The united opinion. [volume] (Bradford, Vt.) 1881-1970, 1886-10-29
VISITING JONES' FARM.
THE VACATION OF A NEW YORK
ScRlBBLER.
Tho Different Varieties Of bug Thot Tn.
tertaincd Hin.A Council Of -Iusq uito...
Their Opinion Of City Chaps Freely
xpressed-Neigh bOrhOOd Surmises.
Especial Corrcspondence.l


NEW YORK, Oct. 2G.-It was one of the
hottest days last summer that Jones blew
into my oflice-the hottest office on Nassau
street, by the way. l say "blew in,n because
Jones is one OF those men who is always in an
exasperating state of good health, and always
seems to carry breeze with him; salty
Whit from his own Long Island meadows,
which tantalizes the weary and perspiring
city man who is tied to his desk, a slave to
his pen and the printer. "You look tired,
old fellow" was his first exclamation as he
entered. "Come down to the farm for Q
couple of weeks and recoup. Come down
and oil yourself with ozone and health and
fresh vegetables and soft crabs and things"
he added heartily. I smiled YEARLY The
programme was attractive. Ozone and health
needed bad enough, and soft crabs and fresh
vegetables were pleasing concomitants, and
as for "things," which, from subsequent ex-
perience, infer must have meant wood ticks,
was even prepared to stand the "things"
But did not really see how l could manage
it, had pile of work to do, and said as
much.
But if Jones carried breeze under ordi-
nary circumstances, he let loose a cyclone
when opposed.
"Let the work wait You will be able TO
do it all the better when you come back You
are killing yourself. Why, you don't weigh
over 100, while here am as sound as knot
and tip the scales at 245." He neglected to
add that he stood six feet two in his stocking
feet while am barely five feet seven, but in
Jones' system of logic little thing like$that
did not matter. He kept at me until with
sore misgivings l consented to leave my
urgent work in the hands of friend and go
down with him for ten days.
"Now, don't take any good clothes; just an
old flannel shirt and a pair of rough boots"
he urged, as we went up to my room to pack
my modest grip l mildly suggested that
should like to wear something to cover the in
terim as it were, between the top of the boots
and the shirt He consented
We reached the little country village at
about that evening, and Jones' team met
us at the cars The air was delightful, there
was no denying that. Fresh and clear, with
a mingled odor of the salt of the sound and
the balsamic perfume of the pines Later, as
we passed a field which the prudent farmer
had been preparing for the reception of cauli-
flowers or some other plant which requires a
rich soil, the odors which the breeze waited
to our nost1.ls were still more varied But
of Long Island the worthy husbandman has
a fashion of covering his land several inches
deep with the refuse of the factories where
the menhaden or 'mossbunker" is converted
into pure lnseed oil He also uses several
other ill-favored substances to stimulate the
soil, the rule seeming to be: 1.-THE worse the
smell the sweeter the crop"
Jones has pleasant country house, and
after good supper | was tired and glad to
get to my ROOM lit my lamp and sat by
the open window with the evening breeze,
heavy with the scent of flowers, tanning my
cheek, and began to look through the batch
of unopened letters had gathered up from
my desk as left. 1t was not until had put
out my light and retired that I began to
realize that something besides perfumes had
come in on the breeze. Seventeen distinct
varieties of bugs buzzed and hummed about
the room. Every insect noise, from the
booming diapason of the great night moth to
the angry treble Of the mosquito, combined to
make my room melodious. Occasionally some
flying thing would suddenly drop upon the
bed and crawl placidly over my features. l
covered my head with the sheet, and lulled
by the insect concert, fell into an uneasy
slumber. The mosquitoes bit right through
the sheet, and after they had filled themselves
with my blue blood they sat on the foot of the
bed and made remarks about me. am posi-
tive Of this, though when told Jones of it
the next morning he only smiled pityingly
and remarked: poor fellow; l knew you
needed a rest. You are nervous"