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It has come at last—the day for which
the whole family has been looking, working, and
preparing—the day of the fair, and now on
this bright September morning, when the air is
filled with the odors of ripeness, and the whole
country smiles with a bounteous harvest, this
good farmer's family are about starting for the
fair.
It is the end of many days of careful thought
and anxious preparation. Charlie is afraid that
the colt may be just too frisky, and forgetting
the care given to the last grooming, may rumple
a hair or two; George is in doubt whether his
young steers may not forget the many hours of
careful training, and in the confusion of sights
and sounds at the fair, fail to do as well as
they have already done in the yard this morning;
each of these has all he can do to care for his
pets, and the loading up falls to the father and
others.
The potatoes, the turnips, the apples, the squashes,
the pumpkins, and the chickens, must all be carefully
stowed away. The bread, which the mother was up
long before daylight to bake, must have a safe
place, and the bouquet to which the older daughter
has given all the best flowers of her garden—that
must be carried by hand.
But there is the quilt—grandmother feels
too old to enjoy the fair, besides someone must
be left at home "to look after things"—but
she has made a quilt—one of those marvels
in patch-work without which no well-regulated
fair can be complete. So make a place for the
quilt in the load—for precious loving thoughts
have been worked in with the stitches—and
one of the best places too at the fair, for grandmother
will not make quilts for many more fairs.
The family has not started, yet what a world
of good has its preparation brought! Did not the
father learn that in raising rutabagas and mangels
fit to show, he must give each root plenty of
room? Has not the older son, to beat his neighbor
on apples, thinned that Baldwin tree at least
three times during the season? The son with the
colt and the other with the young steers, what
an amount of self control they have learned in
trying to control their animals, and the mother,
the daughters, and all have, in their work of
preparation, already had much interesting occupation—and
the enjoyment of the fair is still to come.
We hope that this picture may serve as a representation
of what will take place in many and many a farmers'
family this month and next, throughout our broad
country. The isolation of the family is the great
misfortune of our farm life. The house is placed
as near as may be in the center of our large farms,
and neighborly intercourse is difficult. Hence
it is all the more necessary for the farmer and
his family to make the best of the opportunity
for social enjoyment afforded by the local fair.
If the fair did only this, it would be worthy
of encouragement; but it does much besides. These
good people will go to the fair, see much, meet
many old friends, learn much, and, let us hope
bring away pleasant recollections—and some
premiums. But what they will take is far better
than any premiums they will bring away—for
they take their best—they show that they
have pride in the farmers' life, and they show
the best products of that life—not in the
crops, the steers, the colts and chickens, the
bread or quilt, but in the very best of all products
of the farm, the men and women, and the boys and
girls, who will soon be men and women.
These are the best products of American farms,
and they are such products as the farms of no
other country can show.
Excerpt from American Agriculturalist, Vol.
XXXVIII, No. 9, September 1879.
Editor's Note: This is a reprint of an article
published in 1879. It describes what was recommended
in accordance with the knowledge and practices
of the day. While reading it, please consider
this fact.
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