33. HEARTS AND PRIZES
At the end of my freshman year in college, I was given a summer appointment to preach in a little church back in the foothills of the Adirondacks. I boarded at a hotel which gave me low rates, with the understanding that I was to help make the social life of the guests, most of whom were women, as pleasant as possible. In this rather agreeable assignment I had an opportunity to fill in some gaps in my education. I discovered that it would require the wisdom of a Solomon and the diplomacy of a Benjamin Franklin to divide my attention among the ladies successfully, so that no one would feel slighted. The problem became more involved when a extremely attractive young lady came to spend her vacation at the cottage next to mine. She had a new canoe, and needed a man to help her paddle it and to show her how to fish. Her uncle, who brought her to the hotel, had confided to me that if any man hoped to succeed in winning his niece, he would have to go after her like “a thousand of brick.” With three years more of college ahead of me, and with other considerations that tended to make me cautious, I hardly felt like going after anyone in the overwhelming manner that a “a thousand of brick” might imply, but I did like to go canoeing with this particular girl, whose name was Laura.
Our acquaintance was progressing very well when Laura decided to spend a fortnight with her father. On the very day that she left the hotel, three nurses arrived at the lake for their vacations. One of them, a pretty blonde named Ruth, was upset because her trunk had been left behind at the station, some twelve miles away. Obviously, it fell to me to pacify the young lady. I suggested that the three girls take a boat ride with me and forget the delayed baggage until the stage could bring it the next day. The plan worked perfectly, and everybody seemed happy. Ruth was so pleased with the boat ride that she wanted to go with me again and learn how to catch pickerel, which we did the next day. When we returned for dinner some of the guests, in a fun-loving mood, greeted us with rice and old shoes.
We laughed at this prank, but a few days later my name was again linked with that of the blonde nurse. A number of the younger people were gathering to go to a country dance, and I moved about among them, saying pleasant things and attempting to be social, just as I was expected to be. When I happened to say to Ruth, “Be sure to come home early,” she replied, “I will, if you’ll come after me.” I pretended to play her game and offered to meet her, but named such an early hour that I felt sure she would back down. However, to my surprise, she agreed. As I tried to crawl out of a situation which I feared might lead to another reception with rice, she smiled and said, “Are you a quitter?” So of course I met her and brought her safely back to the hotel. Someone saw us together when we returned, and since topics of conversation are limited at such a resort, this bit of gossip was soon passed along.
Meanwhile, I had received a letter from Laura saying that she and her father were on an estate where she had a boat and an entire lake to herself. She called attention to the stunning moon, and asked, “What is the good of it all without a man to row me?”
By the time Laura returned to the lake Ruth had left, and I was sure that all the excitement about our fancied romance had died down. I was entirely mistaken. Laura’s first question was about my doings while she was away. She listened to my rather lengthy effort to explain away the gossip she had heard, and then fixing me with a glance of final judgment said, “Mr. Roberts, you have certainly learned the game.”
Dejected by such an appraisal, but not entirely without hope, I recalled the lines: “There is something about a woman I could never understand, And my knowledge goes as far as any scholar’s in the land.” I must admit, though, that if I had any conceit about my wisdom concerning feminine matters, I lost it at that time.
***
The shy country boy who had been called a “quitter” by one girl and a wolf who had “learned the game” by another got safely back to college in September. My sophomore year proved to be a good one. With Greek, Latin, mathematics, physics, and chemistry no longer required, I was able to turn to literature, psychology, philosophy, and public-speaking, which I felt had more bearing on my chosen career. I become a member of the Sophomore debating team, which defeated the Freshmen, and so was encouraged to enter the trials for the Inter-collegiate contest, but the upperclassmen were too experienced for me.
Each year the college held a prize debate for all classes, and I managed to secure third place on one of the teams. Because of the reputation of the juniors and seniors, I worked hard and was able to carry off half the prize. A junior took the other half, while the over-confident seniors were disappointed.
