Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 49, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 February 1915 — THE BOY FARMER. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

THE BOY FARMER.

Or a Member of die Com Oub

By ASA PATRICK

CHAPTER‘III. SAM’S mother would not agree to let him do the blasting of the stmnpa Bhe feared, and with much reason, that because of his inexperience In handling dynamite he might blow up himself. So Sam had agreed, though he didn’t tike the Idea of paying $3 for work that be coaid do himself. A man named Nolpn bad been hired to do the work, and he had come out Saturday afternoon to make a beginning. Sam was anxious to learn about the work so that in future there’d be no need to hire some one else to do It He drove across the held, bitcbed bis horse at a safe distance and went over to watch the proceedings. Sam’s companions, who -had also beard the first report, came up to look on. It was interesting to watch Nbtan deftly place his blasts so that they always brought up the stumps. Sometimes they popped up in the air like a cork out of a bottle; at other times they split into pieces and went s hurtling through the air. Under the largest stump in the held Nolan put a double charge of dynamite‘‘Better get clear,” he said to the boys when be was about ready to touch it off. They all backed away to a dis tance of thirty or forty yards and waited. He lighted the fuse and ran over to where they were standing. “Get down.” he said, “behind something or on the ground.” All except Joe Watson promptly dropped- down fiat behind a little ridge. “There isn’t any danger this far off.” he said and remained standing. “Get down, you dummy; it’s going off.” said Sam sharply, and as Jop made no move he grabbed him around the ankles and gave a jerk. The boy came down with a thud, and at the instant there was a roar. Something sang over them like a bullet and exactly in the path where Joe had stood a moment before. “Well, you may thank your lucky stars,” Noltfn remarked to Joe as he got up, “that Sam pulled you down. You see that big piece of stump layln' away out yonder? That’s what whistled over here, and if you’d ’a’ been standln’ it ( would ’a’ broke you In two." Joe was pale from fright at his narrow escape. “My,” be exclaimed, “but I owe you a big debt. Sam! Yon sav ed me then and 1 don’t thins I’ll ever act the fool like that again." It was now the middle of the afternoon, and as the boys to re turn home early for one reason or an other Sam stopped work for the day, «nfl they all drove home at a brisk trot * On the next Monday Sam was present at the meeting of the Boys’ Cora dob and became a member. Bob Fa gan was also there and Joined? though he was doubtful about getting his acre cleared of stumps by planting time. In addition to the cash prizes already offered, several firms and corporations announced at the meeting that they would give premiums to the successful contestants. These prizes were of various kinds. Among them were a registered Jersey cow, a pair of registered pigs, a corn planter, a trip to Wash tnytnn, a trio of prize poultry, a gold, watch an automobile. Rum went home happy that day and more firmly resolved than ever to win some of the prizes. All the week he worked after school hours loading and fmniing manure from the stable to tne farm. He was so busy that he had no time to talk even to his mother and ff lnt»r about his work. But at the supper table on Saturday Mrs. Powell tn<l aired bow be was getting along with the work. "Doing fine,” said Sam. “I’ve got the Add and the fence rows cleaned up «nd the fences made pig tight and two acres fertilized and ready to be plowed. The next thing I’m going to do is to have the land broke, cross broke and harrowed.” “Going to do all the field that way?” asked Florence PowelL "Oh, no." Sam replied. “1 ’can’t prepare all the land as I did the two acres. I haven't time this year, but I’ll put some fertilizer on all of it and have It broke once” “What are you going to raise on the two acres?” bis sister Inquired, be coming Interested. “One acre Is going to be In corn * It*! going to be my contest acre, and I’m going to try to win some of the prizes of the Boys’ Corn dub. On the other acre I’m going to plant Irish potatoes at first, then maybe June corn and black eyed peas.” “My. but thatTl be three crops on the same ground ip one year!” exclaim«l Florence “Can you do that. Bam 7” “Yes. and that’s not all,” said Sam. “After I gather the corn and peas I’ll put In a crop of turnips or rye” “Is one acre all you’re going to have In corn?" asked Mrs. Powel^ “Hol mot**®*” explained, “in

