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ThiB Ham is ftbiMd at ttM raduction ratio dMckad tMlow / Ca doeumant eat filmt au taux da rMuetien indiqui eii^astous. lOx 14x 18x 12x lex 22x 26x 30x 24x 28x 32x Tb« copy filmed h«r« has b««n raproducad thank* to tha ganaroaity of: Library Agricuitura Canada L'axamplaira filmA fut raproduit grica i la ginAroaiti da: BibiiotMqua Agricuitura Canada Tha imagaa appaaring hara ara tha baat quality poaaibia eonaidaring tha condition and lagibility of tha original copy an^ in kaaplng with tha filming contract spacifieationa. Original copiaa in printad papar eovora ara filmad baginning with tha front cevar and anding on tha taat paga with a printad or llluatratad impraa- •ion, or tha back covar whan appropriata. All othar original copiaa ara filmad baginning on tha firat paga with a primad or llluatratad impraa- •ion. and anding on tha laat paga with a printad or llluatratad impraaaion. Tha laat racordad frama on aaeh microfleho shall contain tha symbol —^ (moaning "CON- TINUED"), or tha symbol ▼ (maaning "END"), whichavar appiiaa. Laa imagaa sulvjntaa ont 4t* raproduitaa avac la piua grand soin. eompta tanu da la condition at da la nattat* da I'^ampiaira film*, at an conformity avac laa conditiona du eontrat da filmaga. Laa axamplairaa originaux dont fa eouvartura an paplar aat imprim4a sont filmte mn commandant par la pramiar plat at an tarminant soit par la damiAra paga qui eomporta una amprainta dimpraaaion ou d'illuatration. soit par la sacon d plat, saien la caa. Toua laa autraa axamplairaa originaux sont filmte an commandant par la pramiAra paga qui eomporta una amprainta dimpraaaion ou dliluatration at tn tarminant par la damiira paga qui eomporta una talla amprainta. Un daa symboiaa suivants apparaitra sur la darnlAra imago da ehaqua microficha, salon la caa: la symboia -^ signifia "A SUIVRE", la symboia ▼ signifia "FIN". Mapa, plataa, charts, ate., may ba filmad at diffarant raduetion ratioa. Thoaa too larga to ba antiraly includad in ona axpoaura ara filmad baginning in tha uppar laft hand comar, laft to right and top to bottom, aa marry framaa aa raquirad. Tha following diagrama iilustrata tha mathod: Laa cartaa. plancfiaa, tablaaux, ate., pauvant *tra film4a k daa taux da rMuetion diffArants. Loraqua la doeumant aat trop grand pour Atra raproduit an un saui elich«. il aat film* i partir do I'angla supMour gaueha. da gaucha k droita. ac do haut an baa. an pranant la nombra d'imagaa nAeaaaaira. Laa diagrammaa suivants iiluatrant la mithoda. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 MOOCOPV MSOWTION TiST CHAIT (ANSI and ISO TEST CHAKT No. 2) 1.25 Li US |2j8 l» la Im 12.2 Ih Im lit IB u Ib !■■ ^ u L 1 11.6 ^ APPLIED IIVMGE Inc 'W3 Cast Main stre«t " " (716) 2aa-59g9_r„, i. BULLETIN M3] [DECEMBER* 1M« Ontario Department of Agriculture ONTARIO AGRICULTtJRAL COLLEGE [A Revised Edition of Na 124] NATURE STUDY Phesident Ueoroe C. Creeluan. " Father," said a country boy of twelve years, ' I made five dollars to-day." " Why, how was that, my son," " Why, I took first prize in the Nature Study competition at the fall fair " " Is that so? Tell me all about it." " Well, you see, the Agricultural Society offers prizes now for what is called N«ture Study work, and all of the schools in the county are allowed to try." " And how many pupils entered the competition ?" " Twenty-three," said the bey, and he smiled as he said it. j "Well, what did you have to do?" ' I A School OardcB, •' Oh, not much. Just picked out a lot of common things and called tliem by their right names." "What do you mean?" "Well, ' Dad,' this is just what we had to do exactly. First, one of the judges went into the main building and brought out a basketful of apples, all different kinds. He had taken one from each plate on exhibition there. Then he stuck a pin in each with a number attached and gave us a sheet of paper with corresponding nnmbera and told us t9 fill in the names of the different varieties." "And did you all do it?" " Not quite, but the ripe ones were easy. Some of the winter varieties had not colored up, and you had to distinguish thonuby their shape." " And did you get them all right?" " No, ' Dad,' I didn't I missed the Ontario ; I called it a Spy." "How was that?" "The color fooled me; hut then, you know that Ontario is half Spy, anyhow, tad this done to induce u warble to grow. This is not ho with a grain of wheat. As lonj an it iffl kept in a dry condition, it in i^imply sleeping. When it is placed in the ground at the right season of the year and cur- rounded with the proper amount of moisture, heat and air, it soon awakens. A great change takes place in a very nhort time. The grain absorbs wat*>r, the embryo swells and begins to grow, and in a few days a yuuug plant is produced. T, ■' the form of liquids, and the green leaves get food from the air in the form of ga.^ With the proper conditions, tht- plant makes a wonderful growth; and, as ti^^ passes, we observe the formation of several long, slender, npright stems, with a very interesting and peculiarly arranged head on the top of each. An arnmg* htad of whatt ii tbout three and » half inchei in length. It U made up of a Urge number of ipikeleta which are arranged alternately along the italk. Each Mpikel»t uraally containa three flowers. The flower ia imall ami ii encloMd >'j' two glonut, which afterwards form tha f ^ 5. Heul .. utaral ilu. ri( t. BpikcM of wh*il. WkMt flewtr. ('Im.T. These glumes are sometimes blunt and sometimes elongated into awns or beards. The very interesting little flower, therefore, cannot be seen except by opening up the glumes, which can be readily done by means of a sharp knife or a pin. A small magnifying flflass will greatly help in examining the various parts of th flower. The flower pro- nid* Tiiw. duces the seed, which at ilrst is very small, but which grows of wh.«t. rapidly and ripens in three or ^our weeks after the formation of the flower. As the grain ripens the leaves tarn brown and wither, the stems or straws change to a green or lightish yellow color, and the glumes become dry and harsh. Prom one seed which was planted we have obtained a well ripened plant, whi..h is ready to be cut, harvested, and threshed, and will furnish us with straw, chaff and grain, all of which are useful. I have touched on only a few of the points in con- nection with the life history of the wheat. The ger- mination of the seed; the feeding of the plant; the growth of the leaf, the stem, and the head; the irrangement of the flower; the prcKlucticn of the grain — are all subjects which are ver-- interesting and worthy of a person's close attention and careful study. In view of the importance of the whoit crop, n large amount of experimental work has been done at -the Ontario Agricultural College in order to glean information which r'-^y be of value in increasing both the yield and the jality of the wheat in Ontario. The results of these experiments have been published in bullet!!, which have been distributed among the farmers from time to time. Upwards of 300 varieties of wheat have been grown side by side on the College,plots. These varieties possess many variations, and may be classified according to the time of sowing, as fall and spring; according to the structure of the chaff, as bearded and bald; according to the composition of the grain, as hard and soft; and according to the color of the grain, as red and white. There are other classifications also, but the ones here mentioned are the most com- mon. Certain varieties of wheat are particularly well adapted for special purposes ; some for the production of bread, others for macaroni, and still others for pastry,' 99 QQOQ 99 '090 999Q Fig 7. A hasd a wheit diTidod into tlirm parU: (t) tht graiaa; learn iomething about the different piiru of a wheat xraiii. U wc i-ut a wheat Kraiii through from end to end. and plat* it, properly pri'par.d, uuder a micr««(<>p«'. whiwn in Fig. 1. Jf we were to cu ilic wlicnt ( rosswi«'. it would appear an m I'i^. •.». Around J ouUidc of the kihih ,i > '" ><•.