MERRY SQUARE
A NEIGHBOURLY NOVEL
t.y ORACH d. RICHMOND
1
"*Anyhow,” Chase went on
BbaarHtfully, “though 1 can’t
tell you how I dreaded going
to t!ut place, w'ith my shaky
»ct w?, I'm glad I went. I hope
I was of use to that pathetic I
little old wife. I don’t know
•bout that But—b»it she—she
•as of marvellous use to me. I
lamer--never in my life saw'
Anything like her fortitude.
’Why, after it was over, she — 1
earn* to the door with me, and
thanked me for coming! And
His voice broke. Mackay
bad a moment of fear that the
•motional strain of a scene like
that had been too much for the
man who had his own heavy
troubles to bear. But his next
*trr/ng impression was that the
«f little old Mrs. Cutler’s
•cserago had really been, as
Cbase had said, to inspire his
amt.
So Maekav said, in the quiet,
laarw tone of confidence which
h tb* best support for weak
ness in another, “1 can imag
ine. Isn’t she the greatest
little old soldier you ever
Anew? She’s been shouldering
ber crutch and marching to the
•mate for years, one knows by
tfec look of her. I don’t think
•bell march much longer, now'
a * « i •
ikt vto mmp i* gunr, mn siiir 11
W game to the end. I’m glad
yon were with her, to see her
end help her through. There’s*
nobody like you, Doctor Chase,
k«i know how to say the right,
thing. I’ve heard you do it
tn*ny times, and I know.”
fba*c turned to look at him.
•*Y«wi never saw me in a place
like that. The pulpit’s one
place. A little room like that
i* 9flute another. I—Maekay—
■mchew I didn’t feel very big
In that little room.”
mtl know.” And now (Ior
dan Maekay felt a definite
penwmal liking for this mu.t
that fee oadn’t quite had be
fore. This was the reul man
pecking, he was sure.
fiwt now the speaking was
ever. Suddenly Chase felt
bnmelf very weak and sick,
•cd leaned heavily on Mac
ay * steel-strong arm. The
younger man wondered for an
hnctant if he oughtn’t to leave
b;m and run to the house for a
car with which to bring him
kbe few remaiiiiiig rods. Hut
C^awr shook his head atnl
■sored slowly on.
— just—■nerves,” he
brra?bed. “] can make it.”
Sc they made it, and came
tr the house. They had also
cense a little way on that an
cient road toward friendship
■nade by the mutual under
■taninr of each other’s feeling
iin a great, hour.
(Prom Josephine Jenney’s
Note-Bookk)
Dream evening, followed by
fcour or two of nightmare ttnxi
«tv. All serene this morning.
The d ream was of old dav s.
Drought, on by flying drive in
to Stadium, in Dallas Hunt’s
myadster, with Cordon Maekay
snaking the third, in el* .ne
quarters, Could shut my eyes
and imagine myself tucked in
between Julian and Blair liey
i*or, dashing for almost any
srhere that occurred to us.
Vm*| in my face, low voices in
any ewrx, a drift of eigaret
smoke, tights, lights, lights —
then a tunnel of darkness tin
ker trees—a queer sense of
Vapp ness — expectancy —
ncrognition of others’ similar
reactions-—
TV? » music. — gorgeous —•
irfore.is — heart-breaking —
Suspended between earth and
•i. !
Afterwards the funny trip
Wm<-, coming hack to earth
until a bounce. Crowds, noise,
reek, heal, on the train. Then
qenct, coolness, wetness, gales,
«tipftery roads, utud<ly lulls—
Cherry Kqtinrc—
Pnrnlly the dash off through
th* fields looking for our pn
Bradley Sfu rgis at my
UaraHo of \iumilv
ftsm the New York Tlm*m
ks* KftUm themselves apart and
dm the world as dumb bniM,
asm have sometimes seemed more
fcrwtai than the animals they look
Wnwn'i on Hour mu intelltcnice rnau
Mr '.rely clam* tout only ioo of
he ta has been turned to uiiwtsrtliv
pi'.yM t- Whether animal* ate ey
m able to recognise man’s tnju.u -
•hen »t noun we ranMt toe aui"
there t* plenty of evt !•«*•
Of niton a cruel master
JMhr r. (rniisi beyond the oa•
pai iT'ii ,«f att tntaii.il to «p|irev'i»i»
aar*rViHt hot II ta i)n’>y**. tt»e
tab awil feetlni umiltdw by ¥*ro*
<s /
heels, trying to make most of
excitement. Might as well
have been a midge humming in
my ears. Frightfully anxious
3< st we find tragedy. Return
to house, to find the pale in
valid resting, a strange look on
his face as of one who lias been
seeing something ho hasn’t
seen before. Whispered that,
to Mr. Hark ay, who whispered
backk: “He has,” And told
me no more. Think, whatever
it was, Gordon Mack ay must
have seen it, too.
