Shield-budding is performed only on smal_Cornell Nature-Study Leaflets Being a selection, with revision, from the teachers' leaflets, home nature-study lessons, junior naturalist monthlies and other publications from the College of Agriculture, Cornell University, Ithaca, N.Y., 1896-1904

usually exclusively employed in the propagation of stone fruits, as

cherries, peaches, plums, apricots, for experience has proved that it is

preferable to other forms of grafting. It may also be employed for other

fruit trees.

[Illustration: _Fig. 270. The bud tied._]

How is a peach tree made? In 1898 a pit or seed is saved. In the spring

of 1899 it is planted. The young tree comes up quickly. In August, 1899,

the little stock has one bud--of the desired variety--inserted near the

ground. In the spring of 1900 the stock is severed just above the bud:

the bud throws out a shoot which grows to a height of four or six feet;

and in the fall of 1900 the tree is sold. It is known as a year-old

tree; but the root is two years old.

How is an apple tree made? The seed is saved in 1898, planted in 1899.

The seedlings do not grow so rapidly as those of the peach. At the end

of 1899 they are taken up and sorted; and in the spring of 1900 they are

planted. In July or August, 1900, they are budded. In the spring of 1901

the stock is cut off above the bud; and the bud-shoot grows three or

four feet. In 1902 the shoot branches, or the top begins to form; and in

the fall of 1902 the tree may be sold as a two-year-old, although most

persons prefer to buy it in 1903 as a three-year-old. In some parts of

the country, particularly in the west, the little seedling is grafted in

the winter of 1899-1900 in a grafting-room; and the young grafts are set

in the nursery row in the spring of 1900, to complete their growth.

I have now given my reader an elementary lesson in horticulture; but I

shall consider it of little avail if it is not transformed into

practice for the children. February is the gardener's time for the

starting of his cutting-beds, in which to grow plants for the summer

bloom. Ask the children to bring the old geraniums and fuchsias and

coleus, and other favorites. Keep them in a warm window; cut them back;

see that they are well watered; then take the cuttings when the time

comes. The children will be interested to watch the fortunes of the

different cuttings. They will be interested in Vergil's couplet, as set

to rhyme in old-fashioned English:

Some need no root, nor doth the Gardner doubt,

That Sprigs though headlong set, will timely sprout.

LEAFLET XXXVIII.

A CHILDREN'S GARDEN.[52]

BY L. H. BAILEY.

[52] Teachers' Leaflet No. 4, April, 1897.

[Illustration]

We want every school child in the State to grow a few plants. We want

every one of them to learn something of why and how plants grow; and the

best and surest way to learn is to grow the plants and to watch them

carefully. We want everyone to become interested in everything that

lives and grows. It does not matter so very much just what kinds of

plants one grows as it does that he grows something and grows it the

best that he knows how. We want the children to grow these plants for

the love of it,--that is, for the fun of it,--hence we propose that they

grow flowers; for when one grows pumpkins and potatoes, and such things,

he is usually thinking of how much money he is going to make at the end

of the season. Yet, we should like some rivalry in the matter in every

school, and we therefore propose that a kind of a fair be held at the

school-house next September, soon after school begins, so that each

child may show the flowers which he has grown. What a jolly time that

will be!

Now, we must not try to grow too many things or to do too much.

Therefore, we propose that you grow sweet peas and China asters. They

are both easy to grow, and the seeds are cheap. Each one has many

colors, and everybody likes them. Now let us tell you just how we should

grow them.

_1. The place._--Never put them--or any other flowers--in the middle of

the lawn,--that is, out in the center of the yard. They do not look well

there, and the grass roots run under them and steal the food and the

moisture. I am sure that you would not like to see a picture hung up on

a fence-post. It has no background, and it looks out of place. The

picture does not mean anything when hung in such a spot. In the same

way, a flower bed does not mean anything when set out in the center of

a lawn. We must have a background for it, if possible,--a wall upon

which to hang it. So we will put the flower bed just in front of some

bushes or near the back fence, or alongside the smoke-house, or along

the walk at the side of the house, or in the back yard. The flowers will

not only look better in such places, but it will not matter so much if

we make a failure of our flower bed; there are always risks to run, for

the old hen may scratch up the seeds, the cow may break into the yard

some summer night, or some bug may eat the plants up.

Perhaps some of the children may live so near to the school-house that

they can grow their plants upon the school grounds, and so have sweet

peas and asters where there are usually docks and smartweeds. Grow them

alongside the fence, or against the school-house if there is a place

where the eaves will not drip on them.

_2. How to make the bed._--Spade the ground up deep. Take out all the

roots of docks and thistles and other weeds. Shake the dirt all out of

the sods and throw the grass away. You may need a little manure in the

soil, especially if the land is either very hard or very loose and

sandy. But the manure must be very fine and well mixed into the soil. It

is easy, however, to make sweet pea soil so rich that the plants will

run to vine and not bloom well.

Make the bed long and narrow, but not narrower than three feet. If it is

narrower than this the grass roots will be likely to run under it and

suck up the moisture. If the bed can be got at on both sides it may be

as wide as five feet.

Sow the seeds in little rows crosswise the bed. The plants can then be

weeded and hoed easily from either side. If the rows are marked by

little sticks, or if a strong mark is left in the earth, you can break

the crust between the rows (with a rake) before the plants are up. The

rows ought to be four or five inches further apart than the width of a

narrow rake.

_3. How to water the plants._--I wonder if you have a watering-pot? If

you have, put it where you cannot find it; for we are going to water

this garden with a rake! We want you to learn, in this little garden,

the first great lesson in farming,--how to save the water in the soil.

If you learn that much this summer, you will know more than many old

farmers do. You know that the soil is moist in the spring when you plant

the seeds. Where does this moisture go to? It dries up,--goes off into

the air. If we could cover up the soil with something, we should prevent

the moisture from drying up. Let us cover it with a layer of loose, dry

earth! We will make this covering by raking the bed every few

days,--once every week anyway, and oftener than that if the top of the

soil becomes hard and crusty, as it does after a rain. Instead of

pouring water on the bed, therefore, we will keep the moisture in the

bed.

If, however, the soil becomes so dry in spite of you that the plants do

not thrive, then water the bed. Do not _sprinkle_ it, but _water_ it.

Wet it clear through at evening. Then in the morning, when the surface

begins to get dry, begin the raking again to keep the water from getting

away. Sprinkling the plants every day or two is one of the surest ways

to spoil them.

_4. When and how to sow._--The sweet peas should be put in just as soon

as the ground can be dug, even before frosts are passed. Yet good

results can be had if the seeds are put in as late as the 10th of May.

In the sweet pea garden at Cornell last year, we sowed the seeds on the

20th of April. This was about right. The year before, we sowed them on

the 30th. If sown very early, they are likely to bloom better, but they

may be gone before the middle of September. The blooming can be much

prolonged if the flowers are cut as soon as they begin to fade.

Plant sweet peas deep,--two or three or sometimes even four inches. When

the plants are a few inches high, pull out a part of them so that they

will not stand nearer together than six inches in the row. It is a good

plan to sow sweet peas in double rows,--that is, put two rows only five

or six inches apart,--and stick the brush or place the chicken-wire

support between them.

China asters may be sown from the middle of May to the first of June. In

one large test at Cornell, we sowed them the 4th of June, and had good

success; but this is rather later than we would advise. The China asters

are autumn flowers, and they should be in their prime in September and

early October.

Sow the aster seed shallow,--not more than a half inch deep. The tall

kinds of asters should have at least a foot between the plants in the

row, and the dwarf kinds six to eight inches.

Sometimes China asters have rusty or yellow spots on the undersides of

their leaves. This is a fungous disease. If it appears, have your father

make some ammoniacal carbonate of copper solution and then spray them

with it; or Bordeaux mixture will do just as well or better, only that

it discolors the leaves and flowers.

_5. What varieties to choose._--In the first place, do not plant too

much. A garden which looks very small when the pussy willows come out

and the frogs begin to peep, is pretty big in the hot days of July. A

garden four feet wide and twenty feet long, half sweet peas and half

asters, is about as big as most boys and girls will take care of.

[Illustration: _Fig. 271. A clump of weeds in the corner by the

house,--motherwort and Virginia creeper. How pretty they are!_]

In the next place, do not get too many varieties. Four or five kinds

each of peas and asters will be enough. Buy the named varieties,--that

is, those of known colors,--not the mixed packets. If you are very fond

of reds, then choose the reddest kinds; but it is well to put in at

least three colors. The varieties which please you may not please me or

your neighbor, so that I cannot advise you what to get.

Of China asters, the Comet type--in various colors--will probably give

the most satisfaction. They are mostly large-growing kinds. Other

excellent kinds are the Perfection and Peony-flowered, Semple or

Branching, Chrysanthemum-flowered, Washington, Victoria, and, for early,

Queen of the Market. Odd varieties are Crown, German Quilled, Victoria

Needle, and Lilliput. Very dwarf kinds are Dwarf Bouquet or Dwarf

German, and Shakespeare.

One of the chief merits of the China aster is the lateness of bloom,

allowing the flowers to be used in the schools after they open in the

fall. An excellent flower for sowing during May is the common annual

Phlox (_Phlox Drummondii_ of the catalogues). Poppies are also

satisfactory, but the flowers do not last long. Petunias are excellent

and Balsams, Clarkias, Coreopsis (or Calliopsis), and Zinnias may be

sown.

Now, let us see how many boys and girls in New York State will raise

sweet peas and China asters this year! And we should like them to write

us all about it.

LEAFLET XXXIX.

A HILL OF POTATOES.[53]

BY I. P. ROBERTS.

[53] Nature-Study Quarterly, No. 7: Leaflet 20, January, 1901.

[Illustration]

Plant a hill of potatoes. You can do it in the school-room. Plant in a

box or a flower-pot. Keep the box warm, and do not let the soil dry out.

Plant whole tubers and pieces of tubers. Plant pieces of various sizes.

Plant some that have no "eyes." Plant shallow--so that the tuber is just

covered with soil--and deep. Watch the results.

All plants are abundantly supplied with means for reproducing their

kind: some by seed, some by multiplication at the crown or base or by

roots, others by means of underground stems; and some, as the potato,

have two or more means of reproduction. In its wild or partially

improved state the potato is abundantly supplied with fruit, "seed

balls," borne on the top of the stalks. The seeds of a single ball will

often produce many varieties of potatoes; but they cannot be depended

upon to reproduce the parent stock. Farmers seldom attempt to raise

potatoes from the seeds; when they do it is for the purpose of securing

new varieties. The common method of reproduction is to plant a part or

all of an enlarged underground stem, that is, a part of the "potato" or

tuber.

When the soil is reasonably porous and fertile, a strong root may start

at the seed-piece and descend more or less directly into the subsoil. In

most cases, however, the roots spread laterally. This is a good

illustration of how plants may vary in their root habits in order to

adapt themselves to their environment. Notice where the roots form on

the plants you are growing. Few farmers know where they form.

Distinguish the true or feeding roots from the underground stems.

Determine how many tubers form on each underground stem. Dig up a hill

of potatoes from the garden before school closes.

[Illustration: _Fig. 272. Underground part of potato plant in mellow

soil._]

A single eye, with a portion of the tuber attached to furnish

nourishment to the bud until sustenance can be secured from newly formed

rootlets, may produce one, occasionally more, strong upright stems. A

most interesting study of manifold reproduction may be made even in the

winter time by planting in a fertile soil a piece of potato containing a

single eye (Fig. 273). As soon as the rootlets begin to start, divide

each eye and piece into two parts and re-plant. In a few days after the

rootlets have again started, divide the two pieces into four and

re-plant. This operation may be performed again and again, until many

plants suitable for transplanting in the open may be secured from a

single eye.

[Illustration: _Fig. 273. Piece of tuber for planting, bearing a single

eye._]

Demonstrate that the potato contains starch. This can be done by

applying a drop of dilute iodine to a freshly cut surface of the tuber:

the starch grains turn blue-black. Five cents' worth of iodine purchased

at the drug-store will be sufficient for many tests. Dilute it about

one-half with water. This starch, after being changed to sugar,

supplies the young plant with nourishment. Dig up the pieces you have

planted and see which start first, shoots or roots.

