).00 i 25 i ).00 5.10 8.35 F : SONABLE| to]. S. le, Pa., | Prices tation. RD . PENN’A. Ohio TON RE Y 20 5.45 JALE KETOFFIC : PILLS BRAND Rey, Supe S ay | H £ . 0 \» vith Blu * JeT ins fon twenty five ‘ways Reliable, UGGISTS 2 WORTH TESTED pe Cough. ind instant orious cond’ y weakening, egat, N. J. ney and Tar nt lagrippe thausted me stopped the rywhere. . inspired oy a government a scientific farmer ‘for prizes ed to the Buys’ Corn club. ‘Sam works hard cleaning up and ferti- lizing the wornout farm Miles Fagan rid- feules scientific farming, but lets ‘his boy join the corn club While blowing out stumps Sam saves Joe Watson's life. Sam plans his contest acre of corp and other crops and the stocking of his farm “with cattle. He prunes and sprays the old trees of the orchard, improving them greatly, and his successful farm astonishes Miles Fagan and other slow going neighbors .S8am’s careful study of scientific agri culture and ‘his up to date methods. ot seed sl odt ig; are rewarded by splendid erops. CHAPTER Vi. AM'S well tertlized, well cult vated acre of Irish potatoes sur prised the neighbors with the amount it produced.’ Two hun: dred bushels were what he harvested from the patch, and, selling them at 60 cents per bushel, he had $120 to show for the first crop. It was only the 1st ‘of June, so he immediately pre- pared the ‘land and planted the acre again in June corn. After that the work came thick and fast The cane was ready to be cut He moved it, let it cure’ god stacked gwar two two tos of ge say in the barn another crop a but the umpkin yams must be planted. .So he prepared and bedded the ground. and one cloudy day just before a rain he pulled the potato slips from the bed where he had grown them and planted this acre also with a second crop. The cotton then had to be plowed. and when that was finished the four acre cornfield, in which he was aiso growing a flourishing crop of pump- s, was calling for him. "The peach and plum crops were very ort this year, owing to a late frost, t the Powell orchard never suffered in this respect The old trees had a per crop. Prices being good, after rs. Powell had preserved what she wanted, Sam sold $40 worth of plums and $110 worth of peaches, making a 3 1 of $150 income from the fruit, ot to mention the preservings for fam- use. y in the winter, before the fam- moved, Sam had made arrange- ts with a breeder of a fine strain Plymouth Rock chickens to ten gs of eggs. For these he was ty pay $1.50 a sitting. Mrs. Powell y owned a mixed breed flock of ts but Sam’s oe with Which gg hea e * beartly with NJ hon . The first of these sittings were hatched while it was yet cold and before summer came on, with its excessive heat and insect pests, the whole ten bad been brought off and more than 100 thrifty young Plymouth Rocks were running about the farm. The ample range and shade and the rye sown in the orchard made the in- come from poultry almost clear profit. Chickens require little feed when they can get green stuff and insects. Be- sides the Plymouth Rocks Mrs. Powell raised six dozen common breed fryers, which she sold at $3 per dozen, or $18. From the thoroughbred flock, after se- decting seventy pullets and five roost- érs to keep, she sold the culls for $15. roosters at $1 and-pullets at 50 cents. The egg market was very low during the summer months, but even at a few cents a dozen $20 worth were sold this year and the family had all they could eonsume at home. Finally, in the fall, the old flock of common chickens was sold, bringing 25 cents each or $12.60 in all. Surplus milk and butter from the two cows brought $50 for the year. But this wasn’t all. The acre of watermelons, cantaloupes and vegeta- bles contributed its share. Sam’s wa- termelons were a long white variety, with black seed and blood red meat, sweet as sugar. These melons always brought something above the regular market price. In all the young farmer sold $40 worth of melons and vegeta- bles. The June corn made a fair crop. Sam sold the roasting ears at one cent each. These brought him $30. Then be cut and cured the stalks for feed. The ground being once more cleared, he plowed, barrowed and planted it turnips. Sam found that a little farm of fif* teen acres can keep two or three people very busy, especially when the farm is made to hump itself, growing one crop right after another. Hardly a day passed that he or his sister didn’t have to drive to town to sell something. Whenever it could be arranged Sam al- ways let Florence go, for then he could be hurrying the heavy work forward. September came and Florence enter- ed the high school. but Sam, badly as be wanted to begin, found it impossi- place th 2 pit] ble to do so until after Christmas. However. he began studying at