XIII.
Adelaide Sturgis had made
quite sure that there was no
body in the house except her*
self. Even Norah O’Grady had
left her kitchen shining and
fragrant, and had run over
home to pick some blackber
ries from her own small gar
den for the Chases’ table. Sal
ly had lukon her husband for
a long drive. Jo had gone out
with Hob; Mary bad the other
children well away from the
house.
Every plan of Adelaide’s for
the day had fallen through.
She had expected to motor into
town with a man she knew for
dinner and the theater, but
at noon he had telephoned, ex
plaining why lie must ilelault.
Dallas Hunt had been away all
the week. Therefore Adelaide
was feeling more than ordin
arily down on her luck. And
always, at the bottom of her
disappointments, was the men
tal image of do .Tenney. Who
ever else was unhappy, do
seemed full of tin* zest of life.
And not for any special reason
that could be discerned.
Suddenly there had come to
Adelaide the desire to go into
Jo’s room, in her absence, and
see if she could discover any
secret of her attraction for the
various people who were con
stantly showing bow much
they wanted to be with her.
There must be some reason,
some recipe, some formula,
hidden there. Girls’ rooms
were revealing, Adelaide well
understood that. She herself
would have admitted that her
own, at this very moment.,
looked precisely as if it were
hers, and no other’s. The old
I'ashoneid bureau top was a
jars, boxes and bottles, all of
jars, boxes and botles, all of
them in some way contributing
to her toilette. One drawer was
partly open, and scarfs of all
lines and fabrics had been
stuffed therein, so that they
overflowed. Heavy exotic
scents hung about tlie room. A
silken garment of bright green
with ostrich bands bad been
thrown carelessly over the foot
of the bed. The bed itself was
piled with small pillows of lace
over green silk -Adelaide af
fected green as her color, to
match her eyes. An artist had
once told her tluit green eyes
were the most beautiful of all,
especially when the hair was
russet—-which was what lie
called hers. She had kept it
more sin prisinglv russet Jwer
since that hour, hut means of
aids known to beauty special
ists.
Leaving this room of hers
on tiptoe, she stole down the
hall to the turn at the back,
beyond which she knew Jo’s
room must he. Even though
she was sure that the house
was empty, she advanced with
caution, making no sound. Past
one door after another, she fin
ally stood at that of the one
which she knew must be Jo’s,
because of its exquisite order.
Nobody else in the house, not
even Sally herself, would leave
a room so absolutely devoid of
things out of place as that.
Even the bureau drawers were
every one closed tight.
There wasn't, must to be
seen at first glance. The bu
reau top held a few simple and
inexpensive articles lying in
even rows, .V dozen books
stood between plain hook ends
■ femur James H. Lrubu in hi* ilta
cujs.ion of morality among the ani
mals in the June Harper *.
Whatever one's definition of mo
rality. a good case i* made out toi
iU existence in animals Darwin
found every conceivable emotion.
bo<h good and bad expressed by
beasts Professor Letiba limits his
paper to a romoderation of lour
rc-tfor aspects of morality as dts
triaged b\ man and hu inferiors
The first of iliaae la the common
claim of both to personal property
Ittrdx defend nut only tlwlr pe*t but
I the teeth 4 ground surrounding It
Ragles rule a considerable area
trum which intruders are excluded
| Many apes have playthings which
on the'T.iall stand beside
bed. Crossing tlie room Ade
laide scanned these, end drew
a deep, derisive breath, though
it was a surprised breath as
well, “l’osing!” she said to
I herself. “A country school
! teacher!” There was nothing
else to he noted. But the closed
drawers, the closed door which I
presumably opened into a
clothespress, stimulated her
curiosity.
She listened again; not a
sound stirred the air, except
the litle summer outdoor noises
which came faintly in at the
open window. She cautiously
opened the top bureau drawer.
The usual things- and a photo
graph, and a bundle of letters.
She took up the photograph—•
first noting carefully exactly
how it had lain in the drawer.