The "potato" is an enlarged underground stem provided with numerous buds

similar to those on the stems of plants above ground. These buds are

placed spirally on the underground stem or tuber with a considerable

degree of uniformity. As on the stems of other plants, the buds are less

numerous and weaker at the base and most numerous and vigorous at the

top or upper end. On a smooth well developed long potato, the spiral

arrangement of the buds may be illustrated by sticking a tooth-pick or

pin in each eye, beginning at the base or stem end, and connecting the

pins with a string (Fig. 274).

[Illustration: Fig. 274. How to illustrate the spiral arrangement of the

eyes.]

FARM NOTES ON THE POTATO.

Now that we have seen the potato growing in the school-room, some

information may be given respecting its treatment in the field as a

crop.

Potatoes are easily raised, even under adverse conditions, although they

respond quickly to superior fertility and tillage. The average yield in

the United States during the last ten years was 76.6 bushels an acre,

although from three to four hundred bushels an acre are not uncommon

under superior tillage when soil and climate are at their best.

The area devoted to potatoes during the last decade was two and a half

million acres annually. Potatoes do best on a moderately moist and deep

soil and in a climate relatively cool.

Since the period of growth is short, varying from three to five months,

they should be planted in soil which has an abundance of readily

available plant-food. Notice in Fig. 272 that most of the underground

stems which have produced potatoes leave the main stem about four inches

below the surface and but a short distance above the seed-piece. This

suggests that the seed should be planted about four inches deep. To

produce three hundred bushels of potatoes requires the exhalation of

over three hundred tons of water: therefore water or moisture is of

quite as much importance in securing large yields as plant-food.

It is best to prepare the land deeply, to plant deep, and then to

practice nearly or quite level culture. The practice of hilling up

potatoes, so common in most parts of the country, is to be discouraged,

usually, because it is wasteful of moisture and the tubers do not grow

in the coolest part of the soil. For very early potatoes, hilling-up may

be allowable. Till the soil very often to save the moisture. For the

philosophy of this, see Leaflet No. IX.

Not infrequently the potato is seriously injured by blights which attack

the leaves. The early blight, which usually appears in June, may destroy

some of the foliage, thereby checking growth. The late blight, which

also attacks the foliage, is far more serious. It differs little in

outward appearance from the early blight. In rare cases the vines are so

seriously injured that no potatoes are formed. The potato rot or blight

did great damage to the potato in many localities in the United States

in 1845. In 1846 the blight appeared in Ireland and virtually destroyed

the entire crop. Before this date the potato had become the chief food

supply of the peasantry. The cultivation of oats as a food crop had been

universal before the introduction of the potato, but oats furnished so

little food on a given area as compared to the potato that the

cultivation of them at the time the blight appeared had been very

largely abandoned. The loss of the potato crop produced widespread

famine. The most conservative estimate of the numbers who perished for

want of food or by disease caused by a meager diet of unhealthy and

innutritions food is set down at six hundred thousand during the two

years of the potato blight. This disease was not so destructive in 1847

as in 1846; and by 1848 it had virtually disappeared. Some one has said

that if Great Britain had expended one dollar for investigating the

diseases of potatoes where she had spent a thousand dollars for

perfecting the engines of war, the terrible famine might have been

averted. We now think it a relatively easy matter to keep the blight in

check by thorough spraying with Bordeaux mixture.

HOW THE POTATO HAS BEEN IMPROVED.

All plants have their origin in pre-existing plants. While the young

plant is always similar to the one from which it was derived, it is

never exactly like its parent in every detail. This arises from the fact

that all of the conditions under which the parent plant and its

offspring grow are never exactly alike. The variations or differences in

the plants are usually exceedingly small in a single generation; but

occasionally they are wide, in which case they are called "sports" and

are usually difficult to perpetuate. If successive generations of plants

are reared under continuously improved conditions, there will be a

continuous and accumulating variation from generation to generation,

which in time may come to be so great as to make it difficult to

discover a marked similarity between the wild and the cultivated forms

of the same plant.

When conditions are undisturbed by man there is found to be a fierce

struggle for existence. The hardiest or those best suited to the

conditions preponderate, and this without any reference to the wants of

mankind. The farmer steps in and selects those plants which give promise

of being most useful or most beautiful and then decreases or eliminates

the struggle for these selected plants, by destroying the plants which

are least desirable, by fertilizing and tilling the soil, by conserving

moisture, and by improving the physical conditions of the land, thereby

making it more comfortable for the plants which he has chosen. The

selected or "improved" plant, by reason of being more comfortable and

better nourished, tends to vary in one or more directions from the wild

and unimproved types. Whenever these variations tend towards greater

productiveness, better quality or enhanced beauty, selection is again

made of such specimens as give promise of supplying the wants and

gratifying the desires of civilized man. The bettered conditions of the

plant, by reason of man's effort, do not usually result in producing

like variation along all lines. One part of the plant as the flower, the

fruit, or the stem, varies more than the other parts. All this tends to

break up a single type or stock into many varieties. There are hundreds

of varieties of potatoes all traceable to a single wild species. The

kind and quantity of nourishment supplied plays the most important part

of any single factor in producing variation.

The general character of the cultivated potato plant as to leaf, stem,

root, and habit of growth, is virtually the same as the wild plant,

variation having been directed and accentuated along the line of

increasing the size and quality of the underground tubers. This habit of

producing enormously enlarged underground stems has been operating so

long that the plant has inherited the power of transmitting this

acquired quality to the succeeding plants. The most improved varieties

seldom produce seed balls, because growth has been directed so largely

toward enlarging and multiplying the tubers. By selecting tubers with

shallow buds or eyes and avoiding those with deep, sunken eyes,

varieties have been produced with few eyes or buds, and these set not in

deep indentations but nearly even with the surface of the potato.

* * * * *

As a school-room subject, the potato is not very tractable, unless we

study merely the tubers. If the school is in session in summer, the

growing plant may be had. Then it will be found to be an interesting and

profitable exercise to set the children at the problem of determining

the root-system of the potato plant. How do the roots look? Does the

plant have a tap-root, or do the roots spread laterally? Are the tubers

borne on roots? Or on underground stems? Why do you think so? Does the

tuber terminate the branch? What relation, in position, do the

tuber-bearing branches bear to other parts of the underground system? Do

you think that the tuber-bearing branches aid in collecting food from

the soil?

The top of the plant may be studied in the same spirit,--branching,

leaves, flowers, berries.

If the growing plant cannot be had, study tubers. Compare as to size,

shape, color, character of eyes, whether scabby or smooth. Use them as

objects in drawing.

Plant tubers in the school-room, in boxes or flower pots. This Leaflet

will suggest some interesting observations.

How important is the potato crop in the State and nation? The pupil can

use his mathematics here.

LEAFLET XL.

THE HEPATICA.[54]

BY ANNA BOTSFORD COMSTOCK.

[54] Home Nature-Study Course, Vol. IV, No. 30, March, 1903.

[Illustration]

As children are always especially interested in the wild flowers in

spring, I have thought best to study a few of the woodland blossoms. The

wonderful processes of plant life are as well shown in these as in any.

The hepatica is among the first which greets us in the spring, and we

will study this first.

There are several ways of getting acquainted with a plant: one is to

go-a-visiting, and another is to invite the plant to our own home,

either as guest on the window-sill, or as a tenant of the garden. When

we visit the hepatica in its own haunts it is usually with the longing

for spring in our hearts that awakens with the first warm sunshine and

which is really one of the subtlest as well as greatest charms of living

in a climate that has a snowy winter. As we thread our way into the

sodden woods, avoiding the streams and puddles that are little glacial

rivers and lakes from fast disappearing snow-drifts still heaped on the

north sides of things, we look eagerly for signs of returning life. The

eye slowly differentiates from the various shades of brown in the floor

of the forest a bit of pale blue or pink purple that at first seems as

if it were an optical delusion; but as we look again to make sure, lo!

it is the hepatica. There it is, rising from its mass of purple brown

leaves, leaves that are always beautiful in shape and color and suggest

patterns for sculpture like the acanthus or for rich tapestries like the

palm-leaf in the Orient. There the brave little flower stands with its

face to the sun and its back to the snow-drift and looks out on a gray

brown world and nods at it and calls it "good."

It is when the hepatica is our guest that we have a better opportunity

for studying its form and features. Take up a hepatica root in the fall

and pot it and place it in a cool cellar until March 1. Then give it

light, warmth, and moisture on your table and see how gladly it will

blossom and tell its secrets. Or perhaps if we are not sufficiently

forehanded to get the root in the fall we can get it during a thaw in

March when we go foraging for spring feelings in winter woods.

[Illustration: _Fig. 275. Hepatica, harbinger of spring._]

When finally a bud has uncuddled and lifted itself into a flower, it

will tell us the story of leaves in different disguises, and we may be

able to notice whether the pollen ripens and is all distributed when the

flower begins to fade and fall. We may note also the number of seeds and

examine one of them with a lens. It is what the botanists call an akene,

which simply means just one seed with a tight envelope about it. We have

a careless habit of forgetting all about plants after their blossoms

fade unless their fruits or seed are good to eat or good to look at.

This is as inconsistent as it would be to lose all interest in the farm

before the fields were planted. After the flower is gone the plant must

mature its seeds and somehow must sow them. We will study the hepatica

through the summer and autumn, for we must know what is happening to it

every month.

QUESTIONS CONCERNING THE HEPATICA TO BE ANSWERED DURING MARCH AND APRIL.

1. In what situations are the hepaticas found?

2. How does the hepatica prepare for the winter and store up energy for

blossoming early in the spring?

3. How early do you find blossom buds down in the center of the plant?

Did you ever look for these buds in the fall?

4. Do the flowers come out of the crown bud?

5. Are the leaves that come up late in the spring as fuzzy when they

first appear as those that come up early?

6. Make out as complete a life-history of the hepatica as you can,--how

it sows itself, where it grows, how long it lives, with what plant it

keeps company.

LEAFLET XLI.

JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.[55]

BY ANNA BOTSFORD COMSTOCK.

[55] Home Nature-Study Course, Vol. IV, No. 31, April, 1903.

"Jack-in-the-Pulpit preaches to-day

Under the green trees, just over the way.

Squirrel and song sparrow high on their perch

Hear the sweet lily bells ringing to church.

Come, hear what his reverence rises to say,

In his low, painted pulpit this calm Sabbath day,

Fair is the canopy over him seen,

Penciled by nature's hand, black, brown, and green."

_J. G. Whittier._

[Illustration: _Fig. 276. Jack-in-the-Pulpit._]

[Illustration]

At one time or another, perhaps all of us are given to the belief that

all flowers blossom for our especial enjoyment. It is hard to think back

for a thousand years and imagine hepaticas blooming on our New York

hills; yet no doubt, they blossomed then in far greater numbers than

they do to-day. Many of our native plants played their part in

sustaining the lives of the native Americans, and that little preacher,

Jack-in-the-pulpit, was a turnip long before he was a preacher. Indian

turnip was his name in the days of our ancestors because the Indians

boiled his bulb-like root and the ripe berries, thus making them a less

peppery and a more palatable food.

The St. Nicholas Magazine was for so many years the organ through which

Jack preached so many sermons to children all over our land that

he is even to-day one of the best loved of the woodland flowers.

Whittier, in his "Child Life," and Lucy Larcom have both celebrated

Jack-in-the-pulpit in song, and these verses should be given to the

children when they are studying the habits of this interesting plant.

Jack-in-the-pulpit is a wild cousin of the over-civilized calla lily. It

is interesting to study the way the flowers resemble each other, and

this you and the children will be able to study for yourselves. It will

teach you that the showy parts of a blossom may be merely a protection,

and an advertisement for the true flower hidden within.

QUESTIONS CONCERNING JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.

1. Where do you find this plant, in dry or in wet locations?

2. What is the shape of the root? Is it pleasant to the taste?

3. How do the leaves look when they first appear above the ground?

4. How far are the leaves developed when the flowers appear?

5. Does the tip of the hood fold over at first?

6. Do you see a resemblance to the calla lily when you bend the tip of

the hood backward? Compare or contrast the two plants.

7. How many leaves has Jack-in-the-pulpit? Are they simple or compound?

8. What are the colors of the "pulpits" in your locality?

LEAFLET XLII.

INDIAN CORN.[56]

BY ANNA BOTSFORD COMSTOCK.

[56] Home Nature-Study Course, Vol. IV, No. 32, May, 1903.