all I’m going to plant five acres in corn. Then I’m going to plgnt five acres In cotton, one in K-afflr oArni one in Irish potatoes and one in cane That takes up all the land except tne orchard and the acre that we’re going to use for a garden and watermelon patch. “1 want to try to raise everything we’ll need and a lot to sell besides The corn and cane are for tbe stock and tbe Kaffir corn for the chickens, if we don’t raise such stuff we ll have It to buy. and that’s expensive. Besides, most of these crops I speak of will be gathered pretty early, and l can get a crop or two more on tbe land. When 1 cut tbe cane I’m going to plant sweet potatoes on that patch.’ “I know where you can get some seed Irish potatoes.” suggested his mother. Sadi smiled. “Did yon ever stop to think, mother.” he asked, “that wbat yon caU seed potatoes are Just the little dwarfy culls and not really fit for anything?" “Why. no,” said Mrs. Powell. “I never had thought about It, but it seems like there Is something in it.” “Of course there is.” said Sam. “A bulletin the department sent me says they’ve tried all tbe different ways, and /the best way is to use good sized potatoes and cut them tn halves to plant.” “Tbe agricultural department must be a pretty good thing.” observed Mrs. Powell. “It Is a good thing.” said Sam “It works all the time to help tbe farmer, but lots of formers won’t let It help them. As for me.' I’m not going against anything when I know it wants to help me and can belp me if I let it The department of agriculture keeps men traveling all tbe time all over the world collecting new plants and flowers and fruits and grains suited to our different climates and soils. It experiments and finds out which varieties are best suited to certain soils and the best way to cultivate and bow to fight insect pests. It does all this and lots more that It would take me hours to tell yon about. I wouldn’t want to farm if tbere hasn’t any agricultural department to help me. It would be too slow finding out things by myself. I’ve got a whole lot of bulletins on farming, add I’m going to use tbe money 1 get for hauling manure to buy some books that I want to read and to subscribe for a good farm paper. A good farm paper Is tbe next best thing to tbe agr ricultural department” “Have yon selected the corn and cotton seed that you’re going to plant r* asked Mrs. Powell when Sam had finished his glowing account of tbe department / “No. I haven’t yet” he replied. "But that’s one thing I must look after next week. I’ll see the agent and ask him

about it, but J expect our state experiment station can tell me more about the best seed to use in this part of the country.” “Hello. Mr. Burner greeted Bam. coming up to the government agent on the street. *Tte been wanting to weak to you about seed corn and cotton. What varieties would you advise me to get and where can I get them?" "Well, as for the corn seed." replied Mr. Burns. "I’ll order that for you. as I want all the boys to have the a»me kind of seed. Afterthls year you must select'your own seed, both cotton and swcw. Don't d&aend on sending o ft fat

seed if you do yoon sureiy oe Ywu • disappointed sometimes. Get good v rieties to start with and you can bullthem up by selecting seed from tl». finest and most productive plants. “Speaking about cottonseed.” th« agent continued, “as good a plan ns any Is to get seed from somebody U* your neighborhood. You always find at least one kind of cotton in every community that is far ahead of all otb er kinds. Everything seems to suit it exactly. If you can get seed from a variety like that out your way and then select your own seed afterward you’ll soon have the most productive cotton that can possibly be grown in your locality.” “1 am much obliged to you,” said Sam. “for getting the corn, and I think 1 know where 1 can get some good cotton seed close at home. A fellow’s got a kind down there; 1 don’t know tbe name of it. but it is about two weeks earlier than most cotton, and its got five long locks to each boll.” “That’s the cotton for you. Sam,” said tbe agent, "tbe kind that (natures early* before tbe boll weevils get a lick at it. Being a big boiled kind makes it so much tbe better. How about your land? Are you getting it In good condition ?” “Well. I think the sere for the con test is all right.” Sam replied I put one ton of ashes and two tons of. uia nure on It, then bad it broke deep cross broke and harrowed Three tons is a hig Ibt of fertilizer to pm mi • •m----acre. but I don’t think I cun gel to*, much on that land."

