largest single items involved in this scheme of living in the country
and working in the city.

There is also the question of food and other household supplies.
Granted one no longer expects to run around the corner for a loaf of
bread or a dozen eggs that may have been left off the morning shopping
lists, just how far away is the nearest grocer? Is he at all receptive
to the idea of making an occasional delivery in the outlying
districts? How about the rubbish collector, if any; the milkman; the
purveyors of ice, coal and wood? Are there a lighting system in the
vicinity, telephone facilities, and so forth? These last need not be
deciding factors, all other things being equal. They are simply
matters to investigate. It is then for the family to decide whether to
do without any or all of them if necessary.

Besides in a wisely chosen location, these, though lacking at first,
are soon added as the demand grows. When we began our own experiment
in country living, it was with difficulty that we got even a telephone
installed. Instead of electricity, our evenings were lighted by
candles or kerosene lamps and our meals were cooked on an oil stove.
Grocers and other tradesmen didn't even know how to get to the little
area. Yet within three years enough other people like us had moved
into the vicinity to warrant extension of electric service through the
neighborhood, and a milk route, rubbish service, deliveries of
laundry, food, ice, and other household needs were soon added. The
Fuller brush man has for years known the way to our door and now even
our Sunday newspapers are delivered, although we are six miles from
the nearest news stand.

This brings us to the question of neighborhood, which is important.