_"Hail! Ha-wen-ni-yu! Listen with open ears to the words of thy people.

Continue to listen. We thank our mother earth which sustains us. We

thank the winds which have banished disease. We thank He-no for rain. We

thank the moon and stars which give us light when the sun has gone to

rest. We thank the sun for warmth and light by day. Keep us from evil

ways that the sun may never hide his face from us for shame and leave us

in darkness. We thank thee, oh, mighty Ha-wen-ni-yu that we still live.

We thank thee that thou hast made our corn to grow. Thou art our creator

and our good ruler, thou canst do no evil. Everything thou doest is for

our happiness."_

[Illustration]

Thus prayed the Iroquois Indians when the corn had ripened on the hills

and valleys of New York State long before it was a state, and even

before Columbus had turned his ambitious prows westward in quest of the

Indies. Had he found the Indies with their wealth of fabrics and spices

he would have found there nothing so valuable to the world as has proved

this golden treasure of ripened corn.

The origin of Indian corn, or maize, is shrouded in mystery. There is a

plant which grows on the tablelands of Mexico which is possibly the

original species, but so long had maize been cultivated by the American

Indians that it was thoroughly domesticated when America was discovered.

In those early days of American colonization it is doubtful, says

Professor John Fiske, if our forefathers could have remained here had it

not been for Indian corn. No plowing nor even clearing was necessary for

the successful raising of this grain. The trees were girdled, thus

killing their tops to let in the sunlight; the rich earth was scratched

a little with a primitive tool and the seed put in and covered; and the

plants that grew therefrom took care of themselves. If the pioneers had

been obliged to depend alone upon the wheat and rye of Europe which

would only grow with good tillage they might have starved before they

had gained a foothold on our forest-covered shores. While maize has

never been a popular grain in European countries outside of the

southermost parts, yet on the great continents of Africa and Asia it

was welcomed from the first, and is now largely grown. It has ripened

for so many centuries on the slopes of the Himalayas that if you were to

ask one of the natives to-day how long it had grown there he would

answer you "always."

It is fitting that a grain which is so peculiarly adapted to be the aid

and support of a great civilization should grow upon a plant of such

dignity and beauty as is the maize. The perfect proportions of the

slender stalk to the long gracefully curving leaves; the plumed tassels

swaying and bowing to every breeze and sending their pollen showers to

the waiting skeins of silk hidden below; the ripened ear with its exact

rows of shining yellow grains wrapped in silken husks; all these make

the corn plant as delightful to the eye as it is intrinsically important

to the welfare of nations. No more wonderful lesson in plant growth can

we find for our study than this lesson of the Indian corn.

[Illustration: _Fig. 277. Parts of corn kernel._]

LESSON ON INDIAN CORN FOR SPRING AND SUMMER.

Secure a kernel of corn and cut it in halves (Fig. 277) and with the

naked eye you will be able to see there the young plant pressed close to

its stored up food, which, though largely composed of starch, also has

in it proteids and oil. You will see that this food is dry and thus

cannot be used by the young plant, for plants, whether young or old,

must take their nourishment in a fluid condition. Soak the seed and see

how soon the young plant passes on the moisture to soften the food so

that it may imbibe it and grow. Fill a tumbler with earth and plant a

grain of corn next to the glass so that you may be able to see how it

grows.

CORN STALKS, LEAVES AND ROOTS.

1. Which appears first, root parts or leaf?

2. How does the leaf look when it first comes up?

3. How old is the corn when the blossom stalks begin to show above the

leaves?

4. Does the stalk break more easily at the joints than elsewhere?

Measure the distances between the joints in a stalk of young corn and

two weeks later measure these distances again, and compare your figures.

From these measurements tell whether the plant grows only at the top, or

has it several growing places?

5. Are the joints nearer each other at the bottom or at the top?

6. Where do the bases of the leaves clasp the stalks?

7. Tell why this arrangement gives strength to the stalk.

8. Do you see a little growth at the base of the leaf that prevents the

rain from flowing down between the stalk and the clasping leaf? This is

called the rain-guard. How might it damage the plant if the water should

get in between the leaf and stem?

9. What is the structure of the leaf and direction of the ribs?

10. How does this structure keep the long leaf from being torn to pieces

by the wind?

11. Note the ruffled edge of the leaf. Lay such a leaf flat on a table

and bend it this way and that, and note how this fullness allows it to

bend without breaking the edges. What advantage is this to the plant?

12. Study the roots of a corn plant. How far do they extend into the

ground? Describe them.

13. Study the brace roots that come off the stalk an inch or more above

the ground. Of what utility are these to the plant?

14. Bend down a stalk of growing corn and place a stone on it near its

base so as to hold it down, and note how it acts. Does it commence to

lift itself up straight from the joint, or from a place between the

joints?

15. Cut off the water supply from a plant, or watch the corn during a

drought and tell how the leaves behave.

16. Do they offer as much surface to the air for evaporation when they

are curled? Is this the way the plant protects itself by retaining this

moisture during a dry time?

17. Do the stalks or leaves grow after the ears begin to form?

18. Do you find "suckers" growing; if so what is the variety?

FLOWERS.

There are two kinds of flowers on the corn: the tassels bearing

the pollen, and the ears bearing the ovules which develop into

seeds. Study first the tassel. Observe the flowerets through a

lens if you have one and note that the pollen sacs open a little

at one side instead of at the tip so that the wind is needed in

order to shake out the pollen. It is estimated that on each corn

plant there may be developed eighteen million pollen grains and

two thousand ovules. The pollen-tube must penetrate the whole

length of each thread of corn-silk in order to reach the ovules.

19. What agency carries the pollen grains to the ear?

20. What would happen to a field of corn if the farmer cut off all the

tassels as soon as they were formed?

21. Find a tassel before it appears and study it. Secure an ear when

only an inch or two long and study it. These should be studied as flower

parts.

22. How early can you find the ear? Look at every joint and tell how

many ears you find on a young stalk.

23. In studying the ear, take first the husk. Does it resemble the leaf

in structure? What is the difference between the outer and the inner

husks?

24. Do you believe that the husk is a modified leaf; if so why? In the

young ear does each thread of silk extend out to the end of the ear; if

so why?

25. Is there a thread of silk for each kernel in the ear?

26. Study corn when it is in the "milk." Is the taste sweet?

27. Does this sweet taste continue as the kernel matures?

28. How is the stalk modified to fit the ear?

ENEMIES.

The corn has many difficulties to contend with: there are heavy

winds, too much or too little rain, hail, and, worst of all,

frosts which not only kill it when it is first planted, but

also hurt it before it is matured. The corn has living enemies

also, such as wire-worms and cut-worms. Our forefathers were

much troubled with the mischief which crows did in pulling corn.

However, many of our observing farmers to-day say that only in

rare instances do the crows injure corn much. The work done by

cut-worms is often attributed to crows.

29. Please note in your locality what difficulties the corn has to

contend with. If possible make a special study of the damage said to be

done by crows. Give the results.

LEAFLET XLIII.

THE RIPENED CORN.[57]

BY ANNA BOTSFORD COMSTOCK.

[57] Home Nature-Study Course, Vol. V, No. 1, October, 1903.

[Illustration]

Every boy and girl living on a farm in New York State twenty-five years

or more ago, has in memory a picture like this: a stubbly hill-side

field beset with russet shocks of corn and constellations of orange

pumpkins, whence might be seen wide valleys filled with purple haze, and

far hills bedecked with autumn tapestries woven about emerald patches of

new wheat.

To such a field, after the laggard sun had changed the hoar frost to

dew, would they hasten of an October morning, to begin the corn-husking.

The enthusiastic youngster, who had an eye to artistic unity in the

situation, invariably selected a pumpkin for his seat, scorning his more

sordid fellows who had brought milking-stools from the barn, when nature

had placed so many golden thrones at their disposal. Too soon a

discovery was made about this that applies as well to other thrones,--it

proved an uneasy seat, and was abandoned for a sofa constructed of

corn-stalks. Here, leaning back with a full sense of luxury, listening

to the rustle of the dry leaves and husks and the monotonous song of the

cricket, enlivened now and then by the lazy call of the crow from the

hemlocks on the hill, the sweet note of the belated meadow-lark from the

valley, or the excited bark of the dog as he chased a squirrel along the

fence, the busy husker passed the autumn day. On either side of him were

evidences of his labor. On the right stood great disheveled stooks of

corn stalks bereft of their pockets of gold; on the left lay in a heap

the shining yellow ears, ready to be measured in the waiting

bushel-basket; in front was always a little pile of noble ears with some

of the husks still attached,--the seed corn. Proud was the boy when he

had learned to select successfully "the ear of good length, cylindrical

rather than pointed, the cob firm and well filled from butt to tip with

grains uniformly large, of good color and in regular rows that showed no

space between." Now-a-days, we challenge this ideal of the "perfect

ear."

[Illustration: _Fig. 278. The Harvest of the Corn._]

As "chore time" approached, came the wagon afield to gather the harvest

of ears and take them to the cribs, where their gold gleaming between

the boards gave comfortable assurance of peace and plenty. But the seed

corn was stored in a way learned by our forefathers from the American

Indians; the ears were braided together by their husks, by the skilled

farmer, who could make a braid two or three feet long, strong enough to

hold the weight of the ears that hung a heavy fringe along each side;

this braid when completed was tied with a bit of soft, tow twine, long

saved for the purpose, and then was hung on hooks on the granary walls.

There, until spring, waited the elect of the cornfield, holding in

perfect kernels all the future corn wealth of that farm.

From the first day's husking a bushel of ears was reserved from the crib

and was spread on a chamber floor to dry quickly; later this was taken

to the mill and ground into samp, one of the prized luxuries of the

autumn bill of fare. Other corn was ground into finer meal for the

delicious Johnny-cake and the Indian bread, the latter reaching fullest

perfection when baked in a brick oven.

To the tenants of the farm barns the corn meant even more than to those

in the farm house. In August the cattle in dry pastures cast longing

eyes and expressive voices toward the pale, green leaves and waving

tassels of the sowed-corn, and great was their joy the first day they

tasted this delicacy; in November, they munched the dry leaves of the

planted crop, leaving in the barn-yard an angular patterned carpet of

bare, hard stalks. In winter the corn meal, in proper proportions, made

for them a food that kept them warm despite the cold winds that clutched

at them, through crevices, with fingers of drifted snow. And no less

dependent on this important crop were the denizens of the fold, of the

sty, and of the chicken-yard.

The old-time harvesting and husking are passing from the New York farm

of to-day. The granary is no longer frescoed with braids of model ears,

for the seed corn is now bought by the bushel from the seedsmen. The

corn harvester has dissolved the partnership between corn and pumpkin

and fells the stalks by the acre, doing away with the old-time stooks or

shocks. Corn-stalks now become silage and are fed in a green condition

throughout the winter. How often do we lose something of picturesqueness

when we gain the advantages of modern improvements! Let us be thankful,

however, that the corn harvester and the silo make efficient use of the

great fields of corn.

Although there is but one species of corn recognized (_Zea Mays_), there

have been an endless number of varieties developed from it. Seven

hundred and seventy of these were sufficiently distinct to be recognized

when the Department of Agriculture published its account of varieties.

The importance of the corn crop to this country and to others is almost

incalculable. In 1902, the United States produced more than two and a

half billion bushels and the export price was $.60 per bushel. When the

corn crop fails every man, rich or poor, in America, suffers from it,

and every business is affected by it. Though the man working in the

cornfield may think only of his own crop, yet he is the man that is

helping maintain the prosperity of our country. He is working for us

all.

QUESTIONS ON THE RIPENED CORN.

1. Is the corn crop in your vicinity good this year?

2. What affected it, beneficially or otherwise?

3. How many ears of corn are there usually on a mature stalk?

4. Are they on the same side of the stalk, or how are they disposed?

5. How many kinds of corn do you know?

6. Describe an average ear of each in the following particulars: shape

and color of kernel; number of rows of kernels on the cob; number of

kernels in a row; length of cob. Are the rows in distinct pairs? Do any

of the rows disappear near the tip; if so, how many?

7. Study a cob with corn on it. Are the kernel-sockets of adjacent rows

opposite each other or alternate?

8. Cut a kernel of pop-corn and a kernel of field corn across and

compare the texture of the two. What has this texture to do with causing

the kernel to "pop?"