The agent’s eyes brightened. ‘Good:’ be encouraged. “You’ll make a farm er if you keep up that iicjt. That land’s in tine shape, and it’ll soak up all tbe moisture from the rains and sdows that fall from now until spring. The idea Is to store up all the moisture you can for use by the growing crops in summer when rain is scarce. The only way to do that is to get the land plow ed deep and thoroughly pulverized. Whenever yoo see a patch of ground that’s been plowed five or six times to kill out Bermuda or Johnson grass you always see a fine crop growing on it when everything around it is a failure. It seems as If farmers ought to learn from such examples." “When is the best time to break land?” asked Sam. “Oh. it ought to be done in the fall.” Mr. Burns replied. “Get tbe land in good condition and sow a cover crop for winter of rye or oats. By plowing tbe land Id the fall yoo break up tbe homes of insects and turn them out to freeze. A big majority of the Insects that work on crops spend tbe winter in tbe fields and around the fence rows. So if you don’t want to be bothered witb insects break tbe land and clean out the fence rows In tbe fall.” “I’ve made a little extra money hauling manure from a stable,” Sam explained, "and I’m going to spend it for some good books along the line I'm studying. Gould you suggest one or two good ones, Mr. Burns?’ “There are any number of good books on farming and kindred subjects,” said the agent. “You should get a catalogue. But I would suggest that you get ‘Coburn’s Bwlne Hueban dry’ and ‘Book of Alfalfa.' These books are by a real farmer, and he knows what he’s writing about Tbe first, of course, is about raising hogs. The second tells all about alfalfa, from the earliest times to the present It is real interesting, too, much better reading than some of tbe novels that they call best sellers. Tbe A B oof Bee Culture’ is a fine work Oh beekeeping. ’How Crops Grow’ will tell you a lot about agricultural plants that you don’t know, and ’Life on tbe Farid’ is a little book that is very interesting and full of helpful suggestions.” “Don’t tell me any more,” Sam exclaimed “1 want to read them all. and my money won’t hold oat. But I’m going to buy those five and study them, especially the ones on bogs and alfalfa.”

"Well, bees are worth studying, too.” said Mr. Burns. "I don’t know much about them.” replied Sam. “but I shouldn’t like getting stting.” “No need of it,” said the agent “Once yon understand them they give no trouble, and the honey they make Is almost clear profit” “K that’s the case 1 think I’ll get a few hives.” “One or two will be sufficient to start with. If yon take care of the swarms you’ll soon have as many hives as you need.’* “What 1 want to get more than anything else,” continued Sam, “la some registered bogs. Do yon know where I could get a sow or some pigs?” "No; don’t believe I do,” said the agent “Want registered stock, do you?” “Yes, sir; it doesn’t take any more to raise them than it does scrubs, and they are better and sell for more.” “That’s a good Idea,” remarked Mr. Burns. “You’re on the right track. 1 see you’ve got some plans, Sam. What are yon figuring on doing?” "Well.” replied the young farmer, "for the first thing I’m going to peg along on the little farm of mother's and do the very best I can with what I’ve got and with What I know.” "And then what?” asked the agent "Next fall and winter sister and 1 are going to complete the high school course Then I’m going to make another crop, and if things go well I’ll take a course at the State Agricultural college and let s&ter also take a course there in domestic science.” “And after that what?" queried Mr. Burns. “Well, after that I’ll take np the work that I already started and carry it ont to a finish. 1 want to make mother as comfortable and independent as possible. 1 want to make the land productive and put up good fences and bolldinn. 1 want to have