A little later in the year, I was selected as one of the competitors in the Annual Orational Contest. Since I had had an impediment in my speech in grade-school days, I applied myself to acquiring a better speaking voice, and zealously practiced such exercises as “She sells sea shells,” A big black bug bit a big black bear,” and that other tongue-twister which goes as follows: “If Theophilus Thistle, the successful thistle-sifter, in sifting a sieve full of unsifted thistles, thrust three thousand thistles through the thick of his thumb, see that thou, in sifting a sieve full of unsifted thistles, thrust not three thousand thistles through the thick of thy thumb. Success to the successful thistle-sifter.”
This last must have done the trick, for while I was training for the big elocutionary event our instructor noticed my improvement and remarked, “Mr. Roberts, while you speak more rapidly than the other men do, your words are so distinct that you do not need to slow down.” In any event, diligence was the mother of good luck, and my efforts were rewarded with the fifty-dollar first prize.
Needless to say, when Father heard of my success in oratory, he was more elated than he would have been if he had just caught the largest sheep-killing bear in the Adirondacks.
34. THE BEST PRIZE OF ALL
As good as it was to win a couple of prizes, this same year held even better things in store for me. A church in nearby Wethersfield, Connecticut, which had been served by a senior, was soon to have a vacancy. I became a candidate for the position, and was fortunate enough to be selected. Beginning in April, I had to prepare two sermons a week, but the church was only ten miles from Wesleyan and I could easily travel back and forth by trolley. The weekly addition to my income was a great boon, and well worth the extra effort.
At the very beginning of my ministerial activities a reception was held to say farewell to the young pastor who was leaving the church and to welcome me as his successor. I saw among the guests a young lady whom I hoped I would see again, and later in the evening my predecessor introduced me. He told me that she was a member of another church and came to this one only in the evening, when her own church did not have services. However, she frequently sang in our choir and sometimes substituted as organist. My friend praised her character and charm and mentioned that if he had not already been committed to a young lady, he would have chosen this one.
Her name was Jeanie Holmes, and she was twenty-three years old. I learned that she was a teacher in a local school. Previously, when she was only twenty, she had undertaken the difficult task of instructing and disciplining some fifty County Home pupils, most of them under-privileged children from disrupted families. She had taught all grades. On the opening day of school the superintendent had presented her with a whip and had explained that she was not to count on him for any assistance in governing the ill-mannered students, some of whom were taller and bigger than their teacher. He added, “If you can’t handle them, I’ll get someone who can.” A less resolute person might have lost heart but Jeanie, who was a doughty Scot, replied, “Don’t worry, I’ll never call on you.”
In a short time the boys and girls in Jeanie’s school became as orderly as a company of soldiers. She had to use the whip at first on some of the larger boys, but firmness coupled with kindness soon won their respect. During recesses she played games with them in the yard, and she taught them to sing. Many visitors came to hear the singing, and farmers made it a habit to rest their horses outside the school building and listen.
I was able to see Jeanie Holmes again after our first meeting, even sooner than I had hoped. It was the custom for the members of my church to billet the young ministers in various homes from Saturday to Monday. On one weekend, when it was not convenient for a certain couple to take me into their house, the Holmes house was suggested. Even though they were not affiliated with our church, their hospitality was well known. After that first pleasant weekend with the Holmes family, it was something more than appreciation and pastoral interest which led me back to see them quite frequently.
As our friendship deepened I was able to conquer some of my former shyness with the ladies. I offered Jean the gold medal which had been awarded me for being on the college debating team, and she consented to wear it on a chain about her neck. Our courtship continued, and the anticipation of seeing Jean every weekend added greatly to my enthusiasm for traveling back and forth to Wethersfield to minister to the little Methodist church there. Jeanie also visited me at Wesleyan. When I first invited her for a Commons Club party, an elderly lady whom I knew offered to let Jean stay at her home during the weekend festivities. Along with the offer of hospitality, my elderly friend cautioned me against losing my heart to the first girl I invited to a college party. A few days later, after she had met Jeanie, my friend had quite different advice. She said, “Mr. Roberts, if you ever get a chance to marry Jeanie Holmes, and don’t do it, I’ll lose all my respect for you.” These were, as a matter of fact, exactly my own sentiments.
