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CORDELIA.
- . . By WINIFRED M. KIRKLAND. • .
doctor withdrew the teaspoon
lle from Nan’s little pink tongife.
laced his hands on her shoul
f® and holding her at arm’s length,
r ‘ nt her until her blue yes fell
before his gaze. Then he turned
iipj' about.
..j, you can't do any better than
.„ t m the way of a sore throat,” he
!' t j “you’d better not open your
n-ou’th at a doctor. Run along with
breathed a sigh of relief.
Van’s sensations, as described by her
llf had been so extraordinary that
Cordelia had felt that they must have
medical investigation. To be sure,
Nan was inventive for eight years
p](] but somehow Cordelia could
‘ v ’ er help being alarmed at Nan’s
symptoms. Cordelia was by nature
rxious, as irt not unnatural in the
eldest of six.
The doctor turned to Nan s mother.
4 , V)( 1 how are you, Mrs. Brath
waite?” he asked.
■Oh. I'm all right,” she answered,
■i don't, believe it,” he replied,
looking at her with a keenness that
paused Cordelia to transfer her anx-
j et 'y from Nan to her mother.
• Mothers have to be all right,” re
marked Mrs. Brathwaite, as with a.
dexterous rear swoop of her arm
she extricated Bobs-baby from under
her rockers.
The doctor gazed meditatively at
Bobs-baby. From below came a
sound of young voices, shrilly com
mingled. • ..
•‘Six of them,” said the doctor,
“the eldest of whom is—”
“Fourteen,” said Cordelia. “I’m
small for my age,” she added. She
was so tired of hearing other people
make this remark that she had taken
to making it herself.
The doctor turned from Bobs-baby
to Cordelia, the extreme gravity of
xvjiose demeanor was somewhat coun
teracted by a tissue-paper cap that
fluttered over one ear and a pair of
■worsted reins that dangled from her
shoulders.
“Playing horse?” he asked.
“Laura likes to drive me while I’m
making the beds,” explained Cor
delia, preoccupied with her mother’s
health.
"Are the beds finished?” suggested
the doctor.
“Yes,’’ replied Cordelia, shortly,
turning red as she left the room. She
■was not used to being dismissed on
any occasion of importance.
"You are sick,” said the doctor to
Mrs. Brathwaite.
“I am not!” she answered hotly.
“Your pulse!” She resisted a
■childish impulse to sit on her hands.
“Now your tongue, if you please.”
Then, "You are sick; if you don’t
take care you'll be sicker.”
‘‘l can’t help it. O, baby, please
get off mama's foot. Mama can’t ride
you now.”
"Come here, young man!” roared
the doctor.
“How long since you've been off
anywhere for a change?” he went
on with his interrogation.
“We went to mother's at Christ
mas.” *
"Took the family with you?”
“Of course.”
“How long since you've been away
from—from that racket down
there?”
“Never.”
“Bo you mean to say that for
fourteen years you’ve never had one
day free from your
“Doctor, I love my children! I
"Wouldn’t leave—”
l he doctor looked as if he desired
to be explosive, but thinking better
of it. gulped and said: “I beg your
pardon. But,” he persisted, “don’t
you think you could manage to get
off for a little while soon —if you
tried?”
'lt’s Mr. Brathwaite’s
vacation comes next week, and —”
Oh, he takes a vacation, does he?”
Of course!'” Again her eyes
flashed, and again the doctor was
cowed.
And you think you really can’t
go away?”
I cannot possibly go away,” she
answered, with tense lips. The doc
*°r was growing tiresome.
better,” he said, rising;
C 1 you won’t, good morning!”
f But the doctor was not through
;( h Cordelia. Before he could slip
having left the mother upstairs,
ordelia had hurried from the rear
B'gions, with sleeves rolled up and
a ( nd s damp washing.
Doctor, is mama sick?” she asked,
Pushing him into the parlor and clos
n? Hie door. “Is mama sick?” she
re Peated.
says not.”
Cordelia was in no mood for trifl-
But is she?” she demanded.
to know what you think.”
„^ es ’ * think she is,” he admitted.
Height she to go to bed?”
tj,. Cinder the circumstances, I don’t
ll , n ( y Ciat would do her much good.”
l C 1 make her some arrow
to° as^e( i Cordelia. But the doc
,r *as discouraging about the ar
royoot, also.
i! C do you want me to do for
doctor?” Cordelia folded her
Shi' * aie arms ant * looked at him.
