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NT FRUIT TREES IN SPRING OR FALL "|
c. WHlTTCN.^Mlssourl College of Fruit trees may be set In the fall or to early spring. One-year-old trees are gftfliiv preferable, if well grown, tltfugh In the case of apple, pear, gjjgrry and American plums, two-year trees may be used if desired. jtuit trees are usually planted in Blieck rows or squares, in this state, at the following distances apart in feet: Apples, 25 by 25 or 35 by 35; pears, peaches and cherries, 20 by 20 ; plums, 16# by 16ft. Young trees should be set about the ■eem* depth that they stood in the aursery. The color and character of the bark shows how much of the tree grew below ground. The holes should be dug just deep and broad enough to admit the roots in their natural spread without bending them. Trim the Roots. * * The roots should be trimmed so as -to remove any broken or diseased .parts. If a ragged wound has been left at the end of a large root in dig ging, this part should be cut off so as • ,to make a smooth, clean cut. The 60 il should be shaken in be % ::y ; ^ <t "A £ ■ YOUNG APPLE TREE8 AT MI8SOURI OOLLEGE. tween the roots and the tree shaken at the same time, so the roots will im bed themselves in a natural position. Tramp the earth firmly with the feet while the hole Is being filled. If the earth about the roots is loose or has air spaces, the tree Is liable to dry out and die. When the hole is filled level and the soil tramped, spread an inch or two of loose earth over the surface, around the tree, to keep the soli from baking. Proper Pruning. As soon as set the tree and its tep should be pruned properly. If the tree Is a one-year-old and has no Bide limbs, simply cut the top back so as • to make it head out at the proper height, usually 24 to 30 inches. In the RAPE MAKES SOUND ROUGHAGE FORSWINE % f ^ ——— Crop Seeded Early in April Should Be Ready for Pasturage Early in lune. TO provide good, succulent pasture for the swine, a few acres should be needed to rape, according to J. S. Oof fey of the animal husbandry depart ment, Ohio state university. Rape seeded early in April should be ready for pasture early in June, if the sea son is favorable and the soil fertile. Ordinarily an acre of rape ^ill furnish enough pasture for two sows and 15 pigs during the summer and fall. Dwarf Essex is regarded as the best variety to plant and generally costs about 15 cents per pound. Ordinarily the rape is sown by itself on a care fully prepared seedbed at the rate of five or six pounds per acre. It may be broadcasted or drilled and some pre fer to sow it in rows 18 1 *"***. thus making lanes for the swine to -walk in, so that the loss from tramping Is lessened. DAIRY PROFITS SHOULD BE REINVESTED • COWS ON ISAAC CUTTER'S FARM, CAMP POINT, ILL. „ the dairy ha* been profitable during the last season, and it probably If the aaiiy g should be reinvested in the equipment of Jf* • I*"«" 5 cattle, unless the bnsiness Is already 100 per regard. Dairying need no longer mean drudgery, for the SSJSTSri"«fit canpractically all be done by machine. And it need no drudgery pario*. modern methods coupled with common sense have l^î^th^nroduction of profit to a mere matter of applied arithmetic. The reduced the f scientific feeding and the availability of practical common knowiOTg® possible the maximum of production information test and the milk scale, can or will at the animal. The constantly increasing urban popula «liminate the market at good prices for years to come for the great tlon Pro*** Commodity milk and its products, and there is every reason to «aential food comm W. ^ b€fore _ the dairy industry must thrive. For feel that n °7' riptriveSt r Ben t 0 f profits in the rehabiliment of the herd and the brinSog i to date of the equipment is the wisest plan the dairyman *an make. » case of peach trees, cut off all side limbs close to the trunk and shorten the main trunk. A peach or Japanese plum will produce new limbs from the main stem. These sprout strong new limbs so readily that they may be trimmed to single whips. On the other hand, a cherry tree should not have its branches cut back. The active buds of the cherry are near the tips of the limbs. The main trunk has only dormant buds which do not start readily. It is well to cut back the central leader to where the tree branches. If there are more than five main limbs, remove all but three to five, leaving these even spaced to form the framework or head of the tiee. Form Open Top. Apples, pears and American pi ums, if well branched, should have the main leader cut out to form an open spread ing head. The side limbs should then be shortened one-third to one-half. Eventually the head should be reduced to from three to five main limbs to form the framework of the tree. More limbs may be left the first season, however. After the tree has made a season's growth