6
BAREFOOTED.
TTse erfrls ail iike to see the bluets In the
lane
And the saucy Johnny-Jump-ups In the
meader,
Rut we boys, we wanter see the dog'ood
blooms again
Throw-in' a kinder summcr-lookin' shad
der;
Tar the first mild mornln' when the woods
are white
(An' we needn' even ask our ma about It)
leave our shoes right where we pulled
'em off at night,
An' barefooted once again we run an'
shout it:
You may take the country over—
"When the bluebird turns a rover,
An' the wind is soft an' hazy,
{ An' you feel a little lazy.
' An' the nisger quits the possums—
It's the time lor dog'ood blossoms.
Sow light! helgh-ho! I wish there was
more fences here;
We d like to jis' keep Jumpln' "em to
gether!
VO El eds for us, no guns, nor even 'slmmon
beer,
No nothln' but the blossoms an' fair
weather!
The meader is a leetle sticky right at first,
But a few short days 'lll wipe away that
trouble.
STo feel so good an' g;ay I wouldn' mln' the
worst
That kin be done by any field o' stubble.
O all the trees are lookiti' sappy!
O all the folks are smllin' happy!
An' there's joy in every little bit o' room;
But the happiest of 'em all.
At the mornln' rooster's call,
Are we barefoots when the dog'oods burst
abloom!
•-John Charles McNeill, In Youth's Com
panion.
BORN TO SERVE
By Charles M. Sheldon,
Atrthor of"IN HIS STEPS," "JOHN KING'S
QUESTION CLASS," "EDWARD
BLAKE,' 1 Etc.
(Copyright, I'JUU, by Chariot* M. Sheldon. J
CHAPTER VII.— CONTINUED.
**lf I am going to stay a servant,"
«he said, with some calling back of
her former habit, "I must learn what
God thinks of service. I shall need
-all I can get out of His word to
strengthen me in days to come." She
had made a collection of her passages
relating to service, and to-night she
Added to it from one of Paul's let
ters, dwelling on the words as she
read them aloud: "Servants, obey in
all things them that are your mas
ters according to the flesh; not with
eye service, as men-pleasers, but in
singleness of heart, fearing the Lord;
whatsoever ye do, work heartily, as
*info the Lord, and not unto men;
knowing that from the Lord ye shall
receive the recompense of the inher
itance; ye serve tlio j.ord Christ. For
l>e that doetli wrong shall receive
Again for the wrong that he hath
done; there is no respect of persons.
Masters, render unto your servants
that which is just and equal; know
ing that ye also have a Master in
Heaven."
"Of course," Barbara mused, after
saying the words, "all this was said
to actual slaves, whose bodies were
bought and sold in the market like
cattle. But what wonderful words to
be spoken to any class of servants
cither then or now! 'Whatsoever ye
do, work heartily!' One thing that
servants lack in their service is
heartiness. Tt is done for wages, not
for love of servie°. 'As unto the
L.ord and not unto men.' How few
servants ever think of that! The
Lord is the real Master. He is being
served if what I do is a good thing
that heeds doing. 'There is no re
spect of persons.' How great a thing
that is J In Clod's sight my soul is
as much worth saving as any other.
He thinks as much of me as lie does
of the rich and t,ie famous. 'Masters,
render unto your servants that
which is just and equal.' If tnat were
done, it might make conditions far
different so far as the servant-girl
question is concerned. But who will
tell us what is meant by 'just and
equal' to-day?" Barbara shook her
head doubtfully, and went on.
" 'Knowing that ye have also a
Master in Heaven.' That helps me.
Paul must have known my need as
well as the need of the poor bond
servants to whom he wrote. 'A Mas
ter in Heaven.' May He help me to
serve Him in spirit and in truth."
So Barbara the next day did not
present the appeararce of the mod
ern broken-hearted heroine in the
end-of-the-century novel. Anyone
who knew her could plainly see
marks in her face and manner of a
great experience. But there was no
gloom about her, no un-Chris'tian
tragic bewailing of fate or circum
stance. If she were to live her
life as she supposed she should,
without life's greatest help to live,
so far as humaji love can go, she
would at least live it bravely as so
many other souls have done. And
yet, Barbara, you know well enough
that Ambition does not spell Love.
And, in spite of all, you know your
heart would tremble if tne young
minister of Marble Square church
should pass you and give you one
■earnest look out of his great dark
eyes, as he did on that well-remem
bered day when he said that you
were beautiful. Ah, Barbara! Are
you quite sure 3'ou have forever bid
den farewell to the holiest dream of
your womanhood?