9. How many foods do you know made from the grain of the corn?

10. How many products do you know made from stalks of the corn?

11. Do you know of any part of the corn that is used in constructing

battleships?

12. What is the corn crop of New York State worth in dollars a year?

(See U. S. Census Bulletin, No. 179.)

13. How many bushels of shelled corn are usually produced on an acre of

well cultivated land?

14. Could the corn plant itself without the agency of man?

If you are able to draw, please make a sketch of a kernel of sweet corn

and a kernel of field corn. Break an ear of corn in two and sketch the

broken end, showing shape of the cob and its relation to the kernels.

NOTE ON THE NEW CORN BREEDING.[58]

[58] Extracted from an article by L. H. Bailey in Country Life in

America, July, 1903.

The particular materials that give the corn kernel most of its value are

the oil, the protein and the starch. For the production of corn oil--for

which the demand is large--a corn that has a high oil content is, of

course, particularly valuable; while for the production of starch or for

the feeding of bacon hogs, a relatively higher percentage of other

materials is desirable. It is apparent, therefore, that races of corn

should be bred for a particular content, depending on the disposition to

be made of the grain. Equal economic results cannot be attained,

however, in increasing the content of any of the three leading

ingredients, since a pound of gluten is worth one cent, a pound of

starch one and one-half cents, and a pound of oil five cents. The

amounts of these ingredients in the corn kernel are amenable to increase

or diminution by means of selection,--by choosing for seed the kernels

of ears that are rich or poor in one or the other of these materials.

Fortunately, the oil and starch and protein of the corn kernel occupy

rather distinct zones. Next the outside hull is a dark and horny layer

that is very rich in protein; in the center is the large germ, very rich

in oil; between the two is a white layer of starch. It is found that the

kernels on any ear are remarkably uniform in their content; the

dissection of a few kernels, therefore, enables the breeder to determine

the ears that are rich in any one of the substances. Experiment stations

in the corn-growing States are already making great headway in this new

breeding of corn, and one private concern in Illinois is taking it up as

a commercial enterprise. All this recalls the remarkable breeding

experiments of the Vilmorins in France, whereby the sugar-content of the

beet was raised several points. It is impossible to overestimate the

value of any concerted corn-breeding work of this general type. The

grain alone of the corn crop is worth about one billion dollars

annually. It is possible to increase this efficiency several

percentages; the coming generation will see it accomplished.

An interesting cognate inquiry to this direct breeding work is the study

of the commercial grades of grains. It is a most singular fact that the

dealer's "grades" are of a very different kind from the farmer's

"varieties." In the great markets, for example, corn is sold as "No. 1

yellow," "No. 2 yellow," "No. 3 yellow," and the like. Any yellow corn

may be thrown into these grades. What constitutes a grade is essentially

a judgment on the part of every dealer. The result is that the grain is

likely to be condemned or criticised when it reaches its destination.

Complaints having come to the government, the United States Department

of Agriculture has undertaken to determine how far the grades of grain

can be reduced to indisputable instrumental measurement. The result is

likely to be a closer defining of what a grade is; and, this point once

determined, the producer will make an effort to grow such grain as will

grade to No. 1, and thereby attain to the extra price. Eventually, the

efficiency points of the grower and the commercial grades of the dealer

ought nearly or quite to coincide. There should come a time when corn is

sold on its intrinsic merits, as, for example, on its starch content.

This corn would not then be graded 1, 2 and 3, on its starch content,

because that content would be assured in the entire product; but the

grade 1 would mean prime physical condition, and the lower grades

inferior physical condition. Eventually, something like varietal names

may be attached to those kinds of corn that, for example, grade fifteen

per cent protein. The name would be something like a guarantee of the

approximate content, as it now is in a commercial fertilizer.

The first thing that strikes one in all this new work is its strong

contrast with the old ideals. The "points" of the plants are those of

"performance" and "efficiency." It brings into sharp relief the

accustomed ideals as to what are the "good points" in any plant,

illustrating the fact that these points are for the most part only

fanciful, are founded on a priori judgments, and are more often

correlated with mere "looks" than with efficiency. An excellent example

may be taken from corn. In "scaling" any variety of corn it is customary

to assume that the perfect ear is one nearly or quite uniformly

cylindrical throughout its length, and having the tip and butt well

covered with kernels. Now, this ideal is clearly one of perfectness and

completeness of mere form. We have no knowledge that such form has any

correlation with productiveness in ears, hardiness, drought-resisting

qualities, protein or starch content,--and yet these attributes are the

ones that make corn worth growing at all. We only know that such ears

may bear more kernels. An illustration also may be taken from string

beans. The ideal pod is considered to be one of which the tip-projection

is very short and only slightly curved. This, apparently, is a question

of comeliness, although a short tip may be associated in the popular

mind with the absence of "string" in the pod; but it is a question

whether this character has any direct relation to the efficiency of the

bean-pod. We are also undergoing much the same challenging of ideas

respecting the "points" of animals. Now, animals and plants are bred to

the ideals expressed in these arbitrary points by choosing for parents

the individuals that score the highest. When it becomes necessary to

recast our "scales of points," the whole course of evolution of domestic

plants and animals is likely to be changed. We are to breed not so much

for merely new and striking characters, that will enable us to name,

describe and sell a "novelty," as to improve the performance along

accustomed lines. It may be worth while to produce a "new variety" of

potato by raising new plants from the seed-bolls; but it is much more to

the point to augment the mealiness of some existing variety or to

intensify its blight-resisting qualities. We are not to start with a

variety, but with a plant.

LEAFLET XLIV.

THE USES OF FOOD STORED IN SEEDS.[59]

BY ANNA BOTSFORD COMSTOCK.

[59] Home Nature-Study Course, Vol. V, No. 4, January, 1904.

"A mystery passing strange,

Is the seed in its wondrous change;

Forest and flower in its husk concealed,

And the golden wealth of the harvest field."

--LUCY LARCOM.

[Illustration]

As is the case with our own babies, the first necessity of the infant

plant is food close at hand to sustain this tiny speck of life until it

shall be large and strong enough to provide for itself. If we study any

seed whatever we shall find some such motherly provision for the plant

baby or germ. Sometimes the germ is a mere speck with a large amount of

food packed around it, as is the case with the nutmeg; sometimes the

baby is larger and its food is packed in a part adjacent to it, as is

the case with the corn (Fig. 279); and sometimes the mother stuffs the

baby itself so that it has enough to last it until its own little roots

and leaves bring it mature food, as is the case with the squash seed. In

any case this "lunch put up by the mother," to use Uncle John's words,

is so close at hand that as soon as favorable conditions occur the

little plant may eat and grow, and establish itself in the soil.

Nature is remarkable for her skill in doing up compact packages, and in

no other place is this skill better shown than in storing food in seeds

for the young plants. Not only is it concentrated, but it is protected

and of such chemical composition that it is able to remain fresh and

good for many years awaiting the favorable moment when it may nourish

the starting germ. People often wonder why, when a forest is cleared of

one species of trees, another species grows in its place. This often may

have resulted from the seeds lying many years dormant awaiting the

opportunity. This preservation of the food in the seed is largely due to

the protecting shell that keeps out the enemies of all sorts, especially

mould. And yet, however strong this box may be, as it is in the

hard-shelled hickory nut, it falls apart like magic when the germ within

begins to expand.

Brain rather than brawn is the cause of man's supremacy in this world.

Of all the beings that inhabit the earth he knows best how to use for

his own advantage all things that exist. His progress from savagery to

civilization is marked by his growing power to domesticate animals and

plants. Very early in his history man learned the value to himself of

the seeds of the cereals. He discovered that they may be kept a long

time without injury; that they contain a great amount of nutrition for

their bulk; that they are easily prepared for food; that, when planted,

they give largest return. Thus, we see, the advantages the plant mother

had developed for her young, man has turned to his own use. That the

food put up for the young plant is so protected and constituted as to

endure unhurt for a long time gives the cereal grains their keeping

quality. That it is concentrated and well packed renders it convenient

for man to transport. That the "box" is easily separated from the

"lunch" makes the preparation of food by crushing and sifting an easy

matter for man. That every mother plant, to insure the continuation of

the species, develops many seeds, so that in the great struggle for

existence at least some shall survive, makes the cereals profitable for

man to plant, and harvest the increase. Think once, how few ears of corn

it requires to plant an acre.

[Illustration: _Fig. 279. Section of kernel of corn, showing the embryo,

and the food supply at one side of it (at the right)._]

Because of all these things there has grown up between domestic plants

and man a partnership. Man relieves the plant of the responsibility of

scattering its seeds, and in return takes for himself that proportion of

the seeds which would have died in the struggle for existence had the

plant remained uncultivated. This partnership is fair to both parties.

Different plants store food materials in different proportions in their

seeds; the most important of these food substances are starch, oil,

protein, and mineral matter. All of these materials are necessary to man

as food. In the cereals the seeds contain a large proportion of starch,

but in the nuts, like the butternuts and walnuts, there is a

predominance of oil. Let us for a moment examine a kernel of corn and a

kernel of wheat and see how the food is arranged. Fig. 279 is a kernel

of corn cut in two lengthwise; at the lower left-hand corner are the

root parts and leaf parts of the young plant (the embryo); above the

embryo is the loose starch material. Now we have the baby corn plant

lying at one side, and its food packed about it. However, this food is

in the form of starch, and must be changed to sugar before the young

plant can partake of it and grow. There lies a connecting part between

the germ and its food, the scutellum. This is so constituted that when

soaked with water it ferments the starch and changes it to sugar for the

young plant's use.

The germ itself is also a very nutritious food for man; hence the seed

is eaten, "baby and all." In the corn, those kernels with the largest

germs have the largest food value, and, therefore, to-day corn breeders

are developing kernels with very large embryos.

If we examine the microscopic structure of the food part of a grain of

wheat (Fig. 280), we find that there are two outer layers, _a_ and _b_.

Next there is a row of cells _d_ that divides these outer layers from

the flour cells within. This is the aleurone layer. At _e_ are the flour

cells which constitute the central portion of the wheat kernel. They

contain starch, and also gluten, and some oil, and some mineral

substances. In grinding to make white flour, the miller tries to leave

the aleurone layer of cells _d_ with the outer layers _a_ and _b_, for

if it is mixed with the flour the latter spoils much sooner, and it is

also darker in color. In the seed is a ferment that helps digest the

food for the young plant.

[Illustration: _Fig. 280. Section of grain of wheat._]

In order to think more intelligently about our use of food, let us find

out, if we can, which parts of the food stored up by the plant for its

sustenance are used by us both for ourselves and our livestock. The

intelligent farmer gives his stock a carefully balanced ration, _i. e._,

food that is well proportioned for the growth and product of the animal.

If he wishes his cows to give more milk he may give them more proteids

in their food, and less starch and fat. If he wishes to fatten them he

may give them a greater amount of starch and fat and less of the

proteids. In order to know what these proteids and starch and fat mean,

both to us and to the plant, we have to know a little chemistry. The

following table may aid us in this:

Nutritive substances which {Proteids (casein, gluten, legumen,

contain nitrogen. { etc., albuminoids, gelatine,

{ white of egg, etc.).

Nutritive substances which {The carbohydrates (sugar and

do not contain nitrogen. { starch). Fats (oils, butter).

Mineral substances. {Lime, phosphorus, sulfur, etc.

The substances mentioned in the above table are all needful to

sustain the life of man and beast. If we compare the body to a

steam engine, then we can see that its whole framework is built

out of the proteids, mineral matter and water. The starch and sugar

and fats constitute the fuel used to heat the boiler and make the

engine move. Strictly speaking the proteids are also used somewhat

as fuel, as well as for framework. It is easily seen from this

that in order to be healthy we should try to give ourselves food

containing a proper amount of building material to repair the

breakage and wear and tear in the engine, and also give ourselves

enough fuel to make the boiler do its greatest possible work. For

if we do not have sufficient building material we break down, and

if we do not have sufficient fuel we lack energy. Food thus properly

proportioned is called a "well balanced ration."

A well balanced ration per day for the average human being is

as follows:

Proteids, - - - - - - .40 lbs.

Starch, - - - - - - - 1.00 "

Fats, - - - - - - - - .40 "

Mineral matter, - - - .10 "

-----------

1.90 lbs.