Li WaS a very plain little S irl - She
her acl tirae to grow plump;
t|,„ enures were Japanese rather
‘i otherwise, and her hair stood
a st -iff black braid. But when
Wriiu!!‘ l i ed ’ ancl her little + iltecl nose
Pea f,(i itself up almost to disap
anrT t K . e ’ and ller almon d eyes shone
and one dimple ap
thiq ... 011 her freckled cheek—bui
Sus no smiling matter.
Id keep her as quiet as possible,”
he said. “Make her lie down, and
keep the children away as much as
*°u can. Don t let her see or hear
them. Rest is what she needs. If
she could go away— M
Oh, but she can’t! Papa is going
away. We’re getting him ready now.
It s very hard to make mama lie
down, but 111 try. Can’t you give
her some medicine?”
He took out his prescription tab
let.
“O dear!” exclaimed Cordelia,
abruptly.
The doctor followed her gaze out
of the window. “What is it?” he
asked.
“Only Marjorie, going off to play
with Daisy Cole. I thought she’d
stay in and finish the dishes.”
The doctor whipped out of the
front door and‘bounded nimbly over
the lawn. Marjorie was unprepared,
therefore yielded to attack, and re
turned to the kitchen. Marjorie was
next to Cordelia in years, but not in
maturity. She was delightfully pret
ty, and had a tendency to shed re
sponsibilities.
“I’ll just leave this prescription at
the drug-store as I pass by,” said the
doctor, as he took his leave. In
wardly he considered that, his morn
ing round over, it would be passible
for him to run into the city for ah
hour, and drop in on Mr. Braitliwaite
at his office.
Cordelia closed the front door and
went up to her mother. She found
her moving about with nervous ra
pidity, pulling out drawers and shut
ting them again shortly, and laying
out various masculine garments on
the bed. Her cheeks were flushed
and her lips were tight-set. Cordelia
foresaw’ that it would be a particu
larly hard matter to make her lie
down.
Bobs-baby appeared to be very
much underfoot. Cordelia lifted him
out of her workbasket, and stood
holding him in her arms. He re
sented the interruption, and pounded
her vigorously; but she smiled at him
so persistently, as if not dreaming
he could wish to hurt her, that at
last he desisted and cuddled his head
down on her shoulder.
“Mama,” pleaded Cordelia, “don’t
you think you could let papa's tnings
go for to-day, and rest instead?”
“How can 1? I must get these
things in order. Your father must
have his vacation.” There - was a
ring in her mother’s voice that Cor
delia had never heard before.
“It’s only Wednesday,” she begged,
“and he doesn’t go till Saturday. If
you would rest to-day, perhaps you’d
feel more like working to-morrew.”
“There isn’t any rest fdr me, and
1 shall never feel like w’orking!”
She w’ould hav controlled herself
somehow in the’ presence of the other
children, but she could not keep the
words back when it was only Cor
delia.
A louder burst of noise from be
low; the mother put her hands to
her temples. “Oh, my head! If I
could only be quiet!” Then sudden
ly she sank into a chair, sobbing
wildly.
It was very dreadful for Cordelia
to see. .She dropped Bobs-baby, ancl
swiftly cleared her father’s clothes
from the bed, tucking them any
w’here, everywhere, out of sight. She
took her mother’s hand gently but
firmly.
“You must lie down, darling,” she
said.
She darkened the room quickly
and laid a wet cloth on her mother’s
brow, bent and kissed the draw’n lips.
There was at times a great strength
ancl restfulness about Cordelia.
Again there was a sound of shout
ing and stampede in the kitchen be
low’. The mother was quiet now’, but
lier forehead contracted in agony.
Cordelia caught up the baby and hur
ried down. There w’as nothing for it
but to sw’eep them all out of the
house for a picnic.
The tale Cordelia told in the kitch
en w r as dire and silencing. She knew
by experience that the sympathies of
the youngsters, Marjorie, Jamie,
Nan, Laura and Bobs, required pow
erful appeal.
v When she had finished, Jamie’s
lips were trembling, and even the
flibbertgibbet Marjorie’s eyes were
wide open with alarm. It is not
probable that any of them expected
ever to see their mother in the flesh
again.
They creaked about the kitchen on
tiptoe, watching Cordelia’s prepar
ations for the picnic w’ith subdued
and fearsome pleasure. True, Bobs
baby exhibited a tendency to disap
pear and be found scuttling upstairs
on all fours toward his mother’s
room; but determined hands plucked
him back by his little petticoats, and
determined sisterly palms were
clapped over his protesting mouth.