She busied herself during the day
with her work, and in the evening
went over to Mrs. Vane's to see her
again concerning the proposed build
ing. She was eager to get to work.
Her heart longed for busy days to
keep her mind absorbed.
Mrs. Vane suggested several good
Ideas.
"While you arc waiting to com
plete the details of the building it
self, why not interview a large num
ber of factory and store girls about
their work? Find out something
about the- reasons that appeal to
young women for a choice of labor.
You are not certain that you can get
any girls to attend your training
school. I think you ean, but very
Biauy other cood people will tell you
jour plan is senseless. It is only
when ]<c:ojjic ueglu Lu iry to no pood
in the world that tliey discover what
fools they are. Other people who
never make an effort to better the
world will tell them so. There will
arise a host of tormenting 1 critics as
soon as the idea of your proposed
training-school is suggested. They
will tear it all to pieces. Don't pay
any attention to them. The world
does not owe anything to that kind
of criticism. But it will help your
plan if before the building is put up
you can answer honest questions as
to its practical working. There's an
other thing I would like to say; and
I shall say it, my dear, seeing I am
old enough to be your grandmother."
"What's that?" Barbara asked,
coloring. She anticipated Mrs. Vane's
next remark.
"I think it would be a distinct sav
ing of power if in some way we could
make the training-school a part of
Mr. Morton's social-settlement work."
"I don't think it is possible," re
plied Barbara in a low voice. Iler
manner expressed so much distress
that the old lady said at once: "My
dear, I will not say any more about
it. But will you permit me to tell
you plainly that 1 am firmly con
vinced that Mr. Morton is in love
with you, and wfll ask you to marry
him, and you will have to give him
some kind of a satisfactory answer,
for he is not a young man to be sat
isfied with unsatisfactory answers."
"Oh, I cannot believe it!" Barbara
exclaimed, and then she put her face
in her hands, while she trembled.
"It's true!" the pld lady said, stur
dily. "My old eyes are not so dim
that I cannot see love talking out of
other eyes. And that is what his
were saying when he was here last
week. My dear, there is nothing
dreadful about it. I should enjoy hav
ing you for my pastor's—"
"But it is impossible—" Barbara
lifted her head blushingly.
"There is nothing impossible in
love's kingdom," replied the old lady,
gently. "If it comes to you, do not
put it away. You are his equal in all
that is needful for your happiness."
Then Barbara told her all about the
event of the night before at the
church. If she had been a Catholic,
she would have gone to a priest. Be
ing- a Protestant, she confessed to
this old lady, because her heart
longed for companionship, and there
was that quality in Mrs. Vane which
encouraged confidences.
When she was through, Mrs. Vane
said: "There is nothing very hope
less about all this. He has certainly
never been anything but the noble
hearted Christian gentleman in his
treatment of you." (Barbara did not
tell of the remark Mr. Morton had
made about beautiful faces. But, in
as much as he had apologized for a
seeming breach of gentlemanly eon
duct, she did not feel very guilty i«
withholding the incident from Mrs.
Vane.) "And I really believe he feels
worse than you do over any slights
3'ou received from the members of
the church."
Barbara was silent. Now that her
heart was unburdened she felt grate
ful to Mrs. Vane, bat she naturally
"BUT IT IS IMPOSSIBLE— 1 "
shrank from undue expression of her
feelings. Mrs. Vane respected her
reserve as she had encouraged her
confidence.
"Don't be downhearted, my dear.
Go right on with your plans." Count
on me for the 10,000 and more if the
plan develops as I think it will. And
meanwhile, if in 3'our trips among
the working girls, you run across
anj'one who can take Hilda's place,
send her around. I haven't been able
to find anybody yet. I would get
along without help, but Mr. Vane will
not allow it, with all the company we
have. No, don't shake hands like
men. Kiss me, my dear."
So Barbara impulsively kissed her,
and went away much comforted. She
creaded the thought that she might
meet the young minister, and half
hoped she might. But for the nsxt
three weeks Mr. Morton was called
out of Crawford cn a lecture tour
which the Marble Square church
granted him; and, when Barbara
learned that he was gone, she almost
felt relieved as she planned her work
with Mrs. Ward's hearty cooperation
to see as many working girls as pos
sible for information, and to learn
from them the story of their choice
of life labor, and its relation to her
own purpose so far as helping solve
the servant question was concerned.