one may make better choice of what limbs to leave and what ones to remove. If trees cannot be set immediately when they are .received from the nursery they should be "heeled In." To heel in trees dig a trench one foot deep, throwing out the earth to one side as if turned by a plow. Place the trees side by side with their roots in the trench and their tops leaning over the turned-out earth at an angle of 45 degrees. Spade in earth over the roots and tramp it firm. In moving earth to cover the roots a second trench is made parallel with the first. More trees may be heeled in this second trench. This may be repeated so as to finally leave the trees in a compact block rather than in a single low row. SOURCE OF INCOME FROM FARM POULTRY Steadily Increasing Demand for Fresh Eggs of Superior Qual ity at Good Prices. Eggs for market should be the most Important source of income from the farm 1 flock, according to M. C. Kilpat rick of the Ohio College of Agricul ture. There is a steadily increasing ffemand for fresh eggs of good qual ity at profitable prices. In addition, eggs are produced with less labor than other poultry products and are more conveniently marketed. Poultry for market should be the second source of income. Under pres ent conditions, the larger part of the poultry meat produced on most farms is a by-product produced and sold with little regard to the cost of pro duction. The poultryman should plan his work so that while producing eggs for market, he may obtain con siderable revenu« from the sale of broilers during June and July, and fowls during September and October. Mrs. Pickett's Chaperone tt s By George Haskell (Copyright, 1917, by W. Q. Chapman.) It was getting to be a joke in their set that Mrs. Pickett, the gay widow, kept her young niece for a chaperone. True, Helen Bryant, who had come to live with her aunt, was more quiet in manner and less given to gorgeous ap parel, but it was not in the least her intention to keep an eye on her rela tive, whom she believed entirely capa ble of taking care of herself, and whose brilliant conversation and witty repar tee was as much a delight to her as to any of Mrs. Pickett's admirers. Helen's conversational gift took a slightly different trend. She had also a ready wit, but she had, too, senti ment and imagination. Her poems were beginning to find their way into the best magazines and she often found reading and study more alluring than bridge parties or teas. So sometimes when they asked Mrs. Pickett where her chaperone was she would laugh and say she was being shockingly neg lected and who could tell where such carelessness would end. People who only met Helen in company with her aunt never really knew the girl, for Mrs. Pickett was the dominant indi vidual who took the conversational field and kept it. Not that she meant to do this, but she was simply bub bling with wit and good humor and had to effervesce. Naturally Helen did not, under these circumstances, shine. About six months after Helen came to live with her aunt Wade Barber came out of the West with his pic tures. He had some letters of intro duction to "good people," and these, together with a prepossessing appear ance and a well-bred manner, soon es tablished him in social circles. He gave an exhibition of bis pictures, which were really good, and sold some. Mrs. Pickett invited him to call, and very soon he was paying assiduous at tention to the witty widow. "She must be all of fifteen years older than he is," said Mrs. Catt. "Why he doesn't look a day over twenty five." "My dear," put in Mrs. Spaniel. "He mast be near thirty, and Ethel Pickett can't be a day over forty. Besides, He Recognized Her and Waited. men of brains, poets and artists never think about age ; it's the mind and soul that appeals to them." "Any way," purred the other, "no one these days takes any account of the woman being older than the man. I suppose, too, it would be a pretty good thing for Wade Barber. He's as poor as a church monse, I hear; and Mrs. Pickett has plenty of money." "He was speaking of Helen Bryant the other day to Miss Flint, and I heard her tell him the niece was a 'poor rela tion.'" "That will finish things for Helen," grinned Mrs. Catt. Whether or not Miss Flint had really had this decisive effect, it was very apparent that Wade Barber was devo tion itself to the widow. Helen, feel ing herself very mach in the way, al ways promptly left the room when he called, and Mrs. Pickett did not in sist on her remaining. One day Helen went into a Fifth avenne jteture dealer's, where two or three oÄJarber's pictures were hung. She liked his work, and she wanted the time to study these alone quietly. One held her motionless, entranced. A young nymph came dancing down through a'maze of apple blooms. Her floating hair seemed to catch at the blossoms and bring them with her. Her feet scarcely touched the