Oxford Democrat., 1920-06-15
AMONG THE FARMERS.
"sPEED THE PLow."
The Light That Burned.

The Light That Burned.
1t was Kipling who wrote 1.-THE Light
That Failed" the tragedy of news
paper illustrator, whose eyes-the guides
of his pencil as we'll as the lamps OF his
soul-went out and left him in darkness,
and of his frantic efforts, with the aid of
a combination housekeeper and model
to depict on canvas what coming dark
ness meant, and at the same time make
his last supreme effort for masterpiece
before that darkness closed in; and its
failure through ignorance and weak
human nature.
the success or failure, just as you view
it, of farm right here In Oxford COun
ty. 1t was not failure because any
light on it failed to burn, and it was a
success, If it was q success, because
light on it did burn. Whether this farm
can be called success depends entirely
on the human elements which enter into
it. That really is the thing that makes
any kind Of a story. There are all kinds
of products on farm, but 1t is what
humans do with them that engenders in.
terest. Olive Schreiner wrote the "Story
of an African Farm" Now the story of
farm in Africa has all kinds of possi-
bilities in 1t. The landscape is made up
of veldts and kopjss, which sound
strange even IL they are only common
plains and hills, and there is always the
likelihood Of encountering lions and ele.
plants and one knows not what else. 1t
is true 1t was kind of a chicken farm,
but the chickens were of gigantic size,
that is, they were ostriches. Interest
didn't center in birds, however, but In
the human elements of those who lived
on the farm.
So it is of the farm am writing about,
q farm situated near the Cumberland
County line. To begin with it was an
old farm, composed of land taken from
the virgin forest by the pioneer of the
family owning 1t for three generations
When taken up 1t was for home of the
aforesaid pioneer and his wife and chill
dren. Through long series of years
fields were cleared and enclosed with
stone fences. House and barns were
erected. Orchards were planted.
1t became business plant to the
second generation, but the third was "a
stranger in the land of his fathers" The
city had beckoned to him and he re-
sponded to the call. The farm enticed
him not at all.
The father toiled on. He became old
and decrepit, unable to do the work on
the place, so about each of the stone
walls there started zigzag row of white
pines. Each succeeding year new row
started, until only little spot in the
center of each field remained arabic land.
Nature, it is said, abhors a vacuum, and
1t seems the old lady must abbor
vacant space OF any kind. There is no
land so poor-uDless 1t may be in the
middle of Ssraha-thst she can't find
something to grow upon 1t. There is
no land so poor in the State of Maine
that cannot be induced to raise crop of
gray birch bushes; and after the leaves
OF this shrub have fallen for seasons
enough, and made soil deep enough,
poplars and naples will start and thrive.
These birches have found it hard work
making living on the Oxford Plains for
10 these many years, but they have kept
ON the job until they have prepared the
soil for better CROP 1t ia case of
war, and the trees conscripted for this
service seem TO be in the line of selec-
tive draft. When a field has been
cropped, exhausted and deserted, white
pines, in MANY respects the noblest tree
Of Maine, will spring up and this is
what happened to the fields am writ
ing about.
Well, there came a time when the
old man owning the fields had to give
up and send for bis city son to care for
him in advancing age. The first request
he made of this son was that he should
cut down the intruding pines and again
cultivate the fields of his boyhood; but
the younger man had no inclination that
way, and the pines continued to grow,
grew until the old man was laid beside
his fathers, grew until there came a
chance to sell them. This took decade
or two.
The young man returned to the city
after the death of his father, leaving the
pines to grow and the buildings to decay.
Finally there was little left besides the
pines.
One day lumber operator spied this
growth. He was maker of lights;
that is, was after stock for matches, and
this grove filled the bill. he inquired
who the owner might be, opened negotis-
tions with him and bought. The price
offered was four times the value of the
farm in its prime.
It is admitted the last owner of the
farm, measured In dollars, made great
or success than bis predecessor, aud yet
the latter probably would not have been
satisfied with his methods.
Ifit is permissible to tack moral to
a tale, it would seem that land better
fitted for forestation than any other crop
should be devoted to it.
AQUARIUs.