Life — June 14, 1917 — page 8: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

“LIFE ~ Life’s Fresh Air Farm LATE in June, when the schools close in this city, Lire’s Fresh Air Farm at Branchville, in the highlands of western Connecticut, will open for the season of 1917. It was a gentle-’ man’s country place, fourteen acres in extent, the gift of the late Edwin Gil- bert, who some years before his death deeded it to us outright for Fresh Air Fund purposes. The big French-roof house, barns and other outbuildings have been remodelled as dormitories dren were sent. Since then our friends’ interest has never flagged, and we have expended $161,919, and given 38,190 vacations. These children are gathered from the poorer districts of our great city: from the East Side, from city missions and settlements. In fact no needy child is ever refused if we can possibly take him. They like our entertainment too, for some of them come year after year, and twelve years, our age limit, is not a popular AT LIFE'S FARM POSING FOR PORTRAITS for children. Each fortnight through the summer parties of about two hun- dred boys and girls come to us for an outing. The ample playgrounds are well patronized, also the ball grounds and orchard. And there's the brook for a swim. It is thirty years since Lire’s Fresh Air work commenced with the sending of a few children to the country in August, 1887, when Fresh Air Fund work was in its infancy. That summer our readers contributed nearly $1,000, and about two hundred and fifty chil- idea with them; deferred birthdays are not uncommon. The children are watched over by efficient caretakers, under the super- vision of Mr. and Mrs. Mohr. We have never lost a child or had a seri- ous accident or illness at the Farm. Every dollar is made to go as far as possible, but the steadily advancing prices of foodstuffs and other supplies make our expenses very heavy. Branchville is fifty-three miles from New York, and railroad fare becomes an important item. Two hundred per- appetites, reporting promptly at each meal—frequently after scanty rations at home—can make away with mountains of pro- visions. But it is money well invested. Our friends have been most gener- ous in the past, and we must again ask their help. City streets are painfully hot playgrounds in midsummer. In spite of careful management, we find the entire cost of a two weeks’ vaca- tion for each child, including transpor- tation, for the past four years averages a little over $7.12. Won't you help us again this year? Whether fifty cents or fifty dollars, it often means health and happiness for some poor youngsters. Last year was a disappointing sea- son, as, after the Farm had been opened and the usual summer expenses contracted for, the infantile paralysis quarantine made it necessary to close at the end of July. No more children could be taken from this city into Con- necticut, and only 412, less than half the usual number of guests, had the benefit of the Farm. We hope to do much better this year. Partly worn clothing for children of twelve, or younger, will be appreciated, and even grown people’s can be used— skirts shortened, etc. At the end of a strenuous fortnight in the country, our guests’ wardrobes, never too strong or too ample at best, have often reached the vanishing point. Another thing much yalued is toys. Remittances may be made payable to Lire’s Fresh Air Fund. Acknowledg- ment is made in Lire about three weeks later, and by letter direct if address be given, Mobilize the Christian Scientists WE hesitate to suggest the “ mobiliz- ing” of anything else, but surely in the present juncture the Christian Scientists should be mobilized and scattered systematically over the coun- try. When the expected famine or near-famine is in sight, it will be their patriotic duty to convince us all that we have no stomachs, that food is merely a “claim” of “mortal mind, and that “goneness” is nothing but baseless “error.” What's the sense of worrying about baked beans while we have this Boston cult ready to prove that there bean’t no beans? fectly healthy comicbooks.com