Mary at the Farm and Book of Recipes Compiled during Her Visit Part 2

THE OLD FARM HOUSE AND GARDEN.

The old unpainted farm house, built of logs a century ago, had changed in the pa.s.sing years to a grayish tint. An addition had been built to the house several years before Aunt Sarah's occupancy, The sober hue of the house harmonized with the great, gnarled old trunk of the meadow willow near-by. Planted when the house was built, it spread its great branches protectingly over it. A wild clematis growing at the foot of the tree twined its tendrils around the ma.s.sive trunk until in late summer they had become an inseparable part of it, almost covering it with feathery blossoms.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Old Corn Crib]

[Ill.u.s.tration: The New Barn]

Near by stood an antique arbor, covered with thickly-cl.u.s.tering vines, in season bending with the weight of "wild-scented" grapes, their fragrance mingling with the odor of "Creek Mint" growing near by a small streamlet and filling the air with a delicious fragrance. The mint had been used in earlier years by Aunt Sarah's grandfather as a beverage which he preferred to any other.

From a vine clambering up the grape arbor trellies, in the fall of the year, hung numerous orange-colored balsam apples, which opened, when ripe, disclosing bright crimson interior and seeds. These apples, Aunt Sarah claimed, if placed in alcohol and applied externally, possessed great medicinal value as a specific for rheumatism.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE OLD FARM HOUSE]

A short distance from the house stood the newly-built red barn, facing the pasture lot. On every side stretched fields which, in summer, waved with wheat, oats, rye and buckwheat, and the corn crib stood close by, ready for the harvest to fill it to overflowing. Beside the farm house door stood a tall, white oleander, planted in a large, green-painted wooden tub. Near by, in a glazed earthenware pot, grew the old-fas.h.i.+oned lantana plant, covered with cl.u.s.ters of tiny blossoms, of various shades of orange, red and pink.

In flower beds outlined by clam sh.e.l.ls which had been freshly whitewashed blossomed fuchsias, bleeding hearts, verbenas, dusty millers, sweet clove-scented pinks, old-fas.h.i.+oned, dignified, purple digitalis or foxglove, stately pink Princess Feather, various brilliant-hued zinnias, or more commonly called "Youth and Old Age,"

and as gayly colored, if more humble and lowly, portulacas; the fragrant white, star-like blossoms of the nicotiana, or "Flowering Tobacco," which, like the yellow primrose, are particularly fragrant at sunset. Geraniums of every hue, silver-leaved and rose-scented; yellow marigolds and those with brown, velvety petals; near by the pale green and white-mottled leaves of the plant called "Snow on the Mountain" and in the centre of one of the large, round flower beds, grew st.u.r.dy "Castor Oil Beans," their large, copper-bronze leaves almost covering the tiny blue forget-me-nots growing beneath. Near the flower bed grew a thrifty bush of pink-flowering almonds; not far distant grew a spreading "shrub" bush, covered with fragrant brown buds, and beside it a small tree of pearly-white snowdrops.

Sarah Landis loved the wholesome, earthy odors of growing plants and delighted in her flowers, particularly the perennials, which were planted promiscuously all over the yard. I have frequently heard her quote: "One is nearer G.o.d's heart in a garden than any place else on earth." And she would say, "I love the out-of-door life, in touch with the earth; the natural life of man or woman." Inside the fence of the kitchen garden were planted straight rows of both red and yellow currants, and several gooseberry bushes. In one corner of the garden, near the summer kitchen, stood a large bush of black currants, from the yellow, sweet-scented blossoms of which Aunt Sarah's bees, those "Heaven instructed mathematicians," sucked honey. Think of Aunt Sarah's buckwheat cakes, eaten with honey made from currant, clover, buckwheat and dandelion blossoms!

Her garden was second to none in Bucks County. She planted tomato seeds in boxes and placed them in a sunny window, raising her plants early; hence she had ripe tomatoes before any one else in the neighborhood. Her peas were earlier also, and her beets and potatoes were the largest; her corn the sweetest; and, as her asparagus bed was always well salted, her asparagus was the finest to be had.

