Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume], April 11, 1905, Image 6

About Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916

Image provided by: State Historical Society of Iowa

                
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Cragenstone
Copgrlgbt, 1903, bo Anita Clan Muooz
With such an air an* striae mat, I
ween, scarce a maid thou did set thy
beart on could resist thee."
"If it be that my cousin hath an eyo
to her purse strings," he observed
thoughtfully, "my frugal and thrifty
tu management of her farm lands may
appeal to her."
"Those facts and others to thine ad
a, vantage will be placed before our
kinswoman with proper judgment and
3 skill upon her arrival," his mother an
jnounced. "My son, thou dost know that
?i tis thine own lookout to win thy Cous
3-. in Margaret, for 'tis ever a man's
place to do the courting, but that I will
keep a close shadow and watch well
for thee and thine Interests thou can
sot doubt Ah, welladay," she drew a
deep breath, "'twill be a happy time
for thy mother, Joslah, when she can
j?Blt before yon doorway at her spin
:.^vnlng and, ever and anon raising her
fAt''eyes to look at the wide acres of green
pasture surmounted by the gray house
&
:'ft
r.
lj
on the hill, know that thou art master
there."
Taunston, looking intently into space
i,' with covetous eyes, made no reply.
Soon the candles having burned al-
i$Bost
to their sockets and the bright
flare of the logs given place to dull
He stood before her with Ms hand up
raised.
blackness, emitting a few dying sparks,
Mistress Taunston bethought herself of
the lateness of the hour.
"Hetty not come In!" she exclaimed,
walking to the window and looking out
with Impatient anxiety. "Ah, I hear
„ber voice!"
Then throwing open the door she
cried sharply: "Hetty, come in! 'Tis
unseemly for a maid to be dawdling
out of doors on a Sabbath evening.
Thou shouldst be at thy prayers I Who
la It thou hast with thee?"
"Only Simon, mother."
The merry faced little creature in her
severe gray bonnet and plain dress of
homespun came forward hurriedly.
"As I was returning from leaving
4I* Cynthia Camett at the gate I met Si-
mon near the turnstile, and he ventured
?to walk with me. Be not angry, moth
as the woman, towering above her,
frowned wrathfully, "Prithee, a little
'gossip with good Simon would not hurt
maid!"
Wtjik "Gossip on the Lord's day! Light
and trifling talk on a Sabbath night!"
her mother cried in stern rebuke. "And
,' think not that sounds of thy wicked
laughter did not reach mine ears! To
-\V thy room, hussy! Nay, let the candle
remain," as Hetty lifted one from the
i- table. "In darkness canst thou better
put thy mind on thy prayers and ask
the Lord's forgiveness for thy sins!"
Then shutting the door wlth inten
tional violence upon the retreating form
of the young farmer she fastened the
'. .wooden bolts securely for the night.
CHAPTER II.
OSIAH TAUNSTON spent the
next day at the market place
and having made good bar-
gains and fair exchanges code
i'-II QP to his door rapidly, with an expres
Cif slon on his countenance more compla-
cent and less severe than usuaL
,5f| "Ho, there!" he called.
To his surprise the door remained
unopened, and, listening, he heard no
^t|i sounds of life within.
"Mother, open, an' thou art there,"
he cried, "for I would have a word
with thee before I ride farther to speak
wi' Simon Kempster on the price o'
y' wool."
At this juncture a man, one of the
farm laborers, came rushing from the
back of the house.
"The good dame an' thy sister ha'
taken their departure long since," he
announced, evidently pleased to be the
bearer of important tidings. "They did
•/. go to the Mayland farm, master, to
meet thy cousin, who hath arrived."
With an exclamation of surprise Jo
slah sprang from his horse, threw the
reins to tiie man and, turning suddenly
to hide the dark flush that spread over
bis face at the first shock of the news,
lifted the latch and, entering the bouse,
proceeded at once to his chamber, from
whence he emerged an hour later much
changed in appearance. The stains and
dust of travel had been carefully re
moved. from, bis oersoiv a trash Unon
By ANITA CLAY MUNOZ,
Author of "In Love and Truth"
«MhS»5
'VVVTVTTVrTTVVVVVWrYV
(CHAPTER I, Continued.)