night, all the hard work he did he and for »d to keep pretty close up with the fall ‘he B8weet potatoes, vines anad feedi dug the acre of ping off the and 1 “punk, He <tored twenty-five bushels 0 ope ux: ams! sold the other 12° 1 ain ay Xi per hohe) Sam "ow never foro waat the govern: in: told him abont seed When his : 10est aoe was at maturity he went down rhe rows and tied strings to the stalks that bore the most and the finest ears. In the same way, also, the young farmer selected his cotton seed. Here ‘and there in the rows he found stalks that were unusnally large and perfect | in shape. These were generally in some rich place where they had been { particularly favored. If they were | heavily loaded with bolls and the bolls were large and fow down on the sta indicating that they wouid open early, Sam ‘white strings on them conspicuous. laces. : It may seem that with all this work Sam Powell had little or no time for pleasure or recreation. Such was not the case, however, though he some Ses bad to work longer hours thap he liked because he was not able to get help. But Sam had got in the habit of using | his mind. He never imitated other peo ple in doing a thing without stopping to think why it was done or If there was a better way. He soon found out that it pays to keep oneself frésh and vigorous. = By taking the proper ee and breathing spells and working a certain hours he found that he nl do as much or more work in eight hours as in twelve, After that be did not commence work before daylight or quit after dark, as he had been doing. He saw also that it was a good ifea to take a, half day or a day off now and then. One of the things that Sam enjoyed a great deal was to ramble through the woods and fields and study nature. He was what is'called a nature lover—that is,” he mever tired of studying trees and flowers and birds and insects and animals. It was a mighty hard matter for him to go after the calves and get back In time for breakfast. It was not oiore than a quarter ‘of a mile to where the ‘calves were usually found—in a little meadow beyond the creek—but the earlier Sam started in the morning the later he would usually be in re turning. He would get up sometimes while it was still dark and only the first red streaks of dawn showing in the east. He would get out in the fresh air and throw out his arms and take deep breaths and walk about the yard for a few minutes; then he would be off suddenly, whistling a lively tune and scattering the dew from the grass and plants with his feet. He liked to sit down on the creek bank in the dim light of morning and watch the world Just waking up. A slight poise from some big treetops told him that crows were leaving their roost A louder flapping meant buz- zards. A splash in the creek announc- ed that u tuilfrog was taking his morn ing bath Now aud then a possum would wad.di- by or a belated coon returning 1m his fishing np the creek would ston: to aye Sam maquisitively. i QOrossing. the creek and getting pret. ‘close to the calves, ‘te ould am again to’ wateh three or four rabbits at their bg tomp In the de ‘grass Farther on he might find as i How er 13 shrib ‘And study it ver s on tryl g to determine the i e'of it. Sam and Florence were cold, "both nature enthusiasts, and there were few flowers or trees the names of which they didn’t know. . Finally, the young farmer would find the calves and start them home. and be might get there by sunrise if he didn’t find something else to interest him, When he came in, fresh, bright eyed and hungry from his walk and found breakfast waiting, his mother would ask: “Why, what makes you so late get- ting back, Sam?” “Oh. I've been watching ol’ Brler Rabbit and Br'er Possum.” he would reply. He had read the stories of Un- cl¢ Remias and always called animals py the names the old darky gave them. One Saturday morning Bill Googe climbed over the fence and came to where Sam was at work. “Hello, Sam!” he greeted. let's go fishin’ this evenin’.” | “Are you up with your work?’ ask- od Bam. . “You bet. I’ve quit loafin’ round when they’s work needin’ doin’. Every- thing’s right up to now.” “All right, then,” said Sam; “I'll bo glad to go. I was just thinking about it.” “Well, I'll git the bait and be ‘long ‘bout 1 o'clock after you. Say, Sam, you shore are raisin’ a powerful lot o truck on this place. I declare, I don’t see how you do it. Of course I know now that it’s a good deal in the way you work the land, but i didn’t think anybody could raise crops like this. And you never let up—fast as you git one crop off you've got another com- in’ on.” “Yes,” said the boy farmer, “I'm doing pretty well. Everything's been favorable, though, and we've had plen- ty of rain. As for growing more than one crop, you've got to do