•,„ tli, (/.tiirt-. there are .<;wral thin cuveringii. Undornoath thew tliern \« a row of (f ll» tiglitl\ j.ii. k.d t<>,'.'tli..r, (iilleil the ulfuront cclU. Then- outer layers and the row of celj^ |,ik.i, i.,g,.(li..| f.,rrn tlit' greater p^rt of the hrai>. The little egg-shoped part, at the Iwttoni <>• tne fxm picture is the germ from which the sprout starts when the grain rommonces to grow. The remainer of th" grain, known as the endosperm, \* made up largely of xtarch and gluten. From a miller's standpoint, this part of the grain is by far the most important; for the object of milling is to separate the endosperm from the rest of the grain and grind it to flour. I rig. a. Ctmi Mclion of ■ tt%\u u( whMt; (a) oatar Mtariast; b) •Imrona ctlU: (e) •n^Mpana, tb« part <>' the whrat from which tha flour ia i A part of the >ettion irure iiighiy magnitad. In tile roller-process mills of to-day the wheat usually parses through si.\ pulrg of lollers before the griiulin^' is complete. I'l the first, the miller seeks jast to break the grain into pieces. After sifting, the coarse parts, called the " tailing' ' are passed on to the next pair of rollers, where they are f!attcned, and soAiC of the floury substance ground ol! of them. This is also sifted, and the- tailings passed on to tlie next rollers, where the flour is remove*!. After the wheat has pa-ssed through ail the rollers in this way, the flat- tened pieces are almost entirely free from flour, and are classed us bran. Fiir. 26 is a picture of a piece or "scale" of bran. In all such methods of grinding wheat the centre part is rubbed off first; and, being free from bran particles, it makes very white flour. This forms the grade of flour known as "patent." That got by grinding closer to tlie bran is known as the "baker's" grades. Still closer grinding foims the low grades of flour. Gerer-Uy speaking the nore bran particles there are in the flour, the lower it is graded The outer Fig. 3. A cross sectio' of a piece bran ^'-. L ' •™°''I''™ 'Otiee that the ando- 'perm hai not been groun-* oS from the bran. \ i part of the wheat, nearly all of which goes into the bran, contains much more bone- making material than the flour. Because of this some say that the " patent " and " baker's " grades of flour are not so good as the flour made by the old stone process. The Graham flour is supposed to be all of the wheat ground into flour; but it is hard to grind the bran so fine that it will not have a bad effect on man's digestive system. To overcome this there has been invented a machine which peels off the outer coat of the wheat grain. The remainder is ground, and is known as " entire wheat flour." Such flour is always dark in color, because the germ is ground with it; but it contains more bone and fat-producing material than flour made in any other way. Wf. 4. LosTM of bread made from equal weights of flour: I. From Uanitoba wheat; 2. From Wild Gooie wheat; 3. From Michigan Amber wheat. It is very difficult to determine the exact quality of a flour; but there are cer- tain general rules by which a good bread fiour may be judged quickly. It should be white with a faint yellow tinge, and it should fall loosely apart in the hand"after being pressed. When put between the teeth, it should " crunch " a little ; or when rubbed between the fingers it should be slightly gritty. As flour is prepared, pos- sibly there is no one point which determines its quality so much as the amount of gluten it contains. Some one asks : " What is gluten ?" Have you ever made gum by chewing wheat? Nearly all children in the country have. The gummy part is gluten. If you have ever tried to make gum from oats, barley, or corn, you have failed; because these grains do not contain gluten. It is because wheat con- tains this substance that it is so much used for bread baking. If you take a little flour and add enough water to make it into a stiff dough, and allow it to stand for an hour, and then take it between your fingers and knead it in water, you will see the w-ater get white with the starch part that is separating from the dough. Con- tinue the washing until the starch is all removed. What remains is gluten. Notice how tough and elastic it is. Some varieties of wheat contain more gluten than others. There is also a great difference in the quality of glutens : some are tough and can be pulled out like a piece of rubber: others are soft and break when pulled. The wheat which 3 Fig. B. Loaf of bread made from normal ilonr from which part Of the gluten hat been removed. Note the bi( eraeka up through the loaf, from which the galea eacaped without canting the dough to rite. contains the most gluten of a good, tough elastic quality will make the best flour for bread-making. For this rea- son, what are known as Spring Wheats are usually better than those known as Fall Wheats. To illustrate this point, flour was made from three kinds of wheat — Michigan Amber, one of our best winter varieties; Wild Goose, a very hard Spring variety ; and Manitoba No. 1 hard. These flours were made into bread and a loaf of each lot was photographed. The same weight of flour was used for each loaf. Fig. 4 shows the difference in size of the loaves. Manitoba flour made the largest loaf, one reason being because it contained more and better gluten than the others. Millers call a flour which contains good gluten " strong," and one that contains poor gluten, " weak." Now that we have learned something about flour, let us see if we imn learn something about the changes that take place when it is made into bread. If you Have ever tried to wet flour with water you will have noticed how hard it is to get the flour all wet. That is because the flour is so very fine. One of the main objects of making the flour into bread l)efore it is eaten is to separate these fine particles, so that the digestive fluids of the stomach may more easily mix with them. The baker commences by mixing the flour with water. He also puts in yeast or something that will produce the same effects, and mixes it all together so thoroughly that the water and yeast come into contact with each little particle of flour. When the paste, or dough, containing yeast, is set in a warm place, the yeast begins to " work," as we say, and the dough to "rise." The yeast causes changes, one of the principal results of which is the production of a gas. This pis, in trying to force its way through the dough, comes into contact with the tough elastic gluten which spreads out and holds the gas in so as to form little bubbles, and thuse causes the dough to rise. In this way the fine particles of flour are separated from one another. The tougher and more elastic the gluten, the better the dough will rise, and the lighter the bread will be. This is where good gluten is valuable. Take a slice of bread