The above is the amount of nutriment necessary, and in addition to this

there should be sufficient bulk to keep the digestive organs healthy. We

are just now entering upon the era of intelligence in relation to our

food. It seems strange that this intelligence should first be applied to

our domestic animals rather than to man. As soon as the farmer

discovered that to make his animals pay better he must give them the

right proportions of building material and fuel for energy, he demanded

that the agricultural chemists give him directions for mixing and

preparing their food. But how few of the cooks in our land understand in

the slightest degree this necessity for the proper proportions to our

food! When they do we may look forward to entering upon an era of serene

good health, when we shall have strength to bear and ability to do.

In answering the following list of questions you may be obliged to

consult with the miller, or feed-dealer, but it is to be hoped that you

will gain a clear conception of the parts of the seed used in making

foods from cereals.

1. What is graham flour? How does it differ from white wheat flour?

2. What is whole wheat flour?

3. What is bran?

4. What is cracked wheat?

5. What are shorts, middlings, or canaille?

6. Which of the above are considered the more nutritious and why?

7. What part of the corn kernel is hominy?

8. What is corn meal?

9. Is corn bran considered good food?

10. What is gluten meal?

11. What is germ meal?

12. Why is corn fattening to cattle?

13. How much of the oat grain is contained in oat meal?

14. What is a cotyledon?

15. Show by sketch or describe the cotyledon in the chestnut, the walnut

or hickory nut, and the bean.

16. Describe or show by sketch the position of the germinal portion in

each of these.

If you cannot find the germ in these, soak them in water for several

days and then observe.

The following publications may be had from the Department of

Agriculture, Washington, D. C., on application:

Circular No. 46, Revised--The Functions and Uses of Food. By C. F.

Langworthy.

Circular No. 43, Revised--Food-Nutrients-Food Economy. The Cost of Food

as Related to its Nutritive Value. By R. D. Milner.

A PROBLEM IN FEEDING.

As our knowledge increases, we give greater attention to the economical

and efficient use of all feeds for live-stock. We cannot afford to feed

even the corn stalks carelessly, either for the immediate concern of the

pocket-book or for the good of the animal. The results of many

experiments in feeding lead to the conclusion that a suitable daily

ration for a cow giving milk and weighing 1,000 pounds should contain 24

pounds of dry matter, of which 2.5 pounds is digestible protein; .4

pounds digestible fat; and 12.5 pounds digestible carbohydrates. In such

a ration, the ratio of digestible protein to digestible carbohydrates in

the ration will be as 1 is to 5.4. In computing this ratio the amount of

fat, multiplied by 2.4, is added to the carbohydrates. The fiber and the

nitrogen-free extract constitute the carbohydrates. Individual animals

vary so much in digestive capacity and in other respects that the

foregoing standards may be frequently widely departed from to advantage.

Thus many animals will profitably use more than 24 pounds of dry matter

in a day and the ratio of protein to carbohydrates may vary from 1:5 to

1:6.5 without materially affecting the amount or character of the

product. Standards are useful as guides. The art of feeding and the

skill of the feeder consist in determining in how far the standard

should be conformed to or departed from in each individual case.

Suppose a farmer has corn silage and timothy hay, and may purchase

cotton seed meal, wheat bran and buckwheat middlings, how may they be

combined so that the ration shall contain 24 pounds dry matter, and the

ratio of protein to the carbohydrates shall be approximately 1:5.4? The

following table gives the data:

Water. Protein. Fiber. Nitrogen-free Fat.

extract.

In 100 pounds of silage[60]. 79.1 1.2 4.3 7.4 .6

Timothy hay 13.2 3.4 16.8 28.4 1.2

Cotton seed meal 8.2 31.3 1.3 10.9 11.9

Wheat bran 11.9 13.6 1.8 43.1 3.2

Buckwheat middlings 13.2 22. [61] 33.4 5.4

[60] Silage is often put up when the corn is more mature, and then the

water content is less than here given.

[61] Included with nitrogen-free extract.

LEAFLET XLV.

THE LIFE HISTORY OF A BEET.[62]

BY MARY ROGERS MILLER.

[62] Home Nature-Study Course, Vol. IV, No. 29, February, 1903.

[Illustration]

If you are fond of a dish of "greens" made of young beet leaves in early

summer, you must see to it that there are beets in the garden. What

shall be planted? Seeds. Certainly; but where do the seeds come from?

Most of us buy them from a seedsman, it is true; but somebody must grow

them. They are not manufactured articles. If the beet plant produces

seeds it must first have flowers. Have you ever seen the beet in

blossom? When do the flowers come and how do they look?

Study the picture in Leaflet LII. Read the history beneath the picture.

Better still, get a plump red beet from the cellar, and plant it in a

can, a box, or a flower-pot. If no beets are to be had, a turnip, a

carrot, or a parsnip will do as well. It seems that "plants" come from

beet roots as well as from beet seed. The root you plant in the

flower-pot grew last summer from a seed. When may we expect the plant to

produce seeds of its own, thus multiplying according to its nature? If

you keep a beet plant long enough it will answer this question.

Beet seeds are rather slow in germinating. For this reason it is common

to soak them in warm water several hours or a day before planting in the

garden. These facts are interesting in themselves; and instead of being

discouraged should we not try to find out some reason why the beet seed

should take more time than the corn or the bean? From a comparative

study of a beet seedling and of a plant which comes from a beet root

throughout a season, one may learn the whole life history of a beet.

This story is not written down in books. Every stage of growth noted in

the two plants should be regarded as typical of the life of an

individual, for each plant must pass through all these stages in its

development from seed to seed again.

The seedling beet pushes out roots and begins early to take food from

the soil. One may even see the root-hairs through which the liquids

enter the plant. Inquire if the plant growing from a beet root has put

out new roots. Have not its old ones dried long ago in the cellar? It is

a good idea to have more than one plant, so that investigation of a

matter like this may go on without disturbing all. Where, if not from

the soil through roots, does the food come from which nourishes those

thick-ribbed leaves? From the stored-up material in the root, does it

not? Is this not the plant's way of providing for the second half of its

life, after a long resting period in the "beet" stage? When the "plant"

or top has grown quite large, how does the old beet look?

We may read in the botany that certain plants are biennials, taking two

seasons to pass through all the phases from seed to seed; but we shall

not know the joy of gaining knowledge from original sources nor

experience the mental training that comes with this "finding out"

process until we have actually planted the beets or other things and

watched them grow.

The following questions relate to the study of a beet plant. Any other

available plant may be reported on. The important thing is that a minute

study be made of some particular plant.

What plant are you making this special study of this month?

What care do you give it?

What conditions of temperature and moisture do you find most beneficial

to its growth?

What other plants are related to it? (Mention a wild and a cultivated

plant.)

What leads you to think them related? (Make this clear and definite.)

How do the plants which come from beet roots differ from those which

come from the seed?

Of what utility to the plant is the fleshy root of beet, turnip, or

carrot? When is this root made use of by the plant?

What becomes of the old beet as the plant grows larger and stronger?

What is the natural length of life of an individual beet plant?

Through how many changes of form does it pass? Which of these are

"resting" stages?

Give the events in the life history of a beet in chronological order by

seasons, beginning with a seed in the spring of 1903, and ending with

the first crop of ripened seed.

LEAFLET XLVI.

PRUNING.[63]

BY MARY ROGERS MILLER.

[63] Home Nature-Study Course, Vol. IV, No. 20, February, 1902.

[Illustration]

You should know how the trees in your school yard have been pruned. Who

did the work, nature or a man with a saw? Some people hold to the idea

that pruning is unnatural, and therefore should not be practiced. Let us

see if this is true. Have you ever gone into the deep woods after a

storm? Who has been there, tearing and wrenching at the big limbs,

twisting the small branches until the ground is strewn with wreckage?

Nature has been pruning a few trees and she works with a fury which is

awe-inspiring. But the trees are much the worse for their encounter with

the forces they must obey without question. Their branches are broken;

mere stubs are left. With the melting snow and the April rains germs of

decay are likely to enter at every break in the bark. In a few years the

trunk may be weakened and the monarch of the woods lie prone upon the

forest floor.

We may learn the lesson of how not to prune by looking at this great

pine tree torn by the storm (Fig. 281).

"But why do we prune?" one asks. Let the horticulturist answer. In a

Farmers' Reading-Course lesson on The Care of Trees, Professor Craig

says: "Fruit trees must be pruned. If a tree in an open field is allowed

to go unpruned, the crown soon becomes a dense mass of twigs and

interlacing branches. Such a tree may produce as large a number of

apples as a well-pruned, open-headed tree, but will there be the same

percentage of merchantable fruit? The chief effort of every plant under

natural conditions is expended in ensuring its own reproduction. This is

chiefly effected by means of seeds. A small apple may contain as many

seeds as a large one and even more. The orchardist wants big fruits, and

if they are nearly seedless so much the better."

[Illustration: _Fig. 281. A pine tree pruned by the storm._]

In a tree top there is a sharp struggle for existence. But few of the

twigs which started from last year's buds will reach any considerable

size. One needs only to count the dead and the dormant buds on a branch,

and the weak, stubby, or decayed side shoots to appreciate this fact. If

part of the branches are cut out, this struggle is reduced and energy is

saved. By judicious pruning the tree may be shaped to suit the needs of

the owner. If a low tree is desired to make fruit-gathering easy pruning

keeps the head down. An open, spreading habit may be encouraged by

cutting out such branches as tend to grow close to the main trunk. A

careful orchardist has an ideal in his mind and knows how to prune to

bring the tree up to his standard. He knows the habits of trees of

different varieties. He will not prune all alike. He must prune some

every year, or the trees will not carry out his plans.

The pruner should not only know why he prunes, but how the work should

be done. He should be able to tell why he removes one limb and leaves

another. When I look at the trees in parks and along the streets I

wonder at the careless pruning. Judging from the way they are treated

one would think that a tree could be produced in "a year or two or three

at most."

Pruning should not be confined to fruit trees. It may be practiced with

profit on all kinds of plants from shade trees to house plants. Pinching

off the terminal bud of a young geranium makes the plant branch. Cutting

the lower limbs of a young elm makes the tree more stately. Nature may

do this, but broken branches leave wounds which the tree cannot heal.

Small branches may be cut close with a sharp knife or pruning shears.

The tree readily heals these places. It is little short of a crime to

break or tear limbs from trees. The injury done to the trees is bad

enough; but does not such heedless treatment of living things also have

a baneful influence on the mutilator?

For larger branches, if these must come off, no tool is better than a

sharp saw. The cut should be smooth and clean. No ragged edges of bark

should be left. The branch should all be cut off, and care should be

taken not to tear the bark about the wound. If a stub six or eight

inches long, or even one inch, be left, the tree is likely to suffer.

The branch started years ago from a bud on the side of the main trunk,

then but a twig itself. The fibers of the branch are continuous with

those of the trunk. In the air are the germs of decay. These take hold

of the bare stub and soon make their way to the center of the tree

itself. Try as it may, the tree cannot quickly heal a wound so far from

the main paths traveled by the sap in the trunk.

[Illustration: _Fig. 282. Close cutting results in prompt healing._]

The two illustrations (Figs. 282, 283) show the right and the wrong way

to remove a limb. When the branch is cut close, new growth takes place

all around the cut surface and in a few years the wound is healed.

[Illustration: _Fig. 283. The long stub does not heal._]

Bad pruning is worse than no pruning. Do you not think that nature

students should use their influence to protect the trees in the school

grounds, in the door yards, and along the streets? Trees have insect and

fungous enemies enough without having to contend against carelessness

and neglect.

QUESTIONS ON PRUNING.

1. Describe the results of some of the natural forces you have seen

pruning trees. Observe willows after a storm.

2. Are all sorts of trees affected alike by wind, ice, and snow?

3. From your observations which kinds suffer most? Give your opinion as

to why.

4. Nature does not always prune in this boisterous fashion. Silent

forces are at work pruning out the weak buds and shoots, giving the

strong ones a better chance. Select a very young tree, or a shrub like

the lilac. Examine the tips of the branches. You will find healthy buds

on last season's growth. See if you can find any dormant buds. Are there

any weak-looking or dead twigs?

5. Compare the number of strong healthy shoots with the number which the

plant started to make. How many of each?

6. Mention several good effects which may result from pruning.

7. What are some of the bad results of over-pruning? Of insufficient

pruning?