Through the centre of the garden patch, on either side the walk, were large flower beds, a blaze of brilliant color from early Spring, when the daffodils blossomed, until frost killed the dahlias, asters, scarlet sage, sweet Williams, Canterbury bells, pink and white snapdragon, spikes of perennial, fragrant, white heliotrope; blue larkspur, four o'clocks, bachelor b.u.t.tons and many other dear, old-fas.h.i.+oned flowers. The dainty pink, funnel-shaped blossoms of the hardy swamp "Rose Mallow'" bloomed the entire Summer, the last flowers to be touched by frost, vying in beauty with the pink monthly roses planted near by.

Children who visited Aunt Sarah delighted in the small Jerusalem cherry tree, usually covered with bright, scarlet berries, which was planted near the veranda, and they never tired pinching the tiny leaves of the sensitive plant to see them quickly droop, as if dead, then slowly unfold and straighten as if a thing of life.

Visitors to the farm greatly admired the large, creamy-white lily-like blossoms of the datura. Farthest from the house were the useful herb beds, filled with parsley, h.o.a.rhound, sweet marjoram, lavender, saffron, sage, sweet basil, summer savory and silver-striped rosemary or "old man," as it was commonly called by country folk.

Tall cl.u.s.ters of phlox, a riot of color in midsummer, crimson-eyed, white and rose-colored blossoms topping the tall steins, and cl.u.s.ters of brilliant-red bergamot near by had been growing, from time immemorial, a cl.u.s.ter of green and white-striped gra.s.s, without which no door yard in this section of Bucks County was considered complete in olden times. Near by, silvery plumes of pampas gra.s.s gently swayed on their reed-like stems. Even the garden was not without splashes of color, where, between rows of vegetables, grew pale, pink-petaled poppies, seeming to have scarcely a foothold in the rich soil. But the daintiest, sweetest bed of all, and the one that Mary enjoyed most, was where the lilies of the valley grew in the shade near a large, white lilac bush. Here, on a rustic bench beneath an old apple tree, st.i.tching on her embroidery, she dreamed happy dreams of her absent lover, and planned for the life they were to live together some day, in the home he was striving to earn for her by his own manly exertions; and she a.s.siduously studied and pondered over Aunt Sarah's teaching and counsel, knowing them to be wise and good.

A short distance from the farm house, where the old orchard sloped down to the edge of the brook, grew tall meadow rue, with feathery cl.u.s.ters of green and white flowers; and the green, gold-lined, bowl-shaped blossoms of the "Cow Lily," homely stepsisters of the fragrant, white pond lily, surrounded by thick, waxy, green leaves, lazily floated on the surface of the water from long stems in the bed of the creek, and on the bank a carpet was formed by golden-yellow, creeping b.u.t.tercups.

In the side yard grew two great clumps of iris, or, as it is more commonly called, "Blue Flag." Its blossoms, dainty as rare orchids, with lily-like, violet-veined petals of palest-tinted mauve and purple.

On the sunny side of the old farm house, facing the East, where at early morn the sun shone bright and warm, grew Aunt Sarah's pansies, with velvety, red-brown petals, golden-yellow and dark purple. They were truly "Heart's Ease," gathered with a lavish hand, and sent as gifts to friends who were ill. The more she picked the faster they multiplied, and came to many a sick bed "sweet messengers of Spring."

If Aunt Sarah had a preference for one particular flower, 'twas the rose, and they well repaid the time and care she lavished on them. She had pale-tinted blush roses, with hearts of deepest pink; rockland and prairie and hundred-leaf roses, pink and crimson ramblers, but the most highly-prized roses of her collection were an exquisite, deep salmon-colored "Marquis De Sinety" and an old-fas.h.i.+oned pink moss rose, which grew beside a large bush of mock-orange, the creamy blossoms of the latter almost as fragrant as real orange blossoms of the sunny Southland. Not far distant, planted in a small bed by themselves, grew old-fas.h.i.+oned, sweet-scented, double petunias, ragged, ripple, ruffled corollas of white, with splotches of brilliant crimson and purple, their slender stems scarcely strong enough to support the heavy blossoms.