and examine it carefully. Notice the little openings or holes in it. These little holes were formed by the gas being held in by the gluten as just described. If too much yeast is added to the flour too much gas may be formed, and, if improperly handled, the openings will be very large, or the gas may even spread out the gluten so far that the walls of the bubbles may break. If the gluten is all or partly removed from the flour, the dough will not rise, because there is nothing to keep the gas in, and we shall have a loaf like that shown in Fig. 6. After the yeast has worked enough, the dough is put into a hot oven. Here Fig. 6. Loaf of bread made from normal flour. tl tSt^K^K?"' ^*"*' ^^ "^l"^ the ga8 to expand and stretch out the walk of the httle bubbles, or pockets, which it formed between the particles of dough and chan^ some of the water into steam, thus raising the loaf stiU more. The'h^t on the outode of the loaf converts some of the starch into dextnn, a gummy bZ tence with a sweetish teste. This is why the crust is sweeter and tiuS tlTn he centre of the loaf. The harder the loaf is baked, the darker the colo? through the changing of some of this dextrin into caramel, which is a form of sugar Some bakers moisten the top of the loaf with water, or water containing a Uttle sugar to In pioneer days. iri^i '^""'"f '' f '^ll ^ g^^e the loaf a darker and richer color. Both dextrin and caramel are soluble m water; and, therefore, they are easily digested. This explains wh) the crust of bread and toast are sweeter than the scft interior of the loaf and also why they are more easily igested. DAIRY STORIES Professor H. H. Dean. A QUAKT OF MILK. Milk is a complete human food, especially for children. Grown-ups mi?ht use milk more largely than they do. Instead of putting a small amount on porridge for breakfast, or in tea or coffee, and using little otherwise, it may form a part of every meal. A quart of milk is equal in food value to about one pound of moat or eight eggs, each of which cost from 20 to 25 cents, whereas the milk costs but 8 to 10 cents. Milk is not only a complete food, but it is a cheap food. 11 i Cows' milk is most generally used for feeding boys and girb, because cowk' milk is most nearly like human milk and because the cow gives a large flow of milk — much larger than any other animal, hence it is profitable to produce milk for sale from cows. We do not know exactly how milk is made, but it is probably made from blood by the action of nervous force ; hence a good cow has a plentiful supply of blood, and is always more or less nervous. She should be treated kindly at all times if she is expected to give plenty of milk. Blood is made from food and water, therefore the cow giving milk must be supplied with plenty of pure food and pure water. The best foods for milk pro- duction are grass, corn silage, clover hay, roots, wheat bran, oats and oil-cake. The cow should receive all the grass she can eat in summer, and all the corn silage, clover hay and roots, preferably mangels or sugar beets, she requires in winter. In addition, she may Ik; fed from four to eight or more, pounds, daily, of bran, oato and oil-cake, mixing these in proportions of about three parts each of bran and oats, and one or two parts of oil-cake. The manger and watering place of the cow should be kept clean. The best arrangement for winter feeding and watering is a combined manger and water trough made of cement, and having temporary divisions made of steel to keep the feed for each cow separate. These divisions are easily swung up while the manger is cleaned. The cow, stable, feed, water, milker and all utensils must be clean, in order to produce milk fit for humans to drink. The cow and all persons handling the milk must be free from d'-?ase germs of all kinds, as milk is an excellent place in which disease bacteria may grow. As soon as milk is drawn from the cow it should be strained and cooled to 50°F. or lower, to prevent souring. There are three grades of milk commonly offered for sale — Baw, Pasteurized and Certified. Ordinary raw milk is most commonly bought, because it is cheapest. How- ever, this is not always a " safe " milk, hence the modern method of pasteurizing, in which milk is heated to about 140°F., held for twenty minutes at this temperature, then cooled to 45"^?., and kept cold until delivered. This is the safest kind of milk which can be purchased by the ordinary consumer. Certified milk is tlte highest grade of raw milk. It is produced from cows free of tuberculosis, and under conditions which are especially sanitary. Usually, however, this class of milk is high in price. Milk should be exposed to the light and air as little as possible, as it was never intended to see daylight or mix with air. Nature intended it to pass directly from the cow's udder to the calf's stomach. Milk .and cream are best kept, so far as possible, n a tightly-closed milk bottle and in a cold place — in a refrigerator or cellar. No more milk or cream should be emptied into a pitcher for table use than is likely to be used at one meal. If any be left over this should not be emptied into the milk bottle, as it will likely sour the whole supply. Glass milk bottles should be washed as soon as empty and be promptly returned to the milkman. These bottles should not be used for any other purpose. The mono-service, or one-service bottle, made of sterilized paper, coated on the inside with wax, is the best form of milk bottle. It is destroyed as soon as empty. In this way there are no bottles to break or wash, and little danger of spreading disease from infected stables or houses, by means of the milk supply. Boys and girls should drink plenty of pure milk, as this tends to build strong bodies and make active minds. IM A POUND OF BX7TTEB. ' .».««i?* **" ?' ^**f ^ specially w«U adapted for piling the brain. Brain-worken •honld «e Plen^ of good butter and nerer any of the nibrtitntee for coV. butter, rach as " deo," " peannt-bntter," etc ' Butter i« "concentrated sunahine," hence good butter tends to make people more niuhiny in diapoeition. It is al«o a " heat producer," and may beused MdmSiw wOTk^**' ''^'° *^* ''***^*' " "^'^' ^* *^^'"» ««'«y to do Phyrical *v>^ ^'>"«'^«r'"te ?' the tiny milk-fat globules (so small that it requires about ten thousand of them lying side by side to make a line an inch long) which are massed, or packed together, by means of a chum. After massing the fat globules, the butter- milk IS remored, the butter is washed with dean cold water, salt is added to taste, thenthe butter is worked to mix the salt through the butter, expel the surplus moisture and to make it compact for printing or packing. T«vT^Lw*'*«^r'i!!^J''**? ".r^'T *^^* <'«*°'' "»* the butter is salted TO7 lightly Sudi butter has the true "creamy," natural flavor of fine butter Ordinarly, howerer, after the cream is separated from the milk by setting it for tw^ty-four to thirty-six hours in shallow pans, or deep cans, or by funning the milk through a cream separator, the cieam is soured or ripened, making wUt is known as ripened or sour cream butter. Butter for kxal markets and home use is best made into prints weighing one ^!S « 7.