It was by one of the. best pho»
tographers in New York, and it
was of a young man so exceed
ingly good to look at, that Ade
laide stared and stared again.
“All, ha, my dear so you’re
more of an old hand at it than
I thought you jvere!” she said
to herself. “I might have
known it, though. There’s cer
tainly something queer about
you, the way you play your
cards. That demureness of
yours covers trickiness—and
I’ve got to find out what it's
about.”
She replaced the photograph,
fingered the package of letters
longingly, but reflected that if
she were suddenly surprised
ii ml !.<><! 4 n inn l-n ik /< ) i ■ 111 r Mn
treat it would be dangerous to
have letters to dispose of. She
stood looking longingly at the
door of the elothespress. .Tust
why she was temped to explore
what she already knew must be
Jo Jeniiey’s slender stock of
apparel could hardly be ex
plained. And yet she found it
in possible to resist this desire.
Therefore, yielding to it, she
opened the door.
Slender the stock proved to
be indeed: the straight dresses
of Idues and whites and tans
which Jo wore daily, one plain
tailored suit of dark blue cloth,
two simple hats upon the shelf,
several pairs of well-kept shoes
upon trees on the floor below.
Where was the thin blue frock
which Jo so often wore for din
ner, and the sight of which al
ways roused Adelaide's curios
ity? This she felt she must see.
Yes, here it was, behind the
suit, and covered with a little
flowered muslin protector. Cer
tainly, Jo's ways Were of the
daintiest with all her posses
sions, the interloper had to
concede.
Adelaide examined the dress.
Heautiful material, artful lines,
a peculiar feel and faint fra
grance about it which recalled
other scenes far removed from
the country village. Hurriedly
she looked at the fine silk in
ner lining, and discovered the
label of a famous Paris dress
maker.
She forgot entirely where
she was and the danger of dis
eovery while she stood survey
ing this tell-tale mark. Then
she laughed to herself. “Idiot
I am! Of course she bought it
at one of those cheap shops
where they sell second-hand
clothes, and had it cleaned.
She’s more knowing than 1
thought her. . . . How I hate
that dress! I’d like to—burn
it up!”
A quick step sounded in the
passage outside. Adelaide
flung the dress back upon its
hook, the outer covering all
disarranged, panic upon her.
Of course she was caught, fool
that she had been. Sho stood
waiting to be discovered, she
hadn’t a chance of escape. How
on earth Hail she been so care
less as to forget to listen? She
hat! gained nothing and lost
much. How should she ex
plain. where there was no ex
planation f One preposterous
excuse leaped into her mind —
she would use it, it was better
than nothing.
She came out of the clothes
press as .lo ran into the room,
an eager do, flushed with exer
cise and a touch of sunburn, n
gay whistle on her lip*. At
sight of Adelaide she stopped
I they will permit their fellows t«
I handle, but which must be re
turned Often a monkey will take
a favorite tov to be wit's him every
night. In defending their proper
ty. whether home, mate, food or
toya. animals "do not cautiously
measure the "strength of their an
tagonist* before giving battle"
Thev rush In Just like a man who
know* ne has the right on hia ude
Righteous indignation" la not a
bad term to deaertbe their attitude
It U harder to find a concise e*.
preaslon for the behavior of a do
mestic animal when scolded b\ his
| master If a dog has never been
•truck or punished In any way. he
| will neverth'leu Upp and cower
short. v. **
“You'll excuse me,” *flid
Adelaide, with more hauteur
than was convincing in one
found in so compromising a
situation. “I smelled smoke
and have been looking every
where back bore, since it didn’t
seem to come from the front of
the house.”
A smell of smoke, and not a
fire alight in the house! But
Jo accepted the explanation
with a nod. “Thank you,” she
said, with a slight lift pf the
eyebrows, for at the moment
the hanger which held the blue
frock from Paris slipped to the
floor behind Adelaide. The in
vader turned involuntarily.
“Afraid 1 disturbed some
thing.” she said, as she went
toward the outer door of the
room. “I thought there might
be a hot chimney back there.”
Then she disappeared, hav
ing had no further response
from t he owner of the room. To
Jo there seemed to he nothing
to say. .She went to the clothes
press and picked up the frock
and replaced it upon its hang
er It was impossible not to
note that the cover of flowered
muslin was not disposed in its
usual way upon the dress, and
that a mere slipping to the
floor could hardly have made
this difference.
“Now why,” she said to her
self, “with a dozen frocks to
my one, should you care?”