"aye, mat Bne win, Joslah," sbe an
^nounoed emphatically. "Of a truth,
thou'rt not oversoft with woman, but
thou art so tall and doth walk about
vrfrvvVvvvvvvvvvwvvYv
ruff of dazzling whiteness was about
his neck, and In place of his common
riding clothes he wore his church going
suit of black cloth finely woven and
but lately made by the village tailor.
Taking the footpath that led through
the meadows, he walked with long
strides in the direction of the road that
wound its way from the village past
the Mayland farmhouse. A slight fear
lest bis absence from home at the time
of his cousin's arrival would be held
against him as seeming neglect caused
him some anxiety, and be was framing
suitable words of excuse and explana
tion as he walked along when his medi
tation was interrupted by the sudden
appearance of a young woman at the
corner of the roadway. She had evi
dently been running, for over her
flushed face and tumbling yellow hair
a broad hat of bla^k velvet, with a
sweeping white feather, hung off at the
back In reckless abandon, and she held
the long skirts of her scarlet riding
habit, richly trimmed with silver braid
iag^ high above her quilted petticoat.
So excited was she and Intent upon her
chase that she was quite regardless of
appearance or of the fact that the
small ankles, neatly covered with red
silk hose, were exposed above her low
shoes to the cold and disapproving gaze
of the man approaching. Just then a
small dog scuttled past Joslah breath
less and panting from a long run.
"Oh, catch her, good sir—catch Bid
dy!" the girl cried shrilly. "The poor
dog will take a fit from fright! That
stupid Giles, to let her out in this
strange place when I was not about!
Move, man! An' thou canst put thy
hand on her!"
Thus sharply commanded, Joslah
came to his senses and, making a sud
den and effective dive, caught the ex
hausted animal and, carrying it to the
young woman, put it into her arms,
saying with his customary seriousness,
"Margaret Mayland, for as such I rec
ognize thee, I give thee greeting and do
declare that thou art welcome to thy
home."
At once she extended her hand cor
dially, and her lips parted in a smile of
pleasure.
"An' is 't really Joslah?" she asked
brightly. "At first glance, with thy so
ber face and black suit, good cousin,
methought thou wert the preacher."
"And thou wouldst have called to the
preacher, a man of Ood, to catch thy
dog, Margaret?" regarding her with a
look of quiet reproof.
"Aye, that would I," she answered
carelessly. 'T faith, In my opinion the
better the man the better the deed.
But to continue the subject, Joslah, at
the second glance I remembered thee
at once."
She stepped back a pace or two and,
shading her eyes from the slanting
rays of the setting sun by tilting her
hat well down over her face, regarded
him with a pert air of critical Interest.
"After all, thou'rt not much changed
except that thou doth look more care
worn, and 'tis apparent that thou hast
grown older," she said. Then, seeing
that the expression In his eyes did not
soften,, added, "But happen, cousin,
thou wouldst be better ^pleased, as is
the fashion of all the men, an' I were
to tell thee thou wert grown good look
ing."
She laughed a low, rippling laugh of
amusement.
Joslah, finding her levity not to his lik
ing and having a lurking suspicion that
she was amusing herself at his ex
pense, answered resentfully and with
an air of offended dignity,
"That thou wouldst so misjudge me
as to presume that I would desire
praise for my personal appearance
can understand, for after thy years
of living in that wicked city of,Paris
where all the men are fops or cox
combs, with no thought above decking
their bodies with tawdry raiment, will
ing and eager to bend their backs and
mouth and grin in pleased acknowl
edgment of a woman's compliment,
thou has thought that all men were
made In the same fashion."