In one of the sunniest spots in the old garden grew Aunt Sarah's latest acquisition. "The b.u.t.terfly Bush," probably so named on account of its graceful stems, covered with spikes of tiny, lilac-colored blossoms, over which continually hovered large, gorgeously-hued b.u.t.terflies, vying with the flowers in brilliancy of color, from early June until late Summer.

Aunt Sarah's sunflowers, or "Sonnen Blume," as she liked to call them, planted along the garden fence to feed chickens and birds alike, were a sight worth seeing. The birds generally confiscated the larger portion of seeds. A pretty sight it was to see a flock of wild canaries, almost covering the tops of the largest sunflowers, busily engaged picking out the rich, oily seeds.

Aunt Sarah loved the golden flowers, which always appeared to be nodding to the sun, and her sunflowers were particularly fine, some being as much as fifty inches in circ.u.mference.

A bouquet of the smaller ones was usually to be seen in a quaint, old, blue-flowered, gray jar on the farm house veranda in Summertime.

Earlier in the season blossoms of the humble artichoke, which greatly resemble small sunflowers, or large yellow daisies, filled the jar.

Failing either of these, she gathered large bouquets of golden-rod or wild carrot blossoms, both of which grew in profusion along the country lanes and roadside near the farm. But the old gray jar never held a bouquet more beautiful than the one of bright, blue "fringed gentians," gathered by Aunt Sarah in the Fall of the year, several miles distant from the farm.

CHAPTER VI.

MARY CONFIDES IN AUNT SARAH AND GIVES HER VIEWS ON SUFFRAGE FOR WOMEN.

"There's no deny'n women are foolish, G.o.d A'mighty made them to match the men."

A short time after her arrival at the farm Mary poured into the sympathetic ear of Aunt Sarah her hopes and plans. Her lover, Ralph Jackson, to whom she had become engaged the past Winter, held a position with the Philadelphia Electric Company, and was studying hard outside working hours. His ambition was to become an electrical engineer. He was getting fair wages, and wished Mary to marry him at once. She confessed she loved Ralph too well to marry him, ignorant as she was of economical housekeeping and cooking.

Mary, early left an orphan, had studied diligently to fit herself for a kindergarten teacher, so she would be capable of earning her own living on leaving school, which accounted for her lack of knowledge of housework, cooking, etc.

Aunt Sarah, loving Mary devotedly, and knowing the young man of her choice to be clean, honest and worthy, promised to do all in her power to make their dream of happiness come true. Learning from Mary that Ralph was thin and pale from close confinement, hard work and study, and of his intention of taking a short vacation, she determined he should spend it on the farm, where she would be able to "mother him."

"You acted sensibly, Mary," said her Aunt, "in refusing to marry Ralph at the present time, realizing your lack of knowledge of housework and inability to manage a home. Neither would you know how to spend the money provided by him economically and wisely, and, in this age of individual efficiency, a business knowledge of housekeeping is almost as important in making a happy home as is love. I think it quite as necessary that a woman who marries should understand housekeeping in all its varied branches as that the man who marries should understand his trade or profession; for, without the knowledge of means to gain a livelihood (however great his love for a woman), how is the man to hold that woman's love and affection unless he is able by his own exertions to provide her with necessities, comforts, and, perhaps, in later years, luxuries? And in return, the wife should consider it her duty and pleasure to know how to do her work systematically; learn the value of different foods and apply the knowledge gained daily in preparing them; study to keep her husband in the best of health, physically and mentally. Then will his efficiency be greater and he will be enabled to do his 'splendid best' in whatever position in life he is placed, be he statesman or hod-carrier. What difference, if an honest heart beat beneath a laborer's hickory s.h.i.+rt, or one of fine linen? 'One hand, if it's true, is as good as another, no matter how brawny or rough.' Mary, do not think the trivial affairs of the home beneath your notice, and do not imagine any work degrading which tends to the betterment of the home. Remember, 'Who sweeps a room as for Thy law, makes that and the action fine.'