And then she thought she
1. nAiif 11 <i o I fniit I i / f cinn \r I
en admiringly ot' that dress in
Adelaide’s presence. “Oh, how
little, little, you arc!” she
breathed.
(From Josephine Jenney’s
Note-Book)
Mrs. Chase gave me a day’s
leave of absence.
Back from seeing Julian.
Cannot put one word on paper
of hour not to be forgotten.
Just want to record belief
clung to through everything
that God is there—somewhere
—even as here.
But—his face—his eyes
This is a dear spot to come
back to, after a day on trains
and in taxicabs. The garden is
so lovely just now. . . . Gar
dens—trees—sky—I’d better
stop writing till I’m not so
tense.
XIV
“Mrs. Chase! You see 1
couldn’t resist stopping. It’s
good to sec you again! And
what do you hear from your
traveller husband T”
Sally Chase looked amazedly
into the frankly admiring eyes
of Mr. Sage Pierpont, who had
crossed her lawn without her
being aware of the fact. Un
der the big beech she had been
reading aloud to Schuyler, who
lay stretched in a deck chair,
his back to the street. She had
thought him almost asleep, but
she was instantly aware, as the
deep and resonant voice of Mr.
Pierpont accosted her, that
Schuyler stirred and listened,
• x* n . •_
ill lun luini luu.'uui'ig.
“Mr. Pierpont! I really
thought you had forgotten to
keep your promise,” Sally
said, as she gave him her hand,
noting the big ear which stood
outside her gate, empty except
for the chauffeur. “Won’t you
drive in, and stay? You must
stay. And is it possible you
don't know my husband is
here?”
“Here!”
“Schuyler,” she turned and
spoke to him. He rose out of
tlie deck chair, and she saw
him raise his hand to the black
spectacles which covered his
eyes, as it' he had the impulse
to remove them. But he did
not do so—he had been often
warned that he must not ex
pose those eyes to the bright
sunlight, and never had there
been brighter sunlight than
that of tliis August Sunday
morning. He came slowly for
ward. and the massive, com
manding figure of Pierpont,
president of the hoard of trus
tees of the church which
Schuyler served, advanced to
meet him. Shocked astonish
ment was written upon the
face of the elder man.
(To 1!» OONTIMKIM
w hrn scolded. He will appear to be
ashamed It he is caught In dtsobe
dl* nee. >1* Is r.ot so much terrified
at the physical pain of punishment
as troubled perhaps hy conscience!
Ihe third trait ts helpfulness. Ani
mals are devoted to each other In
making their homes, feeding the
young and caring for an Injured
mats or relative. Monkeys, rspe
rtelly the females, will glee their
own food to (When that are 111 nr
hurt, even k! they are not related
They also show great sympathy and
affection stroking and petting each
othe., • *
| OF INTEREST TO FARMERS |
I —
FATHER-SON PARTNERSHIPS
One thing that is gradually com
ing, is the ‘‘father and son" farm
idpa. It is no uncommon thing in
the middle west to find a son. or
sons, must be consulted if a sales
man or a stock buyer is trying to
put a proposition before the owner
of a farm.
‘‘I have figured it out," said a ma
chinery salesman who travels the
middle west selling farm imple
ments. "that these firms are the di
rect outcome of the boys’ clubs that
have been formed. A boy as a
small shaver gets interested in pick
ing out the best ear of com for the
home exhibit; he wins a prize; he
becomes interested from this mo
ment in better farming. The next
year he tends a calf most carefully
and he finds he is the possessor of
another prize; his interest is
whetted and he goes into the game.
When he has reached t're age of
14 or 15 he may have $200 back of
him. He studies investment and
he decides to keep on making stock
or chickens or seed-corn or per
haps popcorn increase his savings
and pay him a feal dividend on
the work he can put back of his
investment.
"Now the really wise farm father
at this stage of the game, 1 find,
often takes the boy into a farm
partnership. He knows that the
co-operation of hi3 boy or boys,
as the case may be. means the
ultimate success cf his farm ven
ture, and he asks their advice; has
them in on any consultation about
farm improvement; studies with
them the possible output of every
foot of the acreage; and makes
them realize the overhead and the
results of the farm game.
"Often I have addressed the own
er of the farm with a view of sell
ing him some needed piece of ma
chinery, and he Immediately tells
me h° will call in his son to talk
V4 )U wpuoi\,i»yu nun UO. 1 UC
other day I had reason to believe
that I could sell a plow to a cer
tain party. I called on a rainy day,
for that is the day a farm sales
man can often do the best busi
ness, and I had no sooner started
to talk plow than this fanner
stepped to the door, called his 18
year-old son in and explained to
me that he had a small share in
the farm, and he, too, had studied
their needs in plows.
