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There are so many little heedless ways in which a few cents are wasted here and a few more there. The total would be truly surprising if we should sum them up. I illustrated this to myself in an odd way lately. While looking over the pages of a catalog advertising articles from 2 cents to 10 cents the Man of the Place said, “There are a good many little tricks you’d like to have. Get what you want; they will only cost a few cents.” So I made out a list of what I wanted, things I decided I could not get along without, as I found them, one by one, on those alluring pages. I was surprised when I added up the cost to find that it amounted to $5. I put the list away intending to go over it and cut out some things to make the total less. That was several months ago and I have not yet missed any of the things I would have ordered. I have decided to let the list wait until I do.
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Matches are small things to economize in, but why throw away even a match when it is just as easy to save it? In using an oil stove with several burners, I found that full half or more of the expense for matches could be saved by using the same match more than once. It was just as easy to touch the end of a used match to the flame already burning as it was to strike a new one. The only trouble necessary was to have an extra match safe in which to drop the match the first time it was used. When lighting the next burner it was just as easy to take the match from there as from the first match safe. A small thing, if you please, but small things have such a way of counting up. Everyone has heard the old saying that “a woman can throw more out of the window with a teaspoon than a man can throw in at the door with a shovel.” Of course, that is an exaggeration. I’m sure it couldn’t be done, anyway not if the man shoveled right hard!
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We are told that in the struggle of the nations for existence, and in our own if it should be drawn into the vortex, a great deal depends upon the organization of the economic resources; that in the last analysis the strength of nations as of individuals rests upon the kitchens of the country.
If economy is so essential in war time why is it not a good thing in time of peace? If it so strengthens a nation in time of stress, would it not make a nation more powerful if practiced at other times? Thing cannot be considered small that have so great an effect!
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With worry, waste and unnecessary work eliminated from our households we would be in a state of “preparedness” to which no one could possibly have any objection. And the beauty of it is that such a state of preparedness in our homes is good in war or peace, for both nations and individuals.
Look for Fairies Now
The “Little People” Still Appear to Those with Seeing Eyes
April 5, 1916
Have you seen any fairies lately? I asked the question of a little girl not long ago. “Huh! There’s no such thing as fairies,” she replied. Some way the answer hurt me and I have been vaguely disquieted when I have thought of it ever since. By the way. Have you seen any fairies lately? Please do not answer as the little girl did, for I’m sure there are fairies and that you at least have seen their work.
In the long, long ago days, when the farmers gathered their crops they always used to leave a part of whatever crop they were harvesting in or on the ground for the use of the “Little People.” This was only fair for the “Little People” worked hard in the ground to help the farmer grow his crops and if a share were not left for them they became angry and the crops would not be good the next year. You may laugh at this as an old superstition but I leave it to you if it has not been proved true that where the “Little People” of the soil are not fed the crops are poor. We call them different names now, nitrogen and humus and all the rest of it, but I always have preferred to think of them as fairy folk who must be treated right. Our agricultural schools and farm papers spend much time and energy telling us to put back into the soil the elements of which we rob it. Only another way of saying, “Don’t rob the ‘Little People’; feed them!”
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Dryads used to live in the trees, you know, beautiful, fairy creatures who now and then were glimpsed beside the tree into which they vanished. There have been long years during which we have heard nothing of them, but now scientists have discovered that the leaves of trees have eyes, actual eyes that mirror surrounding objects. Of what use are eyes to a tree, I wonder? Would it not be fine if the men of science gave us back all our fairies under different names?
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There is the old myth of Santa Claus! What child in these deadly, matter-of-fact times believes in Santa Claus; yet who can deny that at Christmas time there is a spirit, bringing gifts, abroad in the world, who can come down the chimney, or through the keyhole for that matter, and travel in the same night from the north pole to the south? Why not let the children believe in Santa Claus? Later they will understand that it is only a beautiful imagery. It is surely no harm to idealize things and make them more real by investing them with personalities and it might do away with some of the sordid estimating of the price of gifts, which children learn so surprisingly young.
I have a feeling that childhood has been robbed of a great deal of its joys by taking away its belief in wonderful, mystic things, in fairies and all their kin. It is not surprising that when children are grown they have so little idealism or imagination nor that so many of them are like the infidel who asserted that he would not believe anything he could not see. It was a good retort the Quaker made, “Friend! Does thee believe thee has any brains?”
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It is astonishing what an effect a child’s early training has upon its whole life. When one reflects upon the subject one is inclined to agree with the noted clergyman who said, “Give me the child for the first seven years of his life and you may have him all the rest of the time.” What a wonderful power mothers have in their hands! They shape the lives of the children today, thru them the lives of the men and women of tomorrow, and thru them the nations and the world.