What Barbara learned during the
next three weeks would make a vol
ume in itself. She did not know that
she had any particular talent for
winning confidences, but a few days'
experience taught her that she was
happily possessed of a rare talent fur
making friends. She managed in one
way and another to meet girls at
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 1901.
work in a great variety of ways. Tn
the big department store of Bond
man & Co., in the long row of fac
tories by the river, in the girls' re
freshment rooms at the Young Wom
en's Christian association, in the of
fices of business friends where the
click of the typewriter was the con
stant note of service, in the res
taurants and waiting-rooms about
the big union station, in the different
hotels and a few of the boarding
houses of Crawford, Barbara met rep
resentatives of the great army of
young women at work in the city;
and out of what seemed like meager
and unsatisfactory opportunities for
confidence and the sharing of real
purpose in labor she succeeded in
getting much true information, much
of which shaped her-coming plan and
determined the nature of her appeal
to the mistresses on one hand, and
the servants on the other.
"With a few exceptions, then," she
said to Mrs. Ward one evening after
she had been at work on this per
sonal investigation for three weeks,
"all this army of girls at work repre
sents a real need in the home some
where. I found some girls working
in the offices, and a very few in the
stores and factories, who said they
were working for other reasons than
for necessary money. Here is a list
of girls in Bondman's. I told them
I did not want it for the purpose of
printing it, and it is not necessary.
But there are over 200 of these girls
who cannot by any possibility save
any money out of their expenses, and
a few of them"—Barbara spoke with
a sense of shame for her human kind
and of indignation against un
christian greed in business—"a few
of them hinted at temptations to live
wrong lives in order to earn enough
to make them independent. And yet
all of these girls vigorously refused
to accept a position offered to leave
the store and goto work at double
the wages in a home as a servant. I of
fered over 50 of these girls four dollars
a week and good board and room at
Mrs. Vane's, and not one of them was
willing to accept it, even when, as in
many cases, they were not receiving
over three and a half a week, out of
which they had to pay for board and
other necessaries."
j "And the reason they gave was?"
I Mrs. Ward, who was an interested lis
| tener, asked the question,
j "They hated the drudgery and con
| fineinent of house labor. They loved
j the excitement and independence of
I their life in the store. Of course,
j they all gave a*> on* main reason
; for not wanting to be house servants
; the loss of social position. Several of
; the girls in the factory had > een
hired girls. They all withe* xcep-
I tion spoke of their former „i-k with
evident dislike, and with one or two
j exceptions refused to entertain any
j proposition togo back to the old
; work. I think one of the girls in the
i Art mills will goto Mrs. Vane's. She
I worked for her some years ago, and
i liked her. But what can the needs of
j the home of to-day present to labor
I in the way of inducement to. come
i into its field? I must confess I had
| very little to say to the girls in the
j way of inducement. Not on account of
! my own experience," Barbara hastened
to say, with a grateful look at Mrs.
and Mr. Ward, "for you have been
very, very kind to me and made my
service sweet; but in general, I must
confess, after these three weeks' con
tact with labor outside the home, I
see somewhat more clearly the
reason why all branches of woman's
labor have inducements that house
labor does not offer."
"And how about the prospects for
pupils for the training-school?" Mr.
i Ward asked, keenly. He had come
j to have a very earnest interest in
j the proposed building,
i "Out of all the girls I have seen,"
j Barbara answered, with some hesita
| tion, "only four have promised defi
nitely that they would take such a
course and enter good homes as
servants. One of these was an Amer
ican girl in an office. The others were
foreign-born girls in Bondman's."
"The outlook is not very encourag
ing, is it?" Mrs. Ward remarked, with
a faint smile.
"It looks to me, Martha," Mr. Ward
suggested, "as if it might be neces
sary to put up a training-school for
training our Christian housekeepers
as well as Christian servants. If what
Barbara has secured in the way of
confession from these girls is ac
curate, it looks as if they are un
willing to work as servants because
of the unjust or unequal or un
christian conditions in the houses
that employ tllem."
"At the same time, Richard, re
member the great army of incompe
tent, ungrateful girls we have borne
with here in our home for years un
til Barbara came. What can the
housekeeper do with such material?
If the girls were all like Barbara, it
would be different, you know."
"Well, I give it up," replied Mr.
Ward, with a sigh, as he opened up
his evening paper. "The whole thing
is beyond me. And Barbara, of course,
will be leaving us as soon as this
new work begins. And then farewell
to peace, and welcome chaos again."