^ ^fn» dairy butter, put up in prints or boxes must be branded witt the word Dairy, and such butter may not have the word " Creamery " on the wrapper Butter ma^e during the summer may be packed solidly in an air-tight packaira (CTock tub, or box), and if kept in a cool place this wiU be quite paUtable in\rintS when butter « scarce and dear. The months of June and September are usuaUV the best months for packing butter. Good butter is a wholesome food, and should be used largely on the tables of Canadians. Butter substitutes should find no place in Canada. A POUND OP CHEESE. Cheese is a very rich, concentrated, muscle-forming food. It is similar in composition to meat, and may be used instead of meat, which is usually high in price. Cheese may be eaten once a day with profit. It may be eaten nncook^, or be cooked m a variety of ways. A pound of cheese is equal in food value to about two pounds of meat, and costs only about half as much. Fruit should always be eaten with cheese. ' Cheese is made largely from the caseir fat and water of milk by coagulating (curdlmg) tiie milk with rennet or pepp^ iny person can easily make cheew for home needs, with simple utensils, whic:. nearly all found on farms. Bennet may be made from a calf s stomach, by soakmg it two or three days in salt water A hoop for moulding the cheese can be made by a tinsmith, or be made out of wood -square, oblong, or circuhr in form. The cheese may be pressed with a scantling, havmg a weipit at one end. ^^ To make a cheese, weighing from eight to ten pounds, use eight or ten gallons of sweet milk. Heat this in a dean boiler to 86»P. Then add a^out six tea- spoonfuls of strong rennet and stir it well through the milk. Then allow it to stand until it thickens, when it should be carefully cut into smaU cub« with a long knife • <» with a regular curd knife or knives. • Next heat to 9e°P. by placing a can of IS hot water in the card and whey, or heat elowly over a fire. Allow to itand for abont three hoort, then remoTe the cord from the whey and place on a slanting table covered with a clean cotton cloth for draining. When the curd feela firm apply two to fonr ounces of salt, mix through the curd, then put into the hoop or mould and press gently at first. When firm, cover wiUi a clean cotton cloth, and place in a cool place, turning the cheese daily for two weeks. When abont a month old the cheese will be ready to use. If the cheese moulds, wash with salt brine or spray with formalin. Dipping in, or coating the cheese with, hot wax prevents drying and moulding. Qieese may also be made from skimmilk, buttermilk and cream. These are usually classed as " soft " cheese. The ordinary cheese is known as a " hard " variety. THE STORY OF AN EGG PaorBssoB W. B. Gbahax. Every one is familiar with the size and shape of an egg; but very few of us stop to think h w wonderfully it is made. We all know that the contents of the egg are enclosed in a shell. This shell appears to be hard and solid, but this is not the case. True, it has much strength ; but we find upon examination that it is full of little holes. These small holes aJlow the air next to the shell to get into the egg. Thus it will be seen that we should keep the egg in a clean place, away from dirty straw, such as we often see in the nest; also away from strong smell- ing substances, such as onions; otherwise these strong odors, pass- ing through the shell, will afl!ect the taste of the egg more or k^s. Next to the shell is a thin tis- sue. This tissue is made of two layers all over the egg, except at the large end, where they separate, forming a small open space, called the air-space. This air-space in- creases in size as the egg evaporates or dries. The longer the egg is allowed to remain in the air, the more air will pass through the shell; and each little particle of air carries away with it some of the moisture of the egg and thus the contents diy up and the air-space increases in size. Sometimes eggs that have been left exposed to the air in a nice clean place for a year, are found to have very little content, and that which is left is dry and almost hard. These tissues may ) ulled off the bhell, especially in the case of a hard-boiled ^g. Now we come lo the white of the eggs, or what is called the albumen. This u sai'' '^- doctors to be a very good food : but we are particularly interested in its 1^?. rru So let us break an egg in a saucer. Notice that the white on the onta .. md watery; in a littie farther, we see a grey or whitish streak that vie. 1. Disfrsmmatie wetion of in nninenbktod fowr* albl) garm nHit; (wy) white jidk, eouiitint of een- flBik-thapcd man, and a nambcr of layer* eoneen- Irieally arranged aroand it, tlie outer layer of wliite yollt lj\ag Immediately beneath the Titelline membrane, and eonneeted with the central man beneath the biattoderm; (77) yellow yolk; (▼) Titalline membrane; (f) layer of more flaid albnmen anrronndinc the yolk; (eh) ehalaie; (a) air chamber between the two layer* of the ihell membrane; with a thin skin, adjoining this is a very thin portion of the white, and outside this a thicker portion Now these two portions hold the yolk in position. If a sudden jar occurs, the yolk, or chiefly the germ, is pro- tected by the skin of the yolk. The thin white portion acts as a pad .or cushion, and the thick white portion holds it steady. Those extended cords of the thick layer of the white act as the axis of the yolk i,olding it in position • and, as you turn the egg around quickly, you twist the cords similar to twisting a string, with the result that, as soon as the egg is steady, these cords unwind, and help to right the germ snot on the upper surface —-'" ^ Fir 8. again. ■ K'jiiiSmSSSSS^ IS No doubt by this time you are wondering, if this germ spot and the portion of the yolk under it are so light, why tlie yolk does not come right up against the tissues lining the shell. But nature has guarded against this by the thick layer of albumen, which always tends to hold the yolk in position. Sometimes when the egg is left for weeks in the oue position, the thick layer is overpowered, and the yolk touches the wall of the shell. If the yolk remains against the wall any length of time, it appears to become fastened to it, after which you cannot successfully hatch a chicken from the egg. Being fastened in one position, the germ cannot move properly in order to develop, the result being that the germ dies. You may say a Den bitting on eggs never moves them, but in this you are mistaken. The next hen you set put a large pencil mark on each of the eggs, and place the eggs under the lien with the pencil marks uppermost. Next day lift the hen, and you will see that she has altered the position of the eggs. We have to imitate the hen in running an incubator, in that we turn the eggs twice a day. But some one asks, what is an incubator? Well, it is simply a well- built box, heated by a lamp, and the heat evenly distributed over all parts of the interior, so as to give the eggs the same temperature. This box is not exactly air-tight, for you know that if this little germ inside of the egg is going to develop into a chicken at the end of twenty-one day it must have air. This air, you will remember, passes through those little holes in the shell, the good air going in, and the foul air coming off in much the same manner as you breathe. Now, you will see we have this incubator ventilated in order to supply the little germ with pure air. There is another point we nearly overlooked, that is the temperature. If you will place a thermometer under a hen you will notice that it reads 103 degrees ; so we try to run the incubator r.t that temperature. If any of you would