The young mistress of the Mayland
farm, who had listened to her cousin's
words with an air of bewildered sur
prise, now cried airily: "Oh, fie on thee,
Joslah, for a long face! To talk so of
my bonny Paris! Forsooth, an thou
wert to go there for a spell thou
wouldst lose the somber look thou
hast caught from all the people here
about and gain much for thine appear
ance, I do assure thee."
Although this was said with a smil
ing coquetry that took the sting out
of the words, a red flush mounted to
Joslah's forehead.
"Peace, Margaret," he said, "and
take not upon thyself—but at best a
sinful mortal—to criticise the work of
God. That I am made in my Master's
image doth suffice for me, and the care
—from what I judge at sight of thee—
that thou dost give to thy body I pre
fer to give to the salvation of my soul."
He paused for a reply but, none
coming, he continued: "Ere I met thee
I was on my way to thy house. Shall
we walk there together?"
Margaret Mayland, looking at the
cold, dispassionate face of the man
confronting her, with its sharp fea
tures and deep set eyes, felt a slight
sinking at her heart, and the smile on
her bright face faded, her manners be
coming at_onqg less frieadly. and more
distant Turning to go, she said: "Aye,
come with me, Joslah, and welcome.
Thy good mother and Hetty have but
just left after spending a pleasant
hour with me, and already sweet Hetty
hath found a place In my heart."
Joslah regarded her soberly, letting
his glance rest on her brilliant hued
riding dress significantly.
"That my sls'ter hath' some trifling
faults I do admit," he said. "But sbe
is ever an obedient maid, God fearing,
pure minded and modest, setting an
example of propriety that would, I
wot, be of benefit to many older and
more experienced in the world than
she."
They had reached the entrance of the
driveway that led to the Mayland
house. Margaret, stepping inside, has
tily drew the gates together after her
and, leaning over the railing, said, with
an attempt at a smile: "Of a sudden a
great weariness hath fallen upon me.
Wouldst think me rude and without
good manners, cousin, if I were to ask
thee to excuse me from further con
rerse today? I find that my strength is
greatly spent by the long ride up the
mountain, and I would rest awhile. I'
truth I am overdone," she concluded.
Taunston, concealing his disappoint
ment, said, with a forced air of pleas
antry that sat ill upon him: "He who
cometh late must take, perforce, what
Is left, Margaret, and I regret, as one
having taken thy place on thy farm for
so many months, representing thee In
all business matters, that I was not
here upon thine arrival to give thee a
"Where thou art, sweet Margaret, Jam
happy."
proper welcoming. But as thou'rt
aweary and rest Is what thou doth
need I will go on my way to leave thee
undisturbed. God be with thee, Marga
ret"
He proceeded a few steps, then
paused, addressing tier seriously:
"Cousin, at prayer time tonight I
shall offer thanks to God for thy safe
conduct through a perilous journey."
"Thank thee, and farewell, Josiah."
Turning hastily, Margaret Mayland
went with swift steps toward the
houBe.
Out on the road Taunston continued
on his way with slow strides, his head
bent over his breast In thoughtful med
itation.
"Worse, far worse, than I expected,"
he muttered. "Much devil's work to be
undone! Our cousin hath a comely face
enough, and methought after my first
words of admonition she appeared
more gentle and less holdenish in her
manner, and so silent was sbe toward
the last I doubt not that my speech im
pressed her. A good example, constant
correction and much sound advice is
what a woman so young and worldly
minded doth require."
Reaching a rising eminence, he paus
ed at the top and looked back at the
Mayland estate, with its broad acres
stretching far before him in all the
glory of their spring beauty, Illuminat
ed by the rays of the setting sun. "Ah!"
He drew a sharp breath unconsciously
of admiration and longing.
"Never before hath my duty to the
Lord been placed so fully before me as
in this my self Imposed task of lend
ing mine erring young cousin into the
paths of wisdom and righteousness,"
he said after a few moments' thought
slowly and with solemn emphasis.
CHAPTER III.