However, as so often happens, when we would like to go up and possess the Promised Land at once, obstacles like the Walls of Jericho block our way. In my case, I had two more years of college to finish, and after that there was an obligation to my unmarried sisters who had provided a home for me in Glens Falls. To make matters more difficult, during the second semester of my senior year I had a severe attack of blood poisoning and was confined to a hospital for ten weeks. A cheering note during this period was provided by my Chemistry professor, who visited me and made the undoubtedly true prediction: “You will feel a lot better when you get over it.” Gradually my health improved so that I was able to study in bed, and since a member of my class let me copy his notes from the lectures, I passed my final examination and graduated with better than average grades.
35. MY FIRST FULL-TIME CHURCH
After graduation I applied for a church and full-time pastoral work. Returning to Troy Conference, where I had the credentials of a Local Preacher, I was sent to a tiny Methodist church at Berlin, New York, a place strategically situated, as I thought, between Jeanie in Connecticut, my sisters at Glens Falls and Father at Brant Lake.
As a lover of mountains, I was delighted to be among the Berkshires where the white birch trees grow on the higher slopes and large fields of gladioli beautify the valley. More than this though I was eager for the challenge of Christian service, and hopeful that in due time I might bring Jean to the parsonage as my wife. The salary was six hundred dollars a year—not a very large amount for clothing, food, fuel, books, and the repayment of a college loan. The parsonage was provided, however, and I had a place to keep thirty hens, so had eggs to eat, to trade for groceries, and to share with others. And the people of Berlin responded to my efforts in increasing numbers. Not only did the stalwart saints take on a more hopeful spirit, but also many people who had not been in the habit of church attendance began to come.
Following my previous experience, I went after some of the “lost sheep.” Although our town had voted against selling intoxicating drink, there was a house across the valley called “The Crow’s Nest,” where liquor was illegally sold. Attempts had been made to secure evidence of the sale of liquor, but so far it had been impossible to obtain the necessary proof. In addition, there was a rumor in the community that any stranger who might be caught spying around “The Crow’s Nest” would be met with hot lead.
I learned that a woman was in charge of “The Crow’s Nest” and that her husband was ill. Believing that I might turn man’s extremity into God’s opportunity, I decided to include this house among my sick calls, and chose an early afternoon for my visit.
It was with some apprehension that I walked up the hill to “The Crow’s Nest” and knocked. Almost immediately the door opened, revealing a woman with such stringy, unkempt hair that she reminded me of Medusa, whose fearful countenance turned men to stone. Introducing myself as the new minister, I explained that I had heard of her husband’s illness and had come to ask if there was any way I could help.
Suddenly the hard, scowling face became wet with tears. “You are the first decent person to come to my house in years,” she said.
From his bed in an adjoining room, the husband called out to me, and as I talked to him it was clear that sickness and unemployment had been instrumental in leading these two into their illegal dealings. Both husband and wife seemed ready to lead better lives—and from then on they really did. While the man remained an invalid and so could not take a job, his wife secured employment in a shirt factory, and began to attend church. For a young minister it had been a good day’s work to accomplish what was done—without law and without trouble—and I felt that the experience had clearly demonstrated the saying, “Kindness has converted more sinners than zeal, eloquence or learning.”
***
Over the years I had become increasingly concerned about Father who, though over eighty, clung to the farm which had been his earthly home for more than half a century. Sisters Clara and Antha took turns keeping house for him, and he frequently visited his eldest daughter, Alice, whose home was only a few miles from Brant Lake. During part of my first winter in Berlin he came to be with me; but as spring approached, he responded to the call of the Brant Lake country where he could gather sweet sap from his maples and do some late-season trapping and fishing.