8. Consult some orchard-owner concerning this subject. When does he

prune to increase the production of fruit? When to increase the growth

of the woody part of the tree?

9. If the lower branches of a tree are not removed, what is the effect

on the shape of the tree?

10. For what kinds of trees is this form desirable?

11. What is your opinion as to the shearing of evergreens into fantastic

shapes?

12. If a tree has a tendency to grow crooked, how should one prune to

correct the habit?

13. Would you prune an elm tree just as you would an apple tree? Why?

14. Why does pinching off the terminal bud of a geranium produce a more

bushy plant?

15. Discuss in full the reasons for cutting a limb off smoothly and

close to the main trunk or larger branch. Look at every tree you pass to

see whether it has been pruned well. Has it been able to cover its

wounds by the healing process?

16. Is it correct to suppose that "anybody" can prune a tree?

17. The cut surfaces made by pruning large limbs from trees are often

covered with thick paint, tar, or Bordeaux mixture. What is the purpose

of this?

18. Why is it better to prune a little every year than a great deal once

in five years?

19. When is the best time to prune shade trees? Why?

20. Does a tree carry the bases of its branches upward as it grows

higher, or does the base of every branch remain at the level from which

it started originally? Observe many trees in different situations before

making up your mind on this point.

LEAFLET XLVII.

A STUDY OF A TREE.[64]

BY ANNA BOTSFORD COMSTOCK.

[64] Home Nature-Study Course, Vol. V, No. 2, November, 1903.

THE SUGAR MAPLE.

The maple puts her corals on in May,

While loitering frosts about the lowlands cling,

To be in tune with what the robins sing,

Plastering new log-huts 'mid her branches gray;

But when the autumn southward turns away,

Then in her veins burns most the blood of Spring,

And every leaf, intensely blossoming,

Makes the year's sunset pale the set of day.

--LOWELL.

[Illustration]

Like a friend is a tree, in that it needs to be known season after

season and year after year in order to be truly appreciated. A person

who has not had an intimate, friendly acquaintance with some special

tree has missed something from life. Yet even those of us who love a

tree because we find its shade a comfort in summer and its bare branches

etched against the sky a delight in winter, may have very little

understanding of the wonderful life-processes which have made this tree

a thing of beauty. If we would become aware of the life of our tree we

must study it carefully. We should best begin by writing in a blank book

week after week what happens to our tree for a year. If we keep such a

diary, letting the tree dictate what we write, we shall then know more

of the life of our tree.

In selecting a tree for this lesson I have chosen the sugar maple, for

several reasons. It is everywhere common; it is beautiful; it is most

useful; and it has been unanimously chosen as the representative tree

of the Empire State. Let each of us choose some maple tree in our

immediate vicinity that shall be the subject for our lesson now, and

again in the winter, and again in the spring. Our first thought in this

study is that a tree is a living being, in a measure like ourselves, and

that it has been confronted with many difficult problems which it must

have solved successfully, since it is alive. It has found breathing

space and food; it has won room for its roots in the earth and for its

branches in the light; and it has matured its seeds and planted them for

a new generation.

[Illustration: _Fig. 284. Sugar maple._]

[Illustration: _Fig. 285. A sugar maple grown in an open field._]

BRIEF PHYSIOLOGY OF THE TREE.

The tree lives by breathing and by getting its daily food. It breathes

through the numerous pores in its leaves, and green bark, and roots. The

leaves are often called the lungs of the tree, but the young bark also

has many openings into which the air penetrates, and the roots get air

that is present in the soil. So the tree really breathes all over its

active surface, and by this process takes in oxygen from the air. It

gives off carbon dioxid as we do when we breathe.

[Illustration: _Fig. 286. Silver maple._]

While the leaves act as partial lungs they have two other most important

functions. First, they must manufacture the food for the entire tree.

"Starch factories" is the name that Uncle John gives to the leaves when

he talks to children, and it is a good name. The leaf is the factory;

the green pulp in the leaf cells is part of the machinery; the machinery

is set in motion by sun-shine power instead of steam or water power; the

raw materials are taken from the air and from the sap sent up from the

roots; the first product is usually starch. Thus, it is well when we

begin the study of our tree to notice that the leaves are so arranged as

to gain all sunlight possible, for without sunlight the starch factories

would be obliged to "shut down." It has been estimated that on a mature

maple of vigorous growth there is exposed to the sun nearly a half acre

of leaf surface. Our tree appears to us in an unfamiliar light when we

think of it as a starch factory covering half an acre. Plants are the

original starch factories. The manufactories that we build appropriate

the starch that plants make from the raw materials.

Starch is plant-food in a convenient form for storage; but as it cannot

be assimilated by plants in this form it must be changed to sugar before

it can be transported and used in building up plant tissues. Hence the

leaves have to perform the office of a stomach in order to digest the

food they have made for the use of the tree; they change the starch to

sugar, and they take from the sap nitrogen, sulfur, phosphorus, and

other substances which the roots have appropriated from the soil, and to

these they add portions of the starch, and thus make the proteids which

form another part of the diet of the tree. It is interesting to know

that while these starch factories can operate only in the sunlight, the

leaves can digest the food, transport it, and build up tissues in the

dark.

[Illustration: _Fig. 287. The bole of a sugar maple grown in a wood._]

The autumn leaf, which is so beautiful, has completed its work. The

green material which colors the pulp in the leaf cells is withdrawn,

leaving there material which is useless, so far as the growing of the

tree is concerned, but which glows gold and red, thereby making glad the

eye that loves the varying tints in autumn foliage. It is a mistake to

believe that the frost makes these brilliant colors: they are caused by

the natural old age and death of the leaf, and where is there to be

found old age and death more beautiful? When the leaf turns yellow or

red it is making ready to depart from the tree; a thin corky layer is

being developed between its petiole and the twig, and when this is

finally accomplished the leaf drops from its own weight, from the touch

of the lightest breeze, or from a frost on a cold night.

OBSERVATIONS ON THE MAPLES.

We want you to know the maples from actual observation.

Discover the characteristic forms of the tree, the character of bark,

fruits, and leaves. Verify the pictures in this lesson.

Though the fruit of the sugar maple matures in midsummer, yet you may

perhaps find beneath your tree some of the keys or seeds now partially

planted. If the tree stands alone you may perchance see how well she has

strewn its seeds, and how many of its progeny have been placed in

positions where they can grow successfully.

[Illustration: _Fig. 288. Leaves and fruits of Norway maple._]

We have in New York State seven species of maple common in our forests.

Two of these are dwarf species rarely attaining thirty-five feet in

height, more often found as mere bushes. These two are the mountain

maple and the striped maple or moosewood. This latter is sometimes

called goose-foot maple, because its leaf is shaped somewhat like the

foot of a goose. Of the maples that attain to the dignity of tall trees

we have four species: the sugar maple, the silver or white maple, the

red or swamp maple, and the box elder. The leaf of the box elder does

not look like the leaf of a maple at all; it has a compound leaf of

three or five leaflets, but the flowers and fruits are those of the

maples. There is also a variety of sugar maple that is called black

maple. We have planted in our parks the sycamore and Norway maples

introduced from Europe, and also ornamental species from Japan. Our

native species are easily distinguished from these and from each other;

just a little observation as to the shape of the leaves, the form of the

trees, and the character of the bark enables a person to tell all these

species at a glance. I hope that you will become familiar with the seven

native species. Such knowledge is not only of practical use, but gives

real zest and pleasure. When a person walks in the morning he should be

able to call his tree acquaintances as well as his human acquaintances

by name.

[Illustration: _Fig. 289. Leaves and fruits of striped maple._]

QUESTIONS ON THE MAPLES.

1. How many species of maple trees do you know and what are they?

2. How do you distinguish the red maple and the silver maple from the

sugar maple?

3. What is the shape of the one tree you have chosen to study?

4. What is there in its shape to tell you of its history, _i.e._, did it

grow in the open or in the forest? Was it ever shaded on either side;

if so, what was the effect? How have the prevailing winds affected its

shape?

5. How old do you think the tree is?

6. Was the tree injured by storm or insects during the past season; if

so, how?

7. Study the leaves on this tree and note any differences in shape and

color.

8. What is the use of the skeleton of the leaf?

[Illustration: _Fig. 290. Leaves of mountain maple, sugar maple, red

maple._]

9. Is there always a bud in the axil where the leaf stalk joins the

twig?

10. How are the leaves arranged on the twig?

11. What is the color of the tree this autumn?

12. When did the leaves begin to fall? Place in your note book the date

when the tree finally becomes bare.

13. Have you found any seeds from your tree? If so, describe them.

14. How are they dispersed and planted?

15. Are both seeds of the pair filled out?

16. How high is your tree?

17. How large an area of shade does it produce? If it stands alone,

measure the ground covered by its shadow from morning until evening.

18. How has its shadow affected the plants beneath it? Are the same

plants growing there that grow in the open field?

19. Make a sketch of the tree you are studying, showing its outline.

20. Make a sketch of the leaf of the sugar maple.

LEAFLET XLVIII.

THE MAPLE IN FEBRUARY.[65]

BY ANNA BOTSFORD COMSTOCK.

[65] Home Nature-Study Course, Vol. V, No. 5, February, 1904.

SAP.

Strong as the sea and silent as the grave, it ebbs and flows unseen:

Flooding the earth,--a fragrant tidal wave, with mists of deepening

green,

--JOHN B. TABB.

[Illustration]

"Tapping the sugar bush" are magical words to the country boy and girl.

The winter which was at first so welcome with its miracle of snow, and

its attendant joys of sleighing and skating, begins to pall by the last

of February. Too many days the clouds hang low and the swirling flakes

make out-of-door pursuits difficult. Then there comes a day when the

south wind blows blandly and the snow settles into hard, marble-like

drifts, and here and there a knoll appears bare, and soggy, and brown.

It is then that there comes just a suggestion of spring in the air; and

the bare trees show a flush of living red through their grayness and

every spray grows heavy with swelling buds. Well do we older folk

remember that in our own childhood after a few such days the father

would say, "We will get the sap buckets down from the stable loft and

wash them, for we can tap the sugar bush soon if this weather holds." In

those days the buckets were made of staves, and were by no means so

easily washed as are the metal buckets of to-day. Still do we recall the

sickish smell of musty sap that greeted our nostrils when we poured the

boiling water in to cleanse those old, brown buckets. During the long

winter evenings we had all had something to do with the fashioning of

the sap spiles made from selected stems of sumac; after some older one

had removed half of the small branch lengthwise with a draw-shave we

younger ones had cleared out the pith, thinking thirstily meanwhile of

the sweet liquid which would sometime flow there.

With buckets and spiles ready when the momentous day came, the large,

iron caldron kettle was loaded on a stoneboat together with the sap cask

and log chain, the axe and various other utensils, and as many children

as could find standing room; and then the oxen were hitched on and the

procession started across the rough pasture to the woods where it

eventually arrived after numerous stops for reloading almost everything

but the kettle. When we came to the boiling-place we lifted the kettle

into place and flanked it with two great logs, against which the fire

was to be kindled. Meanwhile the oxen and stoneboat had returned to the

house for a load of buckets; and the oxen blinking with bowed heads or

with noses lifted aloft to keep the underbrush from striking their faces

"geed and hawed" up hill and down dale through the woods, stopping here

and there while the man with the auger bored holes in certain trees near

other holes which had bled sweet juices in years gone by. When the auger

was withdrawn the sap followed it and enthusiastic young tongues met it

half way though they received more chips than sweetness therefrom. Then

the spiles were driven in tightly with a wooden mallet.

[Illustration: _Fig. 291. Sugar making in New York._]

The next day after "tapping," those of us large enough to wear the

neck-yoke donned this badge of servitude and with its help brought pails

of sap to the kettle, and the "boiling" began. As the evening shades

gathered, how delicious was the odor of the sap steam permeating the

woods farther than the shafts of fire-light pierced the gloom! How weird

and delightful was this night experience in the woods! and how

cheerfully we swallowed the smoke which the contrary wind seemed ever to

turn toward us! We poked the fire to send the sparks upward and now and

then we added more sap from the barrel and removed the scum from the

boiling liquid with a skimmer which was thrust into the cleft end of a

stick to provide it with a sufficiently long handle. As the evening wore

on we drew closer to each other as we told the stories of the Indians

and the bears and panthers that had roamed these woods when our father

was a little boy; and there came to each of us a disquieting suspicion

that perhaps they were not all gone yet, for everything seemed possible

in those night-shrouded woods; and our hearts suddenly jumped into our

throats when nearby there sounded the tremulous, blood-curdling cry of

the screech owl.