THE
next morning the sun rose
dazzling in Its radiance above
the peaks of Cragenstone,
shedding a luster over the vil­
lage. On the Mayland farm all nature
was astir. Thrifty robins dotted the
green grass, conspicuously displaying
their red breasts as they sought their
morning meal In the soft damp earth
larks thrilled gayly, and the nightingale
poured forth its sweet high note3 in
joyous exaltation.
Yellow crocus flowers lifted their
faces timidly to the sun, and gentle
breezes stirred the branches of the
trees. Now were heard the voices of
the men and maids as they milked the
cows or drove them out to pasture, and
the noisy bleating of the sheep and
lambs, huddling together and running
out through the open gates to spread
themselves over the fields, added In
creasing activity to the early morning
scene.
In a room of the Mayland homestead
above the broad staircase that led to it
Margaret Mayland, exhausted by the
fatigue of her long journey, lay sleep
ing, undisturbed by the noises out of
doors.
Through the deep silled latticed win
dow a ray of sun poured in, then softly
touched the closed eyelids another
kissed the arched red lips, and a third,
as If It recognized Its kind, fell sudden
ly on the wealth of golden hair on the
pillow. One arm was thrown in care
less abandon over her head, and he*
gown of white linen, falling open at the
throat, disclosed a finely wrought chain
of gold resting upon It from which
was suspended a small cross of the
same metal. The cock under the win
dow crowed lustily once, twice. Mis
tress Mayland stirred, then, sighing
wearily, arranged her head more com
fortably upon the pillows and slept on
neacefully.
THE OTTTJMWA COTJRIBtt
The sun had reached a higher point
in the heavens, and It was well on In
the day, according to the early risers
of Cragenstone, when Margaret May
land, now fully dressed, descended the
staircase and entered the dining room,
small, cosy affair that was but a
continuation of the long hall, curtained
off at the sides with dark tapestries
and a huge screen set up in the middle
for a partition. Mr. Mayland, the fa
ther of the present occupant of the
house, having had French blood In his.
veins through his mother's side, had
not taken kindly to the plain furnisu
ings, high backed chairs, wooden
benches and bare white sanded floors
of his more simple minded neighbors
and had purchased from time to time
bright stuffs, works of art and tufted
Chairs and couches, so that his home
presented an air of comfort and ele
gance not to be found elsewhere on
that bleak mountain.
As Margaret entered the only occu
pant of the room was an elderly wom
an, having the appearance of being
more than a common serving woman,
who was spreading a white cloth on a
table, idly humming a little tune as
she did so.
"A good day, Elsbeth. Prithee, sing
Ingl" she earelaimed, with affected as
tonishment. "Then thou doth like thy
new surroundings."
"An' thou, Margaret?"
"Ah, welladay, I cannot tell thee
jef .she answered, with a sigh. "But
I own to great depression this morn
ing, Elsbeth, and feelings of strange
ness and loneliness lie heavy on my
heart."
She walked to the window and, rest
ing her arms on the deep sill, looked
out of doors discontentedly, uncon
scious of the graceful appearance she
made in the French morning gown of
pink poplin that fitted loosely to her
rounded figure and fell In long folds
to the floor.
Hast had no misgivings, Elsbeth,
that a life of unusual dullness doth lie
before us?"
Where thou art, sweet Margaret I
am happy," the woman replied gently,
"whether 'tis at thine aunt's at Paris,
where I sewed thy frocks and cared
for thee, or here in thine own home,
where thou art come to be the mis
tress. Ever do I find my best con
tentment at thy side, for, sweet, hast
thou not been mine to watch over since
thy mother died?"
Margaret accustomed to the wom
an's fondness, made no reply, but came
and took a seat at the table In thought
ful silence while Elsbeth busied her
self about her, pouring a cup of milk,
breaking eggs into a saucer and plac
ing the plate of hot bread within easy
reaching distance.
"But for thee, sweet" she observed,
"happen the Mayland farm will prove
more quiet than thou'lt like."
"And Cragenstone!" exclaimed Mar
garet. "What dolefnl people here abide!