At times brother Ruel, who followed in Father’s footsteps as a hunter, spent long periods with him during which they hunted along the familiar trails. Later on Ruel joined the Marines and was sent to the Canal Zone, where he found excitement now and then in connection with the capture of wild animals. On one occasion he tracked down and killed two pumas which were preying on small goats and cattle, and another time he captured two bear cubs which became company mascots and were named for Theodore Roosevelt and his daughter Alice, who were inspecting the Canal at that time.
After his return to the States, Ruel settled in Glens Falls, bought some swampy land which no one else wanted, cut out the alders, and made the land into a fertile garden. Having discovered that the wetness of the ground was caused by a cool spring of water which came from under a high bank, he dug ditches and a series of pools in which he raised a surprisingly large number of trout. And since he was so near to Lake George and other bodies of water, he furnished bait for fishermen.
In time of drouth, when other gardens suffered for the lack of moisture, Ruel had prize crops of radishes, lettuce, parsley, carrots, and corn. He sold fresh vegetables to the markets, and people who came for fish bait often bought the vegetables right from the garden.
When the gardening season was over, Ruel turned to hunting and trapping. He drove a Ford car, and was able to spread his traps over a wide area, adding many hundreds of dollars to his yearly income. As a guide for deer-hunting, he was also in great demand.
Ruel did not attempt to trap bears, but he did track down and kill a sixty-nine pound lynx which had frightened some hunters out of the woods. Best of all he became enthusiastic about the conservation of wild life, and wrote articles on ways and means for preserving our fish and game.
It was natural for members of the family to move to Glens Falls, our nearest city, for there were more opportunities for year-round work there. My brother John became a carpenter and builder, married and had a family who often visited Father at Brant Lake, but no one could persuade Father to move from his stronghold among the hills before it could be sold.
At the end of my freshman year in college, I was given a summer appointment to preach in a little church back in the foothills of the Adirondacks. I boarded at a hotel which gave me low rates, with the understanding that I was to help make the social life of the guests, most of whom were women, as pleasant as possible. In this rather agreeable assignment I had an opportunity to fill in some gaps in my education. I discovered that it would require the wisdom of a Solomon and the diplomacy of a Benjamin Franklin to divide my attention among the ladies successfully, so that no one would feel slighted. The problem became more involved when a extremely attractive young lady came to spend her vacation at the cottage next to mine. She had a new canoe, and needed a man to help her paddle it and to show her how to fish. Her uncle, who brought her to the hotel, had confided to me that if any man hoped to succeed in winning his niece, he would have to go after her like “a thousand of brick.” With three years more of college ahead of me, and with other considerations that tended to make me cautious, I hardly felt like going after anyone in the overwhelming manner that a “a thousand of brick” might imply, but I did like to go canoeing with this particular girl, whose name was Laura.
Our acquaintance was progressing very well when Laura decided to spend a fortnight with her father. On the very day that she left the hotel, three nurses arrived at the lake for their vacations. One of them, a pretty blonde named Ruth, was upset because her trunk had been left behind at the station, some twelve miles away. Obviously, it fell to me to pacify the young lady. I suggested that the three girls take a boat ride with me and forget the delayed baggage until the stage could bring it the next day. The plan worked perfectly, and everybody seemed happy. Ruth was so pleased with the boat ride that she wanted to go with me again and learn how to catch pickerel, which we did the next day. When we returned for dinner some of the guests, in a fun-loving mood, greeted us with rice and old shoes.
