Letters of a Woman Homesteader | Page 4

little Johnny."
Well, I must quit writing before you vote me a nuisance. With lots of
love to you,
Your sincere friend, ELINORE RUPERT.

III
A BUSY, HAPPY SUMMER
_September 11, 1909._
DEAR MRS. CONEY,--
This has been for me the busiest, happiest summer I can remember. I
have worked very hard, but it has been work that I really enjoy. Help of
any kind is very hard to get here, and Mr. Stewart had been too
confident of getting men, so that haying caught him with too few men
to put up the hay. He had no man to run the mower and he couldn't run
both the mower and the stacker, so you can fancy what a place he was
in.
I don't know that I ever told you, but my parents died within a year of
each other and left six of us to shift for ourselves. Our people offered to
take one here and there among them until we should all have a place,
but we refused to be raised on the halves and so arranged to stay at
Grandmother's and keep together. Well, we had no money to hire men
to do our work, so had to learn to do it ourselves. Consequently I

learned to do many things which girls more fortunately situated don't
even know have to be done. Among the things I learned to do was the
way to run a mowing-machine. It cost me many bitter tears because I
got sunburned, and my hands were hard, rough, and stained with
machine oil, and I used to wonder how any Prince Charming could
overlook all that in any girl he came to. For all I had ever read of the
Prince had to do with his "reverently kissing her lily-white hand," or
doing some other fool trick with a hand as white as a snowflake. Well,
when my Prince showed up he didn't lose much time in letting me
know that "Barkis was willing," and I wrapped my hands in my old
checked apron and took him up before he could catch his breath. Then
there was no more mowing, and I almost forgot that I knew how until
Mr. Stewart got into such a panic. If he put a man to mow, it kept them
all idle at the stacker, and he just couldn't get enough men. I was afraid
to tell him I could mow for fear he would forbid me to do so. But one
morning, when he was chasing a last hope of help, I went down to the
barn, took out the horses, and went to mowing. I had enough cut before
he got back to show him I knew how, and as he came back manless he
was delighted as well as surprised. I was glad because I really like to
mow, and besides that, I am adding feathers to my cap in a surprising
way. When you see me again you will think I am wearing a feather
duster, but it is only that I have been said to have almost as much sense
as a "mon," and that is an honor I never aspired to, even in my wildest
dreams.
I have done most of my cooking at night, have milked seven cows
every day, and have done all the hay-cutting, so you see I have been
working. But I have found time to put up thirty pints of jelly and the
same amount of jam for myself. I used wild fruits, gooseberries,
currants, raspberries, and cherries. I have almost two gallons of the
cherry butter, and I think it is delicious. I wish I could get some of it to
you, I am sure you would like it.
We began haying July 5 and finished September 8. After working so
hard and so steadily I decided on a day off, so yesterday I saddled the
pony, took a few things I needed, and Jerrine and I fared forth. Baby
can ride behind quite well. We got away by sunup and a glorious day

we had. We followed a stream higher up into the mountains and the air
was so keen and clear at first we had on our coats. There was a tang of
sage and of pine in the air, and our horse was midside deep in
rabbit-brush, a shrub just covered with flowers that look and smell like
goldenrod. The blue distance promised many alluring adventures, so
we went along singing and simply gulping in summer. Occasionally a
bunch of sage chickens would fly up out of the sagebrush, or a jack
rabbit would leap out. Once we saw a bunch of antelope gallop over a
hill, but we were out just to be out, and game didn't tempt us. I started,