How long and solemn their faces have
grown, and with what serious demean
or they do stalk aboutl Why, Elsbeth,
one Bhort walk with my good Cousin
Joslah near gave me the megrims!
Prithee must we all the time be quot
ing Scripture or thinking of our pray
ers?"
Naught Is. changed," the woman re
plied. "I' the five years of the different
life In Paris thou hast forgotten that
is all. To my mind thine aunt received
us with the same cold smile she gave
us when we rode away."
Margaret shrugged her shoulders and
threw out her hand In a manner that
suggested the Frenchwoman. "How
gloomy they looked In the plain gray
clothes they wore as they stood around
the door, erect and solemn, to receive
me. But withal, weary and nervous
with the homecoming as I was, my
quick eye failed not to see two things—
admiring love on the bright face of
my sweet cousin Hetty Taunston and
stern disapproval of my crimson riding
dress on the countenance of her moth
er. Mayhap I shall prove too worldly
for their quiet tastes. Dost think
fMmf
ORCHARD
dNb
BY
M.S.TRIGG
REGISTER,
DES MOINES, IA.
CORRESPONDENCE
SOLICITED
BO,
Elsbeth?"
The woman touched Margaret's sun
ny hair caressingly.
"Thou'rt so bonny, sweet, so fair, so
good, that all must love thee who know
thee," she said. "And as thy ways are
good ways I wot thy neighbors and thy
kinsfolk must grow accustomed to
them."
Margaret rested her hand lightly on
old Elsbeth's shoulder. "And thou
lovest me and Godfrey," she said,
blushing softly. "I care not for the oth
ers. That much is so much that it doth
suffice me."
A light footstep was heard in the
hallway.
"Am I come too soon?" Hetty
Taunston In a black cotton frock, with
a white kerchief folded neatly over
her bosom, entered the room.
"Methought mother would ne'er be
done finding chores for me to do," she
said poutingly. "First there was the
linen to spread on the grass for bleach
ing then the ewers to be filled at tb»
brook, my lesson In embroidery and
the Bible teaching. And, oh," with a
sigh, "so many other occupations did
occur to mother's mind that I grew
quite restless, for all the time my
thoughts were over here with thee,
Margaret."
"Poor, much abused Hetty!" Mar
garet, arising from the table, pinched
her cousin's cheek affectionately. "And
so thou hast kept thy word to come
early to see what came from Paris!
Prithee, cousin, mayhap in some cor
ner of those boxes llerth a gift for
thee."
(Continued in next issue.)
$100—Dr. E. Decthon's Antl-DIuretlo
may te worth to you more than $100
if you have a child wio soils bedding
from incontinence of water during
sleep. Cures old and young alike. It
arrests the trouble ~t once. $1. Sold
by W. W. Ennis, druggist Ottumwa,
Iowa.
Where a farm is kept one-half in
grass, with stock to utilize the grass
and other products of the farm, it will
In the very nature of things become
more productive each year.
If there Is'any talk about a trolley
line in your neighborhood it will be
good money in your pocket to get
next to the project, give the right of
way through your farm and help it all
you can.
The stump of a tree represents some
of the meanest and most destructive
work of men. It Is too often economic
wreckage, the sacrifice of the useful,
the artistic and beautiful for a paltry
present gain. Some men seem to hate
a tree on general principles, when it is
one of the most beneficent gifts of na
ture.
We are asked whether if a crop of
seed clover plowed under in late Sep
tember will so seed the land as to in
sure a stand of clover one year later.
We have known this to be done quite
frequently: The clover seed crop to be
plowed under, as stated, a crop of corn
to be taken from the ground the next
year, this to be followed with oats,
and a fine crop of clover to follow with
out additional seeding. In ordinary
seasons this result may reasonably be
looked for.
A boy can never be Interested in
farm work unless some effort is made
to make his work pleasant for him. If
he Is given a poor horse to care for, a
poor tool to work with, hard and un
pleasant work to do and no tangible
and visible money return for his labor,
he will take the first chance to leave
the farm and try his luck at something
else. It is really a very easy proposi
tion to Interest most boys in the farm,
but they must be treated as boys and
not as hired men.