"I expected to have a boy come
in and listen to what I was saying
to his father, have him look to his
father for decisions, etc.; but no
sooner had I commenced to talk
plows than this boy began to ques
tion me as to the relative merits of
the ‘two-way’ plows, the tractor
plows, the gang plow, etc., until I
found that he had made a study of
plows that was most comprehensive.
“ ‘You see,’ he explained, ‘we (I
noted that ‘we’) must buy the very
best plow needed for our work. I
have studied plow catalogs for three
months and now, if what you can
prove to me agrees with what I
have figured out, we may be able
Jo make a deal.”
“I was impressed with this boy’s
knowledge, and you may be sure I
wanted to sell him the very plow
that would be best for his use. In
talking with the father after the
sale had been made and the boy
had gone back to his work, he said:
i ‘Yes, we farmers are beginning to
1 realize that every boy we can keep
on the farm is the greatest asset
we can have, and the one way to
keep ’em Ls to make a part of the
farm theirs. All the members of
our family are part owners of our
plant here; girls and their mother
have the chickens and ducks and
such like, and the boys have some
acreage, some stock and are joint
owners in the car.’ ”
You would, if you had reason to
make door-to-door calls on farmers,
be convinced that this movement
is growing steadily, and when the
county fairs or the state exhibits
are on, you will see more and more
boys taking (heir own stock or their
own crops of seed-grain for display..
And you will find that in many
cases the boy’s real bank account
will show a larger balance than his
father’s will at many times of the !
year.
— --»♦
MAKING OF NEW PLANTS
Where do we get the new plants
fhat are offered by dealers each
year? How is the interminable pro
cession of novelties kept up?
The making of new plants is one
of the most fascinating develop
ments of modern science for it is to
scientific plant breeding that we
j owe most of them. Formerly the
I chief source of supply rested on
i plant explorers scouring remote
countries of the world and sending
back new species of plant like that
they destroyed. As the surface of
the earth becomes more carefully
explored, this source for new gar
den material diminishes. Of late
years the interior of China and
Thibet have yielded the greatest
quantities of new plants. Of the
plants listed in commercial cata- j
logues, the primroses have, perhaps,
shown the greatest number of addi
tions. Specialists list 100 or so spe
cies and varieties, a large portion
of them brought into cultivation
within the last I’O years.
New varieties occasionally appear
in plantations so distinct as to war
, rant being regarded as distinct spe
' cies. These are known as mutants,
a term applied by the Belgian scien
tist, Prof. Hugo DeVris. who de
vised the famous mutations theory
to account for the appearance of
new species of plants. There are
continual slight variations in plants
and by cultivating these sltght vari
ations through several generations
new types are often secured. The j
Shirley poppy owed Its origin to a
common red poppy .showing a faint
line of white on the petals. Seed j
of this poppy was saved and sown
through several generations, sav- J
ing only those which showed in
creasing white until now we have
this race of pale-colored poppies, i
KEEI* FOWLS rttlttt I 1
A hundred pound gain In weight *
on a couple of hundred broilers as
the result of feed going to make
bone and feed instead of being
wasted maintaining worms, will
more than pay lor the time it takes
to move the brooder house a hun
dred feet or so from the old runs.
It'S by far cheaper to control worms
by getting the chicks away from in
fested ground than to try to dope
the chicks for worms,
• •
P \KTfCLT.AHI. V » VKM MONK
There is no substitute tor work,
I but systematic planning will mske
1 the work easier 1
This process is known as selection.
Professor DeVries declared that
mutants were the result of discon
tinuous variation, the change coin
ing at once and inexplicably. Some
of our bcm new varieties originate
in this way, the dahlia-flowered
zinnia being an example, according
to some experts. The zinnia with
curled petals appeared alone among
a bed of thousands and was segre
gated and found to breed true.
The discovery of Mendel’s law of
heredity in 1865, which was not de
veloped' and put into practical ap
plication until some years later,
has placed plant breeding on a
scientific basis so that a breeder
may estimate with reasonable cer
tainty the result of crosses that he
makes, knowing from Mendel’s law
the proportion of plants he will get
from a cross which will resemble
each parent and those which will
show a mingling of the character
istics of both parents.
