Pullman herald. [volume] (Pullman, W.T. [Wash.]) 1888-1989, 1915-02-12

OF a stranger.
Children are strangers in a strange
world, and must learn it-not merely
It's geography and its animal life. but
Its human life. Notice how sharp are
their eyes and how wide open their
ears when q stranger comes into the
nome and tells Of things of which
they have never heard before. Little
pitchers have big ears" Notice how
greedily they deyour tales of adven-
lufe III strange lands, how fond they
are OF stories, whether oral or writ
ten what vivid imaginations they
have. All if we could retain the
Keen perception of childhood, all
knowledge would be our province,
and we would be masters of our des-
tiny.
The character of the neighborhood
in which we live, the school our chill
dren attend, the plays and sports in
which our children engage, become
OF vastly more importance than the
Kind of clothes they wear or the food
they eat. But how can there be a
desirable and satisfactory social life
II there is constant change going on
among the people of the neighbor-
hood?
Farmers are in some respects a
rather curious folk, differing from the
man who makes his living through
studying men instead of crops. The
business mans long experience en-
ables him to classify the men he deals
with largely into groups, and to deal
with them according to his judgment.
He touches most men only on their
business side, and need have nothing
to do with them socially. 1t takes
time to establish lasting friendships
among farm folks. We take the
stranger who has come into the
neighborhood, whether as owner or
tenant, by the hand-but we don't
at once take him to our heart. We
want to know something of his past,
of his forebears, in other words, of
his pedigree, before we encourage our
children to be intimate with his, or
even to be intimate with him our
selves, The experience of life, as
well as the reading of history, has
taught the wisdom of that advice of
Polonius to Hamlet, in Shakespeare's
play:
Those friends thou hast, and their
adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul with hoops
of steel;
But do not dull thy palm of appre-
hension
With each new, un1edged comrade."
Today about 40 per cent of the
lands of the corn belt are cultivated
by tenants; and these seldom stay
long enough to be assimilated in the
social life Of the community. Every
one of our readers knows the extent
Of these changes, and every change
tends to disintegrate the social life.
These tenancies are the result of the
moving of farmers to town, of the
movement of old, settled families to
distant sections, of the purchase by
capitalists of land as an investment,
andy the purchase for speculation
by men who believe that the price
of lands in the corn belt will go ON
increasing as they have for the last
fifteen years.
The country suffers least it, when
the farmer who has been a pillar in
the country life retires, or, in other
words moves to town, his place is
taken by a son or son-in-laWs or a
nephew, who is a member of the
community. We are acquainted with
him, and are glad that the life of
the whole family is not lost to the
community. But on losing this older
man, his worthy wife and unmarried
children, we are conscious that some
we could not we'll spare. We know
their ways, their prejudices, and had
unconsciously adapted ourselves to
them, looking good-hum oredly at
their eccentricities. We know their
sterling worth. We remember their
kindly helpfulness in times of trouble,
their words of sympathy when loss
or sorrow came to any of us, the
help they have been in various ways
to the entire community. They leave
the country poorer for their going.
If a strange tenant comes in, we
watch him and his. We don't know
them, and they don't know us. We
watch to see how he will farm. We
mourn when we see him pillow up
clover and blue grass pastures and
convert them into cornfields, and
there is no lowing of cattle in the