A reader tn Illinois wishes to know
whether spelts would be a good crop
for him to grow on his farm, located in
central Illinois. We think not Spelta
is not as good or as useful a cereal as
either wheat rye, barley or oats where
they will grow, but has a wide field of
utility in the dry or semlarld regions
where none of these cereals will do
well. It would be, however, all right to
experiment with a small patch and see,
but we would have no confidence In it
as a useful plant for the locality
named.
When a farm produces much more
forage than can be consumed on the
place, Buch as corn stover, bay, straw
and the like, and thiB surplus forage
Is either wasted or destroyed, the gen
eral plan of operation on such farm
needs changing. More land should be
put In pasture, a smaller area of ce
reals raised and more stock be kept
The silo is a most valuable factor In
such ne-vf plan, its use on the average
sixty acre farm being good for the
keep of at least fifteen more head of
stock than It would ever carry under
the old plan.
A friend wishes to know If the bac
terial culture supplied by the depart
ment of agriculture is of value In treat
ing landto be sown to clover. We hard
ly think that it is. Nearly all land will
grow clover, save the few localities
where the soil because of acidity has
become what is termed "clover sick."
The bacteria Incident to the growth
and development of the clover plant
are present in nearly all. well drained
soils, and a dressing of ten or twelve
loads of barnyard fertilizer to the acre
with a manure spreader will'In nearly
all cases Insure a vigorous growth of
clover. The case seems to be different
with alfalfa, the bacterial life associat
ed with the development of this legume
either being entirely absent or in such
limited amount as to make the inocu
lation of the soli an important factor
in attempting to grow it
There are a few signs which mark
the good farmer which never fall. One
Is that he will not try to work more
land than he can do well, another that
be will insist on rotating his crops, an
other that he will keep at least a third
at
his land in clover or grass. He will
also save and use all the manure made
on the farm, and if he does not keep
registered stock he will at least keep
high grade animals. Then his fall plow
ing Is done early—In August if possi
ble. He will cut up his corn and save
the fodder. He is quite likely to have a
silo, and you will usually find in his
poultry yard well bred chickens of
some one breed. He will keep his home
yard neat and attractive, have a tool
house and a shed for his machinery,
keep his buildings painted and the
weeds cut along the highway on bis
farm. He Is sure to attend his town
caucus and is quite likely to go to
church on Sunday, while his boys and
girls will have the advantage of a
normal school or college education.
He will be a reader and thinker as
well as a worker, having found out
that brains count for more than mus
cle in farm work. You know him?
WedOt
Fewer acre* and better seed and cul
ture should be the motto for the farm
work for the year 1905.
The acre reclaimed Is always like the
lost sheep, an acre which always gives
us more pleasure to cultivate than the
ninety and nine which were always
good.
The summer supply of fuel should be
got together right now and put where
the good wife can always have dry
wood. If we were a woman and our
man should make us hunt fuel to cook
his meals with, we would feed him on
raw oatmeal and soggy biscuits until
he came to.
Those 100 young roosters which you
will raise this spring should be prop
erly operated upon at the right time and
converted into 100 eight pound capons
to bring you over a dollar apiece next
winter. Just as well have It done as
not. The old way they are not worth
over 25 cents each.
A practical and profitable system of
crop rotation is more needed all through
the corn belt than any other one thing.
Where corn will grow neither oats nor
wheat will do very well, and the temp
tation is ever present to follow corn
with corn, to the manifest injury of
the crop and the soil.
One trouble Is that men are apt to
regard the whole cornfield as the unit,
when the real unit should be each in
dividual hill. If the field as a whole
looks well and thrifty they think they
have a good field of corn, when a close
examination will show that some hills
are missing, some with a single kernel
in, some with altogether too many. It
Is this way of doing which reduces the
yield of corn per acre.