When a desirable crass has been
secured the next step is to •■true it
tip"—that is, to inbreed it until all
or most all of its seedings lepeat
the desired qualities. This is called
line breeding. Selection is a part
of this process, that is taking only
seedings of the best form and color
or possessing the characteristics for
which the breeder seeks, and de
stroying all others. This work takes
a number of years, in many cases,
but when the work is completed wo
have a new race of plants lor our
gardens.
Only plants closely related will
cross successfully. When they are
remotely they are known as wide
crosses and seedings are likely to
produce monstrous forms or, if de
sirable, to prove sterile, that is, un
able to form or produce seed. Breed
ing progress, therefore, stops. Such
plants are known as "mules” from
klltu outuiui ilj iw liiv. uuun-i'iiv
mal, which cannot reproduce itself
by mating with its kind. This is
common among the pinks, the old
Dianthus Napoleon III being a mule
pink. It can be propagated only
by cuttings.
But by far the greatest number
of new varieties of our new plants
and new strains of plants are tho
result of scientific hybridization.
-M-- ■■■-»
ENGINEERS AID FARMERS
Most people do not realize the
contributions engineers have already
made to agriculture either directly
or indirectly. Few have given care
ful consideration to the importance
and value of more intensive work
in the application of engineering
to the various agricultural activi
ties.
Within the last 75 years, those
contributions have brought about a
greater advancement m agricul
ture than had been recorded in the
entire history of the world up to
that time. It was not until about
1850 that improved and modern
machinery began to appear. Now one
American farmer produces more than
five times as much wheat as he did
in 1850. If America produced at
the same rate now as in 1850 it
would require about 60.000.000 more
people than there are in the entire
nation to produce last year’s wheat
crop.
In 1800 approximately 97 per cent,
of the entire population of this na
tion were engaged in agriculture.
This percentage had changed very
little up to 1850. at which time about
90 per cent, were engaged in agricul
ture. Now approximately 25 per
cent, are engaged in agriculture and
have no difficulty in producing a
surplus of food.
Within certain reasonable limits,
the proper application of power will
probably work out as advantageously
on farms as it has in factories. At
least there are many indications
pointing that way.
Surveys on a cost accounting basis
have been made in practically all
states of the union. These surveys
show that different farmers in the
corn belt vary from four to 40 hours
of labor required to produce an acre
of corn, and that the actual grow
ing cost per bushel varies from 35
cents to $1.50; with wheat, the cost
runs from $3 to $7 per bushel; with
pork from 5 cents to 20 cents per
pound, and with butter from 20 to
H Ft oente
Any profit is the result of the salo
price less the cost of production.
There are, therefore, two methods of
increasing profits. One is to increase
the sale price without increasing the
cost, and the other is to decrease the
cost without increasing the sale
price. Obviously, farmers should do
everything within their power to
take advantage of both methods.
Here is where the engineer must
step in. If agriculture in the very
nature of things is and always will
be so individualistic that farm or
ganizations cannot establish and op
erate large experimental laboratories,
as do the big industries, and if tha
profits to be reaped by private busi
ness are not sufficient to warrant
the expenditure of large sums of
money for these purposes, it is per
fectly proper for the government to
operate such experiment stations. It
seems not only proper but necessary.
This it is doing now in a small way,
but work in agricultural engineer.ng
in the United States department of
agriculture and in our agricultural
colleges has been started but a few
years, and is still in its iniancy.
PROLONG MOWER'S LIFE
Can you name a piece of farm
machinery that gets more abuso
than the mowing-machine? Its av
erage life is 500 acres, but manufac
turers say it will, with proper care,
cut 1.500 acres. Dull or worn knives,
guards out of line and off renter—
these make the mower run hard,
cause side draft and no end of trou
ble Surprising how cheaply the cut
ting parts of the neglected mower
ran be replaced- a^k your farm ma
chinery dealer about it. The cost of
repairs will be returned to you in
the saving in time and honieflesh.
♦ •
INC REASE SPIT) ACREAGE
Wherever a cornfield adjoins a
pasture, cows are i reach
through or be unnecessarily hard
on the fence. Take away the temp
tation by planting late potatoes tl
the edge of the com. They do well,
provided they receive one or two
hoeings b-sldes the cultivation with
the corn. There is another advant
age more room is allowed for turn
ing when cultivating the com Po
tatoes do not neem to be Injured so
badly m corn by trampling
horses' feet
• •
Atfaifi add» fst and aid* fortune
In the hog business.