MILKING
Betty, my love:
I can imagine that just about this time you have finished your dinner,
and are enjoying your after-dinner coffee in the library with your
father. I would give all that I possess, though heaven knows that is
mighty little, to be with you and get you to talk to me, and let me
tell you all that has happened since I left you. But instead of that I
am alone in my room with your picture on the table while I write, and
it is the middle of the evening with us on the farm. I have a bright
wood fire on the hearth, as it's a bit chilly to-night.
To-day I have almost completed my first round of parish visits, and
the experience has been a revelation to me of the mixture of pathetic
narrowness, hardship, and self-denial of the people up here in the
mountains. One minute I am all out of patience with their stupidity,
and the next I am touched to the heart by their patience with
unendurable conditions, and their generosity and kindness to each
other. I hope to be able to adjust my mental equilibrium to the
situation before long and to learn to understand them better; I find
that a country parson must be a man of many accomplishments, and that
I have to learn my profession all over again. Yesterday I called on a
poor shriveled old woman who, I was told, was in trouble. When I asked
her what I could do for her, she brightened up and informed me that
her apple trees were full of worms! So there was nothing for it but to
take off my coat and vest, roll up my sleeves, and burn out the worms.
I must have destroyed about a bushel, more or less. It took most of
the afternoon; but she was pleased, and appeared in church this
morning for the first time in six years.
I have learned a lot about the rotation of crops, helped to dig a
well, and attended a barn dance. I have eaten pickles by the score at
teas given in my honor, rather than offend the hostess; and have had
horrible nights in consequence. Every morning Nickey and I take the
milk down to the creamery before breakfast. I am so tanned that you
would hardly recognize me; and I must confess with shame that I am
never more happy than when I am able to put on my soiled working
clothes and do manual labor on the farm. I suppose it is the contrast
to my former life, and the fact that it takes my thoughts away from
the longing for you.
The men up here seem to think I know mighty little. It's very
humiliating! But since they discovered that I am neither
"'ristocratic" nor "pious," they seem to be friendly enough. I often
find myself wondering if much of the work in the seminary wasn't a
sheer waste of time, when I am brought up against the practical,
commonplace, everyday life of these people. My friend Mrs. Burke has a
fund of common sense and worldly wisdom which is worth more than any
Ph.D. or S.T.D. represents, to help a man to meet the hard facts of
life successfully; and she has been very nice and considerate in
making suggestions to me--always wrapped up in a humor all her own. I
have found it practically impossible to get into touch with the
farmers of the neighborhood without becoming more or less of a farmer
myself, and learning by actual experience what the life is like. One
man was so openly supercilious when he found out that I did not know
how to milk, that Mrs. Burke, who is nothing if not practical, offered
to show me.
I have acquired a suit of overalls, and a wide-brimmed straw hat; and
so, attiring myself in the most orthodox fashion, Mrs. Burke and I
went to the shed yesterday where Louise, the Jersey cow, abides, and I
took my first lesson in milking. Mrs. Burke carefully explained to me
the _modus operandi_ I was to pursue; and so, taking the tin pail
between my knees, I seated myself on the three-legged stool by the
side of Louise, and timidly began operations. She seemed to know by
some bovine instinct that I was a tenderfoot; and although I followed
Mrs. Burke's instructions to the letter, no milk put in its
appearance. Mrs. Burke was highly amused at my perplexity. Finally she
remarked:
"You've got to introduce yourself, and get Louise's confidence before
she'll give down. She thinks that you are too familiar on a short
acquaintance. Now talk to her a bit, and be friendly."
This was somewhat of a poser, as Louise and I really have not much in
common, and I was at a loss where to begin. But something had to be
done, and so I made a venture and remarked:
"Louise, the wind is in the south; and if it doesn't change, we shall
certainly have rain within three days."
This did not seem to have the desired effect. In fact, she ignored my
remark in the most contemptuous fashion. Then Mrs. Burke suggested:
"Get up, and come round where she can see you. No lady wants to be
talked to by a gentleman that's out of sight."
So I got up and went around by her head, fed her some clover, patted
her on the neck, rubbed her nose, and began a little mild, persuasive
appeal:
"Louise, I am really a man of irreproachable character. I am a son of
the Revolution; I held three scholarships in Harvard; and I graduated
second in my class at the General Sem. Furthermore, I'm not at all
accustomed to being snubbed by ladies. Can't you make up your mind to
be obliging?"
Louise sniffed at me inquiringly, gazing at me with large-eyed
curiosity. Then as if in token that she had come to a favorable
conclusion, she ran out her tongue and licked my hand. When I resumed
operations, the milk poured into the pail, and Mrs. Burke was just
congratulating me on my complete success, when, by some accident the
stool slipped, and I fell over backwards, and the whole contents of
the pail was poured on the ground. My! but wasn't I disgusted? I
thought Mrs. Burke would never stop laughing at me; but she was good
enough not to allude to the loss of the milk!
Some day when we are married, and you come up here, I will take you
out and introduce you to Louise, and she will fall in love with you on
the spot.
My most difficult task is my Senior Warden--and it looks as if he
_would not_ make friends, do what I will to "qualify" according to his
own expressed notions of what a country parson should be. But I rather
suspect that he likes to keep the scepter in his own hands, while the
clergy do his bidding. But that won't do for me.
So you see the life up here is interesting from its very novelty,
though I do get horribly lonesome, sometimes. If I had not pledged
myself to the Bishop to stay and work the parish together into
something like an organization, I am afraid I should be tempted to cut
and run--back to you, sweetheart.
And there was a post script:
"I've not said half enough of how much Mrs. Burke's wisdom has taught
and helped me. She is a shrewd observer of human motives, and I
expect she has had a struggle to keep the sweetness of her nature at
the top. She is, naturally, a capable, dominating character; and often
I watch how she forces herself to let persuasiveness take precedence
of combativeness. Her acquired philosophy, as applied to herself and
others, is summed up in a saying she let drop the other day, modified
to suit her needs: 'More flies are caught with molasses than with
vinegar--but keep some vinegar by you!' _Verb. Sap.!_"
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