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I see by the papers that one of the suffrage leaders of the state will tour the Ozarks this spring in the interest of woman suffrage, bringing light into the dark places, as it were.
A great many seem to regard the securing of the ballot as the supreme attainment and think that with women allowed to vote, everything good will follow as a matter of course. To my mind the ballot is incidental, only a small thing in the work that is before the women of the nation. If politics are not what they should be, if there is graft in places of trust and if there are unjust laws, the men who are responsible are largely what their mothers have made them and their wives usually have finished the job. Perhaps that sounds as if I were claiming for the women a great deal of influence, but trace out a few instances for yourself, without being deceived by appearances, and see if you do not agree with me.
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During the controversy between Dr. Cook and Commodore Perry over the discovery of the north pole, the subject was being discussed in a home where I happened to be. It was when Cook was being paid such a high price for his lectures and the mother of two young men present exclaimed, “It makes no difference whether Cook is faking or not! He is getting the money, isn’t he, and that’s what counts!”2 She was a woman of whom one expected better things, a refined, educated woman and a devout church member, but her influence on her boys would teach them that money was what counted, regardless of truth or honor.
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A young friend with whom I talked the other day said that life was so “much more interesting” to her since she “began to look below the surface of things and see what was beneath.” There are deeps beyond deeps in the life of this wonderful world of ours. Let’s help the children to see them instead of letting them grow up like the man of whom the poet wrote,
A primrose by the river’s brim
A yellow primrose was to him and nothing more.
Let’s train them, instead, to find “books in the running bro
oks, sermons in stones and good in everything.”3
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But have you seen any fairies lately, or have you allowed the harsher facts of life to dull your “seeing eye”?
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The sunshine fairies cannot rest
When evening bells are rung;
Nor can they sleep in flowers
When bedtime songs are sung.
They are such busy fairies,
Their work is never done,
For all around and round the world
They travel with the sun.
And while you’re soundly sleeping,
They do the best they can
A-painting cherry blossoms
In far away Japan.
The poppy fields of China,
With blossoms bright and gay,
They color on their journey—
And then pass on their way.
And all the happy children,
In islands of the sea,
Know little Ray O’Sunshine,
Who plays with you and me.
So We Moved the Spring
How Running Water Was Provided in the Rocky Ridge Farm Home
April 20, 1916
There once was a farmer, so the story goes, who hauled water in barrels from a distant creek. A neighbor remonstrated with him for not digging a well and having his water supply handier. The farmer contended that he did not have time.
“But,” said the neighbor, “the time you would save by not having to haul water would be more than enough to do the work.”
“Yes, I know,” replied the farmer, “but you see, I am so busy hauling water that I can’t get time to dig the well.”
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There is a story of another man who also had trouble in supplying his place with water. This man hauled water for half a mile.
“Why don’t you dig a well,” asked a stranger, “and not haul water so far?” “Well,” said the farmer, “it’s about as fur to water one way as ’tis t’other.”
I do not pretend to be the original discoverer of these stories, neither do I vouch for their truthfulness, but I do know that they correctly picture the fix we were in before we moved the spring.
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We “packed water from the spring” for years at Rocky Ridge Farm. Now and then, when we were tired or in a special hurry, we would declare that something must be done about it. We would dig a well or build a cistern or something, the something being rather vague. At last the “something” was what we did. Like the men in the stories, we were too busy “packing water” to dig a well, and anyway it was “about as fur to water one way as t’other,” so we decided to make an extra effort and move a spring. There were several never-failing springs on the farm but none of them were right at the house. We did not wish to move the house and besides it is very easy to move a spring, if one knows how, much easier than to move a house.
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Our trouble was to decide which spring. The one from which we carried water was nearest but it would require a ram to raise the water up to the house as the spring was in a gulch much lower than the buildings. Then, too, altho it never went dry, it did run a little low during a dry spell. There were the three springs in the “Little Pasture.” They ran strong enough but they also would require a ram to lift the water. We wished our water supply to be permanent and as little trouble to us as possible when once arranged, so we looked further. Up on a hill in the pasture about 1,400 feet from the buildings, was a spring which we had been watching for a year. The flow of water was steady, not seeming to be much affected by dry weather.
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We found by using a level that this spring, at the head of a hollow in the hill, was enough higher than the hill where the buildings were situated to give the water a fall of 60 feet. We decided to move this spring and The Man Of The Place would do it with only common labor to help. The spring was dug out down to solid rock in the shape of a well, and a basin made in this a foot deep. In this well was built a cement reservoir 8 feet in diameter, the walls of which were 11 feet high, extending 3 feet above the surface of the ground. It holds about 30 barrels of water. A heavy cement cover in the form of an arch was placed over the top. It takes two men to lift it so that no one will look in from curiosity and leave the cover displaced. The cement was reinforced with heavy woven wire fence to make it strong. The walls and cover are so thick and the shade of the oaks, elms and maples surrounding it is so dense that the water does not freeze in winter and is kept cool in summer. A waste pipe was laid in the cement six inches from the top of the reservoir to allow the surplus water to flow off if the reservoir should become overfull. It is in the nature of a water trap as the opening is beneath the surface of the water and both ends are covered with fine screen to prevent anything from entering the pipe.
