Mrs. George F. Morris Second Vice President UR first meeting with Mrs. Morris, OU Second Vice President of the Federation, was in the narrow dark passage which goes down under the Aziscoos Dam. The second time we saw her, she welcomed us into the refreshing coolness of her home in Lancaster and introduced us to her cat and dog. And on both occasions our impression was of a capable and gracious personality, informal and genuine. She seemed to us a woman who accomplishes much because she is careful of detail but never so meticulous that the drudgery of a task obscures its larger phases. That is a good quality for the officer of any organization. We spoke a little of the question of the Federation's stand in regard to political affairs and found Mrs. Morris in entire agreement with the other officers of the Federation. "The representation of the clubs on the executive board is very widely distributed. We have also the district conferences and the president's conference which takes in the presidents of the clubs throughout the state. It is not difficult to get a very exact consensus of opinion on any issue without actually taking a vote of each club." Like the other members of the board, Mrs. Morris recognized the dangers of too much participation in political affairs on the part of the Federation, but she felt that these were slight compared with the advantages which come from making it possible for the Federation to accomplish needed reforms and to work for the welfare of women and children through the channels of legislation. Mrs. Morris is particularly interested in the possibilities of the Women's clubs as agencies for civic betterment. "If Lancaster wants anything done, the town calls on us," she said. "The Mrs. George H. Morris of Lancaster, Second Vice President last thing we accomplished was to secure the lighting of our park. The things a club can do for a small community are numberless, and the tendency seems to be for clubs to realize this and turn their attention more and more to civic affairs. The old literary study club is being replaced by the civic club." The officers of the New Hampshire Federation of Women's Clubs elected at its annual meeting in May were:President, Mrs. William B. Fellows, Tilton; First Vice President, Mrs. Guy S. Speare, Plymouth; Second Vice PlyPresident, Mrs. George F. Morris, Lancaster; Recording Secretary, Mrs. Grace W. Hoskins of Lisbon; Corresponding Secretary, Mrs. C. M. Ingalls of Tilton; Treasurer, Mrs. James H. Weston of Derry; Auditor, Mrs. Harry W. Carpenter of Milford. I must not think of thee; and, tired yet strong, The thought of thee-and in the blue heaven's height, And in the sweetest passage of a song. Oh, just beyond the fairest thoughts that throng This breast, the thought of thee waits hidden yet bright; I must stop short of thee the whole day long. But when sleep comes to close each difficult day, When night gives pause to the long watch I keep, And all my bonds I needs must loose apart, With the first dream that comes with the first sleep THE WHARF RAT BY FITZ-JAMES O'BRIEN The wharf is silent and black, and motionless lie the ships; Behind the white cotton bales a figure is crouching low; And when he reaches the riverside, the wharf rat's at his back. A man is missing next day, and a paragraph tells the fact; But the way he went, or the road he took, will never, never be tracked! G Mr. Gould in a promising block of McIntosh. GOULD HILL FARM How a Fine Apple Orchard Grew from Small Beginnings By G. F. POTTER OULD Hill Farm lies at the summit of the great bluff east of Contoocook, N. H. Through the rows of fruit trees one may look down into the valley with its winding river and the white houses of the neat New England village. Beyond, the hills roll upward to the distant blue summit of Mount Kearsarge. One day in the summer of 1879 a man drove his horse slowly up the steep hill road and into the dooryard of the farm. It was no other than Charles H. Pettee, now Dean of the University of New Hampshire, then a young man just beginning his long term of service with the institution. His errand that afternoon was to garner one or two more students for the little school then at Hanover. It was before the days when agricultural colleges were popular. "I remember it as distinctly as if it were yesterday," says Robert T. Gould, the 18-year-old lad, whom that afternoon the Dean sought to interest in his school. But the boy was not to go. Although he was fifth in a family of seven, the older boys had left the hillside farm. They had gone as members of that army of the "Iron Breed" which for years has flowed from the hill farms of New England into the ranks of business and professional men of the cities. The father, for forty years an old-fashioned schoolmaster, was failing in health and unable to take care of the farm which had occupied his attention during the summers. Three years later, at the age of twenty-one, Robert took charge of the farm, and when he was twenty-seven it became his by agreement. This does not mean that he paid off the other heirs. The care of the old folks went with the farm and the responsibility was greater than the value of the eighty acres on the hill. The others simply signed off without compensation. In those days beef production had been one of the leading lines of industry throughout the country, country, but it had been overdone and become unprofitable. The young man therefore turned to dairying as a most promising line of business to make the old farm pay. From small beginnings a herd of thirty to thirtyhive Guernsey cows was built up. With his own hands he made butter, which was delivered to a private trade in Concord for a period of fifteen years. Two things bespeak the quality of the work which was put into the industry. At the end of the fifteen years the original customers were still upon the list and Mr. Gould still shows a bronze medal of the World's Columbian Exposition. His product stood third among all samples of dairy butter exhibited at this world's fair. Good, but not exceptional, returns from the dairy business paid the way and made it possible to build a new home on the hill, a home constructed with all the substantial honesty which characterizes New England houses of that period. When the responsibility of the parents was no longer upon hist shoulders, he brought his bride to this new home. It was in 1901, that an almost accidental Occurrence changed the course of progress at Gould Hill Farm. Here and there beside the stone walls and in rocky places unfit for other purposes, seedling apples had sprung up and, with typical New England thrift and skill, had been grafted over to Baldwins. Mr. Gould is still a master of the art of topworking. Each year uncared for and without encouragement these old trees contributed a small amount to the income of the farm, generally enough to pay the taxes. But in the spring of 1901 it happened that there came a period when the other work of the farm was done and Mr. Gould and his hired man spent a day or two in pruning these old veterans. Then they hauled out a few loads of stable manure and scattered it about the roots. A year later, responding to the first encouragement that they had ever known, the old trees produced 400 barrels of good Baldwin apples, which returned an income of $800. In 1903 they bore again and produced 300 barrels which sold for $700. The sum of $1500 was not to be despised and it seemed to have come almost as a gift. Robert Gould was then more than forty years of age. Many a man would have hesitated to turn his hand to the planting of a large orchard, knowing that it would be many years before his trees would reach their prime. But one hundred Baldwins were set out that year and the following year one hundred Ben Davis. The Ben Davis trees for one reason or another failed to thrive and soon were replaced with more Baldwins. Two years later the borers came and well-nigh nipped the new project in the bud. They were discovered just in time, the trees properly cared for and the orchard continued to thrive. Having set his hand to the plow Mr. Gould never looked back. Steadily year by year, the plantings were increased, never by large amounts, frequently two hundred trees a season, until today 2200 trees crown the crest of the bluff. Approximately one-half of these are of the old standard Baldwin variety. which reaches perfection in this region. About 500 are of the newer favorite, McIntosh; and 400 of the earlier variety, Wealthy. Approximately 150 Gravensteins, 50 Williams Early and 30 Spy complete the list of the varieties which are planted in |