young grass, and the bine of her eyes was laminons like the sky. It was the very poetry of spring. The glory of it drew Hel en's soul to the artist who had created the poem. So engrossed was she that she did not know a rnnn in the doorway had been watching her a long time. At first he was only carious to know who It was that was interested in the pic ture. He recognized her and waited. She stood so long before the canvas, he felt the thrill which every artist must when his work is loved. She drew him to her. He went up to the girt. She turned and saw Wade Barber. "You like it?" he said. "Like it?" she answered. "That is not the word. It is too wonderful, too splendid a vision—to tell you just now what I feel." "Your eyes tell me," he said. "It is enough. I never had just such appre ciation before." They sat down and began talking together. What came to both of these souls suddenly revealed to each other must lie with themselves, but what their faces revealed was much. The lights went up in the gallery. "Oh !" exclaimed Helen with a quick realization of the time. "Aunt Ethél will be waiting dinner!" "She will not scold, will she?" "Never!" cried Helen. "Aunt Ethel is a darling! I am so glad you like her !" Quite unexpectedly to herself she was finding it hard to finish the sen tence. "Yes, she is a charming, beautiful woman." Helen had never heard her aunt called beautiful before. "Only a lover could say that," she thought. •Don't run away the next time I come," he said as they parted. True to her promise, Helen did not 'run away," but Mrs. Pickett en grossed the young man's attention, sporadic attempts at conversation be tween him and Helen seemed to be nipped in the bud, the girl began to be sure she was simply being endured, and excused herself. In the quiet of her own room she had a battle to fight. She knew now that she loved this man. She also knew he loved her aunt, and felt for her only a friendly interest. What was more, she was convinced that her aunt loved him. Even if she could have succeeded in supplanting anyone in his affections, that one must not be the oue who had been to her such a friend. Generally when they went to the opera she was one of the party, but the next time, she pleaded an excuse. It was best for her not to see him. Things went on this w r ay for several weeks, then his visits ceased entirely. Helen supposed he must be out of town, but as her aunt offered no ex planation, she did not ask. One day she met Barber at a reception. He drew her into a quiet corner and they had a talk. Finally she got up cour age to ask him why he had deserted them. He begged her to let him an swer her question some other time, where they would not be interrupted. It was out of the question for him to call, so they arranged to meet the next day in the park. Helen felt something like a traitor as she started out; but it was spring in the park—she had not known it be fore amidst the brick and stone—the grass and sky looked like his picture. He was waiting and they found a seat in a quiet place. "I am going to make a confession," he said. "I know you are going to think me a contemptible cad. I know I have been one; but I also believe one need not go on being a cad. It can be blotted out. I hope you can think so. I was fascinated by your aunt. I never was In love with her. I persuaded myself that did not so much matter. If she cared for me enough we could marry, and I would try to not let her see the lack in me. I am mis erably poor, so far as money goes. I have had a frightful struggle. My art means everything to me, and it seemed I must give it up or starve. She told me she had enough to make the way for me easy. You see, now !" he cried, with intense disgust. "You see how low I fell when I could take this wom an's money and give her no love in re turn! Then that day before the pic ture—when I knew yon—I couldn't do it Can you forgive if?" "I can blot it out," she said. "They told me you were the poor re lation. Could you go on being poor with me? I love you so much it would not matter to me." "It would not matter to me," she an swered. It was a quiet place, and when he next spoke he said: "We shall not be so very poor. My pictures are begin ning to sell." "No," she said, with a queer little smile. "Yon see, I have a great deal more money than Aunt Ethel. I'm going to own that wonderful picture, and we shall always have the 'Spring time.'" Much Bigger. Two suitors had striven for the hand of Mary Murphy. One was Doolan, a prosperous grocer, and he was backed np by Pa and Ma Murphy; the othor was a handsome young clerk, and he was backed up by Mary. The clerk won! On the morning of her first birth day after the wedding day Mazy called to see her parents, and proudly showed them a pretty little gold watch her husband had given her. But Mrs. Murphy sniffed contemptu ously. "That's very nice," she said, disap