everything convenient, l want to stock the place with the very beat there la In every tine—Jersey cows, Berkshire bogs. Angora goats, Plymouth Rock chickens, Peking docks. Bronze turkeys and even a collie dog. Of course I don’t mean to say that these breeds are better than others, but 1 like them and know they are good.” Mr. Barns did not langb at Sam’s desire for a shepherd dog. ‘There is need and room for all yon mention.” he said, “even to the dog.” “But that’s not ail," Sam continued. “I want things around the bouse to be p»|ptty and pleasant 1 want books and magazines and pictures and a big yard full of flowere. Don’t you think a per son can have such things on a farm?’ ' “I don’t think anything about it" replied the agent “I know it Yon can have them and should have them. Tbe farm Is. first of alt a place to live, and it should be made as pleasant a place as possible. “You haven’t named a thing that is out of reach. Sam. And it is very thoughtful of you to keep your mother and sister tn mind tn all of your plana They certainly are prond of yon and have reason to be.” “When 1 get all that work done,” said Bam. “I’m going to buy a farm for myself and do with it just as I intend to do with mother's. After that I don’t know what I*ll do. I haven’t planned any further, but I guess there’ll be new dreams by that time” “Yes. tbere will. Sam,” said Mr. Burns. ‘There will always be something new calling you to further endeavor. But you’ll take a delight In it Just as you have delighted In this other. It’s a man’s work yon have set yourself, and it’s worth doing." Sam Powell went home witb the agent’s last words running through his mind. He couldn’t forget them, nor did he for many and many a day.

CHAPTER IV. IT was the Ist of April when the Powells moved back to the little farm, and tbere was a look of real happiness on Mrs. Powell’s face when she was once more settled in that quiet nook. Tbe farm lay back from tbe public road and was screened from view by a grove of trees in the pasture. Tbe weather beaten farmhouse was also sheltered and shaded by a cluster of wide spreading oaks. But Sam and Florence were no less pleased than their mother to be in the country again. To Uve in the country and to know tbe ways of nature Is to love it always. Before moving, however, they ah had made several trips to the old home nn<i done mnch work in the garden, orchard and field. The old orchard, after receiving special treatment by Sam, surprised Mrs. Powell so that she began to look on her son as a Very remarkable boy. When they first looked at it in February it was an unpromising sight. Dead weeds and briers stood shoulder high, sprouts had grown up arouDd the trees, and it looked as if there was but little life left in flbe orchard, so many were tbe broken and dead bongbs. “You might as well chop down tbe old trees.’ 1 said Mrs. Powell. ‘They are nearly all dead anyway,'*“Don’t yon believe ltP exclaimed Sam. “You just wait till I get through with those old trees. They look mighty shabby now, but they’ll come to life If you give them a chance. I’ve just been reading about bow to work over old orchards. Why, mother, if 1 was to cut them down and plant young trees it would be three or four years before we would get any fruit.” “Yes, 1 know that.” replied his mother, “hat I don’t think these old trees will bear any more.” “Maybe not” said Sam. “but we can try them. 1 can plant young trees in tbe place of the ones that are entirely dead.” So he set to work, mowing down briers and weeds and raking them Into [dies and burning them. When this was done be took a saw and a pair of pruning shears and began on tbe trees. All tbe dead and broken limbs were cut away. Tbe orchard had been neglected so long that there were many dead boughs, and It was a different looking place* when Bam finished pruning. The next thing be did was to bay some chemicals and make j| solution after a formula given In one of the government bulletins. With this solation and a band sprayer he went over the orchard and sprayed each tree from top to bottom. Next be broke and harrowed tbe ground, and tbe old orchard bad one more chance to Uve and thrive, for it was well pruned, tbe ground In fine condition, and tbe sprajrtng had killed aU the Insects that were on the trees. Sam. like bis mother, felt rather doubtful about the orchard, but when they moved there in April they found tbe old trees a mass of pink blooms. “Look. Florence!*’ exclaimed Mrs. Powell when she saw the trees looking ■o beautiful. “Sam Is sure a wonder I didn’t think he could do It” “Oh, I’m a regular Burbank.” said Sam, smiling. “Who’s Burbank?” asked Florence “Burbank.” Sam replied. “Is called the plant wizard. He can do anything with plants. He took the cactus and made it grow without thorns., He took two wild berries and made a large berry that is good to eat He took tbe little wild daisy and originated tbe large Shasta daisy. He has made potatoes and tomatoes grow on one stalk, and he h s« grown a whlse blackberry. That Isn’t aIL He has done hundreds of wonderful things with plants.” “Welt Mr. Burbank.” said Florence, witb a happy laugh, “that’s a pretty good job on the orchard.” Soon after moving to the farm Bam had his first chance t» get what he so much wanted-eome nwia*®*-4 B-afe.