The farmers everywhere should get
up on both hind feet and Insist that the
telephone poles which now are found
along almost all public highways stuck
out about four feet from the fences
shall be removed back on to the fence
line. As now set it is impossible to
mow the highways with any ease. We
often wonder what lunatic started this
plan of sticking them out into the road.
They would be moved If on our farm
mighty quick.
The habit and growth of trees are
very excellent indications of the fertili
ty of the soil where they grow, this
supposing that the rainfall of any giv
en locality Is sufficient for vigorous
tree growth. Where trees grow tall and
thrifty there is a strong soli. Where
they grow gnarly and scrubby there Is
a poor soil. The vigorous and thrifty
timber growth will always be associat
ed with an equally vigorous and
healthy growth of the lesser things—the
shrubs, bushes and vines. Large trees
will be found where hazel brush and
blackberry vines grow to a height of
eight feet.
The common gray rabbit, which Is
generally supposed to be a timber an
imal, has with the settlement of the
prairies become a very common at
tache of all prairie farms. He finds the
cornfields a fine place In which to
breed and hide and takes naturally to
road culverts and the bits of grove
scattered all over. He has to dodge
the hen hawk and the big barn owl
during the summer and the farmers'
boys during the winter. We have
known as many as 10C of these rabbits
to be killed in a single day out on the
prairie the past winter. The principal
harm which they do Is to the young
fruit trees, and in this connection they
must be closely watched.
A man city born and bred and now
a resident of one of our largest cities
told us recently that because be had
become Interested In reading these
notes he bad further become Interested
In trying to grow some fruit flowers
and shrubs on his city lot and that last
year he had turned his attention to
roses, asters, a strawberry bed and
some other things which he had room
to grow, and he added that he had
come to take a most intense pleasure
In this sort of work, being only too
willing to get up early In the morning
to care for his pets, as he called them,
and finding In doing this work a most
welcome and healthful change and re
laxation from his confining office work.
The love of nature and nature study
is latent in almost all men, and Its de
velopment Is always refining, healthful
and inspiring, a cure for many a hu
man ill both physical and mental.
The restless, migratory disposition of
the American people is utterly destruc
tive of one of the best assets of life,
and that the benefits which grow out
of continuity of residence and employ
ment In a given place and with a giv
en business. It is easy to find people—
and they are pretty good people, too—
who In the course of twenty-five years
have been In half a dozen different
lines of business and lived in a dozen
different places, roamed from the east
to the far west, from north to south,
been farmers, fruit growers, storekeep
ers, speculators, bandied insurance and
machinery, dabbled In politics and
preaching, always unsatisfied and
ft-movlng, never getting ahead in a
financial way and having few or no re
liable and old time friends. While this
spirit of unrest has done much to pop
ulate and develop all sections of the
country and was the legitimate out
growth of our pioneer life, its day of
usefulness is past and no one lesson
Is more needed to be learned by the
American people now than this of
sticking to one business and one lo
cality and thus reaping the valuable]
rewards which Inevitably are associat
ed with continuity of employment and
residence. It is ail right to travel and
see the world as one has opportunity,
but stick to the old home and the old
bnsinesRr
IIS DOBS NOT WAST MORIS
Yqji have a good farm of 160 acres
and are not content but want more
land. Let's
Bee.
You raised last year
an average of thirty-three bushels of
corn to the acre and thirty-two of oats
your hay gave you one ton and a quar
ter to the acre, your potatoes ninety
five bushels you got $89 from .your
poultry yard, and your cows returned
you $80 each for cream sold your
steers sold a good way under the top
of the market, and the only full blood
ed thing you have on the place is
a shepherd dog, which followed you
home from town one day. See here
you don't want1 any more land. If you
had more acres to work, your crops
would be still smaller. The trouble is
the acres you have want a coat of
brains. We passed your place the oth
er day and saw your stock eating up
and wasting a poorly built stack of
what was last July fine timothy and'
clover hay we saw your milk cows
one cold morning out In the cornfield
foraging among the stalks and noticed
toward night that your hens roosted la
the trees around the barn we also
saw your wife with a shawl over her
head digging around the wood pile to
get a little dry wood to cook your sup
per with, and you recollect we met
you In town loafing on a dry goods box
and cussing the government. You
know that your boy was pulled before
the mayor for getting drunk and rais
ing Cain one night lately and that
about that time one of your best horses
was ruined with a barbed wire cut
because the halter rope was rotten
and the barn door off the hinges. You
don't want any more land. The more
you have the worse you will be off.