"Our lives are all made up of such small, commonplace things and this is such a commonplace old world, Mary. 'The commonplace earth and the commonplace sky make up the commonplace day,' and 'G.o.d must have loved common people, or He would not have made so many of them.' And, what if we are commonplace? We cannot all be artists, poets and sculptors.

Yet, how frequently we see people in commonplace surroundings, possessing the soul of an artist, handicapped by physical disability or lack of means! We are all necessary in the great, eternal plan.

'Tis not good deeds alone for which we receive our reward, but for the performance of duty well done, in however humble circ.u.mstances our lot is cast. Is it not Lord Houghton who says: 'Do not grasp at the stars, but do life's plain, common work as it comes, certain that daily duties and daily bread are the sweetest things of life.' I consider a happy home in the true sense of the word one of the greatest of blessings. How important is the work of the housemother and homemaker who creates the home! There can be no happiness there unless the wheels of the domestic machinery are oiled by loving care and kindness to make them run smoothly, and the n.o.blest work a woman can do is training and rearing her children. Suffrage, the right of woman to vote; will it not take women from the home? I am afraid the home will then suffer in consequence. Will man accord woman the same reverence she has received in the past? Should she have equal political rights?

A race lacking respect for women would never advance socially or politically. I think women could not have a more important part in the government of the land than in rearing and educating their children to be good, useful citizens. In what n.o.bler work could women engage than in work to promote the comfort and well-being of the ones they love in the home? I say, allow men to make the laws, as G.o.d and nature planned. I think women should keep to the sphere G.o.d made them for--the home. Said Gladstone, 'Woman is the most perfect when most womanly.' There is nothing, I think, more despicable than a masculine, mannish woman, unless it be an effeminate, sissy man. Dr. Clarke voiced my sentiments when he said: 'Man is not superior to woman, nor woman to man. The relation of the s.e.xes is one of equality, not of better or worse, of higher and lower. The loftiest ideal of humanity demands that each shall be perfect in its kind and not be hindered in its best work. The lily is not inferior to the rose, nor the oak superior to the clover; yet the glory of the lily is one and the glory of the oak is another, and the use of the oak is not the use of the clover.'

"This present-day generation demands of women greater efficiency in the home than ever before. And Mary, many of the old-time industries which I had been accustomed to as a girl have pa.s.sed away. Electricity and numerous labor-saving devices make household tasks easier, eliminating some altogether. When housekeeping you will find time to devote to many important questions of the day which we old-time housekeepers never dreamed of having. Considerable thought should be given to studying to improve and simplify conditions of the home-life.

It is your duty. Obtain books; study food values and provide those foods which nourish the body, instead of spending time uselessly preparing dainties to tempt a jaded appet.i.te. Don't spoil Ralph when you marry him. Give him good, wholesome food, and plenty of it; but although the cooking of food takes up much of a housekeeper's time, it is not wise to allow it to take up one's time to the exclusion of everything else. Mary, perhaps my views are old-fas.h.i.+oned. I am not a 'new woman' in any sense of the word. The new woman may take her place beside man in the business world and prove equally as efficient, but I do not think woman should invade man's sphere any more than he should a.s.sume her duties."

"Aunt Sarah, I am surprised to hear you talk in that manner about woman's sphere," replied Mary, "knowing what a success you are in the home, and how beautifully you manage everything you undertake. I felt, once you recognized the injustice done woman in not allowing them to vote, you would feel differently, and since women are obliged to obey the laws, should they not have a voice in choosing the lawmakers? When you vote, it will not take you out of the home. You and Uncle John will merely stop on your way to the store, and instead of Uncle John going in to write and register what he thinks should be done and by whom it should be done, you too will express your opinion. This will likely be twice a year. By doing this, no woman loses her womanliness, goodness or social position, and to these influences the vote is but another influence. I know there are many things in connection with the right of equal suffrage with what you do not sympathize.

