The Fat of the Land

ƄFat of the Land, The

The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Fat of the Land, by John Williams Streeter This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: The Fat of the Land The Story of an American Farm
Author: John Williams Streeter
Release Date: August 13, 2005 [EBook #16525]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FAT OF THE LAND ***

Produced by Bill Tozier, Barbara Tozier, Janet Blenkinship and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

THE FAT OF THE LAND
[Illustration]

THE FAT OF THE LAND
The Story of an American Farm
BY
JOHN WILLIAMS STREETER

New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., Ltd.
1904
All rights reserved copyright, 1904.
by THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
Set up, electrotyped, and published February, 1904. Reprinted March, April, May, 1904.
Norwood Press
J.S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith Co. Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.

To POLLY

CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. MY EXCUSE 3
II. THE HUNTING OF THE LAND 11
III. THE FIRST VISIT TO THE FARM 14
IV. THE HIRED MAN 25
V. BORING FOR WATER 31
VI. WE TAKE POSSESSION 36
VII. THE HORSE-AND-BUGGY MAN 45
VIII. WE PLAT THE FARM 49
IX. HOUSE-CLEANING 54
X. FENCED IN 61
XI. THE BUILDING LINE 67
XII. CARPENTERS QUIT WORK 70
XIII. PLANNING FOR THE TREES 78
XIV. PLANTING OF THE TREES 88
XV. POLLY'S JUDGMENT HALL 94
XVI. WINTER WORK 101
XVII. WHAT SHALL WE ASK OF THE HEN? 103
XVIII. WHITE WYANDOTTES 110
XIX. FRIED PORK 116
XX. A RATION FOR PRODUCT 121
XXI. THE RAZORBACK 126
XXII. THE OLD ORCHARD 135
XXIII. THE FIRST HATCH 138
XXIV. THE HOLSTEIN MILK MACHINE 144
XXV. THE DAIRYMAID 150
XXVI. LITTLE PIGS 155
XXVII. WORK ON THE HOME FORTY 158
XXVIII. DISCOUNTING THE MARKET 164
XXIX. FROM CITY TO COUNTRY 169
XXX. AUTUMN RECKONING 174
XXXI. THE CHILDREN 178
XXXII. THE HOME-COMING 183
XXXIII. CHRISTMAS EVE 189
XXXIV. CHRISTMAS 194
XXXV. WE CLOSE THE BOOKS FOR '96 199
XXXVI. OUR FRIENDS 202
XXXVII. THE HEADMAN'S JOB 210
XXXVIII. SPRING OF '97 217
XXXIX. THE YOUNG ORCHARD 225
XL. THE TIMOTHY HARVEST 230
XLI. STRIKE AT GORDON'S MINE 236
XLII. THE RIOT 250
XLIII. THE RESULT 260
XLIV. DEEP WATERS 268
XLV. DOGS AND HORSES 274
XLVI. THE SKIM-MILK TRUST 282
XLVII. NABOTH'S VINEYARD 285
XLVIII. MAIDS AND MALLARDS 294
XLIX. THE SUNKEN GARDEN 298
L. THE HEADMAN GENERALIZES 303
LI. THE GRAND-GIRLS 308
LII. THE THIRD RECKONING 313
LIII. THE MILK MACHINE 317
LIV. BACON AND EGGS 328
LV. THE OLD TIME FARM-HAND 337
LVI. THE SYNDICATE 342
LVII. THE DEATH OF SIR TOM 346
LVIII. BACTERIA 352
LIX. MATCH-MAKING 355
LX. "I TOLD YOU SO" 362
LXI. THE BELGIAN FARMER 367
LXII. HOME-COMING 375
LXIII. AN HUNDRED FOLD 378
LXIV. COMFORT ME WITH APPLES 383
LXV. THE END OF THE THIRD YEAR 388
LXVI. LOOKING BACKWARD 394
LXVII. LOOKING FORWARD 402
THE FAT OF THE LAND
CHAPTER I
MY EXCUSE
My sixtieth birthday is a thing of yesterday, and I have, therefore, more than half descended the western slope. I have no quarrel with life or with time, for both have been polite to me; and I wish to give an account of the past seven years to prove the politeness of life, and to show how time has made amends to me for the forced resignation of my professional ambitions. For twenty-five years, up to 1895, I practised medicine and surgery in a large city. I loved my profession beyond the love of most men, and it loved me; at least, it gave me all that a reasonable man could desire in the way of honors and emoluments. The thought that I should ever drop out of this attractive, satisfying life, never seriously occurred to me, though I was conscious of a strong and persistent force that urged me toward the soil. By choice and by training I was a physician, and I gloried in my work; but by instinct I was, am, and always shall be, a farmer. All my life I have had visions of farms with flocks and herds, but I did not expect to realize my visions until I came on earth a second time.
I would never have given up my profession voluntarily; but when it gave me up, I had to accept the dismissal, surrender my ambitions, and fall back upon my primary instinct for diversion and happiness. The dismissal came without warning, like the fall of a tree when no wind shakes the forest, but it was imperative and peremptory. The doctors (and they were among the best in the land) said, "No more of this kind of work for years," and I had to accept their verdict, though I knew that "for years" meant forever.
My disappointment lasted longer than the acute attack; but, thanks to the cheerful spirit of my wife, by early summer of that year I was able to face the situation with courage that grew as strength increased. Fortunately we were well to do, and the loss of professional income was not a serious matter. We were not rich as wealth is counted