from the new railroad to
town, going by this farm, and as soon as this is built we will extend
this road and others leading out of the town. One of our principal
reasons for selecting this particular road to start with is the fact
that we need sand and gravel for the construction of all these roads,
and, as a considerable portion of this sand and gravel will have to
come from the Williams pit, it will save a great deal of cost in
hauling by having good roads for the distribution of the material. I'd
like to know if there's a man present who is not in favor of building
these concrete roads. If there is, I'd like to have him stand up and
tell us why he is against it."
After a moment's pause, during which he looked from one to the other,
Mr. Wilson continued:
"I'm glad to see it's unanimous, and that the Commissioners have your
hearty support. There's just one other thing I'd like to say and that
is that the First National Bank has agreed to subscribe for the bond
issue and loan the county all the money we need to build these roads,
and you'll have to thank John White and his 'Constructive Banking'
idea for that. I'm sure you'll all be greatly benefited, as it will
bring your farms much nearer the market."
"Three cheers for concrete roads," shouted Alex Wallace.
The cheers were given with great applause.
"That's fine," said John White as he arose, "but the improvement of
the roads is only the beginning of the work we should do. Each man
should plan to improve his own farm, and what's more each acre should
be made to produce the maximum amount. First put on plenty of manure,
second put on plenty of manure, and third put on plenty of manure--
that's what makes the crops.
"Now, I have an announcement I want to make. I have made arrangements
with the State Fair Commissioners to establish four prizes to be
awarded each year at the Fair. The first prize is a grain prize of
$25, and goes to the farmer whose grain produces the largest yield per
acre of ground planted. The second, a prize of $25 to the farm that
earns the biggest revenue during the year on the capital invested, the
third is a prize of $25 for you ladies and goes to the farm whose
dairy earns the most money per cow, and the fourth is a prize of $25
to the farm whose poultry earns the greatest amount per hen. There
will be a set of rules governing all these prizes. No farm will be
eligible to compete for any of them that has not a regular system of
cost accounting and whose books cannot be examined and audited by a
public auditor. All book accounts must run from March first of one
year to March first of the succeeding year. I believe Mr. Barth has
something further to say to you."
Mr. Barth arose and said:
"Gentlemen, I represent, as you know, the manufacturers of Portland
cement, and I am authorized to say that the Association has also added
a prize of $25 to be awarded each year in this county to the farmer
who uses the most concrete on his farm during the year--the County
Commissioners to be the judges in each case."
Whereupon John White arose and continued:
"Now, before making a visit around the farm, I wish to call your
attention to a couple of things I'd like you to be sure and see.
First, take a look at the running water, especially the shower bath.
You men have no idea how it freshens one up at the end of the day to
take a shower. Why let the golfer alone enjoy all the good things when
you need them more? You should all have running water and a shower. I
also want to call to your attention that when the ditch was dug to put
in this water system, the ground was so hard that it was blasted out
with dynamite. If you will walk out to the orchard back of the
smokehouse, and take a look at the field of oats, you will see a strip
o>f oats more than a foot higher than the surrounding oats and eight
feet wide running across the field--that will show you what dynamite
does to the land. I would like you to go to the edge of the field and
take a look at those oats. Most of us think that dynamite is used for
tearing things apart, but here is a case where it is building up the
land and making it produce greater crops. You farmers who are going to
exhibit oats at the State Fair this year better look out for your
laurels, because I think Joe Williams has the prize winner right there
on that piece of dynamited land."
The afternoon was spent in examining the buildings and new machinery,
and looking over the plans for the new house and barn. Bob had almost
lost his voice by the time the last of the farmers had gone explaining
to them the details of the work.
There was not a prouder or happier boy in the state of Pennsylvania
that night than Bob Williams, for he felt that Brookside Farm was
destined to be a great success and he had been a part of the
redemption of the old homestead.
They sat out on the porch in the twilight. While Tony played on his
flute they sang many songs. They were surprised how much talent they
had in their own family circle. Aunt Bettie and Edith both had good
soprano voices and Ruth a fair contralto. Bob sang tenor and his uncle
bass. It was Maria, though, that surprised them with a remarkable good
mezzo-soprano.
They were all too happy to sleep, so they sang song after song until
the clock struck eleven. Then they sang "The Happy Farmer" song again
and went to bed. It had been a great day for Brookside Farm.