that if you want to. make any money. Besides, land needs something on it all the time to keep down the weeds and Keep humus in the ground. When I get my corn and cotton gathered I want to hire you again to plow this land and sow it with some kind of a cover crop for the winter.” “All right,” agreed Bill. *“I'll do it And since you mentioned it I guess I'll sow my field in something—wheat or “Say, i rye. I could use it for pasture, too. | couldn’t 17" | “Certainly,” replied Sam. “It would | mot burt to pasture it even if you | Were going to let it stand. But speak i ing of Ia a——— ing stuff. wl tT — . ue a.ad 130 bushels of] place hasn't done half what it can be made to do. Here's something 1 clipped from a farm paper. . It'll give you an idea what land produces when it’s handled right” Sam took from his pocket alittle slip of paper and read: * “There are few who know the pos- sibilities of the soil when well manured and watered. One acre has produced ear nsYS” The Twe Put Off Down the Creek to Fish For Perch. 0 216 bushels ot corn. and three bales of cotton have rewarded another mun On Long Island 400 bushels of lrish potatoes is mot an excessively large crop, and at Greeley, Colo., 400 bushels is not an uncommon yield. In the Sac ramento valley. California, Mr. Cleek has for the past thirty years made a good living and saved an average of $400 per year from one acre. On the island of Jersey rents are as high as. $200 and $300 per acre, and near the city of Paris they are higher still Near San Diego, Cal., there is a colony of “littlelanders” who believe that one acre is enough, and many of them are making good with their small farms With good soils. plenty of manure and all the water needed the possibilities of the soil are enormous, and one crop follows another in rapid succession.’ “What do you think of $200 and $300. an acre for rent?’ Sam asked when he bad finished reading. “They’ve got to raise something on that land, haven't they 7’ “I should say they have!” exclaimed ill That afternoon at 1 o'clock Bil Googe came by for Sam, and the two put off down the creek to fish for perch and cat that were to be found in the blue pools of the little stream. Bill had intended to take his shotgun along, but found that he was out of powder and so had to leave off that part of the sport. They hadn't gone far when an old quail ‘with her brood of young ones. just old enough to fly, rose out of the grass in front of them with a loud whir of wings and sailed off into a ‘earby thicket. “Théy’s goin’ to be some good hunt- in’ here this fall and winter,” Bill Googe remarked. “You're a farmer, Sam asked. “Of course, a kind of one. But what you askin’ that for?” Bill inquired, sur- prised at the question. “Well, a farmer ought not to kill a farmer's friends, ought he?” “Sure, he oughtn’t!™ George replied. “Well, you just take it from me that those quails and nearly all the other birds that lwe around here are good friends of vars. We ought not to kill them, and we ought not to allow oth ers to come on our places to kill them.” “Why, I didn’t think a quail was any good to us except to eat.” said Bill. aren't you, Bill?" " “go far as any one knows,” Sam ex plained, “they're the only bird that de- stroys the potato beetle. They eat all they can find, and they do us a good turn every time they gobble one. More than that, every single quail eats thou- sands upon thousands of boll weevils. Some people used to argue that a quail didn’t eat anything except grain. But we know letter now. They eat in- sects of all kinds, as well as weed seed.” “If that’s so they ought not to be killed,” said BilL “Of course not,” sald Sam. “We don’t have any idea how much good they do us. It ought to be against the law to kill a quail at any time: As it is, they say insects destroy one-tentb of all we produce. If we were to kill all the birds there’d be such a plagne of insects that they'd kill everything-- all the trees and vegetation ot all Farther ou Bill saw a woodpecker hammering matily on a dead tree. He stopped ani eiured with his finger “Bet I contd knock im off with a rifle from here. tie sic “Don’t ever du it.” cantioned Sam. “He's another triend \ “What?” exclaimed Bill. “A wood pecker kills trees.” “No, he doesn’t,” said Sam. “He saves trees. A woodpecker never bores a hole in a tree for fun He's after worms or making himself a home, and he makes When his home in bores into a dead trees. green tree he worm every time. and he him. The hole the bird grow up, but if the wor kill the tree. One we ms enue - over 600 trees in a day and examine them for bugs, egg deposits and worms. It doctors the tree inside and out. I saw a woodpecker go over nearly ev- ery tree in our orchard.” “Well, now. | didn’t know that,” said Bill. “lI been knowin’ woodpeckers all my life, but i never paid no attention to em. Guess I won't shoot no more | of ’em.” “To tell the truth,” Sam went on, there are mighty few birds or animals but what do more good than harm. | believe the common old house cats kill more birds and chickens than all the varmints put together. 