mitres. A' neighbor who was moving oat ot the county cam* by where be was working. “When are yea going to leave?*’ Bam asked “Well, I’m about ready now,” replied the neighbor. "There’a one thing 1

ain’t arranged yet, tbongb, and it*s kinder bothering me. I’ve got a fine registered sow. and she’s going to find a litter of pigs some of these days before long. I’d sell her. bnt 1 can’t get nothing like what she’s worth, and I can’t find a place to leave her.” “I’d like to get some Berkshire pigs,” Sam remarked “What do yon ask for the sow?” “Well, right this minute I’d take S2O for her The pigs are sure to be worth twice that much." “That’s cheap enough.” said Sam, “but I haven’t tbe money. How would it suit you to let me keep her? That Ut tie pasture down there Is hog proof. The creek runs through It, and there’s plenty of shade and water and no stock that would bother her.” “That’s a good place, 1 hadn’t thought of it Maybe we can make a deal. I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Sam. You keep tbe sow and look after her, and when the plfes are old enough yon ship four of them to me and you may have the sow and tbe rest of the pigs.” “I’ll do it” said Sam, and the bargain was closed

About a month later the old bow was going about the pasture wltb ten pretty black and white faced pigs following* Under Sam’s care they grew like weeds In wet weather. When they were old enough to wean, which was twelve weeks, as the young farmer learned from his reading, bek shipped the four pigs to their owner. Of the Six pigs left be picked out three of the finest, two gilts and a male, to keep. The other three be advertised for sale In the county paper, and. the pigs being of good stock, be bad no trouble In selling them for $lO each. One buyer, coming after they bad been sold, tried to get Sam to put a price on the three he bad saved. But the boy refused to sell. In* deed, he was so proud of his pigs that an offer of many times their worth would not have Induced him to part with them. And in this be showed that be was wise. But, proud as Bam Powell was of bis thoroughbreds, there was so&ietbing else to which be was giving a lot of thought and work. That something was the acre of com that was to compete for prizes offered to the Boys' Com club. Miles Fagan had. promised his sou. Bob, that be might Join the corn club and enter an acre In the contest if be would clear the land of stamps. Bob did join, but the com was not planted this year. For after working with grubbing hoe and ax from sunup till sundown for many days, clearing the acre of the big, deep rooted stumps, Mr. Fagan told him unconcernedly that he’d just have to have that patch of ground. If Bob still wanted to plant some com he’d have to clear another acre 4 It was a cruel, mean trick to play on a boy and enough to discourage anybody. but Bob set to work on another acre. It was too late, however, to plant the com when he had finished It. and be had to drop out of the contest for this year. Bat Miles Fagan was beginning to learn that be didn’t know very much about growing com. The patch across thp fence from his was teaching him something. Sam planted his contest acre with the seed furnished by the agent about the middle of March. The rows were four feet apart and the stalks in *ie rows eighteen Inches. He cultiva -*1 fit the first time when the com v os just beginning to come up by going over It wltb a harrow. This did not hurt the plants, except one here and there, and It killed all the little weeds and grass that were just starting. How tbat corn did grow! It sprang up almost like mushrooms. It aeemed to Sam that the dark green stalks fairly laughed In the loose ground that be had made so rich with manure and ■ ashes. *;.- , *" •44V- ■ The young fanner cultivated the wntmd level and never allowed a weed | : ■ * "(*. .. . -- ---