"You are not going to leave us
just yet, are you, Barbara?" Mrs.
Ward asked, with an affectionate
glance at Barbara.
"The house is not built yet," Bar
bara answered, returning Mrs. Ward's
look.
"Of course, Barbara will leave us
when she has a homeiof her own,"
Mr. Ward said in short sentences, as
he read down a part of the page.
"Then our revenge for her leaving
us will be the thought that her
troubles have just begnn when she
begins to have hired girls herself."
"I don't think thefe's any sign of it
yet," Mrs. Ward said, looking keenly
at Barbara, who colored a little. "I
have not noticed any beaus in the
kitchen."
"More likely to come in through
the parlor," Mr. Ward suggested. And
ag-alu Barbara looked up with •
blush, and Mrs. Ward could not help
admiring the girl's pure, intelligent
face.
There was silence for n moment,
when Barbara went over her list of
figures and memoranda.
"I see Morton is back from the
west," Mr. Ward suddenly exclaimed,
looking up from his paper. "The
News says he had a remarkable tour,
and prints a large part of his recent
address on the temperance Issue. I
predict for him a great career. Ma
ble Square never did a wiser thing
than when it called him to its pulpit.
My only fear is that he may kill him
self with these lecture tours."
There was silence again, and Bar
j bara bent her head a little lower
j over her work, which lay on the
table.
"He is certainly a very promising
young man," Mrs. Ward said, and
just then the bell rang.
"Shouldn't wonder if that was Mor
ton himself," Mr. Ward exclaimed,
as he arose. "I asked him to come
In and see us as soon as he came
back. I'll goto the door."
He went out into the hall and
opened the door, and Mrs. Ward and
Barbara could hear him greet Mr.
Morton, speaking his name heartily.
"Come right into the sitting-room,
Morton. We're there to-night. Mrs.
Ward will be delighted to see you."
Barbara rose and slipped out into
the, kitchen as Mr. Ward and Mr.
Morton reached the end of the hall.
She busied herself with something
there for half an hour. At the end
of that time she heard Mr. Ward's
hearty, strong voice saying good
night to Morton as he went out into
ths hall with him.
After a few minutes Barbara came
back into the sitting-room, and tak
ing her list of names and facts from
the table prepared togo up to her
room.
Mr. Ward was saying as she came
in: "Morton seemed very dull for
him, don't you think?"
"lie is probably very tired with his
lecture tour. It is a very exhaust
ing sort ol'—"
[To Be Continued.l
THE HORSE PLAYED A JOKE.
Drew Ills Youni; Mistress Up to a
Store W here She Didn't
Want to Uo,
"You may think horses haven't any
sense if you want to," remarked a
lady from Mississippi to a group of
friends seated around one of the
tables in the Peabody cafe, according
to the Memphis Scimitar, "but I had
an experience when I was a girl that
taught me that they have sense
enough to get one in all sorts of pre
dicaments.
"I carried a friend of mine driving
one afternoon. We had to pass
through a town where there was a
young man from New Orleans serv
ing as a clerk in one of the large sup
ply stores that were a feature of the
country town a few years ago. He
had paid me a great deal of attention,
and, to tell you the truth,l liked him
very much, and, though I was not
willing to admit it at that time, and
denied the accusation with true fem
innfne promptitude in such matters,
I always made it a point togo to
that store for something every time
I went to town.
"On this occasion, however, I had
no excuse togo and see him and did
not intend doing so, as he had caught
onto the fact that I never came to
town without seeing him. But as we
crossed the railroad, right in front of
the town, the bridle bit came in two
and I, of course, lost control of the
animal, and lie, finding that no one
was guiding him, turned himself
around and marched as straight back
to that store as if I had driven him
with the utmost precision.
"And that's not the worst of it,"
said she, in conclusion. "No sooner
had he got to the store than he gave
one of those little 'nickers' peculiar
to himself, and familiar to the young
man. The young fellow was there in
a jiffy and I —well, I wished that 1
wasn't. My face turned all the colors
of the rainbow and wound up in the
most delicate touch of crimson. 1
explained to him in my confusion
that I had not intended to come to
see liim, but the horse would bring
me, and he didn't object."
Unexpected ('raise.