Having reduced her flock to such
unaccustomed and frightened docili
ty, Cordelia’s motherly soul relented
to the extent of a whole glassful of
fresh current jelly and five micro
scopic crumbs of the sacred and in
violate fruitcake.
Once safe in Pomfort's grove, a
secure three-quarters of a mile from
her mother’s bedroom, she gradually
allowed her spirits and those of the
other picnicers to rise. She led the
games with all her usual wizardry.
They would play they were off
camping, just as their father camped
every summer. Had he not described
it in every detail, to their wonder
and delight? Their father’s vaca
tions were like a visit to fairy-land
for all liis family. True, Cordelia
knew’ that during these vacations the
stay-at-homes did without beefsteak,
and, as she expressed it, lived out of
the garden—but why should they
not?
Cordelia's simplicity w r as some
times puzzled by the domestic feats
her father described himself as per
forming during his expeditions, lie
was always camp cook, and yet at
home, in their well-appOi.ited kitch
en, with the convenienco of an excel
lent gas range, he never attempted
any of that wonderful biscuit or gin
gerbread or omelet he boasted of
manufacturing with such delicious
success amid the primitive culinary
arrangements of the camp.
To-day, under- the ppell of Cor
delia’s glowing fancy, a’l sic campers
had a glorious time. They shut their
ears against the half-hourly intru
sions of the whistling, puffing sub
urban train; Pomfort’s woods be
came an Adirondack forest, where
behind the distant ..tree trunks they
could spy the brown flanks of deer,
while a far stump took the shape of
a bear surprised at his berry-picking.
When at last the sinking sun
looked at them level across the roofs
of Pomfort’s stables, Cordelia gath
ered up her sisters and brothers and
her baskets and tin pails, and set off
homewards.
Meanwhile things had happened.
The doctor had gone to the city, he
had visited Mr. Brathwaite, and Mr.
Brathwaite had come home early, to
find his house deserted and preter
naturally silent, and a w’hite and suf
fering woman in a darkened room up
stairs.
But that was two hours ago. Now,
at five o’clock, two pairs of eyes, a
little misty, watched Cordelia as she
marshalled her brood up from the
back road and on through the mea
dows.
At the garden fence she halted her
followers, and seemed to utter ad
monishing words, at which—most
curious sight!—they all squatted
down and waited in perfect quiet
while Cordelia proceeded alone to the
back door.
There in the doorway stood her
father and mother, and her mother,
although still pale, looked so marvell
ously radiant that ten years seemed
to have dropped from her age. She
had on her white dress, and there
was a rose in her hair. Her father
w T ore his new linen suit, and he
looked flushed and hot, but very
happy. Through the door Cordelia
saw r the dining-room table all set,
and on it w r as a great plate of ginger
bread and opposite that a heaping
mound of biscuits.
When Cordelia recovered from her
astonishment, her first words were
of reproach:
“O mama, why did you get up and
get supper? I was cqming home in
time to do everything.”
“I didn’t do a single thing dear,”
answered her mother, hugging her.
“Papa did it all. See, he made gin
gerbread and biscuits.”
The parents very graciously per
mitted their hungry offspring to sit
down to table with them without any
further preparation than the josh
ing of their faces and hands.
At this supper there was a change
in the usual manner of seating. Or
dinarily Cordelia had Laura one side
and her mother had Bobs-baby next
to her, and Nan they shared between
them. Meals were rather busy occa
sions for Cordelia and her mother.
To-night their father placed him
seU between Larua and Bobs-baby,
a change occasioning much joculari
ty, which grew visibly feebler toward
the close of the meal.
“Do they always eat like this?”
the father asked, as at last he pulled
back Laura’s high chair, attempting
at the same instant to evade Bobs
baby’s buttery caresses of his sleeve.
“Yes,’ ’answered the mother.
After supper the younger members
of the family were about to dance
out into the summer evening, after
their care-free habit; but a strong
voice called them back.
“Marjorie and Nan, you will please
wash the dishes, and Jamie, your
mother’s pansy-bed needs weeding;
and I think Laura is big enough to
amuse Bobs for a bit, and keep him
from bothering mama. To work, all
of you! Cordelia, don’t you want to
take an evening stroll with your old
daddy?”
Cordelia beamed with pleasure and
surprise. Such an honor had not
been hers for many a year. Usually
her father took the dainty four-year
old Laura by the hand after supper,
or perched Bobs-baby on his shoul
der, and went romping with him
down the garden paths. Cordelia
supposed that fathers always pre
ferred the youngest ones.