It was the most fun to gather the sap in the warmer mornings, when on

the mounds the red squaw-berries were glistening through a frosty veil;

then we looked critically at the tracks in the snow to see what visitors

had come sniffing around our buckets. We felt nothing but scorn for him

who could not translate correctly those hieroglyphics on the film of

soft snow that made white again the soiled drifts. Rabbit, skunk,

squirrel, mouse, muskrat, fox: we knew them all by their tracks.

After about three days of gathering and boiling the sap, came the

"syruping down." During all that afternoon we added no more sap, and we

watched carefully the tawny steaming mass in the kettle; and when it

threatened to boil over we threw in a thin slice of fat pork which

seemed to have some mysterious, calming influence. The odor grew more

and more delicious, and finally the syrup was pronounced sufficiently

thick. The kettle was swung off the logs and the syrup dripped through a

cloth strainer into the carrying pail. Oh! the blackness of the material

left on that strainer! but it was "clean woods-dirt" and never destroyed

our faith in the maple sugar any more than did the belief that our

friends were made of "dirt" destroy our friendship for them.

Now the old stave bucket and the sumac spile are gone, and in their

place a patent galvanized spile not only conducts the sap but holds in

place a tin bucket carefully covered. The old caldron kettle is broken

or lies rusting in the shed. In its place are evaporating vats placed

over furnaces with chimneys, built in the new-fangled sugar houses. The

maple molasses of to-day seems to us a pale and anæmic liquid and lacks

just that delicious flavor of the rich, dark nectar which we, with the

help of cinders and smoke and various other things, brewed of yore in

the open woods.

While sugar-making interests us chiefly as one of our own industries,

yet we must not forget that it is based upon the life processes of the

maple tree, and in studying about it we may be able to learn important

facts about the tree which we have chosen for our study.

QUESTIONS ON THE MAPLE TREE.

1. How does the maple tree look in winter? Describe it or sketch it.

2. Are the buds on the twigs opposite or alternate?

3. Are the tips of the twigs the same color as the bark on the larger

limbs and trunk?

4. If you can draw, make a pencil sketch, natural size, of three inches

square of bark of the maple tree trunk.

5. How does the bark on the trunk differ from that on the branches?

6. How does the bark on the trunk of a maple tree differ from that on

the trunk of a soft maple or an elm?

7. What work for the tree do the trunk and branches perform?

8. Is the tree tapped on all sides? If not, why?

9. How deep must the spiles be driven successfully to draw off the sap?

10. Would you tap a tree directly above or at the same spot tapped last

year; or would you place two spiles one above the other? Give reasons.

11. Why does the sap flow more freely on warm days after cold nights?

12. Is the sap of which we make sugar going up or down?

13. How does the sugar come to be in the sap?

14. Why is the sugar made during the "first run" better than that which

is made later? Why cannot you make sugar in the summer?

15. Does it injure trees to tap them?

16. Do the holes made in earlier years become farther apart as the tree

grows?

17. What other trees besides the sugar maple give sweet sap?

18. What animals, birds, and insects are to be seen in the woods during

sugar-making time?

19. Have you ever seen the tracks of animals on the snow in the woods?

If so, make pictures of them and tell what animals made them.

LEAFLET XLIX.

THE RED SQUIRREL OR CHICKAREE.[66]

BY ANNA BOTSFORD COMSTOCK.

[66] Home Nature-Study Course, Vol. V, No. 2, November, 1903.

"All day long the red squirrels came and went, and afforded

me much entertainment by their manoeuvres. One would approach

at first warily through the shrub-oaks, running over the snow

crust by fits and starts like a leaf blown by the wind, now a

few paces this way, with wonderful speed and waste of energy,

making inconceivable haste with his "trotters" as if it were for

a wager, and now as many paces that way, but never getting on

more than half a rod at a time; and then suddenly pausing with

a ludicrous expression and a gratuitous somerset, as if all the

eyes in the universe were fixed on him,--for all the motions of

a squirrel, even in the most solitary recesses of the forest,

imply spectators as much as those of a dancing girl,--wasting more

time in delay and circumspection than would have sufficed to walk

the whole distance,--I never saw one walk,--and then suddenly,

before you could say Jack Robinson, he would be in the top of a

young pitch-pine, winding up his clock and chiding all imaginary

spectators, soliloquizing and talking to all the universe at the

same time,--for no reason that I could ever detect, or he himself

was aware of, I suspect."--THOREAU.

[Illustration]

From contact with civilization some wild animals flourish while others

are soon exterminated by association with man. To this latter class

belongs the black squirrel. Within my own memory this beautiful creature

was almost as common in the rural districts of New York State as was the

red squirrel; but now it is seen no more except in most retired places;

while the red squirrel, pugnacious and companionable, defiant and shy,

climbs on our very roofs and sits there scolding us for daring to come

within his range of vision. One reason for the disappearance of the

black squirrel is, undoubtedly, the fact that its meat is a delicious

food. The red squirrel is also good food at certain times of the year,

but because of its lesser size, and its greater agility and cunning, it

has succeeded in living not merely despite of man, but because of man,

for now he rifles corn cribs and grain bins and waxes opulent by levying

tribute on man's own savings.

Although the red squirrel is familiar to us all, yet, I think, there are

few who really know its habits, which are as interesting as are those of

bear or lion. Note, for example, the way he peeps at us from the far

side of the tree, and the way he uses his tail as a balance and a help

in steering as he leaps. This same tail he uses in the winter as a boa

by wrapping it around himself as he lies curled up in his snug house.

His vocal exercises are most entertaining also; he is the only singer I

know who can carry two parts at a time. Notice some time this autumn

when the hickory nuts are ripe that the happy red squirrel is singing

you a duet all by himself,--a high, shrill chatter, with a low chuckling

accompaniment.

We usually regard nuts as the main food of squirrels, but this is not

necessarily so; for they are fond of the seeds of pines and hemlocks,

and also hang around our orchards for apple-seeds. In fact, their diet

is varied. The red squirrel is a great thief and keeps his keen eye on

chipmunks and mice, hoping to find where they store their food so that

he can steal it if he can do so without danger to his precious self.

QUESTIONS ON THE RED SQUIRREL.

We want you to make some original observations on the red squirrel.

1. In summer, what is the color of the red squirrel on the upper parts?

Beneath?

2. What is the color along the side where the two colors join?

3. Do these colors change in winter?

4. Tell how and where the squirrel makes its nest.

5. Does it carry nuts in its teeth or in its cheeks?

6. Has it cheek pockets like the chipmunk?

7. Does the red squirrel store food for winter use? If so, where?

8. Does it spend its time sleeping in winter like the chipmunk, or does

it go out often to get food?

9. Name all the kinds of food which you know it eats.

10. Did you ever see a red squirrel disturb birds' nests?

11. How does a squirrel get at the meat of a hard-shelled nut like a

black walnut, or a hickory nut? (Answer this by a sketch, if you can

draw.)

12. Do the squirrels of your neighborhood have certain paths in

tree-tops which they follow?

13. How many emotions does the squirrel express with his voice?

14. What kind of tracks does the red squirrel make in the snow? (Show

this by a sketch if possible.)

LEAFLET L.

THE IMPROVEMENT OF COUNTRY SCHOOL GROUNDS.[67]

BY JOHN W. SPENCER.

[67] Supplement to Junior Naturalist Monthly, February, 1902.

[Illustration]

MY DEAR TEACHER:

Despite all that is said and done the average school ground is far short

of its possibilities in an artistic way. Of this you are well aware, and

no doubt you have often wished that you might remedy this defect. Your

hours are full of arduous work. Perhaps, however, you can interest your

children to help you to clean and to improve the grounds, without much

extra care or work on your part.

This illustration of a schoolhouse (Fig. 292) is taken from Bulletin

160, published by the College of Agriculture of Cornell University. The

title of the bulletin is "Hints on Rural School Grounds." I wish you

would send for the bulletin. It will be mailed you free if you request

it.

The picture is not an imaginary sketch, but a faithful representation of

what stood in a prosperous rural community less than five years ago. To

one familiar with country school buildings it will not be considered as

a solitary "awful example," but rather as a type of many that are

scattered over the State. I hope it is not your misfortune to be

teaching in such a house, even though it is my desire to reach every

teacher who is that luckless. However, to make my talk more real let us

"make believe," as children say, that you are the priestess in a similar

temple of learning. Together we will plan how we can make the most of

very uncongenial surroundings.

[Illustration: _Fig. 292. A country school property._]

It would be safe to wager a red apple that the inside of the building is

every bit as dilapidated as the outside. A community that tolerates such

a building would not be likely to have anything but the rudest furniture

and most of that on crutches. It would be something out of the usual if

the box stove is not short a leg or two, with brick-bats being used as

substitutes. You will be fortunate if the stove door has two good hinges

and if the wood is not green. At the last school meeting, did the

patrons instruct the trustees not to pay more than six dollars per week

for your services? Was the proposition that the district raise five

dollars, to which the State would add five more for the purchase of

books for a library, unanimously voted down and the poor man who

introduced the resolution expected to apologize for his temerity? The

leading man in the district each Sunday during summer drives two miles

to salt his young stock, inspect fences, and see how the yearlings are

prospering; but he never thinks of visiting the school to see how his

children are progressing. Yet the people of this district are not bad.

They are counted good citizens by the bar and judge, when they are drawn

on juries. The public buildings at the county-seat are models of their

kind and these gentlemen do not remonstrate as to the expense. Perhaps

it has not occurred to them that school buildings and grounds should

have as high a standard as those of the county. A correct public ideal

is everything. It is not a hopeless undertaking to advance such an ideal

in the community of which we are speaking.

I suggest to you as teacher in this school to undertake some

improvements in the grounds. I consider the above sketch to be a zero

case. If improvements can be developed here, it is reasonable to suppose

that the same can be repeated where conditions are primarily better. The

possibilities are sufficient to warrant the undertaking. The victory

will add to your strength. The lives of the children will be better

filled for the part they may do, and you will have started a public

improvement.

[Illustration: _Fig. 293. "The girls organized themselves into a

tug-of-war team."_]

I should not appeal to the parents for help. You have a fountain of

power in the children. It is necessary only to inspire and guide them.

This is no theory of mine. It is a result that has been worked out in

many instances.

The beautiful city of Rochester is proud of its schools. The development

of the town made the construction of new school buildings necessary to

such an extent that little money remained for the improvement of the

grounds. Some of them were located in the breadwinners' districts. The

grounds were as the contractor left them; your imagination can picture

their condition. The interiors were well nigh perfect. The exterior was

sometimes a Sahara of mud and builders' rubbish. The principal of one of

the schools--a woman, by the way,--knowing the force in children, set

about to apply it to the improvement of the surroundings. Her method was

first to inspire, and then to direct. Her success was ample. Both boys

and girls participated. The girls organized themselves into a tug-of-war

team (Fig. 293). By fastening ropes to sticks and beams, these things

were hauled out of sight. The boys leveled the hummocks and brought

fertile soil from some distance. This principal confined her

improvements to small areas--so small that the children wanted to do

more when they were through. From the time school opened until the

rigors of winter stopped the juvenile improvements, only part of the

space from the front of the building to the street was graded. Some of

the boys brought chaff from a haymow, which was raked in as lawn grass

seed. The following spring quite as many weeds appeared as grass, but

the children gave the weeds the personification of robbers and made

their career short. The promoters had a just pride in what they had

accomplished; and that meagre bit of lawn meant vastly more to them than

had it been made by a high-salaried landscape gardener.

I am acquainted with another instance, where the patrons are largely

Polish Jews. I am credibly informed that the average head of a family

does not have a gross annual income to exceed three hundred and fifty

dollars. This necessitates that the mother go out for work and that the

children leave school as soon as the law allows to take up work. Yet

with all these unfavorable circumstances the pupils have a pride in

their school grounds that is glorious to see. In the fall of 1901 prizes

were offered for the greatest improvement of school grounds made by

children. Nothing daunted, the principal entered his grounds in

competition with those in the more wealthy part of the city. The

committee of awards gave him the third prize. To judge from the mere

physical side, the decision was no doubt just; but when judged on the

score of getting the greatest results from the least material, the

principal and his school may have deserved the first prize, plus a

reward.