Dr. Guthrie, an authority on mili
tary surgery some 50 years ago, was
a kindly man, although somewhat
brusque in manner. Sir Joseph Fayrer
says: I was his house surgeon, and
we got on very well together. One
day, when we were going through the
wards with a large following of dis
tinguished visitors, foreign surgeons
and others, we stopjied by the bedside
of an interesting case, when Guthrie
found fault with dresser for some
thing he had done or left undone. The
student ventured to reply, and Guth
rie said: "1 dare say you think you're
a remarkably clever fellow, don't
you?" "No, sir," said the youth, earn
estly, "I don't." "But you are, though,"
said Guthrie, and passed on. —Youth's
Companion.
Clerical Humor.
"That was an excellent discourse
you delivered last Sunday," remarked
a veteran minister of the gospel to a
rising young preacher, "but I would
hardly call it a sermon."
"Why not, doctor?" demanded the
other.
"Because you had no text."
"Don't you call such a discourse a
sermon unless it has a text?"
"Certainly not."
"You have read the Seimon on the
Mount, have you not?"
"Many, many times."
"Well, it has no text."
"On the contrary, my dear younp
friend," said the veteran, "it is con
posed entirely of texts."—Youth'
ComxJiinion.
NEAT FEEDING DEVICE.
W'liere Calves Are Kept Cunllueil in
Suiall l'elis tlie I'lnn Here (liven
lai Excellent.
The feeding of calves is never very
agreeable work, and especially when
the feed pail is virtually at the mercy
of the calf, as it has to be more or
less, under ordinary circumstances.
The plan shown in the accompanying
cut for watering and feeding will be
found convenient, especially where
calves are kept confined in small pens.
The two slits cut in the side of the
pen should be just wide enough to ad-
FEEDER FOR CALVES.
Mit the calf's head. The animal caii
then get to either division of the feed
box, one end of which is fitted to re
ceive a pail, while the other is open
to hold grain or hay. Even for calves
that are old enough to be tied in stalls,
this plan is useful. The box could, in
that case, be continuous, having divi
sions as shown in front of each stall,
with similar openings for the young
sters' heads. The calves could also be
tied to a stanchion behind the open
ings. Another desirable feature of
this plan is, it admits af leaving a pail
of water constantly before each calf,
which will be much appreciated, as
young stock need to drink more fre
quently than older animals.—Fred O.
Sibley, in Farm and Home.
SECRETION OF MILK.
Important and Instructive Facta
Will oil Are Xot an Well Known
as They Should lie.
At a recent dairy conference, Prof.
Wood read an interesting paper on
some recent investigations upon the
secretion of milk. Although bring
ing nothing actually new before his
audience, the lecturer dwelt on some
important and interesting items
which are probably not generally
known. He did not place much reli
ance on some of the so-called points
in judging the milking capacity of
cows, while he considered the size of
the milk vein and the shape of the
udder useful guides to the amateur,
though the expert was generally able
to judge their capacities by the gen
eral build. On the effect of the nerv
ous system on the secretions of milk,
it was generally known that a cow
had more or less power to hold up
her milk; but to what extent she may
at will affect the actual secretion was
not so clear. To milk a cow one teat
at a time has a deleterious effect on
both the quantity and quality of the
milk. Circumstances that affect the
animal unpleasantly decrease produc
tion, and the fat is consistently and
most materially affected. On the
question of food, it is generally
known that it has a great effect on
the quantity of milk. Poor rations
will decrease the quantity of fat,
though it will not be raised above
the normal by liberal feeding for any
length of time. The tendency of milk
production is hereditary, with usual
ly only a small change in the quantity
and quality.
THROWING AWAY MONEY.
Farmers Who Italse Scrub Cattle Do
It Systematically and Every
Ur.y in the Year.
None but a rich man can afford
to throw money away, and a rich
man is a fool if he does it. Bilt many
men who are not -rich are virtually
throwing money away because they
neglect opportunities to make it.
Not all men can see great opportuni
ties for profit in business; such men
are comparatively rare. But all men
can and should see such opportuni
ties as are open to all. Improvement
of live stock is one of these free-for
all opportunities. There is not a man
in this country who does not have
an opportunity to Improve his stock,
and who does not have the incentive
before him every time he sells an
animal. Yet thousands will continue
to throw money away by breeding
SSO horses, three-cent steers or some
thing equally as bad. Pure-bred
stock is not a rare thing, that re
quires a vast amount of money. Good
blood can he had by any man who
really wants it. ll© can secure the
service of a good sire, lie can club
with others and buy one, or he can
sell a part of what he has and get
an improver if he only wants to do
it. There are sales where stock is
to be had at reasonable prices, there
are breeders in almost every country,
and there are opportunities for all
men who need better stock. Let
them open their eyes and see how
much they are throwing away!— N
ational Stockman.