to tmct root on tnat seta. H# puliefl tbe suckers whenever they appeared and went over it once with a boa, hot most of tbe work was dona with a plow. Tbe first time or two ha plowed It tolerably deep, but as the com grew larger and the little roots began to run out across tbe middles be plowed very shallow to keep from cutting tbe roots and injuring the corn. But there was another reason for shallow plowing. Deep plowing In summer caoses the soil to lose moisture when the crop needs it most. « Sam stirred the top of the ground till there was a layer of dust to bold the moisture below. He wanted to keep all tbe water be could for the growing corn, and be knew that tbe eon can draw water up through a crust in a burry, but can’t draw It through a layer of dust—or mulch, as It la calledL He kept tbe soil this way. He never plowed when It was too wet, for that makes clods. But after rains, aa soon as It was dry enough, or when weeda began to appear be wentuaver tbe patch with plow or harrow and stirred tba surface till It was all broken op and loose. Bill Googe and Miles Fagan had quit laughing at Sam. They ami others In tbe neighborhood often stopped In passing and looked at the com and wondered. “I reckon It’s Jes* an accident” BIH remarked to Mr. Fagan one day, “but that boy’s kinder got one on us, Milan. I told ’lm before he come out here that he couldn’t grow peas on that ground. But dog my cats, if that ain’t as fine com as I ever saw. That acre patch is better than the rest but A tell you they ain’t none o’ his crops to be sneezed at” “1 don’t exactly understand it" Miles Fagan replied, “but Jes’ between you and me. BILL 1 guess they must be somethin’ in the government's way & doin’ things. You know that kid don’t know nothin’ about farmin’ except what the agents told Mm. But look at that acre of com and then look at mine across the fence. And it start In the land. 1 know that This land o’ mine, if anything is better than Ui' Of course It’s bound to be in the fertilizer he’s usin’ and the way he’s cultivatin' the ground.” The comparison suggested by Mr. •Fagan was enough to make any one stop and think. Bam’s com was nearly waist high and bad big stalks, while that of his neighbor in tbe Add across tbe fence was no more than two feet high and the stalks were spindling. But Fagan understood the cause of the difference in the two crops a good deal better after Mr. Rums happened along one day a little later and stopped to talk to him and Sam. who were working In their respective fields. “Hello, Mr. Fagan.”’ the government agent called out as he rode up. “How Is It your com Is behind Bam’s here I" Fagan grinned. “It’s because be planted earlier,” be said. "How much earlier?” “Two or three days,” replied the farmer. Mrj Bums laughed. “That won’t do, Mr. Fagan,” he said. "Two or three days’ difference in planting would make hardly any difference In corn.” At this point Bill Googe, who had been plowing near by, came up and

“Well, there you have it in a fuitaheW* stood listening. Bill was working better this year under the example and Influence of Sam. “Well, 1 don’t kpow what else could ’a’ made the difference In my com and his,” Air. Fagan replied. “if It warn’t the plantin'." *- “I think 1 know,” said Mr. Bums. “How deep did yon break your land?" “’Boot four Inches.” “How deep did you break yours. Sam?” “About s foot, wasn’t it. Bill?” Baa asked in turn. “Well. It wouldn’t miss It much." affirmed BUI. That old plow was up to the beam. - ’ ' “How many times did you harrow your rum. Mr Fagan?” continued the agent. , f - • - I never harrow com.” runny times did yet harrow yours. Sam?" 1 Twice ’ 0 ’ ' ——i— —- ‘Bow anray times have you plowed your com, Mr. Fagan?" . ' (To be Continued.)

“You’ll make a farmer if you koop up that lick.”

“Look. Florence! Sam is sure a wonder.”