like to see that the germ-spot always stays next to the surface, you can readily do so by taking a lamp after dark and going to a hen that has been sitting four or five days. Wrap a black cloth aroimd the lamp chimney, but first make a hole in the cloth, much the same shape as an egg, and have the hole exactly opposite the blaze of the lamp. Put the lamp on a little box, the hole facing you. Now very carefully remove an egj,' from under the hen, taking great care not to turn it over. Place your finger at the ends of the egg and hold the egg in front of the light coming from the hole in the cloth that is around the chimney. If the egg is fertile you will see a dark spot, and from this a number of little veins running in different directions. This is the germ, and it has started to grow. Now turn the egg slowly around, and you will observe that the germ moves as you t&rn the egg, always resting near the surface. It is best to take a white egg to see this as white eggs are clearer than brown ones and the germ is more readily seen through them. Should the egg appear clear, or no dark portion be seen, it is infertile, and will not hatch. THE STORY OF THE RAINDROPS Professor Wm. H. Dat. Little drops of water, FallltiK on the sand. Make a bounteous harvest, In the beauteous land. As the drops of water reached the ground consciousness Vitumcd, and one said to another, " Why, I have been here before." " And so have I — and I— and I," came in chorus from thousands of their companions. " Say," said the first, " lef s 16 h»T« an experience meeting and ewih tell u nearly aa he can remember what haa happened to him lince we lart met here." A general cUpping of hands aa they danced upon the ground signified the great delight at the prospect. " Well," said the first drop, " it is years since I was hei-e last. On that occasion, the 20th of August, 1904, I was the first to rewh the ground and as I approached I could see it was very dry and parched. It was three weeks since rain had fallen ; and as the plants we; beginning to show signs of witting, I thought tha supply of water in the upper poidon of the soil was exhausted; and it would seem so from first impressions, for as soon as I touched the ground a thousand tiny specks of earth exerted an attraction upon me, and almost before I knew what was happen- ing each was surrounded by a very thin coat or film of water, all made at my expense. But I noted that the grains of earth lying a trifie lower in the wil were more easUy satisfied than those at the surface; and upon examination I found that the «)il actually contained between seven and eight per ceflt. of water by weight." While No. I had been talking he had been obgerving the various expressions on th9 faces of his comrades; and while many countenances had not yet brightened in the sympathy of common experience, still as he proceeded, many assenting nods did tell him that the majority of the meeting were witii him, but as he mentioned the per cent, of water in the soil when the plants wilted, he could discern that his experience was no longer general, and he paused for discussion upon the point " Thfl soil upon which I feU," said No. 11, " was of a sandy nature, and con- tamed only about 8 per cent, of water when the plants wilted. The soil referred to by No. I must have been a loam, i.e., about half sand and half clav " "It was," said the leader. No. Ill had observed that in a heavy cUy soil the wilting point was about 10 per cent of water, while No. IV had faUen on a muck soil and was able to add that the wiltmg point in it was 30 per cent. " No. I, No. I," was heard on various sides, and the leader proceeded : "I only had time to observe the condition of the soil when the shower of drops became general. Thousands of theji fell almost in the same place as I had, but they sank much more quickly into the soil." " Yes," said No. V, " that's because water moves much more easily through damp than through dry soil; you had opened the way, so to speak, and we took advantage of it; but remember we too had our share of pioneer work, for we hr, of water the soil can retain afi :r the free water has drained away." " Like other properties, this depends upon the kind of soil. The loam held 44 per cent, by volume, i Aowing that of the 60 ^"* cent, pore space all was then full of water but 6 ; hence the quantity of air in the s^,A was comparatively small. What about the sand, No. II ?" " It retained 27 per cent, by volume of water." " Heavy clay, 43 per ccit* " Muck, 49 per cent" 18 .I.V 3*"** V* •'♦""'•'''"K «««"•" put in No. VI. "They mean that if loiini th«, OM foot doep. Why, in tha lint fiv. f««t of «,il there »a.t \m fully two Set on iisn 1 v:ti dir^'"'*' ^°- ^ -■'^ ^"-^ '""" *• --••^ ♦"•' «—" "Yon Si' ih"!!;!,' "'**^'#' I"".!'* *'•'' «"*"' "' '•'« "«»* ^~P." '••^""•"ed No. ] wo mn^'™- , ? *''"?/* 5™ "•*" ^"y"«' *''•" •"" the harvest. There Zt^lr ^t7 °' "•' ^'''""''' '^"'•""^'^ '" the «,il throughout tUomuZ »J.,7k kT"?' '"hernating, one would think, but not growing lean a" d^,The It ourielTM. To begin with, we let about the task of bringing into wlution certliJ plant, during the following summer. While the work was going on, however the weather grew colder, and on November 6th ' the ground froze up,? a. i h'ard ^ople Ji^;„i J" * "trange HcuMtion to feel our warmth irresistibly stealing awarbut I^ by we seemed to reach a steady temper-^ a' and we thought the worst had come. It was only a delusion, however, for without any further change in temperature, we felt ourselves passing through some transition stage, some new state ;S^ jrrf ' 'r P"'« °'': ""' l^''^' *''•'« »* ^"' »°t changTour temperatuS was nevertheless robbing us of our heat. We were gradually changing to ice and we learned afterward that in the simple change of state we lost r9^imes as mu^h heat as in cooling one degree." -h^w'^'"'* i^^A '^'''T^" •"'1 No. VI. "1 spent that winter in I^ke St. Clair, whither we had gone l.y way of the River Thames. I saw many pieces of ice. and they all seemnd lighter than the water, for they always floated. Why was that '" " Well, you see, as we changed to ice we increased iu size, why I do not know but it made us lighter, volume for volume than before. All through the lone winter we Uy there m the soil perfectly rigid, and useless as it would then seem In the spring, as the snow disappeared and left the ground exposed to the sun's warm ravs we again became conscious of some subtle inSucnce within, the heat seemed to b^ returning, though our temperature was just the same as when we clianged to ice m the autumn And when the 79 units of heat we had lost in congeal ng had been restored we felt our molecules slip past jine another with indescribable ease and we were again m our normal state. We noticed the soil was somewhat changed As we eipanded in freezing, its grains, or groups of particles, had been pushed farther apart, some of them had even been broken up, and now as we again assumed the liquid state and returned to our orijriiuil Aoluni.. we „l,serve.l that the soil did not settle down as before. The grains "emained a little farther apart, and many new ones were formed from the larger ones broken by the frost. Then we saw that our expansion which had brought upon us freezing and long months of inactivitv. had really fulfilled a great purpose-it had rendered the soil more granular, and thus m«le it eapable of admitting more air and retaining more water for the u«e of the plants. "When the last vestige of i-e had disappeared and the free water had drained away we thought we would soon become warm again, but in this we wei« mistaken. We did no* 'mow then, but we afterwards learned, that water is harder to heat than any o ^ m substance, and that therefore our presence in the . ^i\ in such St cold fouii for 1 dnii. UpWtti No. 1 ^imibur to bt' water to ice. rem*! 