Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1905-09-26
Harvesting on a Large Scale.

On all sides the prairie runs to the
horizon. Away in the distance there is
a low line of green, which stands Tor
trees, and splotch or two of brown for
houses. For the rest everything is gold
and blue-gold below by virtue of twen-
ty thousand ripening acres of wheat,
blue above because it is late summer on
the wide plains.
Nothing in sight except that simmer
ing, whispering ocean of grain and the
little island around the farmhouse. 1t
seems as lifeless as the desert. Under
meath, down by the roots, the world is
trembling with life. Here and there,
rattlesnakes or lazy, gOrged gopher
snakes bask and broil in the heat. The
gophers are taking toll of grains which
have ripened over-early and fallen from
the husk. Field mice are squeaking
over their little families. All this will
come to light when the reaper has pass
ed. but it is hidden down as by screen.
| So it stands one day.
With the dawn of another morning an
army of men and a regular artillery
corps of binders come down road
which winds through these fields and
which one cannot see for the ocean of
wheat. First come the binders, each
drawn by it's four or six mules. Then
there are half a dozen wagons loaded
down with "hands," gathered from the
four corners of the world by promise OF
high harvest wages. They work early
and late in these busy times, because all
that twelve thousand acres must be har-
vested and in stack within the fortnight.
Else the grain will begin to drop, and
that would be serious thing on farm
which boasts the value and the gross
yearly return of manya city corporation
The leading machine makes its turn
Into the field. The driver and his
helper do something with the machinery
The mules start with a jerk, the sickle
buzzes, and the great canvas arms
which sweep The grain into sheaves fol
binding begin to whirl. Behind it an it
runs lies long swath of brown stub
BILE from which field mice and quail are
scurrying. The machine coughs, and
out tumble four sheaves. Behind walk
the harvesters, setting up the sheaves
in shocks, each with its cap, a water
shed against the rains.
Another binder has fallen in and IL
following, then comes another and yel
another, until six are travelling forward
in zigzag line .oward the horizon. Be
hind them the men move like company
of skirmishers. 1t will be hours before
that line has circled the field, and il
back again to its starting point to Gu,
out another swath.
A mans world is this. The wife Of
the gentleman farmer who owns these
fields may be on the ranch in the bus.
DAYS, but she is more likely to be sum
mering at watering place. If she is OF
the farm at all, she is trying to keel
cool on the piazza. The gentleman
farmer himself, dressed in outing clothes
of London cut, is driving from gang t
gang, keeping watch over the foreman
or stopping now and then to pluck al
ear and sample the condition of hi
ripening fields. He knows soils ant
fertilizers with the exact knowledge o
|, sayaut, and he reckOns profit and los
on his seasons work by the tens o
thousands of dollars.
, The binders rattle on and the mel
, skirmish behind while there is light b.
, which to work. No wasting dayligh
with twelve or fifteen or twenty thou
, sand acres to be harvested in fortnight
When they quit at last, the mice ant
, gophers and all other people of tn
, ground are going to bed in the wreckag
{ of their homes, and there is brow
patch in the sea of gold.-Will Irwin Il
Everybody's Magazine.