Of course I bought farm machinery during this first season,—mower, reaper, corn reaper, shredder, and so on. In October I took account of expenditures for machinery, grass seed, and fertilizer, and found that I had invested $833. I had also, at an expense of $850, built a large shed or tool-house for farm implements. It is one of the rules at Four Oaks to grease and house all tools when not in actual use. I believe the observation of this rule has paid for the shed.
In October 1896 I had a good offer for my town house, and accepted it. I had purchased the property eleven years before for $22,000, but, as it was in bad condition, I had at once spent $9000 on it and the stable. I sold it for $34,000, with the understanding that I could occupy it for the balance of the year if I wished.
After selling the house, I calculated the cost of the elementary necessities, food and shelter, which I had been willing to pay during many years of residence in the city. The record ran about like this:—
| Interest at 5% on house valued at $34,000 | $1700.00 |
| Yearly taxes on same | 340.00 |
| Insurance | 80.00 |
| Fuel and light | 250.00 |
| Wages for one man and three women | 1200.00 |
| Street sprinkling, watchman, etc. | 90.00 |
| Food, including water, ice, etc. | 1550.00 |
| ________ | |
| Making a total of | $5210.00 |
It cost me $100 a week to shelter and feed my family in the city. This, of course, took no account of personal expenses,—travel, sight-seeing, clothing, books, gifts, or the thousand and one things which enter more or less prominently into the everyday life of the family.
If the farm was to furnish food and shelter for us in the future, it would be no more than fair to credit it with some portion of this expenditure, which was to cease when we left the city home. What portion of it could be justly credited to the farm was to be decided by comparative comforts after a year of experience. I did not plan our exodus for the sake of economy, or because I found it necessary to retrench; our rate of living was no higher than we were willing and able to afford. Our object was to change occupation and mode of life without financial loss, and without moulting a single comfort. We wished to end our days close to the land, and we hoped to prove that this could be done with both grace and profit. I had no desire to lose touch with the city, and there was no necessity for doing so. Four Oaks is less than an hour from the heart of town. I could leave it, spend two or three hours in town, and be back in time for luncheon without special effort; and Polly would think nothing of a shopping trip and friends home with her to dinner. The people of Exeter were nearly all city people who were so fortunate as not to be slaves to long hours. They were rich by work or by inheritance, and they gracefully accepted the otium cum dignitate which this condition permitted. Social life was at its best in Exeter, and many of its people were old acquaintances of ours. A noted country club spread its broad acres within two miles of our door, and I had been favorably posted for membership. It did not look as though we should be thrust entirely upon our own resources in the country; but at the worst we had resources within our own walls and fences that would fend off all but the most violent attacks of ennui.
We were both keenly interested in the experiment. Nothing that happened on the farm went unchallenged. The milk product for the day was a thing of interest; the egg count could not go unnoted; a hatch of chickens must be seen before they left the incubator; a litter of new-born pigs must be admired; horses and cows were forever doing things which they should or should not do; men and maids had griefs and joys to share with mistress or Headman; flowers were blooming, trees were leafing, a robin had built in the black oak, a gopher was tunnelling the rose bed,—a thousand things, full of interest, were happening every day. As a place where things the most unexpected do happen, recommend me to a quiet farm.
But we were not to depend entirely upon outside things for diversion. Books we had galore, and we both loved them. Many a charming evening have I spent, sometimes alone, more often with two or three congenial friends, listening to Polly's reading. This is one of her most delightful accomplishments. Her friends never tire of her voice, and her voice never tires of her friends. We all grow lazy when she is about; but there are worse things than indolence. No, we did not mean to drop out of anything worth while; but we were pretty well provisioned against a siege, if inclement weather or some other accident should lock us up at the farm.
To keep still better hold of the city, I suggested to Tom and Kate that they should keep open house for us, or any part of us, whenever we were inclined to take advantage of their hospitality. This would give us city refuge after late functions of all sorts. The plan has worked admirably. I devote $1200 a year out of the $5200 of food-and-shelter money to the support of our city shelter at Kate's house, and the balance, $4000, is entered at the end of each year on the credit side of the farm ledger. Nor do I think this in any way unjust. We do not expect to get things for nothing, and we do not wish to. If the things we pay for now are as valuable as those we paid for six or eight years ago, we ought not to find fault with an equal price. I have repeatedly polled the family on this question, and we all agree that we have lost nothing by the change, and that we have gained a great deal in several ways. Our friends are of like opinion; and I am therefore justified in crediting Four Oaks with a considerable sum for food and shelter. We have bettered our condition without foregoing anything, and without increasing our expenses. That is enough.