'A pret me, ai) I A eoul< Urgi ({uantitie* w«« rc«lly keeping it cold. But making due allowance Tor our high »peci jc heat, 1 felt that there waa itill tome other great influence keeping the toil I wai •evtral inches >»fllow the lurface at the time, but by cIom obaervation 1 that we were moving alowly upward againit gravity. This teemed itrange, had feen »o many of our eomradeii disappear downward as tlte free water I away. It was not niy good fortune, however, to discover the cause of this 1 niuvvmeiit nor the influence retarding the hifating of the soil. 1 see by il's countenance that he has some information on this point." "1 was quite close to the surface," began No. IX, " when the drainage ceased in the npinr soil. Each morning as the sun rose higher and higher above the horizon we felt 'urselves warmed somewhat, and tiien cooled again towards evening, but each day we *ere a little higher in tlie soil than the day before. At last 1 reached the surface. I felt warmer than on any previous day, my molecules vibrated more rapidly, and to my amazement 1 saw many of them break through my surface film and escape into the air. I exerted all my influence to bring them back, and some of then, dwi return under compulsion, but many others were travelling so rapidly ;uat my arraetion for tiiem was overcome, and they soared aloft and were borne jwny by U winds. Tliey had been jhanged fron liquid to vajwr. As I real'zed -JiHt thej *<. gone a senoe of impending disaster seemed to crowd in upon me, much keener than what I had felt as I was >)eing changed froir J>uring the pr>ccss of vaporization I observed that my temperature nearly constant, although the sun's rays were beaming down upon not help enquiring the cause. Then I thought how rapidly those wmnderuiie mokstules \»ere travelling as they left me, and of the amount of energy th t i. !(,( have b*'«»n used in piercing my outer film and breaking away from my sti mK jfMwp. I i..uii'l that the amount uced l)y tliem at 60° F. was 588 times » ww-k Ai would ) i^at the same quantity of water one degree. With this «.'! . * I would -iK)n have become quite cold, I t the sun's rays furnished me «rn s«ibf wKi t.ner>j.\ to replace that loss, and to raise my temperature a little besides. BtAi It iwf^ been for this great loss we would have been warmed up much more ' WJjfli proportion of the sun's heat is actually used in this vsy?" queried •f-'*- 'f t»e drops who had not had this experience. Hell." continufd No. IX, "that is somewhai difticult to determine, but as y leal Miol uli's soared away in tiie air they passed over the Colloge grounds, where m «a« an indiviilual working with n straii;;c instrument known as a pyrheliometer. ^ m a sheltered spot, so they settled down in thj lull to get warm and to see ? * w*R doinp — and he was actually working on this very problem. They o' !r- b, „ iiic soliloquy : ' At the equator evaporation from the ocean during the year >N«e!i from 60 to 70 per ceut. of all the heat from the sun, leaving only the small alance to w»rm the water. What is the proportion here at Guelph ? Wa know that < vaporation *'nm wet soil is fully as rapid as from water under similar conditions of temperatnre and exposure. The heat used here in evaporation must bear a similar ratio to th< tal energy received from the sun.' " " I understond now," said No. I, " why ec Little warmth reached us lower down in the soil during those tjarly days. And I also understMnd why we all moved slowly toward the surface — the water films near the surface were made thinner by evapora- tion and we were drawn up to supply the deficiency. I believe the tendency of the thicker films below to replenish the tiiinner ones above is called ' the force of capil- larity.' But I observed that in a few days we began to get heat more rapidly." " Yes," said No. X, " the workmen on ' The Model Farm ' came along with the J «?Pl«tii 7 "V*^"" *f '"'•. I WM in tlM campMt toil J«rt b«lo» 7\. JA^ SlL? ^ "" V^' ""*» *^ «>0'«»M»t of water toward th« wrfac. ^lactoSd iaunediately . Moond. that the mulch b«caiM fairly dry in a day or tw7foru\^ loaing w»ter rapidly by araporation and gaining it oily .low? by dSl^itv hr capjUarity do., not work « w.U in an om^granukr «il u fnZtTS^'ii a litU. mora compact ; third, tha rat. of .raporation wa. graatly choked Xr S. mnlch b««». «,m.what dry; fonrth. th. mnlch b«»». warn « w.lT« d^ AnJ one. it bMarn. warm w. began to get mora heat farther down. T iJ'^^ •• !'" ^T ^ ■** * '■'«• implement pawing above, called a M«i-drilL I think, con.«tuig of many ho«. each clo«ly f oUowed by a inbe thrluA^S n/hrth. ff * T S* ^""P ?""P*? earth in th. bottom of the .mall tranche. ^; «?iS! ITa ^u^'^ P^ **" ^ "'*^ """^ '» "^ ~'«"^ the wed, on. ST K u't. ** ''"f ."'y "'**• ^ »•• It l**^ •<»'«ly •ettl.d ito.lf in ite dark J~,r'T. ** !*«" t".^""'' °' the water of th. compact Mil below. On* woold hardly thmk lU capacity w grwt, but that Med actually abwrbed 5 per cent more the M.d open and thu. allowing it to 'q>roni' »- «- ' • »»«»"«» J* u IS!?°T*? u'"*'* 'i?^ ^ ^"'^"P' "^ ^y •<"»• •tnu'g* 'orce, oemodi, I think ? ? K*^' ^'f " 1?^-? •'?P*"*^ '"**' '*• *""''«''• With me went the plantfSxi S Ldl is''* '°*t -ol-t^on long ago. and together w. ro« upwafd in XK and I .ighed a >igh of relief to feel mywlf aboy. ground again. In the leaSTS S^wbih T '^ "* returned to it. rariou. time.. But mo.t of the molecu^ 1 «^ ♦"1" f"P«^ P'T'* through the leaf into the freedom of the alTin th. vapor aUt^ already referred to by wme of our number." .n^ ^!.J ^^^ ^l "i°'^ ^^- " ^ ~"'^ •" the root, defending day by day, and gr^t number, of drop, pawing .lowly into them, a. already de«ribed. I I?Al ^ r ^^?^. ""y,*"™ *'"°*' "^ ^y "'"'tant watching I became impreued So^Jir* T\*'? "' "'*" *''** *°**"^ *^« ~°*'' "^d decided to watTfor Sit W t" Tm'* """""^ "^ '*^''*'^ *° »»*°™ the crop, that grew upon that land I wa. still m one of the plant, when the pea. were 'pulled.' and wMl. ^g in the 'bunch T heard a couple of the workmen di«m.ring ex^ri^nti S^ -1 LH:, ^5^ evaporation from the «,il and tranapiration through the S^ wT %^ r ^'.fT^ »t one time it would be from eighteen inches to ^ti!fit^». ;■ "'r "^u *'''* ^^' ™^'' ^""°« *•>»* t'""* «»«'>°ted to only ten or twelve mche., far lew than the crop needed, and that that wa. the reawn they IIZ 'S^'T, ^"^^ ^' "" ^° ~°^*^*"^ ^ ^«'^ " !»'«« "tore of water, and ™.f.