XXI
FILLING THE SILO
While Bob and Tony (helped out by the neighbors' boys who came to
Brookside Farm to learn the handling of cement) carried on the
building work, Mr. Brady, the contractor, made rapid strides with the
construction of the house and barn.
Joe Williams looked after the crops with occasional help from Bob and
Tony. Ruth, who found the greatest pleasure in the fields, deserted
Bob and his concrete mixer entirely for her uncle's machinery. She
soon learned to handle the big tractor and used it to cut the entire
field of oats. After acquiring the knack of using a pitchfork, it was
surprising the work she did and thrived on. She had one vanity,
however--that of having her picture taken nearly every day in her
farmerette clothes. Edith, who took these pictures, declared Ruth
spent her nights thinking up some new poses for the next day's
pictures. But they were a happy family, and many a summer evening,
when they all seemed too tired to move, Tony's sudden appearance with
his flute would start them all singing and cause them to forget their
bodily fatigue.
"The corn in the back field looks as though it's about ready for the
silo, Bob," said his uncle one morning, "and I think we had better
arrange to start filling it to-morrow. It will give us a chance to try
out our new machinery. It's surprising how large the corn in the new
bottom has grown--I never would have believed it myself without having
actually seen it."
"Don't you think, Uncle Joe, we should leave a small section of the
best of it standing, say three or four acres, for seed corn? We could
get $5 a bushel next spring for good seed corn, besides having our
own. Then, too, we ought to have some to exhibit at the Fair. I don't
think there'll be any corn like it in the county."
"That's so," said his uncle. "It would be well to do that. We could
exhibit some on the stalks, too, and then people could see how fertile
Brookside Farm is. I've arranged to put on four men and three teams to
help us, Bob, because it will take seven to handle the outfit. It
ought not to take us more than three days to do the work--that would
mean fifty tons per day to haul and three horses on the binder."
So the next morning at seven o'clock the new corn binder was started
in the bottom field and by the end of the third day the corn was all
harvested, cut to three-quarter inch length and placed in the silo,
without a break or delay.
"There's one advantage in having the right kind of machinery to do a
job, Uncle Joe," said Bob admiringly; "you can cut the corn when it's
just right. If we had let the corn stand a few days longer, it would
not have been as good as it is now. We'll probably have the best
ensilage that will be put up this year."
[Illustration: TRANSFERRING THE GREEN CORN CROP FROM FIELD TO SILO. NO
FARMER DOING WINTER FEEDING CAN AFFORD TO BE WITHOUT A PROFIT-MAKING
SILO]
"What rate do you think we should charge for the corn binder and
ensilage cutter, Bob?" asked his uncle. "Some of the neighbors want to
hire it."
"Why not use twenty acres as a basis and charge the same as we decided
for the other tools,"
"That looks pretty high," said his uncle.
"No higher than it should be," replied Bob. "If we kept the machines
ourselves, Uncle Joe, they would be in good shape for five years, but
you know when you rent a machine out, they don't take care of it as we
do, so I think we ought to charge one per cent. of the cost of the two
machines per acre to each farmer who rents it."
"But if you rent it to five farmers in a season, Bob, we would pay for
the machines in one year and still own the machines. Isn't that a
pretty high price?" asked his uncle.
"But wouldn't the machines have done five years' rated work, Uncle
Joe? Do you know anybody who is renting them cheaper?"
"It might be cheaper for some fellows to club together and get the
machines," said his uncle.
"Well, then let them do it and in the meantime our machines won't be
worn out," said Bob.
"All right," said his uncle; "Billie Waterson put up a silo and wants
to borrow our machines."
"I'd make him agree to return them in good condition and pay for all
repairs necessary," said Bob; "don't forget that."
"All right," said his uncle; "I think I'll let him have it on that
basis."
As soon as the silo had been filled, the apple-picking was started.
They had been in a quandary to know just how to get this crop
harvested, as the trees were exceptionally full of well-developed
apples. Tony finally solved the problem by saying he could send to
Pittsburgh and get three or four Italian boys who would be willing to
work for a dollar or two a day, so they were engaged. All the apples
were carefully picked by hand and assorted in sizes, using a device
designed by Tony, where the apples were allowed to roll slowly down a
trough. As the apples dropped through the hole in the bottom of the
grading trough, they rolled down other chutes to the waiting crates.