provingly ; "but if ye'd only taken the advice of y er father and me, 'tis not a gold watch ye'd be havin' in yer pocket, bnt a good eight-day dock 1" Caused by 8pooning. "That young man of yours," said the parent, as bis daughter came down to breakfast, "should apply for a post in a freak museum." "Why, father," exclaimed the young lady, in tones of indignation, "what do you mean?" "I noticed when I passed through the hall late last night," answered the old man, "that he had two heada upon bis shoulders." Ten Minute Classics Famous Tales and Legends Told in Brief Form A Love Story of the Batde-Seamd Land of Champagne By J. W. MULLER OopTTisbt by J. W. Mailer I I a Playwrights, authors and poets find a deep fount of inspiration and story in the troubadour literature of the middle ages. Most famous of these tales are the French tales of the thirteenth century, and from one of them is taken the story pre sented today. It deals with that part of the Champagne from Sois sons to Reims, where today a long line is held desperately by French and Germans, who are face to face, and in some parts almost within touch of each other. Messire William was a loyal knight of Champagne who was honored by all men who prized truth and nobility. His fortune, however, did not equal his merit. He possessed a castle, it is true; but the only income that he had was obtained painfully in tournaments, out of the ransoms of his overthrown adversaries. . He owned only one thing that was valuable. It was his horse. Gray it was, flower-bright of coat. Never had men seen another such steed, so proud, so impetuous and yet so dainty of foot. Men near and far coveted it and offered him wealth for it, but he would not lis ten. Between these two, knight and horse, there was a great love as be tween brothers. Poor as he was, Messire William set his heart on the daughter of the rich est lord In all the Champagne. She was as good as she was beautiful, which is no scanty praise, since the minstrels all sang that she was in truth part and parcel of the loveliness of their land. She gave her heart to the tall, splen did knight, but never could they meet. Her father kept her close, never per mitting her to pass from the battle ments and walled gardens. Still the knight rode to her castle every day, and every day they saw each other and talked love, though they could do it only through a gap in the masonry of n great wall. Although he well knew the futility of it. Messire William ventured at last to ask her father for her hand. "Think you I am so besotted as to give my child to a knight who lives by play?" roared the old man. "She shall marry no beggar ! I have not yet found the man, from Soissons to Reims, and from Reims to Chalons, or from the Lorraine to Germany, who is rich enough to match me ! This «fruit is too high for your seeking !" "Cursed be your father's wealth!" said the kuight when he saw his sweet heart again. • "I would go with you gladly, and be a beggar!" said she. "But my father Is old, and prayers will not move him, for age and youth canuot understand each other. Yet I would counsel you. Have you not an uncle, fully as rich as my father? And do these two not greatly honor each other? Why do you not ride to him and ask for his Inter cession?" The knight took courage and rode to his aged relative, who not only agreed to help him, but started at once, tell ing the knight to return to his own castle and wait ihr word from him. It was an evil word that reached him after a week of anxious waiting. A friend brought him the news that his ancle had wooed Indeed, but not for his nephew. He had wooed and won for himself, and the girl, locked safely within the castle, could do nothing but wring her hands. , Scarcely had the news reached the poor knight before one of the noble man's varlets arrived to ask him for his steed. "My lord prays you," was the message, "to lead your beautiful horse to carry his daughter in honor and state to the church on her wed ding morn." "May heaven bless my wicked uncle never for this foul, treasonable deed !" lamented the knight. "He has killed me! Cain wrought no redder wrong! Yet I will send my horse gladly to her who gave me her dear love. It Is the last service I can do her. Never shall I hear her sweet voice again or see her come to meet me, da'jpty-fair ! Saddle the horse with my best gear and lead It to the most tender of maidens !" That night the wedding company in the rich man's castle feasted and made so merry that when the warders sound ed their trumpets at dawn to awaken all for the wedding journey to the church, city guests and guards were alike sleepy and before they had rid den far they were nodding in their sad dles. Even tltose who were detailed to guard the bride rode with closed eyes. Soon there was none to guide the bride's horse, for she rode weeping with thoughts far away, and the