But to-night the father chose Cor
delia. and put his arm about her and
called her sweetheart —plain, over
worked, overworried Cordelia. He
was a very nice father, very hand
some and debonair and jolly. He led
his daughter to the apple-tree bench,
and there they sat and talked over
what the doctor thought about the
mother.
“The doctor says she must go
away,” said Cordelia's father.
“It’s too bad that she can’t,” re
joined Cordelia.
“Why can’t she?”
“Because you are going away.”
“Is that all?” he asked, dryly.
“Well, I propose to vary my program
this year. I propose to take my va
cation in my own suburban retreat,
and send your mother to the moun
tains.” #
Cordelia gasped, but was speech
less.
“Why this surprise? I can cook,
can’t I, young lady? And as for the
management of this famil}, it has oc
curred to me that a season ot guntle
paternal discipline would not come
amiss. There is a pleasant little
boarding-place ten miles this side of
camp, and mama could be very com
fortable there.”
Cordelia’s face was still blank
with astonishment.
“The doctor says,” continued her
father, “that it would be well for
mama to have one of her children
with her.”
Cordelia was certainly very dense,
for she replied in a resigned way:
“I suppose Bobs-baby wouldn’t let
her go alone.”
Her father looked at her in some
puzzlement, and looking, noticed how
thin she was, and what knobby little
wrists she had.
“I’ll settle that with Bobs-baby,”
he replied. “He is not to go. It
must be one of you who can look
after mama if ghf needs it.”
Still Cordelia I ** little face was
turned up to him, anxious, uncom
prehending.
“In short, Cordelia,” he concluded,
“you are to go with your
Understanding slowly brightened
over Cordelia’s face. Her eyes grew
starry, her lips trembled, her little
nose wrinkled itself away. It was a
teary smile, but it was Cordelia’s
smile—which who could help kissing,
for the precious, precious sweetness
of her? Then in the soft evening
shadow, her father took Cordelia on
his lap; he spoke a little huskily:
“Cordelia, there are at least two very
nice girls in my family—your moth
er and yon.”—Youth’s Companion.
A Present Day Utopia
Hugo Barton, writing in the Out
ing Magazine, says that the happiest
and most beautiful spot on earth to
day is the island of Moorea, one of
the Sandwich Islands in the South
Seas. Asa contrast to strenuous
American methods this description
sounds alluring:
“Whenever you are thirsty a word
will send a lithe, brown body scramb
ling up a tall palm tree trunk and in
two minutes a green cocoanut is
ready for you to quaff—the nectar
of the Polynesian gods. It is worth
the trip down here to eat the native
‘vittals,’ for you gty at every meal
things you never tasted before, and
each seems better than its predeces
sor. To see your dinner of fresh
water shrimps, sharks’ fins and
roasted sea urchins. The bananas
you eat—there are eleven varieties
—baked, raw, fried, dried, grow a
few rods back in the valley, ditto
the breadfruit, the pineapples and
about everything else on the board.
It’s nice to have you morning coffee
grown in the back yard. Guavas
grow in such profusion they are used
as pig food, grated cocoanut is fed to
hens, while sensitive plant is consid
ered excellent fodder for cattle.
“For perfection of the human body
the Tahitian is unexcelled, if indeed
he is anywhere equalled. They are
a large race, both men and women
being noticably taller and more fully
developed than Anglo-Saxons. Every
man looks like a picked athlete -with
sloping shoulders and bared chests.
A crowd of them together reminds
one of the scene in a “locker build
ing” toward the end of the fall when
the ’varsity squad is narrowed down
and the afternoon’s practice is just
over. I doubt if any Society Islander
ever went through a whole day in his
life without having a wreath of flow
ers on his head or a blossom behind
his ear. The love of flowers is in
nate with man, woman and child:
they can’t pass through a patch of
woods without emerging with a gar
land. Every gay mood calls for flow
ers on their hats, in their hair, be
hind their ears—and their life is an
almost unbroken sequence of gay
moods. Scarcely a native on the isl
and of Moorea can speak a sentence
of English, but every one you meet
greets you with a courteous smile
and the welcoming words ‘la-ora-na’
(Yorana).”
WORDS OF WISDOM.
Love is never preserved in family
jars.
Poets are born —therefore parents
must be to blame.
People with small minds are apt
to use some big words.
It’s impossible to ms*l& a doctor
believe that wealth.
Many foman acquires her repu
tation for beauty at a drug store.
What’s the matter with putting
up an umbrella for a rainy day?