"Aunt Sarah, let me tell you about a dear friend of mine who taught school with me in the city. Emily taught a grammar grade, and did not get the same salary the men teachers received for doing the same work, which I think was unfair. Emily studied and frequently heard and read about what had been done in Colorado and other States where women vote. She got us all interested, and the more we learned about the cause the harder we worked for it. Emily married a nice, big, railroad man. They bought a pretty little house in a small town, had three lovely children and were very happy. More than ever as time pa.s.sed Emily realized the need of woman's influence in the community. It is true, I'll admit, Aunt Sarah, housekeeping and especially home-making are the great duties of every woman, and to provide the most wholesome, nouris.h.i.+ng food possible for the family is the duty of every mother, as the health, comfort and happiness of the family depend so largely on the _common sense_ (only another name for efficiency) and skill of the homemaker, and the wise care and though she expends on the preparation of wholesome, nutritious food in the home, either the work of her own hands or prepared under her direction. You can _not_ look after these duties without getting _outside_ of your home, especially when you live like Emily, in a town where the conditions are so different from living as you do on a farm in the country. Milk, bread and water are no longer controlled by the woman in her home, living in cities and towns; and just because women want to look out for their families they should have a voice in the larger problems of munic.i.p.al housekeeping. To return to Emily, she did not bake her own bread, as you do, neither did she keep a cow, but bought milk and bread to feed the children. Wasn't it her duty to leave the home and see where these products were produced, and if they were sanitary? And, knowing the problem outside the home would so materially affect the health, and perhaps lives, of her children, she felt it her distinctive duty to keep house in a larger sense. When the children became old enough to attend school, Emily again took up her old interest in schools. She began to realize how much more just it would be if an equal number of women were on the school board."

"But what did the husband think of all this?" inquired Aunt Sarah, dubiously.

"Oh, Tom studied the case, too, at first just to tease Emily, but he soon became as enthusiastic as Emily. He said, 'The first time you are privileged to vote, Emily, I will hire an automobile to take you to the polls in style.' But poor Emily was left alone with her children last winter. Tom died of typhoid fever. Contracted it from the bad drainage. They lived in a town not yet safeguarded with sewerage. Now Emily is a taxpayer as well as a mother, and she has no say as far as the town and schools are concerned. There are many cases like that, where widows and unmarried women own property, and they are in no way represented. And think of the thousands and thousands of women who have no home to stay in and no babies to look after."

"Mercy, Mary! Do stop to take breath. I never thought when I started this subject I would have an enthusiastic suffragist with whom to deal."

"I am glad you started the subject, Aunt Sarah, because there is so much to be said for the cause. I saw you glance at the clock and I see it is time to prepare supper. But some day I'm going to stop that old clock and bring down some of my books on 'Woman's Suffrage' and you'll he surprised to hear what they have done in States where equal privileges were theirs. I am sure 'twill not be many years before every State in the Union will give women the right of suffrage."

After Mary retired that evening Aunt Sarah had a talk with her John, whom she knew needed help on the farm. As a result of the conference, Mary wrote to Ralph the following day, asking him to spend his vacation on the farm as a "farm hand." Needless to say, the offer was gladly accepted by Ralph, if for no other reason than to be near the girl he loved.

Ralph came the following week--"a strapping big fellow," to quote Uncle John, being several inches over six feet.

"All you need, young chap," said Mary's Uncle, "is plenty of good, wholesome food of Sarah's and Mary's preparing, and I'll see that you get plenty of exercise in the fresh air to give you an appet.i.te to enjoy it, and you'll get a healthy coat of tan on your pale cheeks before the Summer is ended."

Ralph Jackson, or "Jack," as he was usually called by his friends, an orphan like Mary, came of good, old Quaker stock, his mother having died immediately after giving birth to her son. His father, supposed to be a wealthy contractor, died when Ralph was seventeen, having lost his fortune through no fault of his own, leaving Ralph penniless.

Ralph Jackson possessed a good face, a square, determined jaw, sure sign of a strong will and quick temper; these Berserker traits he inherited from his father; rather unusual in a Quaker. He possessed a head of thick, coa.r.s.e, straight brown hair, and big honest eyes. One never doubted his word, once it had been given. 'Twas good as his bond. This trait he inherited also from his father, noted for his truth and integrity. Ralph was generous to a fault. When a small boy he was known to take off his shoes and give them to a poor little Italian (who played a violin on the street for pennies) and go home barefoot.