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The pipe that brings the water down to the buildings is in the lower side of the reservoir about a foot from the bottom. It was laid in the cement when the wall was built so that it is firmly embedded. The end which projects into the water was fitted with a drive well point, screened to keep out foreign substances and prevent sand and gravel from washing into the pipe. The pipe is laid 2 feet under ground all the way to the buildings and grass grows thickly over it for the whole distance. Because of this the water does not become heated while passing thru in warm weather and there is no danger of its freezing and bursting the pipe in winter. The screen in the drive well point is brass and the pipes are heavily galvanized inside and out. There is, therefore, no taste of iron or rust added to the water. We have moved the spring so that it flows into a corner of the kitchen as pure as at its source.
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We have multiplied our spring as well as moved it. We revel in water! There is a hydrant in the hen house, one in the barn, one in the calf lot, one in the garden and one at the back of the house, besides the faucets in the house. The supply of water is ample, for we tried it thoroly during a dry season. By attaching a hose to a hydrant, we can throw water over the top of the house or barn in a steady stream with the full force of a 60-foot fall and 30 barrels of water behind, so we feel we have protection in case of fire.
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A man came out from town one day and after seeing the water works and drinking some of the water he exclaimed, “Why, this is better than living in town!”
We have saved more than time enough to dig a well but now we do not need to dig it so we find that time seems to run in doubles this way as well as the other.
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We are told that “There is no great loss without some small gain.” Even so I think that there is no great gain without a little loss. We do not carry water from the spring any more which is a very great gain, but it was sometimes pleasant to loiter by the way and that we miss a little.
Folks Are “Just Folks”
Why Shouldn’t Town and Country Women Work and Play Together?
May 5, 1916
“The Athenians,” is a woman’s club just lately organized, in Hartville, for purposes of study and self-improvement. Hartville was already well supplied with social organizations. There was an embroidery club also a whist club and the usual church aid societies and secret orders which count for so much in country towns. Still there were a few busy women who felt something lacking. They could not be satisfied altogether with social affairs. They wanted to cultivate their minds and increase their knowledge, so they organized the little study club and have laid out a year’s course of study.
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The membership of the club is limited to twenty. If one of the twenty drops out then some one may be elected to take the vacant place. Two negative ballots exclude anyone from membership. There are no dues. “The Athenians” is, I think, a little unique for a town club, as the membership is open to town and country women alike and there are several country members. Well, why not? “The Colonel’s lady and Judy O’Grady are sisters under the skin.
” (Mind I have not said whether Judy O’Grady is a town or country woman. She is just as likely, if not a little more likely, to be found in one place as the other.)
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Surely the most vital subjects in which women are interested are the same in town and country, while the treasures of literature and the accumulated knowledge of the world are for all alike. Then why not study them together and learn to know each other better? Getting acquainted with folks makes things pleasanter all around. How can we like people if we do not know them? It does us good to be with people whose occupation and surroundings are different from ours. If their opinions differ from ours, it will broaden our minds to get their point of view and we will likely find that they are right in part at least, while it may be that a mutual understanding will lead to a modification of both opinions.
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While busily at work one afternoon I heard the purr of a motor and going to the door to investigate, I was met by the smiling faces of Mr. and Mrs. Frink and Mr. and Mrs. Curtis of Hartville. Mrs. Curtis and Mrs. Frink have taken an active part in organizing “The Athenians” and they had come over to tell me of my election to membership in that club. What should be done when there is unexpected company and one is totally unprepared and besides must be at once hostess, cook, and maid? The situation is always so easily handled in a story. The lovely hostess can perform all kinds of conjuring tricks with a cold bone and a bit of leftover vegetable, producing a delicious repast with no trouble whatever and never a smut on her beautiful gown. In real life it sometimes is different, and during the first of that pleasant afternoon my thoughts would stray to the cook’s duties. When the time came, however, it was very simple. While I made some biscuit, Mrs. Frink fried some home cured ham and fresh eggs, Mrs. Curtis set the table. The Man Of The Place opened a jar of preserves and we all had a jolly, country supper together before the Hartville people started on the drive home. It is such a pleasure to have many friends and to have them dropping in at unexpected times that I have decided when it lies between friendships and feasting and something must be crowded out the feasting may go every time.
Laura Ingalls Wilder, Farm Journalist Page 9