Clubs for men have added much
to the comforts of home.
It takes vigorous brains to gener
ate vigorous thoughts.
A woman judges the value of a let
ter by the length of the postscript.
If there’s one thing a boy enjoys
seeing more than a circus it is a dog
fight.
Although a cyclone carries every
thing before it, a lot of rain is left
behind.
Fortunate is the man with a pull—
provided he doesn’t pull the wrong
way.
One wa3 r to buy experience is to
speculate in futures.
Invisible patches are not used in
patching up quarrels.
Wise is the man who knows when
to treat and when to re-treat.
It’s easy for a deaf mute to love a
girl more than tongue can tell.
Many a spinster who could have
married in haste repents at leisure.
Many a married woman’s idea of
a stylish hat is one that costs more
than her husband can afford to pay.
From “Pointed Paragraphs,” in
the Chjj Jko News.
The Useful Sunflower.
Sunflower seeds are said to give an
extra fine flavor to eggs and are
much used by the French people for
that purpose. Remember this when
you plant your garden and drop in
some seeds around the edges and in
the odd corners. A few planted near
the sink drain will help to keep away
miasma and give you heads of seed
that will be mammoth in size.—
Weekly Witness.
Choice Farm Butter.
Use a barrel churn. The dasher
churn injures the grain of the butter.
Have clean milk and take every care
to secure cleanliness about the dairy
room. Keep the churn and separator
sweet. Cool the cream after separat
ing, set it away to ripen ,and stir
it each time fresh cream is added.
When ready to churn scald and
cool the churn and put in the cream
at about sixty degrees. Color it with
vegetable butter color and churn
steadily and not too fast. Do not
churn until it forms lumps, but stop
when the butter is in shot form.
Draw off the butter milk and pour on
enough cold water to cover the but
ter. Draw away the water and add
more, repeating until the water runs
clear. The butter should now be free
from milk and still on shot form.
Remove to the butterworker, add
salt, work it evenly into the butter,
using in most cases about one-half
ounce to the pound; but some use
more, from three-fourths to an
ounce to the pound. The more salt
the better keeping quality, but less
of the butter flavor.-
In putting butter away for winter
use, I wet the jars with strong brine,
then pack the butter firmly, filling
nearly to the top, and covering with
a layer of salt.—Mrs. H. H. Cham
berlin, in the American Cultivator.
? Finishing Celery.
The most common method for
blanching celery on a small scale is
that of banking with soil, and it is
by this means that the finest flavor
can be obtained. Where the plants
are set in single rows the soil can
often be partially thrown up by
means of a plow, or, better, by a cel
ery hiller. There are several forms
of this implement, but they all work
on one principle, that of a diagonally
set surface to throw up the soil.
Instead of tying each plant by
knotting around it a short piece of
string, fasten the end of the string
around, the first plant in a row, then
pass to a second plant without cut
ting or breaking the string. While
the outside leaves of the second plant
are brought up together by the left
hand, carry the string once around
by allowing it to run between the
thumb and finger of the right hand,
and so on from plant to plant until
a whole row is held up without break
ing the string and by tying it at the
ends only. Another very good meth
od of holding up the celery while the
earth is placed around it is by tem
porarily setting up boards which are
removed as soon as the soil is in po
sition.
Where celery planted in solid beds
is banked with earth, the entire quan
tity of soil required must be thrown
up by hand. Under these conditions
banking with soil is not profitable ex
cept on a very limited scale. Owing to
the cost, blanching by banking with
earth is not to be recommended, ex
cept when the crop is to be stored
where grown for late fall marketing,
and even then it is better, especially
on muck or sandy soil, to trench that
part of the crop which is to be held
for a short time. —W. R. Beattie, Bu
reau of Plant Industry, Washington,
D. C.
The Cow at Her Rest.
It is frequently asked when the
cow is at her best. Of course that
must depend on feeding and manage
ment. A recent bulletin of the Wis
consin Station says that a cow, for
milk and butter, during her fifth and
sixth year, and that the length of
time the cow will maintain her maxi
mum products depends upon her con
stitution, strength and the care with
which she is fed and managed. A
good dairy cow should not show any
marked falling off until after ten
years of age. Excellent records
have been made by cows older than
this. The quality of the milk pro
duced by heifers is somewhat better
than that, of older cows, for a de
crease has been noted of one-tenth
to two-tenths of one per cent, in the
average fat content for each year
until the cows have reached the full
age. This is caused by the increase
in the weight of the cows with ad
vancing age. At any rate, there
seems to be a parallelism between the
two sets of figures for the same cows.