reins lay idle on the animal's neck. When the procession entered a devi ous forest trail, the horse, being left to Itself, turned off on his own account and entered a hidden woodland path that led to Messire William's home. The weeping bride became aware at last that she was alone; but as the horse ambled on with great gentleness, and she did not know which way to go, she permitted it to take her whith ar it would. Soon it stopped before a castle. a A warder ran to the knight, who was wan and broken from long hours of un availing grief. "Oh, sir!" cried U» man. "There is before the draw-bridgo a most wondrous lovely woman, clad richly in scarlet and gold. Never have» we seen any so slim, so dainty, so sweet! And, lord, she rides on your horse !" The knight bounded down the stairs and through the portal. He lifted down the bride, kissing her a hundred times and more. Then he sent for a chaplain and led her to the chapel of his hnnse where they were married forthwith. In the meantime, there was wild trouble among the wedding party. The old lord and the old bridegroom tore their beards and laid lustily with whip and boot on the guards, who made mnd clamor, blaming each other. To them at last spurred a rider sent by Messire William with this message: "Sir, my master sends you assur ance of his great friendship. He als® charges me to say to his uncle, who betrayed him so shamefully, that he pardons him the more easily for the reason that your daughter has given herself to him as a gift this day." The old lord listened with wonder and anger. But he took thought to himself, and concluded that since she was married, nothing he could do would undo it. Therefore, presently, nil the eompuny rode peacefully to the knight's castle, where the old noble embraced his undesired son-in-law with all courtesy, while the graybeard of a bridegroom who was not a bridegroom tried in vain to discover a few crumbs of comfort that might console him. Failing in this, he went home and died, which was a favor to Messire William, since all his wealth went to the knight. And there is no trouba dour in Champagne who ever has told or sung this story who was not forced to add, in accordance with the truth, that there never was a horse in all the world that was so honored and beloved as the horse that stole the bride and brought her to her bridegroom. The famous stories of the middle ages were preserved by three agen cies—the trouveres, who lived usu ally among noblemen, and often were poets and originators; the trou badours, who were wandering min strels and generally recited other men's tales and verses; and the learned monks, who set the more important legends down in writing. One of the latter was a monk of Soissons, Gautier de Coinci, who did a great service by setting down tales in French instead of Latin. Shake speare, Montaigne, Browning, Ana tole France and many others have used these tales to make versions of their own. SUNSET ON LAKE SUPERIOR Writer Enthuses Over Beautiful Pic ture Painted by Old Sol at the Close of the Day. A sunset on Lake Superior! Mat'ch it, in its resplendent beauty on a late November day, if you can. The clonds that had darkened the sun as the Transcontinental Limited yped along the precipitous shores, melted away, leaving narrow streaks, like ribbons of gray floating above the water's rim. Dappled gray clouds in masses clung to the zenith. The slowly setting sun began to paint its own heroic picture. The ribbons of clouds changed from gray to pearl, from pearl to amethyst and then to richest gold. The convo luted masses overhead vividly reflect ed these changes. The quiet waters of the lake shone like a mirror of pol ished bronze. The sun was sinking fast. While the passengers were voic ing their delight, the last ray of the sun disappeared, and lake and rocky shore sank into the shadows of night. As the train climbed above the lake Its waters were left out of the range of vision, but, strangely enough, the lake seemed to appear again in the dis tance, with low-hilled islands outlined, in a faint glow of red. We discov ered that what seemed to be islands were floating clouds, and what seemed to be the water In which they rested was an illusion. It was caused by the clear atmosphere lit by the gray light of fast-failing eventide. It was beau tiful and impressive, bat an illusion that quickly disclosed itself and melt ed away as the train sped on.—John A. Sleicher in Leslie's. That Settled Him. The Husband—You're not econom ical. The Wife—Well, if you don't call a woman economical who saves her wed ding dress for a possible second mar riage, I'd like to know what you think economy is. Similar but Different. "Did you get out and stretch your legs when the train stopped?" asked the passenger with the long beard. "Same thl ng." rejoined the passen ger with the polished pate. "I them pulled at the lunch counter."