Winter plowing an»" hauling is a
sood sized mortgage on the spring
work.
| THE IDEAL FARM HOME.
It Muh( lljive Srorrs of Convf nfrnoe*
I'nthouKlit Of a Score of
Ycnri Ako,
Forty years ago this subject would
have meant something- quite different
from what it does at present. Then a
plain frame building with plastered
walls and a brick chimney would
have seemed a great advance on the
double log cabin with its stick and
mud chimney at either end, the well
sweep in the yard, chickens roosting
in the frees or on the rail fences. A.
pile of logs in the front yard was not
deemed out of place in early days,
and shade trees, shrubbery and flow
er beds were exceptional, if not un
known. The ideal farm home as we
now regard it must have many orna
mental features, and numerous con
veniences that in pioneer days were
unthought of. As to externals our
first thought is regarding walks and
drives. They should be dry and
clean. Mud should not be tracked
into the house, and to prevent this
gravel should be used freely, not only
to make walks to barnyards andi
outhouses, but to build drives from
the road in front to the wagon shed
in the rear. A shed or covered way
ought to extend from a side porch
of the house to the drive so the la
dies can enter or depart from the
carriage dry shod. Cows as well as
horses must be shedded at the model
farm and the milkers need bring no
dirt with them indoors. The stables
and sheds will be cleaned two or
three times each week and the refuse
drawn out to the fields. A row of
hothouses, sheds and covered ways
will extend from kitchen to barn, so
there will be no need to tramp
through mud and rain at any time.
The ideal home is possible only when
built upon a good well-graveled road,
because the people who dwell in it
are sociable and must visit and at
tend meetings, lectures and concerts.
Tt must have a telephone connecting
with all the neighborhood and the
towns and villages near. It must
have a daily mail, which it easily can
have if the roads are what they
ought, to be. It must have shade
trees, vines, shrubbery and flowers
in the blue-grass lawn, and a small
fruit as well as a vegetable garden,
well stocked with the best varieties
and well tended, and it should be
convenient to the kitchen so as to be
most available and useful.—lndiana
Farmer.
HOMEMADE SAWBUCK.
One That Will If'> 11:1 In Firm find
Strong Even AVlien Pnt to the
RouKhent luaee,
A homemade sawbuek is a common
sight on any farm, but there is a vast
difference as to their make, whether
substantial, firm and solid. I have a
fine sawbuek, made as follows: Hard
wood, such as birch, is used for the
main piece, being a log of cord-
DURABLE SAWBUCK.
wood split in half. Two holes are
then bored four to six inches from
each end, close beside each other,
but not connecting, from upper right
hand to lower left hand corner, and
vice versa. After four holes are
made, select four sticks cut in equal
lengths and height the sawbuek is
desired. Shave down the upper half
of each until it fits holes and ram
each halfway through, as far as
shown, until tight. As the main log
cannot slide down lower on the legs,
it will remain firm and stronger -E.
G. Gerlaeh, in Farm and Home.
AUTUMN FARM NOTES.
Remember that the hens as well as
the horses want water and want it
pure.
Fence posts and fixings cut now
will come handy for repairs in the
spring.
Have a dry shelter for the reaper
and mower and all other farm im
plements.
See that all animals on the farm
are protected from cold rains and
chilling frosts.
Ship only the solid heads of cab
bages. Take off some of the outside
leaves and stems. Pack tightly.
Shoes may be made nearly water
proof by rubbing into them a mix
ture of rosin, beeswax and lard.
Take rides in the country in these
sunny days, to inspect neighboring
farms, and have the wife go too.
Attend now to the opening of
drains in the wheat field and for
turning of the washings of the high
way over the low land when the fall
rains and spring floods come.—Farm
and Home.
Wirt* CJrann for Twino.
Wire grass is being now manufac
tured into binding twine by a Minne
apolis company. Large areas of grow
ing wire gras's have been brought un
der the company in question. This
land is marshy and »t the present time
is not suited to the production of any
thing but wire grass. Most of the land
in question lies in Minnesota and Wis
consin. The twine manufautured from
wire grass is' light green in color and
somewhat bulky and it can be used
only by machines with fixtures adapt
ed to it. It sells at a price somewhat
lower than other twine, most of which
is now controlled by the twine trust.
It will not, however, be an easy task to
demonstrate the utility of this kind of
twine to farmers who have been accus
tomed to the other kiud.