"I think we'll sell our apples this year, Bob, by the piece instead of
by the bushel," said his aunt, after inspecting the first that were
picked. "They look so fine I think we can easily get four to five
cents each for them if they are put in nice cartons and each apple
wrapped in paper. We can put our label on them and after we have
marketed them for a year or two, people will write in for their
supply. I know some firms in the mountains of Virginia who are doing
that now and selling all they can raise. We can keep the first and
second grade apples for sale and the third for our own use and for
cider making. I think perhaps the three best sellers would be the
Winesaps, Black Twigs and Albemarle Pippins. They look exceptionally
fine. I don't think I ever saw nicer apples than ours."
When they had the apples all gathered, they found they had 500 bushels
of first and second grade apples of the three varieties and 63 bushels
of the third grade. Of these latter they kept 13 bushels for their own
use, and after making ten barrels of cider, they offered the rest for
sale in town, where they obtained 50 cents per bushel for them.
"It will be better, Joe, to sell them off at a cheap price rather than
keep them and sort them all winter. Besides, we don't want to market
any but the best under the name of the farm."
"We must hurry the work, Bob, on the root cellar to take care of our
apples," said his aunt.
"All right, Aunt Bettie," he replied; "it's nearly finished."
A few days after the cider-making had been completed, the new milking
machine arrived. The agent for the manufacturers sent a man to show
Bob how to erect it. When the machine had been completed and tried
out, they tested it out that night. Bob found he could milk his ten
best cows in just a half hour, or half the time it had taken before to
milk by hand.
Milking by power certainly was a great idea and the cows didn't seem
to object at all to the change. Bob and his aunt were sure now that
they had not made any miscalculations on designing the dairy barn for
a twenty-cow herd; they felt they would be able to take care of that
number easily.
"Let's go hunting, Bob," said Ruth one morning at breakfast a few days
later. "I'd like to shoot some real game."
"All right," said Bob, "but we've only one gun between us. You see, I
don't own a gun and Uncle Joe has only one."
"Oh, that reminds me," said his uncle, "John White gave me a package
yesterday to bring out for you and I was so busy I forgot and left it
in the automobile last night. I guess it's still there," and he winked
at Edith and Ruth across the table.
Bob got up and went to the barn and came back a few minutes later with
a long package. When opened, he found, much to his delight, it
contained a double-barreled hammerless shotgun. Tied to the gun was a
card on which was written: "For my friend, Bob Williams, with best
wishes, from John White."
"That was splendid of him to buy me a gun. I wonder why he did it,"
exclaimed Bob.
"Well, I guess he likes you, Bob," said his uncle, "and he feels
you're helping to do a good work in the county, so he just bought it
for you. It's the same gauge as mine, so you can use some of my
shells, although he gave me two boxes of shells already loaded," and
he handed over the shells to Bob. "And this is your belt," he said
laughing, and he handed Bob a very fine belt of buff leather.
"We certainly can go hunting to-day, Ruth," said Bob, delighted with
his new present, and as soon as the milking and chores were done, they
set off back of the pond and through the woods, back of the "Old Round
Top."
Bob had every confidence in Ruth's ability to shoot and did not fear
an accident from her gun. While Ruth couldn't do many things, shooting
was not one of them, for she had proven herself to be an expert shot
on a number of occasions. When they reached the woods they separated
and Bob went up the ravine while Ruth kept along the hillsides. They
had not gone very far when a chicken hawk flew over the ravine just
ahead of Bob and alighted on a tree. Here was an unexpected
opportunity of making a good shot and bringing home a trophy worth
while. So he took careful aim and fired, but the distance was either
too great or the aim was bad, for the hawk flew away. He continued up
the ravine until he came to a line fence which he followed up the hill
and joined Ruth, neither one having had an opportunity of shooting at
any other game.
"Too bad you missed him, Bob; he was such a fine-looking specimen."
"Did you see it, Ruth?"
"Yes, it ran alongside of me."
"What do you mean, it ran alongside of you?" asked Bob; "the last I
saw of it, it was flying."