Better just stop and have a good think
ing spell all by yourself and see If
you can't better yourself under exist
ing conditions. It is entirely possible
for you on this farm to double your
present income, and that's no Joke ei
ther. Brains and work will make the
old farm give you sixty bushels of corn,
to the acre, two and a half tons of hay,
flfty-flv'e bushels of oats. You can get
$500 Income from your cows, and your
poultry yard should give you $260 if
properly managed. Run In debt If
need be for a manure spreader tomor
row and get those 400 loads of manure,
which makes a bog of your barnyard,
out on to the fields. Test those cows
and fire the unprofitable ones.- Get a
$150 bull at the head of your herd, sowi
at least twenty acres of clover this
spring and every spring thereafter, ro
tate your crops, build a silo, save your
corn fodder, get dry wood handy for
your wife, quit loafing In town» fill
your home with good reading matter
and quit cussing the administration
and wishing for more land. You will
think Inside of three years you have
more land than you can work. The fore
going is perhaps not very nicely said,
but It is the truth and sizes up the case
of a whole lot of you fellows.
TESTING REED CORN. \*M
Hundreds of men who read thlB Item
will be planting afield of corn before
long. Most of them have their seed]
corn saved after a fashion some have
It in the crib, some up in the attic, some
in the oat bin, some down cellar. Few
of them really know just what per
cent of this seed corn will grow. Many
of them will test it by selecting a few1
kernels here and there and planting
them, but that will be all. There is a
better way—a method by which the ex
act germinating power of the seed corn
can be determined. It requires a little
time and patience, bat the work can
be done during stormy days. Take
the corn selected for seed and lay it all
out on the table or on the floor. First
make a careful selection as to type,
throwing out all ears which are not
up to the standard which you select
then put the selected ears In groups
of ten each and number each ear then
take out four kernels from different
parts of each ear, laying them opposite
each ear then take a box five Inches
deep and large enough to test each ear,
marking it off in one and one-half inch
squares after It Is filled with two inches
of sand or loam. Number the squares
In pencil so that they will cor
respond to the numbers on the corn,
place the four kernels In their proper
square, lay over them a sheet of cloth
and place on that an Inch or so of damp
sawdust Set the box in a room where
the temperature will not be over 70
and Inside of a week yon can gently,
raise the cloth and find oat just what!
kind of seed corn you have got Ears
which are thus shown "to be defectiva
or weak in germinating power can then
be identified and thrown out Good!
seed has more to do with the yield ofl
the corn crop than most people think.
THE BARRBST STALK.
There are plenty of men who
not for a moment think of nslng a
weak, degenerate sire for their hi
who will still plant weak and degener
ate kernels of corn, which at best
only develop vigor enough to shove
a weak stalk and throw off a little pol-l
len, never attempting to make an ear,
making up what has been found to be!
not less than 20 per cent of the stand'"
In many a cornfield. In fact the use ofj
seed of low vitality, which is the prlmei
cause of the barren stalk, is almost as
great a loss to the average corn growerf^
as though the seed would not germi
nate at all, for this barren stalk bntL^a
robs its more thrifty and healthy broth-Ofe
er of light, sunshine, fertility and mols-| ,|.
ture and is worth nothing save for fod-*
der. Then, further, its pollen, which It
scatters over the field, is always
work lowering the grade of all coralpfM
with which It comes in contact Better®11'
no stalk than this scrub parasite la the
or el
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