« l^ ^°" evaporation by mulching. Why, he .aid, that during the .um- mer evaporation alone amount, to more than the current rain., and that most of th. waujr u«d by the crop. « derived from the stores held in the soil at weding time. m^ ^^1^^"'** K 7J* ^ '''" ""*• '^'^ ««°tle wind and the ran', heat were dijmg the grain by the same great power of evaporation, and, like u many of you, I found myself silently floating away with U,c breeze. Not long after I felt mywlf impeUed toward a cloudy mass and entered another shower, which was then pMiing over Lake Ontario, whence I made my way slowly toward the wa. K «U*"' *" ^r^ *^ """^ '**"y °°''' *"** ^ th« «»' "»™ed hither and thither rL^+r"*°* . *^"^ '^"^'' "^"P^^ting at last down near the Tropic of Cncw, then entenng one of those great periodic low-prewure areas, over the Oulf SI of Ikiico and travelling northward and eaitward, condenaing into drop* o tht araj «od falliJif h«r« again oo the Model Farm in thia warm April ihower." All noddad aaiant to thii laat portion of the itory, and then realiiiag that alratdj tbay had lingered too lon^ each hurded awa> to enter the cycle agiia, mukj DO dopbt wiihing that in thia round they might enrich their expeiience with of the iutereatiug features they had misted before. THE STORY OF THE PLANE Professor John Evans. One Chriitmaa afternoon not very long ago I visited some friends living a litt' way out on the gravel road. Gathered round the fire-stove was a merry party of hildren, each very happy in having received a Christmas gift from Santa Clans. Little Harry with his horn wai making music for all. Pearl was chatting away to a tiny teddy bear. Mary waa nursing a doll with the bluest of blue eyes. George was holding forth on the merits of his wonderful knife, while Tom, the eldest, vaa deeply occupied in examining the parts of a new plane. Whv, Tom, this is a fine tool you've got— the latest pattern, too ! What will you do with it? " Oh ! I can make use of it for making grit-luxes, nests, and coops. I have to look after tka poultry, you know ! Only I wish I knew how to manage this one — it's so different from the wooden plane papa has. Will you please tell me about it?'' That I will do with pleasure, Tom I I dare say you have noticed hov vnst a difference there is in the character of the work done by tools differently formed and differently introduced to the work they have to do. The countless number of tools used in the arts and crafts of to-day are but slight changes of a few simple elements, just as this new plane differs from the wooden one. They differ irore in variety than in kind and in the extent to which different kind' of tools are put into the same complete machini!. A tool may be considered to be any implement used for performing mechanical operations by which man is enabled to change the form of material. The tools in common use are scarcely more than half a dozen in number — the axe, the plane, the saw, the hammer, the square, and the chisel. It is hardly pos- sible to draw a distinction between a tool and a machine. Wliilsl; the former is more simple than the latter, they so merge into one another that it is diflScult to determine where one ends and the other begins. However complicated a machine may be, or however great its number of parta, all may be classed under the head of simple or elementary machines. These are the lever, the pulley, thp inclined plane, the screw, the wedge. These have been termed the mechanical powers, and form, as it were, the basis of tool construction, or the alphabet out of which all combinations are made, in the same way as all English words are made up out of certain of the twenty-six letters. The moderq machine shop is largely these simple clemcats brought together and made self-acting and driven by power. Of these mapy coqtrivances for doing work, the inclined plane (Fig. 1). is th»o one that enters mostly into the construction of cutting tools, and the most vtebAM. application of it is obtained by doubling it, tiiat la, by placing two inclined plaM%w base to base, forming a wedge (Fig. 2). If you will examine the forms of such tools as the axe,, the knife, th« cbaatii; ?'i i' \ thfl plane, and the saw, and compare their shapes with the wedge, yon wiU find there eiuts considerable resemblance, not only in the shape of the tools, but in their mode of action as well (Fig. 3). The axe chisel, etc.. are simply wedges with handles. The axe is driven into the material by means of the handie. The chisel is struck with a mallet just like K ! r!J**"u - ''^°^' ^'J^ *^°*"^ ''"™ *°^ character of these tools have undergone but little change since the period of the flint implements, and others are but sliriitly modified m construction to meet the demand for special application. The develoii ment of these tools has been along the line of some means to direct and limit the action of the tool as well as to provide a wedge-shaped edge of adequate strength and hardness, either forming part of the catting blade itself, as in the chisel or /Si t9c/-/ott of frniPt 3, Ph«i \/^'ew of Axe r-^ independently of it, as in the plane. That is just what has taken place in this plane. It can be controlled better than the old one _ This is called a "jack » plane. You see, it is made of iron. Planes are made in a great variety of shapes and sizes in both iron and wood Z 7^" T*^?*'' P\?^ r ""''^ ""P^" *° *^«'' construction than the iron ones IttTtuX *i'.''r» TJr* " ''^''' P"* ** *° "'^J" - -- oblong bloS 2fZ^.^f . !, •''*^'V"*i *^* ""^^^ '^^ protruding slightly beyond the bottom and fastened m its place by a wedge (Fig. 4 A-22) * "^ "'•'""" »"« But the iron plane (Fig. 4 B) possesses manv advantajres over the woo<1*n on«ui„much as the sole, having once been made true, reS rLwa;s. "u s »a^]nHmg. which removes most of the difficulty attending the setting of the wood«i plane. The blade or cutting iron is secured in its place by mZs of ft! u«n damp (4) with a cam (4a) at its upper end A screw (rp^i^ToU il the iron bed piece below serves as a support (fulcrum) on which ttTclfrnpT^l^ t J "■■wm r pTMring down the plane iron u the screw is tightened. The clamp may be put in position or removed at pleasure— it being properly slotted for this purpose— by releasing the cam as shown by the dotted line, 4a. The pressure required for the rig. 4. Tht JMk Plan*. i best working of the plane can be obtained at any time by tightening or dacking the central or cap screw (6) which acts upon the damp.* The thumb-screw (8) placed under the "frog" (6) and just in front of the handle works a simple derice 24 (7) which enters an oblong slot in the blade and by means of which the blade can be easily set forward or withdrawn while it is stiU clamped down to the "trot" without remoTing the hands from the plane, or the plane from the work, and war desired thickness of shaving can be got with perfect accuracy. Well take thi* plane to pieces for you to sec the different parts and to learn their names 1. The blade catting or plane iron. 2. Top, ca9 or cover Iron. 8. Plane iron screw. 4. Clamp, 4a cam. 6. Clamp screw. 6. "Prof." 7. " 7 " adjustment. The Jack Plane (Fir 4). 8. Brasa adjuiting nut. 9. Lateral adjustment. 10. "Prog" screw. 11. Handle. 12. Knob. 13. Handle "bolt and nut." 14. Knob '^olt and nut." 16. Handle screw. 16. Stock. 17. Sole or (ace. 18. Toe. 19. Heel. 20. Mouth. 21. Throat. 22. Wedge. 23. Cheeks. The collection of parts marked A consist of Nos. 6, 7. 