1 think it's a good deed to kill a cat whenever yon find one. There are two kinds of hawks—the cooper and the sharp shin- ned—that are bad to kill birds and chickens. These two hawks look alike. They are small, The females are 8 mottled brownish color, and the males are a dull blue. It's a good thing to kill them whenever you get a chance. The other hawks and owls don't ‘do much harm, and they do lots of good because they live mostly on rats and mice and such things. Once in awhile an owl will bother chickens, but it's only when its regular food is scarce. “It's pretty much the same way about the fox, mink, weasel and skunk. Once in awhile one of these varmints will get to be bad after chickens. But we could hardly do without them be cause they keep down the swarms of field mice, rabbits, grasshoppers, Crick ets, hornets and wasps.’ “Where'd you find out these things?" asked Bill. “1 know they're true when I hear you say em, but sowebow f never did think of em before.” “I've learned a little by reading. Sam told him, "but mostly by keeping my eyes and ears open when I'm out in the woods and fields. Sister and | like to study plants and animals, espe cially plants., We're going to take a correspondence course in botany next year in the state university. Florence says she's going to be a florist, and | want ‘to know all about plants, so | can farm" During the long afternoon Sam and Bill tished and talked, every now and then throwing out a blue cat or a gug gle eye to add to their strings that they kept fastemed to the edge of the water. [It was cool and shady along the creek. Birds sang and squirreis chattered in the branches overbead. The two farmers enjoyed the quiet coolness after the bot days in the tied. Late in the afternoon they wound up their lines and went bome, each car- rying a lohg string of fish. Sam sat on the doorstep in the gathering dusk and breathed the perfume from the honeysuckle that clambered over the yard fence. He saw the stars coming out, one by one, and the moon creep: ing up behind a big vak. He beard the “who-who-who" of an owl away off on the creek. Then suddenly stars, moon and owl all vanished. 'He smelled fried fish and neard his mother calling him to supper. | CHAPTER Vil. AM met Mr. Burns in town ene ‘day tn September. The agent's district embraced several coun- 8 ties, and he had been absent for some time. The two had not seen each other for several weeks. “ “Hello, Sam!" accosted the agent. “How's the corn?" “ “That corn is all right, Mr. Burns,” replied Sam, “and 1'd like you to come out one day this week to see it gath- ered and measured.” “All right. I'll be out Friday and bring along the committee that’s going to report on the contest acres in this county. Will it take long to Ethier the corn?’ , “Yes, it's going to take quite & bit of time, for unless I'm mighty badly mis- taken there's sure some corn on that patch.” “Well, you've tried farming for a year. What do you think of it as a business?” “] think it’s the finest business there is. 1 like it better than anything else 1 can think of, and I'm going to stick to it and learn it.” Mr. Burns smiled. *1 see,” he said, “that you don’t think you know all about the business. Did you read those books that I told you about?’ “No, sir,” said Sam, replying to the agent's first remark, “1 really don’t know much about farming. 1 need more experience. Most of what I know I've learned from reading. As for those books, I've not only read them, but I've studied them too. [I’ve bought several more since then, and I'm go- ing to keep on buying till 1 get all the pest omnes in my line. 1 don’t belleve it pays to economize on books, do you?” “No. it doesn’t,” said Mr. Burns. “If you know the science of farming it is easy enough to learn the rest. But you never can farm intelligently without learning the science of it. What other books did you buy?” “Well, I bought Bailey's ‘Manual of Gardening’ for mother, but I'm study- ing it myself. There's a whole lot to learn about gardening, and every farm ought to have a garden. Besides that, ‘1 bought Fletcher's *Soils—How to Handle and Improve Them’ and Dug-’ gars ‘Diseases of Cultivated Plants’ and ‘Weeds, Insects and Insecticides.’” “They're just the books you needed,” sald Mr. Burns. “My, if. you keep on reading and studying this way it won't take you any time to finish the course in the agricultural college when you go down there.” Friday morning early Bill