The chances are that your fuel is wood, and perhaps not very

dry at that. It is in a pile in the open. Sometimes the sticks are

scattered over half the lot. This you can prevent by properly

appealing to the pride of your pupils. You will find that they

wish to be more tidy than is the school over in Whippoorwill Hollow

or in some other district that is considered to be a little more

in the back country than your own.

About the time you hear the first spring notes of the bluebird and the

robin, prepare public opinion in your little school community for a

spring furnishing. You can devise many ways to inspire them. Tell them

about Col. George R. Waring and his white brigade and what they did to

make New York City cleaner than it had been for many decades before.

After the Spanish war, when Cuba became a responsibility upon the United

States, the question arose as to what could be done to make filthy

Havana cleaner and freer from yellow fever. No one was thought by the

Federal government so competent to solve the problem as Colonel Waring.

He went, spared not himself, and did his duty, did it so fearlessly that

he died the victim of the filth he had fought so valiantly. He had done

much during previous years to commend his memory to posterity; but

probably nothing will stand out so prominently as his great ability to

correct municipal untidiness. Ask your pupils to be Warings in their own

neighborhoods.

By this time the ground will be bare of snow and it will be soft. Ask

some of the pupils to bring rakes, and have them gather up the rubbish.

You can all play gypsies when you gather about the bonfire. This will be

a favorable time to sow grass seed; for I have no doubt the school lot

will need it. A lawn mixture of seed would be ideal, but I hardly expect

you to pay for it. At this stage of your improvements, I scarcely expect

that any of the patrons of your school would do so either. Later some of

them may feel differently. Your pupils can at least follow the plan of

those spoken of in Rochester--get chaff from a haymow. It will

inevitably be a mixture of grass and weeds, but the latter can be pulled

out after germinating. It is barely possible that some farmer will give

you some clover and timothy, such as he uses in seeding his meadow; and

this will be far better.

Next, I should put out a hitching-post. When your school commissioner

calls it will be appreciated. If that functionary does not publicly

compliment your school for even such small improvements, I wish you

would report such indifference to me, giving his full address, and I

will request him to explain this forgetfulness.

Good results in landscape-gardening depend on observing certain

principles, the same as with our wardrobe. Many a clever girl will

accomplish more in dress with twenty-five dollars than others can do

with twice that amount. Among the first and most important efforts is to

make a frame or setting for the house by planting around the borders of

the place. Sometimes the location will make this inconvenient if not

impossible, when, for instance, the building is placed near the street

or crowded between other buildings. Even in such cases, however, it is

well to keep the idea clearly in mind and to approach it as nearly as

circumstances will permit. An illustration of a normal location to which

this principle can be applied is shown in Fig. 294. The trees and the

higher shrubs are planted first and on the extreme borders of the lot,

with shorter shrubs, roses, and the like in front of them. This frame

can be given a finish by planting flowers or very low things next the

grass. If the area be ample, let the edges be irregular (Fig. 294); but

if very limited, straight lines become necessary.

[Illustration: _Fig. 294. Showing how the borders may be planted._]

The open space within the boundaries should be a mat of green carpeting,

for nothing can be more beautiful than sward. Fight all influences to

bedeck it with beds of flowers in forms of stars and moons and other

celestial and terrestrial designs. The demands for such capers may be

great, but hold out against them boldly. Certain small shrubs, ferns,

and flowers may be planted along the walls of the building, particularly

in the angles; but I beg of you to leave the green plat unscalloped and

unspoiled, only as is necessary for drives and walks. When the buildings

are unsightly, cover with vines and plant bushes against them. Fig. 295

illustrates how Fig. 292 may be improved with very little effort.

Now I will speak of the actual planting. In the light of unnumbered

thousands of Arbor Day trees put out to struggle a few weeks for life

and then die, this may seem the most important feature of my article. To

the unsuccessful planter, let me suggest that he select shrubs and trees

which take care of themselves under adverse conditions. We have a

number of such. If they were imported from Japan and sold at fancy

prices, they would be greatly appreciated. The common sumac is one of

them. For a shrub I know of nothing of its class so sure to bear the

ordeal of transplanting or to make more vigorous growth under adverse

conditions. It can be pruned to suit, and nothing can rival its blaze of

color in late autumn; yet as a farmer, I know the experience of fighting

against its existence in fence corners, about stone piles, and on steep

hillsides. I do this even though I am fond of the shrub and admire it.

It encroaches on my vineyard and injures the crop. Grapes will help pay

taxes and sumac will not. In my cherry orchard it is a weed. In my back

yard and on the borders of my lawn it is an ornamental shrub. The same

can be observed of people. When in their proper sphere they are helpful

factors in a community; when out of it they are nuisances.

[Illustration: _Fig. 295. How the grounds in Fig. 292 may be improved._]

If you ask me to mention a tree most likely to live when planted by

unskilled hands, I should name the willow. I mean the most common kind

to be found in the northern States--the kind that stands beside the

roadside watering-trough. The impression is common that willows will

thrive only in wet places. It is true that a willow is very comfortable

in places where many other trees will suffer from wet feet; yet it will

give good results elsewhere. It is reasonable to suppose that poor soil

goes with a poor school building, and a refined tree would probably

find life hard in such a place. I should certainly plant a willow in

such cases. It will thrive where a goat can, and where a sheep cannot.

For city places, the Carolina poplar is to be recommended. If the soil

is good enough, plant maples, elms, or other trees.

A judicious planting of Virginia creeper helps the appearance of

buildings both good and bad. I should surely plant it about the main

building and the outbuildings and fences, if the patrons of the school

did not object. The probabilities are that when the vines have begun to

cover some of the deformities of the place, some finicky resident of the

district will cut them out on the plea that they promote decay of the

weather-beaten clap-boards; but do not be discouraged by such a

possibility. Vines, too, usually interfere with the painting of a

building. Although they may be taken down and put back after the

painters are through, the first effect is not regained unless the

process of putting back has been done with unusual care.

Do not make the mistake of planting too much. A small lawn can be

overdressed as is sometimes the case with women. Lilac, Japan quince,

syringa, hydrangea, and like common shrubs, could be planted if the

opportunities of space seem to warrant.

I hope it will be your taste to allow the limbs of the trees to start

low and those of the shrubs to begin as near the ground as possible. I

am aware that among country people it is the practice to tolerate only

the higher limbs. I can give a reason for this only on the supposition

that they must do something in pruning, and the lower limbs are the most

convenient to reach. I know a man who came into possession of a place

having a fine lot of evergreens with the lower branches at the ground.

By way of proclaiming a change of ownership he cut away the lower

branches, leaving a bare trunk of about five feet. Before he touched

them they were beautiful green cones and when passing the place I always

turned my face in their direction to enjoy the beauty. When he was

through they were standing on one leg, and a wooden leg at that. I have

never felt kindly toward the man since.

In the matter of planting I know of no better method than that of the

experienced orchardist. As a rule he buys his trees of a nurseryman.

They are often dug in the fall, and are planted the following spring.

During the interval they are stored in specially constructed cellars,

and at no time are the roots permitted to become dry. When packed for

shipment damp moss is placed about the roots. When the orchardist

removes them from the packing box he "heels" them in, which is a kind of

probationary planting in shallow furrows where they stand until ready to

be set out permanently. When that time comes the trees are taken from

the trench and the roots plunged in a tub of thin mud or doused with

water and covered with a blanket. An orchardist counts a tree lost if

the roots have been allowed to remain in the sun until the small

rootlets have so dried that they have a gray appearance.

In taking the young tree from the nursery row only a fraction of the

original roots go with the tree, and these are badly bruised at the

point of cleavage. These ragged ends should be dressed smoothly by means

of a slanting cut with a knife. All mutilated roots should be removed.

You must bear in mind that the roots you find with the trees are capable

of performing but a small part of what was done by all the roots when

growing in their native place.

The hole in which the tree is set should be large enough to accommodate

the roots without cramping them out of their natural positions. It is

important that the earth used for filling should be fertile, and it is

doubly important that it should be fine--even superfine. Clods, even

small clods like marbles, will not snuggle up to the bark of the root as

closely as is absolutely necessary. Set the tree about an inch deeper

than you think it originally stood, so that when planted and the earth

settles, it will really be about the same depth. All the earth should

not be dumped in at once and then the surface pressed firm with the

feet. A close examination will show that the soil has "bridged" in

places, leaving many roots in tiny caverns. It is important that fine

soil should be snuggled close to each little rootlet, not for warmth but

for moisture. Fill the hole by installments of one-third at each

filling. Sprinkle the fine earth about the roots. Then dash in a third

of a pail of water. This will give the roots much needed moisture and,

best of all, will wash the earth about each root fiber. I urge the

adoption of this careful method for all trees and shrubs, not excepting

the sumac and willow. Even wallows will show their gratitude for such

considerate treatment, even though they are able to survive rougher

usage. They will pay for it when the drought and neglect of summer come.

The most common mistake made in the selection of trees is in taking

those that are too large. For the conditions that we have under

consideration, I suggest that a tree no larger than a broom-handle be

chosen. I know that the common feeling is, "we shall have to wait too

long for our shade." Unless the larger tree is in the hands of an

expert, the smaller will be the more desirable at the end of five years.

I much prefer, moreover, the selection of a tree or shrub growing in the

sunshine, rather than one from the shade.

I have one final request to make, which to the novice will be the most

difficult of all and one which he is quite likely to fail in performing

because of lack of moral courage. I mean the cutting back of the top of

the tree or shrub after planting. Before the removal of the tree, the

roots probably found pasturage in a cart load of soil. After planting,

the root pasturage is not more than half a bushel of soil. What follows

when the forces of plant growth begin? A demand for soil products, with

a very much restricted means of supply. The top must be cut back to

match the shortened root system. Thousand of trees die every year

because this principle is not duly observed and the failure is often

attributed to the nurseryman. The amount necessary to cut back differs

with different trees and shrubs. No hard and fast rules can be given.

With willows and sumacs one-third to one-half of everything bearing leaf

buds can be cut away. With a maple having a diameter of one and a half

inches at the butt, I should suggest that about one-third of the branch

area be left to grow.

In this article I have had in mind the improvement of school grounds

where all the conditions are at zero--where the building would be a

discredit to any owner, where the patrons are totally indifferent, and

where the only resource is to awaken a public spirit on the part of the

children. With better school buildings, more ample grounds, and a small

number of patrons favorable to improvement, the foregoing ideas need not

be followed closely. However, they do contain principles and some

details that deserve careful consideration, even in landscape planting

of the highest form. The first step should be the development of local

pride. Something may be accomplished among the parents; but it is a

problem as to what extent that may be done. To the true teacher the

pupils may be counted upon as the mainstay in such an undertaking. To

such a teacher I should say, Do not for a moment believe that the

improvements seen about the school grounds will be all the good that is

wrought. Fifty years from now there will be a few gray-haired

men and women who take more interest in the appearance of their

"front-door-yard," and give their children encouragement in having a

posy bed "all their own," and who extend sympathy and service to the

better appearance of the school grounds, because of your altruism when

you taught district school.

We have some aids that may be helpful to you and to which you are

welcome. Bulletin 160, spoken of at the beginning, specifically treats

of this work, and Bulletin 121, on "Planting of Shrubbery," has been

very popular. We have published a number of articles on children's

gardening, all of which will be sent you free if you request it. If you

have specific problems we shall be glad to have you write and we will

help you all we can by correspondence.

The most efficient help we can give you is through the organizing of

your pupils into Junior Naturalist clubs. We give these clubs especial

instruction in gardening and the improvement of home and school grounds.

Children receive great inspiration from large numbers doing the same

thing, while we can give instruction to ten thousand as easily as to one

child. Many hundreds of teachers and thousands of children find the

study of nature a beam of sunshine in the schoolroom and a great aid in

the English period without being a burden to the teacher.

Cornell Nature-Study Leaflets Being a selection, with revision, from the teachers' leaflets, home nature-study lessons, junior naturalist monthlies and other publications from the College of Agriculture, Cornell University, Ithaca, N.Y., 1896-1904 · 第 8 / 10 章

Shield-budding is performed only on small and young stocks. It is