We laughed at this prank, but a few days later my name was again linked with that of the blonde nurse. A number of the younger people were gathering to go to a country dance, and I moved about among them, saying pleasant things and attempting to be social, just as I was expected to be. When I happened to say to Ruth, “Be sure to come home early,” she replied, “I will, if you’ll come after me.” I pretended to play her game and offered to meet her, but named such an early hour that I felt sure she would back down. However, to my surprise, she agreed. As I tried to crawl out of a situation which I feared might lead to another reception with rice, she smiled and said, “Are you a quitter?” So of course I met her and brought her safely back to the hotel. Someone saw us together when we returned, and since topics of conversation are limited at such a resort, this bit of gossip was soon passed along.
Meanwhile, I had received a letter from Laura saying that she and her father were on an estate where she had a boat and an entire lake to herself. She called attention to the stunning moon, and asked, “What is the good of it all without a man to row me?”
By the time Laura returned to the lake Ruth had left, and I was sure that all the excitement about our fancied romance had died down. I was entirely mistaken. Laura’s first question was about my doings while she was away. She listened to my rather lengthy effort to explain away the gossip she had heard, and then fixing me with a glance of final judgment said, “Mr. Roberts, you have certainly learned the game.”
Dejected by such an appraisal, but not entirely without hope, I recalled the lines: “There is something about a woman I could never understand, And my knowledge goes as far as any scholar’s in the land.” I must admit, though, that if I had any conceit about my wisdom concerning feminine matters, I lost it at that time.
***
The shy country boy who had been called a “quitter” by one girl and a wolf who had “learned the game” by another got safely back to college in September. My sophomore year proved to be a good one. With Greek, Latin, mathematics, physics, and chemistry no longer required, I was able to turn to literature, psychology, philosophy, and public-speaking, which I felt had more bearing on my chosen career. I become a member of the Sophomore debating team, which defeated the Freshmen, and so was encouraged to enter the trials for the Inter-collegiate contest, but the upperclassmen were too experienced for me.
Each year the college held a prize debate for all classes, and I managed to secure third place on one of the teams. Because of the reputation of the juniors and seniors, I worked hard and was able to carry off half the prize. A junior took the other half, while the over-confident seniors were disappointed.
A little later in the year, I was selected as one of the competitors in the Annual Orational Contest. Since I had had an impediment in my speech in grade-school days, I applied myself to acquiring a better speaking voice, and zealously practiced such exercises as “She sells sea shells,” A big black bug bit a big black bear,” and that other tongue-twister which goes as follows: “If Theophilus Thistle, the successful thistle-sifter, in sifting a sieve full of unsifted thistles, thrust three thousand thistles through the thick of his thumb, see that thou, in sifting a sieve full of unsifted thistles, thrust not three thousand thistles through the thick of thy thumb. Success to the successful thistle-sifter.”
This last must have done the trick, for while I was training for the big elocutionary event our instructor noticed my improvement and remarked, “Mr. Roberts, while you speak more rapidly than the other men do, your words are so distinct that you do not need to slow down.” In any event, diligence was the mother of good luck, and my efforts were rewarded with the fifty-dollar first prize.
Needless to say, when Father heard of my success in oratory, he was more elated than he would have been if he had just caught the largest sheep-killing bear in the Adirondacks.
34. THE BEST PRIZE OF ALL
As good as it was to win a couple of prizes, this same year held even better things in store for me. A church in nearby Wethersfield, Connecticut, which had been served by a senior, was soon to have a vacancy. I became a candidate for the position, and was fortunate enough to be selected. Beginning in April, I had to prepare two sermons a week, but the church was only ten miles from Wesleyan and I could easily travel back and forth by trolley. The weekly addition to my income was a great boon, and well worth the extra effort.
At the very beginning of my ministerial activities a reception was held to say farewell to the young pastor who was leaving the church and to welcome me as his successor. I saw among the guests a young lady whom I hoped I would see again, and later in the evening my predecessor introduced me. He told me that she was a member of another church and came to this one only in the evening, when her own church did not have services. However, she frequently sang in our choir and sometimes substituted as organist. My friend praised her character and charm and mentioned that if he had not already been committed to a young lady, he would have chosen this one.