"Flying!" exclaimed Ruth. "Why it ran along the ground just like a dog
and had a big red bushy tail. I was sitting on a stump taking a rest
when you fired. It came sneaking up the hill toward me, all the while
watching you. It came up so close I could have put my hand out and
touched it. It stopped right in, front of me for a minute or two and
then ran off up over the ridge."
"What are you talking about Ruth?" asked Bob. "The thing I shot at was
a hawk and it flew through the air. It didn't run along the ground at
all."
"Oh," said Ruth, "what I saw must have been a fox, and, Bob, it stood
just in front of me for a minute or two before it turned and went
away."
"If that's so why didn't you shoot it?" demanded Bob.
"I was too excited. I never thought about shooting it."
"Well, you lost an opportunity of a lifetime. You'll probably never
get a chance to get a fox as easy as that again."
"Please don't tell the folks at the house, Bob, that I had the buck
fever--they'd never get through teasing me if they knew I'd let such a
chance go by."
They hunted all the rest of the morning, but got only three grey
squirrels, of which Ruth shot two.
A few days later, as Ruth was crossing the oat stubbles, she saw a
small black and white animal skipping along through the stubbles just
ahead of her. Thinking it was a kitten that had strayed from the
house, she rushed after it and was almost ready to pick it up when she
suddenly changed her mind and started for the house as fast as she
could go.
The dinner bell had rung and as Ruth came around the side of the
house, her aunt and Edith, who were sitting on the porch, shouted in
unison: "Go 'way! Go 'way! Go out to the barn. Where've you been?"
"I tried to pick up a kitten out in the oat stubbles," confessed Ruth.
"Well, I guess you did, all right," said her aunt. "Wait until Edith
gets you some clothes and then go out to the old icehouse and change
them. Leave the clothes you have on out there, because you'll never be
able to wear them again."
Ruth, who had been trying hard to control her feelings, now broke into
sobs, for she had only one farmerette suit and this meant the loss of
it.
"It was such an innocent-looking kitten, too," she said.
"Innocent nothing," said her uncle, who came in from the barn just
then. "Don't you know a skunk when you see one?"
"No, I didn't, but I will next time," confessed Ruth. Edith then
appeared with the necessary garments and took them to the icehouse
where she left them and where Ruth later went and made the change.
That afternoon she was particularly depressed, for she had to wear a
dress instead of her favorite breeches, which seemed to depress her
more and more as the afternoon wore on. She gladly welcomed the
appearance of Eddie Brown and Herbert Potter, who drove out to see the
girls and to tell them they were about to leave to go to school.
Bob was now working on a new piggery, which he and Tony had well under
way. The pens were to accommodate thirty pigs, and were built so they
could be extended from time to time, as they might decide. In addition
to the pen, they were constructing a large feeding floor, and now that
work on the main barn had been completed, Mr. Brady was pushing the
work on the new house, which was progressing rapidly. Bob was sorry it
was necessary to build this house so quickly, as he would have liked
to work out all the details for it, but he had to be satisfied with
the development of the plan, which he and his Aunt Bettie worked out
after a great many conferences.
The house was to face the south and have a long porch running the full
width of the front with a return on the west end. The south front was
to face the flower garden and the west front would connect with the
drive, while the back of the house would open into the general
barnyard.
They planned to build the woodshed and laundry between the new house
and the dairy, with a heating system and the fuel in the cellar. This
would prevent the cellar of the main house becoming too warm for
storage purposes. They had also decided to build the new machinery
house to take care of the implements with a good-size tool shed
adjoining--also a garage large enough to accommodate an automobile and
two motor trucks and an oil house at one end. They were also at work
on fifty concrete apiaries for the protection of the bees. The septic
tank was being built by Mr. Brady in connection with the house, but
the root cellar, corn crib, manure pit and the sheep barn were yet to
be completed by Bob and Tony; but the plans for them had already been
worked out.
It had also been decided that they should build a sixty-foot
greenhouse for the growing of cucumbers and other vegetables under
glass, which they would try out that winter--also a half dozen cold
frames and a small mushroom cellar.
The work on the piggery was to include a hog-dipping vat, a platform
and scalding vat. A garbage burner had been installed at the rear of
the dairy not far from the woodshed.
The plans for the house included a cistern for the collection of rain
water in the cellar under the laundry. After these had been planned,
they decided that the old brick smokehouse was in a bad location and
too far away from the house. So this was abandoned and a new
smokehouse added in the rear of the dairy buildings.