Googe came over with his wagon and team, and he and Sam started in to gather the contest acre had gone over the patch and ga the ears selected for seed them at the edge of the patch 8 o'clock they bad one big log ered and were just driv load it in 8 bin that Sar thered t tot when Mr. Burns and the judging com- mittee arrived. The men stood around, examined the ears and watched them unload, then the gather the next load, which but a very little time for all of them. After that Sam brought out some mel- ons and cantaloupes, and the men in the shade of ‘a tree while mainder ot the corn By 11 o’ciock the last of the corn had been gathered and nnloaded. Mr Burns and the committee then meas ured the pile of seed corn and calcu lated the contents of the bin “One hundred and thirty nine bush els,” announced Mr. Burns. “Now for the cost.” Bvery item of expense and labor con ‘mected with the acre was put down. All this was added up and the result divided by 139 -%“One hundred and thirty-nine bush- Sia; sot po bushel, 11 omnta™ an pounced the agent again. “Well, Sam. you're sure going to win some of those prizes. Several of the boys are going to beat you on production, but the cost fs where you come in. Your acre shows a big profit. Well, gentlemen. let's go down to the next place. You’ll hear from me later, Sam.” One hundred and thirty nine bushels. and Fagan had made twenty-five bush els to the acre just opposite. One al ways feels relieved when a ong, hard task != finished. This was Sam's feel ing as he watched the men drive off He bad done his best and his work had been fairly measured. He felt more frec now to finish up the work on the farm and turn his attention to. schoo! and study. The young farmer removed the husks from bis seed corn, then went through it sud made a second selection of the finest ears. From these ears he re moved the defective grains at the ends and then shelled the rest into stout sacks. In selecting seed cotton he pursued pretty much the same plan. After picking the cotton from the finest stalks and polls be bad It ginned and saved the seed. These seeds he put in a screen that let the small and lintless ones pass through. This method gave Sam the finest seed from the wrgest and most perfect plants, both of cotton and corn. He cold have sold at high prices much more than he had to spare of either kind. One day, just after the seed had been selected and was stored away. Miles Fagan came over to buy. *1 want to buy some 0 that cotton and corn seed of yours,” he said “How much can you spare me and what'll they be worth?” “I'm selling them at $2 per bushel for either kind.” Sam told him, “and 1 have only six bushels of corn and twenty of cotton seed to sell.” “My, but that’s a high price!” ex claimed Fagan, *'Still, I reckon they're worth it and I'll take the lot.” Can't let you have them all,” said the boy farmer. “l've promised Bill Googe half of them, so you can have three bushels of corn and ten of cot ton seed.” That ain’t as many as | need. but I take ‘em,” said Mr. Pagan. “Sani’s school chums gathéred most of his cotton crop, for which he paid them at the rate of 60 cents per hundred pounds. Ten and sometimes twelve of im would come out early Saturday morning and pick until night, in which {ime no less than a bale’ would be ' . When the las¢ straggling docks of the patch had been gathered flam found that his ¢rop had yielded one bald’to the acre. The five bales he sold for $250 and stored away 150 bushels of seed for feed. The four acre tract of corn yielded seventy bushels to the acre. or a total of 280 bushels, all of which Sam put fn the barn with that trom the one acre. He didn’t intend to sell any of this crop. as he could make more by feeding it to hogs. The crops were now about all gath ered. There remained the peas and the pumpkins that had been sown among the corn and the turnips. which were not yet ready to be gathered. 8am hauled but many loads of big golden pumpkins with the one horse wagon. There was’ not much market for pucapkins, but he managed to sell about 100 at § cents each, or a total of $6 worth. And still he had more pumpkins than he knew what to do with. He knew, however, that what the family did not use would be fine feed for the hogs and cows when the cold weather of winter came on. So he carefully stored them away. With the black eyed pea crop it was she same. Sam thought that he had never seen so many peas in all his life. He sold $20 worth, gathered what would be needed at home, and then, the vines still full, he turned in the hogs and cows for a week’s feast. According to agreement, Bill Googe came over when the stock had cleared out most of the pea crop and set to work with a large plow turning under vines, stalks and all. The cotton stalks