Her name was Jeanie Holmes, and she was twenty-three years old. I learned that she was a teacher in a local school. Previously, when she was only twenty, she had undertaken the difficult task of instructing and disciplining some fifty County Home pupils, most of them under-privileged children from disrupted families. She had taught all grades. On the opening day of school the superintendent had presented her with a whip and had explained that she was not to count on him for any assistance in governing the ill-mannered students, some of whom were taller and bigger than their teacher. He added, “If you can’t handle them, I’ll get someone who can.” A less resolute person might have lost heart but Jeanie, who was a doughty Scot, replied, “Don’t worry, I’ll never call on you.”
In a short time the boys and girls in Jeanie’s school became as orderly as a company of soldiers. She had to use the whip at first on some of the larger boys, but firmness coupled with kindness soon won their respect. During recesses she played games with them in the yard, and she taught them to sing. Many visitors came to hear the singing, and farmers made it a habit to rest their horses outside the school building and listen.
I was able to see Jeanie Holmes again after our first meeting, even sooner than I had hoped. It was the custom for the members of my church to billet the young ministers in various homes from Saturday to Monday. On one weekend, when it was not convenient for a certain couple to take me into their house, the Holmes house was suggested. Even though they were not affiliated with our church, their hospitality was well known. After that first pleasant weekend with the Holmes family, it was something more than appreciation and pastoral interest which led me back to see them quite frequently.
As our friendship deepened I was able to conquer some of my former shyness with the ladies. I offered Jean the gold medal which had been awarded me for being on the college debating team, and she consented to wear it on a chain about her neck. Our courtship continued, and the anticipation of seeing Jean every weekend added greatly to my enthusiasm for traveling back and forth to Wethersfield to minister to the little Methodist church there. Jeanie also visited me at Wesleyan. When I first invited her for a Commons Club party, an elderly lady whom I knew offered to let Jean stay at her home during the weekend festivities. Along with the offer of hospitality, my elderly friend cautioned me against losing my heart to the first girl I invited to a college party. A few days later, after she had met Jeanie, my friend had quite different advice. She said, “Mr. Roberts, if you ever get a chance to marry Jeanie Holmes, and don’t do it, I’ll lose all my respect for you.” These were, as a matter of fact, exactly my own sentiments.
However, as so often happens, when we would like to go up and possess the Promised Land at once, obstacles like the Walls of Jericho block our way. In my case, I had two more years of college to finish, and after that there was an obligation to my unmarried sisters who had provided a home for me in Glens Falls. To make matters more difficult, during the second semester of my senior year I had a severe attack of blood poisoning and was confined to a hospital for ten weeks. A cheering note during this period was provided by my Chemistry professor, who visited me and made the undoubtedly true prediction: “You will feel a lot better when you get over it.” Gradually my health improved so that I was able to study in bed, and since a member of my class let me copy his notes from the lectures, I passed my final examination and graduated with better than average grades.
35. MY FIRST FULL-TIME CHURCH
After graduation I applied for a church and full-time pastoral work. Returning to Troy Conference, where I had the credentials of a Local Preacher, I was sent to a tiny Methodist church at Berlin, New York, a place strategically situated, as I thought, between Jeanie in Connecticut, my sisters at Glens Falls and Father at Brant Lake.
As a lover of mountains, I was delighted to be among the Berkshires where the white birch trees grow on the higher slopes and large fields of gladioli beautify the valley. More than this though I was eager for the challenge of Christian service, and hopeful that in due time I might bring Jean to the parsonage as my wife. The salary was six hundred dollars a year—not a very large amount for clothing, food, fuel, books, and the repayment of a college loan. The parsonage was provided, however, and I had a place to keep thirty hens, so had eggs to eat, to trade for groceries, and to share with others. And the people of Berlin responded to my efforts in increasing numbers. Not only did the stalwart saints take on a more hopeful spirit, but also many people who had not been in the habit of church attendance began to come.