In order to get all the work completed, they had found it necessary to
let Mr. Brady build Tony's bungalow also, although they would much
have preferred to do this work themselves.
They found that even with this help, they would have to let a number
of things go over until the next year--among them a bridge to carry
the lane over the new ditch, and some ornamental concrete work in
connection with the garden.
They could work much faster now than formerly, as many of the
neighbors' boys were available for a few days at a time, and even
though the fall weather was upon them, they hoped to get all their
concrete work done before the December snows.
XXII
THE FAIR
The State Fair, an event that had long been anticipated at Brookside
Farm, was scheduled to be held on September tenth that year. The
summer was not more than half over before Joe Williams decided that he
had, if any thing, a little better crops and stock than any other man
in the county; in fact, he was beginning to "feel his oats," as the
saying went, and wanted to show his neighbors just how good a farmer
he really was, so he took a great deal of pride in getting his
products ready to exhibit.
First he decided to enter his team of Belgian mares and their two
handsome young colts; then his majesty, King Pontiac, the head of the
Holstein herd, and four of his best Holstein cows; then he selected
two handsome Holstein bulls and two heifer calves; two Berkshire sows,
one with a litter of ten fine pigs, together with two young Berkshire
shoats; then Jerry, the Southdown ram, and the best two Southdown ewes
and two good lambs; two breeding pens of white Leghorns and two of
white Plymouth rocks were then selected; also the best cock and hen
and the best cockerel and pullet, together with a dozen eggs laid by
each breed. Then he picked out two bushels of the finest corn that had
been raised in the bottom land and two bushels of oats and a dozen
each of the three varieties of apples, and two bushels of potatoes.
Then Bob selected two pounds of his best comb honey and Aunt Bettie
and the girls picked out five dozen of their choice jellies and jams,
and on the opening day of the fair this exhibition was taken to the
fair grounds.
All work on the buildings was stopped and a number of neighbor boys
were engaged to help to take the exhibit to town.
All the cattle had been carefully groomed for several weeks in advance
and were in fine shape for exhibition purposes, and attracted a great
deal of attention.
When the awards had been made, Joe Williams found he had won first
prize in every class he had exhibited and in a number he had also
carried off second prizes and sweepstakes, while Bob won first prize
with his honey and Aunt Bettie five first prizes and four second
prizes on her jellies and jams.
As soon as the exhibits were in place, Joe Williams went from one
exhibit to another and fastened white cards printed in dark blue
letters, containing the following words: "Grown on Brookside Farm,
Joseph Williams, Proprietor."
"Say, Bob," said Alex Wallace, "if your Uncle Joe had won a few prizes
more there would not have been any left for the rest of us."
"Oh, I don't know," said Bob, "there were lots of other prizes awarded
besides those Uncle Joe got. How many did you win?"
"We got first and second on our Jersey cattle and first on our
Clydesdale mare and colt, but your Uncle Joe cleaned up all the prizes
on the grain."
"Well, next year perhaps you can win them."
"We're going to try for them all right. Father says Joe Williams
needn't think he can come back here from the West and annex the State
Fair. If he wins next year, he'll have to go some. We bought a tractor
to-day, Bob."
"That's fine, Alex. When are you going to start your silo?"
"Oh, pretty soon," he replied as he left Bob.
Thursday was the big day of the Fair, and Bob, as a special reward for
his services, was permitted to go to the Fair each day; in fact, much
of the care of the stock depended on him, although he was unable to
stay in town overnight as he would have liked on account of taking
care of the milking.
Whom should he meet early Thursday morning, as he was coming from
milking his cows that were on exhibition, but his father.
"Why, hello, Bob. I was just looking for you. My, how you have grown.
I'd scarcely have known you."
"How-do-you-do, dad; how'd you like to have a drink of good fresh
milk? 'Grown on Brookside Farm, Joseph Williams, Proprietor,'" he
laughed.
"Fine," said his father, whereupon Bob handed him a glass of rich
milk.
"Not as good as Gurney's, but pretty good at that," remarked his
father. "I've heard about the prizes you and your Uncle Joe have won
and couldn't help but come in and look you over, even, though I'm very
busy and it was hard to get away."
"How did you leave mother and the rest of the family?" was Bob's next
inquiry.