The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1911-08-19
Mayor Rice Of
 New Haven Has
 Farm In Monroe
Elm City's Executive Gets Back to the Soil-Was Born on
 a Farm

tO tIlc OOll-VdS DOTH OH
 a Farm
 New Haven, Aug. 19
 Among the picturesque hills of Fair field county. in the heart of an old fashioned farming district, Mayor Frank J. Rice spends many happy hours far from the haunting cares of office. There spreading chestnut trees, giant oaks, and towering elms throw their cooling shade .on the pleasant lawns of the farmhous that skirt the window roads. Wanton hay, the sweet odors of the glens and the vitalfzing air of the hilltops. 1t is here that the citys chief executive repairs at the weekend for relaxa- tion and here he is Farmer Rice
 Inquisitive newspaper men who had hills were invited to inspect. the sum- mer capitol at Monroe and accom- panied the mayor thither. It is three-mile drive over high rolling hills and through deep vales from the nearest railroad station, which is house where MT. and Mrs. Rice with their two sons have made their vaca- tion home for six years now. When the train rolled in, the usual assem- blaze of villagers was on hand, for the coming of the train is still an cial steed, was waiting with ears pricked up to catch his masters voice. and it was the work of but second to jump into the surrey and be off. He settled into the harness with a will and patiently toiled up the long grades and trotted joyously down the inclines. seeming to realize that he was bringing the mayor all the way down to the cosy little home nestled among the naples. At al- most every farmhouse, from each passing team, from the store, and ed greeting. Morning MT. Mayor and "Howdy" came the cheery halls. With the mayor it was Hello John, how's you lame foot?'' and Good Fred, having done yet?''
 On the .postoffice steps stood a lit and a countenance wreathed with smiles and bashfulness as he held the team. Hello Washing ton. how's little George today?" said the mayor. The little fellow wriggled, up and finally master how'se you?" And so it went on, everybody knew "the mayor" and he knew every chick and child, to say nothing of the elders.
 Farmer Rice.
 Arrived at Stevenson. Frank Rice ''reverts to type,' as Jack London would say, and he becomes Farmer Rice. for the mayor was born on a farm in Cheshire. And who would hand has spread her beauties broad cast over these splendid uplands weaving spell to charm the most apathetic among us. The homestead Is on a gentle slope facing the south and was purchased by Mr. Rice six with a nearby family. It is shaded by ! double row of full grown naples, which flank the roadway at this point, and is surrounded by Towering shrubs of exuberant foliage and beds of rich and various colored blooms. Across turned to deepest hues the hazel ana other shrubs in the pasture where Molly" moos to her hearts content, ,rops the tender grass, and at night all supplies the household with 16 quarts of delicious milk. Far off on he distant hillsides the cloud shad- ,ws may be seen chasing each other across the landscape. For a few mo- nents walled field is in shade, and larkened, only to be thrown into bold | 'elief a second later when the cloud 1as passed on to the next. There is II, put the mayors stamping ground is n the rear. where a we'll cared for l vegetable garden, berry patch, and | 'ruit orchard give evidence of dili- 1 sence with hoe and sprayer. This Is l he first section of the farm visited | He peeks among the pumpkin leaves o inspect the progress of affairs, | ,okes away the cucumber leaves ana | picks an especially inviting "cuke" for | linner, pulls few beets, and gathers | Ln armful of the ripening corn. It is | g saying a good deal, but as in most | else, There's reason" This is how it happened
 Last winter the mayor was dined | md banqueted until he realized the | tern truths of the adage: 'It is bet | urfeit with too much" The continu- JUS round of receptions, collations, | Timers. and banQuets gave his honor | Ln acute attack of indigestion. This | about sleepless nights and | lays devoid of ease. He was tired at l attempted to rest. A wise physician i -efused to administer any pills or | powders and said: "I can give youl lope but I won't. Get back to per ect quiet in the country and work it | If in the open air" So although it VdS GdIly nlC6 LOOK the irst train for Stevenson and Monroe, | aden with seeds, and determination | o get back to the soil. To the aston shment of the natives, who had not ,egun to plant, the New Haven mayor ut everything in the ground. His 1 riends shook their heads and Cal | ulated it might be a little early" He vas way ahead of the farmers with lis entire garden. He is now The Try spell came, and it hit Monroe when the gardens of the natives were t their tender stage, whitening many , vine and stunting much corn. The tice crop was past the critical stage nd shooting fast toward maturity 1t veathered the arid period and has ome out luxuriapt and bountiful When the planting was over the mayor had been sleeping like top or more than a week, could eat any hing and everything at any time, and with weekend trips to the country as been feeling eft" ever since.
 Toiling newspaper men from city onfines arriving at such a rural par disc were not stricken with paralysis 7hen the news was broken gently to hem that there was no returning rain until ' in the evening" Rather hey felt a secret joy that President Iellen had fooled the editors by run ing only two trains day. With the mayor they went for a walk. In quiet