Following my previous experience, I went after some of the “lost sheep.” Although our town had voted against selling intoxicating drink, there was a house across the valley called “The Crow’s Nest,” where liquor was illegally sold. Attempts had been made to secure evidence of the sale of liquor, but so far it had been impossible to obtain the necessary proof. In addition, there was a rumor in the community that any stranger who might be caught spying around “The Crow’s Nest” would be met with hot lead.
I learned that a woman was in charge of “The Crow’s Nest” and that her husband was ill. Believing that I might turn man’s extremity into God’s opportunity, I decided to include this house among my sick calls, and chose an early afternoon for my visit.
It was with some apprehension that I walked up the hill to “The Crow’s Nest” and knocked. Almost immediately the door opened, revealing a woman with such stringy, unkempt hair that she reminded me of Medusa, whose fearful countenance turned men to stone. Introducing myself as the new minister, I explained that I had heard of her husband’s illness and had come to ask if there was any way I could help.
Suddenly the hard, scowling face became wet with tears. “You are the first decent person to come to my house in years,” she said.
From his bed in an adjoining room, the husband called out to me, and as I talked to him it was clear that sickness and unemployment had been instrumental in leading these two into their illegal dealings. Both husband and wife seemed ready to lead better lives—and from then on they really did. While the man remained an invalid and so could not take a job, his wife secured employment in a shirt factory, and began to attend church. For a young minister it had been a good day’s work to accomplish what was done—without law and without trouble—and I felt that the experience had clearly demonstrated the saying, “Kindness has converted more sinners than zeal, eloquence or learning.”
***
Over the years I had become increasingly concerned about Father who, though over eighty, clung to the farm which had been his earthly home for more than half a century. Sisters Clara and Antha took turns keeping house for him, and he frequently visited his eldest daughter, Alice, whose home was only a few miles from Brant Lake. During part of my first winter in Berlin he came to be with me; but as spring approached, he responded to the call of the Brant Lake country where he could gather sweet sap from his maples and do some late-season trapping and fishing.
At times brother Ruel, who followed in Father’s footsteps as a hunter, spent long periods with him during which they hunted along the familiar trails. Later on Ruel joined the Marines and was sent to the Canal Zone, where he found excitement now and then in connection with the capture of wild animals. On one occasion he tracked down and killed two pumas which were preying on small goats and cattle, and another time he captured two bear cubs which became company mascots and were named for Theodore Roosevelt and his daughter Alice, who were inspecting the Canal at that time.
After his return to the States, Ruel settled in Glens Falls, bought some swampy land which no one else wanted, cut out the alders, and made the land into a fertile garden. Having discovered that the wetness of the ground was caused by a cool spring of water which came from under a high bank, he dug ditches and a series of pools in which he raised a surprisingly large number of trout. And since he was so near to Lake George and other bodies of water, he furnished bait for fishermen.
In time of drouth, when other gardens suffered for the lack of moisture, Ruel had prize crops of radishes, lettuce, parsley, carrots, and corn. He sold fresh vegetables to the markets, and people who came for fish bait often bought the vegetables right from the garden.
When the gardening season was over, Ruel turned to hunting and trapping. He drove a Ford car, and was able to spread his traps over a wide area, adding many hundreds of dollars to his yearly income. As a guide for deer-hunting, he was also in great demand.
Ruel did not attempt to trap bears, but he did track down and kill a sixty-nine pound lynx which had frightened some hunters out of the woods. Best of all he became enthusiastic about the conservation of wild life, and wrote articles on ways and means for preserving our fish and game.
It was natural for members of the family to move to Glens Falls, our nearest city, for there were more opportunities for year-round work there. My brother John became a carpenter and builder, married and had a family who often visited Father at Brant Lake, but no one could persuade Father to move from his stronghold among the hills before it could be sold.