The St. Charles herald. [volume], April 14, 1917, Image 5

About The St. Charles herald. [volume] (Hahnville, La.) 1873-1993

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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."