Young animals use a portion of
their food for the formation of body
tissue, and it is to be expected, there
fore, that heifers will require a
larger portion of nutrients for the
production of milk or butter fat than
do otlrer cows after a certain age
has been reached, on the average
seven years of age, the food required
for the production of a unit of milk
or butter fat again increases, both as
regards dry matter and the digesti
ble component of the feed.
A good milk cow of exceptional
strength, kept under favorable con
ditions, whose digestive system has
not been impaired, should continue
to be a profitable producer until her
twelfth year, although the economy
of her production is apt to be some
what reduced before this age is
reached. —American Cultivator.
Good Shelter Saves Food.
Good warm dry quarters lessen the
quantity of food required to supply
the bodily heat in winter and when
any feed above that required for
warmth is fed it will be converted
into good healthy animal growth or
milk as the case may be. But when
the shelter is such that the animal
is compelled to ejepend upon such
food for heat, the food then is a loss
rather than a profit.
It is not for winter only, however,
that shelter should be provided. All
seasons have their advantages and
disadvantages. Warmth in winter,
and sufficient ventilation in summer
should always be provided; in other
words, the comfort of the animals
should be considered at all seasdns.
In feeding all kinds of animals the
greatest object should be the profit
that is lo be made by so doing, and
every advantage should be taken to
increase this profit. I think one of
the heaviest losses incurred by many
farmers is the consumption of food
for the purpose of producing warmth
for the body because of improper
methods of sheltering the animals
during the period when snow, winds
and cold rains prevail.
This is a matter that should re
ceive attention by every farmer who
aims to reduce his expense of feeding
to the minimum.
It is not extravagant to invest
money in buildings that will keep the
animals comfortable. Nor is it nec
essary that the buildings be costly.
When the conditions regarding
both feed and warmth are favorable
the young stock will do much better
and not only the young stock, but the
older animals will show a great dif
ference, and, therefore, the profit is
more sure. The floor of the cow
shed should be thickly covered with
straw at least once a week, which
will be much more comfortable for
them, and every few days I turn a
bunch of small pigs in with them to
clean out anything that might be
dropped. When the weather is not
too cold cows left to run loose in a
square shed with a good roof, thor
oughly ventilated and with plenty of
light, will be more comfortable and
less liable to accident than when
fastened in any kind of stall and be
as clean as when on the summer pas
ture.—R. B. Rushing, in the Indiana
Farmer.
Hale on Orcharding.
At a recent meeting or fruit grow
ers, J. H. Hale, the noted Connecticut
fruit specialist, told the orchardists
present that the old cider orchards
are passing out of existence and com
mercial orchards must supplant
them. The apple is the all the year
round fruit. He further said in
part:
Give the orchard the best soil you
have, rolling land preferred. Pre
pare this land thoroughly and con
tinue thorough tillage. Get good
trees. Plan ahead and transplant
trees two or three times before set
ting in permanent place or pay nurs
erymen for doing it. Head your trees
low. Manufacture them to suit your
idea. Get them down where you can
handle them easily and cheaply.
Prune annually and spray often and
thoroughly. Thin apples. Good
trees overbear. This is the most
paying operation of all. Pick two to
four times to get all of crop at proper
stages of ripeness. We don't pick
the whole of any other fruit crop at
once, why apples? Don't plant
dwarfs, but rather dwarf your stand
ard trees by summer and root prun
ing if they are over-vigorous. Ke
has thrown such trees into bearing
by plowing deep and subsoiling. Cul
tivate early and thoroughly until mid
dle of July, then seed to cover crop
and let alone. Has no use for
mulched trees unless it be an expe
dient to throw overvigorous trees
into bearing. Mr. I-lale has used
commercial fertilizers supplemented
by cover crops for forty years, and
thinks them equal to barnyard man
ure. Has secured results in color
and quantits with potash. Use care
in harvesting. Mniijligibleput apples
in cold storage everv^Com
munities should unite and build stor
age plants.
In concluding, Mr. Hale impressed
upon the young men the importance
of planting orchards and then caring
for them. He knew of no more prof
itable venture, but young men were
too impatient and the majority of the
apple orchards were being planted
by old men. There might be a mar
ket for a limited quantity -of fancy
Western apples at a high price, but
the bulk used by classes of moderate
means would be the apples produced
near home. Look about you. Most
golden opportunities are found near
home if we can only see them.
New' York City’s water supply will
come from a watershed of 9 00 square
miles when the Catskill system
completed.