The Baltimore County union. [volume] (Towsontown, Md.) 1865-1909, 1909-03-06
"D0wN on THE FARM"

only. UnpretentiouS quarters, an at
mosphere surcharged with good fell
lowship, and hospitality captivate
those who are fortunate enough to be
honored as its guests.
Marse Henry Watterson is the pres
ident. John Macauley is the only
other officer. He has no title-just
host. The inspiration that animated
Dickens, johnson and Byron must
have sprung from just such surround
ings. About one guest at each meeting
of the little Bohemian gathering is the
rule.
AL. G. Field, who has lately be-
come the proud possessor of a farm,
was the guest of the club recently,
and in response to the toast, "The
Farmer" spoke as follows:
Gentleman, the introduction hon.
ors me; to be farmer has been the
dream of my life. Beginning life on
farm, ask no more pleasant end
ing than to live the last days of my
earthly time on farm.
"The facetious remarks of the toast
master do not explain my reasons for
engaging in farming. 1t is true,
financial considerations did not gov
ern me in this matter, although I
do hope to make the farm self sup
porting. If I do not, I shall not feel
that I have made bad investment.
"In seeking the quietude of the
farm, was actuated by the yearning
that comes to all men who have led a
busy life-to turn back the years and
try to live again the days of patches,
freckles, stone bruises and laughter
to live those days again when there
was only one care in the world-not
to be late for meals.
81 want to go way back yonder in
my life to a house half hid from view
by the locusts and maples-where the
bees hummed and swarmed. I want
a scent of the honeysuckle as the ma
pies and locusts budded forth in what
seemed to me the morning of the world
-springtime. I want to follow the
path down by the big spring, through
the hazel bushes, where the cotton
tail jumped up just ahead of you, and
the redbird sang his sweetest song.
l can follow the path in my mind as
the hunting dog follows the scent,
down to the old rock hole where the
clear, cool waters of the creek formed
an eddy, in which the club and yel-
low perch lurked and jumped at the
bait as they never did anywhere else.
IT want to feel that ecstasy that
only comes to boy when the bottle
cork you used for bobber goes under
the water-when something is pulling
on the line like scared mule, bend
ing double the pole cut in the thicket
on your way to the creek. Iwant to
throw the pole away, role up the tan
g1ed line, hide it away in the corn crib,
and sneak back to the house the op'
posite direction FROM the creek, that
folks wouldn't suspect you had been
fishing on Sunday.
IT want to 60 back yonder in my
life where the hills meet the sky in a
purple haze, where you feel yourself
growing with the trees, where the
smell of new earth calls you to the
woods, where the dogwood is budding
and the May-apple peeps up through
last years leaves at the new leaves
budding out on the grand old naples
above.
81 want to go so far back from the
worries of city life that the Growing
of the cock and the cackle of the hen
will tell me it is morning, instead of
the changing of bells and blowing of
whistles. I want to go back yonder
where the setting sun, instead of the
city lights, will tell me 1t is night. I
want to hear the cricket and whip
poor-will as we heard them in
the evenings long ago, as we lis
tened with bated breath to the jack
o.lantern legends that stirred our
childish fancy until the croaking of
the frogs sent us to bed to dream of
uncanny things.
"I want to live in the happiness of
an autumn when the frost was on the
pumpkin and the fodder in the shock
when the hickory nuts falling on
the ground called the squirrels-when
the stars cleaned bright enough to
afford you light to bring possum
out of a tree with the old hintlock
musket. How you cherished that
gun; and when the snow hid the
roads and paths like the white cover
let on the big bed in the spare room
and the big backlog cracked and
burned on the hearth, and the red
apples glistened in the freight, and
the popcorn imitation of snowstorm
was more realistic than any artificial
one you have since witnessed.
How you shivered as you undressed
in the room above going to bed, but
how soundly you slept after you got
warm. 1 want to go back to one of
those hallowed Sunday mornings in
summer when the hush of heaven
seemed to announce the Spirit of God
in some unusual sense-when the
peace of heaven seemed so near you
felt its happiness.
"While living the old days over
the days way back yonder-I want to
live in the love and esteem of my
friends of today. Whilst l cherish
only a memory of the friends of the
old days, hold, after my family, the
love and esteem of my friends of to-
day above all things in this life.
Gentlemen, come down to the
farm. Visit with me and endeavor to
live the lite of a boy again, if only
for day."
"YoUR husband will be all right
now" said an English doctor to a
woman whose husband was danger
ously ill.
1nA