were large, and a great many of them, as well as some cornstalks, were left above ground. But when Sam sowed the ground with winter oats and rye and had Googe follow him with a disk it cut the stalks to pieces and left the soil smooth and unbroken. Soon after they finished sowing a gentle rain began falling, lasting for a day. It sank .into the soft soil and seemed to touch the planted grain with magic. In a very short time the field The day before Sam | 1 | great bulk and piled ! Before | from end to end was one long carpet of green. The year was growing old, and the | f the work was done. Sam now had i Of n ‘as sometimes a hint ‘ing the year. orn of the air, sultrv Sam’s friends. Fred feasted $e ‘snd Bill Googe gathered the re | ] Joe "Watson and Andrew White, had visited him several times that summer in addition to the days that they bad worked. But he had something that he thought would make a pleasant surprise for the boys, so hé invited his neighbor. Bob Fagan, and those three from town to visit him om Saturday. Sam’s surprise was some large watermelons, the last of the sea- son, that he had covered up with grass and kept fresh and sound The melon crop had been gone for a long time, and this would be a treat worth giv- ing on what would probably be their last visit this year. Even Bob Fagan would be as much surprised as any, for they never grew melons on the Fagan farm and knew nothing about keeping them until cold weather. The boys came, and the day proved to be suitable for the occasion. It was a hot, sultry day and seemed to belong more to midsummer than to autumn. First the melons were carried to the creek near the swimming hole and dumped in a clear pool to float round and round and cool. Then the boys were off on a hunt for wild grapes and pecans. They found both. Winter grapes and fox grapes they found hanging in thick, purple clusters from vines that ran along branches and from tree to tree. To get them the boys generally had to do a lot of climbing, but they liked this, though they had to be careful about getting too far out on weak limbs. The pecans’ hulls were popping open and dropping their frat to the ground, go they had little to do except to pick . ® a $ wie 8 $e 201 in 2 of RA 3 my . - 5% OY % "hy at oA J ot vy AN 7 Tm WE A 7A A Ql \ 3 : caruMenst o The Melons Were Carried to the Creek Near the Swimming Hole. them up or chunk the trees to bring more down. The only competitors they were the squirrels and crows. crows merely feasted, but the were busy In every tree, gathering their winter supply and stor- fog them away in their homes in the twee hollows. Autumn is atime of beautiful colows. and the nature lover, like Sam Powell, prizes it almost as much as spring. Sam gave his comrades their first les- son in wooderaft—how to see things. He pointed out to them the flashing colors of red and brown and green and gold. For the first time they really saw the sumacs flaming on the hill or the red birds and jay birds making red and blue streaks as they flew swiftly through the woods. He show- ed them how to sit very still and see the wild things that would come out and begin their work and play all around. The hours passed swiftly. and before the boys realized it noon was long past. Being hungry and tired, they turned back toward the creek and the pool where the melons were floating in the sparkling water in a short time Li) they were there. aud, car viig melons to a grassy place in the ~u de of some trees. they cut thew iy = and ex- posed the juicy wed hci. in a jiffy each boy had 8 big dripjnug slice and was eating it between grunts of satis- faction. : They lay in the shade and talked a long time after they had disposed of the watermelons. One or two slept, and Sam and the others amused them- selves by throwing rocks at the trunk ef a tree. Suddenly some one said: “Let's go swimming. I'm going to be Best in!” Then the race began. Every bey wes up in a second, peeling off his @lothes faster than he had ever done before in his life. Three were so close together that it wes hard to tell which was first. They gave a whoop and, running to the bank, sprang into the air. They came down head first, for the water was deep, and there was no danger of striking anything. Chug, chug, chug, they went, one after the other. The water was as warm as on an August day, and the boys had fine sport. They dived after pebbles, had contests of swimming under water, floating, tread- ing or swimming on their backs. Somehow that afternoon seemed too short to the boys. They had been | swimming a long time when Joe Wat- » leisure than he had had | but the days were yet | son Sooke LS snddenly To Be Continued. Children Cry FOR FLETCHER'S CASTORIA
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