8 and 9, and form the " Prog coirplete." Tell me, why was the chisel put into the block? Well, it was found that in certain gram of the wood the chisel caused the wood to split in front of the cuttine edge and so spoil the work (Fig. 5). It was thought that this arrangement of put- tmg the chisel in a case, as it were, would regulate the amount and direction of the cut made as well as to prevent splitting ahead of the tool. Though this method helped very u. ich to stop the chisel following the lead of the fibres, it did not serve the purpose it was thought it would, for in progress of work whenever the grain of the wood was unfavorable the cutting edge caught -the projecting ends of the layers of fibre, bending them back rather than cutting them, particularly so if the tool IS blunt, the shaving running up the iron acquires a leverage drawing tht chisel inwards in direction of the grain, reusing much crushing of the fibres in the mouth of the plane and arresting the progress of the tool; to release it the worker by extra effort tears the fibres apart, leaving the surface very rough (Fig 6) But this plane has two irons. You see, Tom, the tool did not work very well li tore up the fibres and jammed up the mouth so that the next attempt to improve this tool was to prevent these defects. These faults, of course, might be partially avoided by narrr,^;, g the mouth, but this would make the amount of material it would take off so small that the tool would be -f very little use, except for finishing work But the tool, as already described, -could ^ot efficiently cross-cut the resist- ing fibres, and much mgenuity was exercised in devising a contrivance which would destroy the continuous connection of the fibres and so do a#ay with any resistance from this cause. This led to the introduction of a Second iron-one screwed down on tiie top of the other (Fig. 7), and almost every plane except those used for making mouldings has the blade stiffened by having. the second iron screwed down on Its flat upper Surface. Henceforth the encased chisel loses its identity and must be regarded as a part of au independent tool. /■P- '^t *°P;'T ''^*" "^"'°'* *^® ^** '^'^ °^ *^« ''""i^g "O'^ at its two ends (Jig. 7), and, being thin, presses against the edge with a yielding springy force The pressure It exerts prevents, or very greatly deadens, "chattering," that is, the unsteady bending of the cutting edge before the always varying resistance of the material cut. This bending can take place only between the cutting edge and the top of the bevel on the cutting iron (Pig. 7 A), for at the latter point the iron is rapported by resting on the stock; above this point it is firmly held by the wedg* dnven m to fasten it in its place in its stock in the wooden plane and by the damp } w in the iron ones (Fig. 4). Besides this, the top iron serves another purpose: it break! or cracks the shaving as soon as it is cut f roi^ the surface of the board. The distance at which the top iron is set back from the cutting edge must vary with the function of the plane and the class of work in hand. There are three kinds of planes in common use— the jack, the smoothing, and the fore or jointer. For a jointer or a smoothing plane, 1-32 in. to 1-64 in. is frequently not too close, while for the jack y» in. may not be too great a distance, aa setting back the top iron conduces to splitting in frwit of {ft& cutting edge. atranfemtnt at it/b tron j^A. ^'h^. /vf© . /Vj^.'//, /. Pi mm II) J w'lft fit J rain Z, ... aimim^h " Ff'f'/o. Bh4 VlfM Of ItJalltru Kmy ' .Aiittuaf :£jfeet- of ikrinffaye i When there is 'X)nBiderable amount of material to come off the surface of a board this forms the easiest mode of removing it. Examine this shaving, Tom, and notice that one side is quite smooth while the other is rough. Can you tell me how this is ? No Well, on the rough side you will see, on looking closely at it, little lines or cracks running paiallel and cross- wise close to each other. These lines of half -breakage are made when the shavir- slides up the edge of the back iron (Fig. 8). 'liS;! i' If you'll bead the alwring oTer it will crack along one of thew lines which are I more euUy on thick than on thin aharinga. Notice, too, that the spacinn between the hnea are greater on the thicker ahaving, agreeing more with the dS- tanoe 4f the top-iron edge back from the cutting edge than with the width of the open month of the plane. In a aeries of experimenta it has been found that the main object in rutting tte top iron close down to the cutting edge is not so much the more immediate breaking of the shaving, as keeping the cutting edge of the blade perfectly steady, so that It may not yield more or less according as to whether it cuts over a high or a hollow place (Fig. 9). Sometimes the mouth of the plane becomes clogged, and as a result the cutting oeasM. This defect may be due to a variety of causes: A dull edge scraping off the fibres it cannot cut; too low a set of the top iron; a bad fit between top and cutting iron,- allowing a shaving to find its way between them, obstructing the passage of other shavings ; or, it may be due to the cutting edge being hollow, throw- ing up a double shaving, choking the plane. In new wooden planes, the stoppage may be due to narrowness of the mouth, which win not allow a thick shaving to paas, but the opening should be no wider than IB absolutely necessary, as it is one of the chief elements in the production of smooth work. If that portion of the stock in advance of the iron were wanting (Fig. 8A), the shaving, having nothing to hold it down, would rarely be broken notwithstanding the presence of the cover iron. A wide mouth would produce a similar effect. This being true, whatever other conditions there may be, the wider the mouth is the less frequently the shaving will be broken, and in obstinate grain or m planmg against the grain (Fig. 10-2), the »>- will be the face of the work. Pressure on the material immediately in fr ..« cutting edge promotes clean cutting of the fibres and obviates splitting anci bearing of the wood in advance of the tool. When a plane does become choked up, do not conclude that the mouth is too small and proceed to make it larger. It is quite possible that it IS too large already. Knock out the wedge and try the iron to see if it beds firmly down without rocking; if it does, see if the wedge fite equaUy tight at all parts of its len_gth. If this is right, too, examine the back iron and see if it touches evenly and clos^y on the face of the cutting iron throughout the entire width and that its edge is thin, so that the shavings can slide easily over it ; or it may be that oil or dirt has gathered on the bevel of the back iron. Any or all of these causes will make a plane work badly or have a tendency to clog it up in use. The stock, especially when new, gradually loses its perfect flatness of surface, either from atmospheric influence, as warping (Fig. 12) ; from unequal wear in different parte; or from scoring, that is, being grooved by accidentelly driving over uailheads or benchtops. Should a plane refuse to " bite," although an abundance of iron projecte beyond the face; or, if it persiste in biting where it should not, and refuses to do so where it should, test the face to see if it is twisted, or if it is hollow across near the mouth or lengthways. It will probably have all these faulte, and before it will work properly it must be "shot," that is, planed straight and true in all vays. When freshly "shot," or when new, a plane must have a plentiful supply of linseed oil on the face and periodically rubbed all over to preserve the plane and to prevent shrinkage. To facilitate the movement of the plane over the surfac<; of the work, to reduce the wear from friction and keep the shavings from sLcking in the mouth, a few drops of lubricating oil should be frequently applied to the sole. When a plane is out of truth it is not capable of doing good work and must be " jointed," i.e., planed true. In lelecting a wooden plane cue thoold be taken that the annul rings are parallel with the sole, and the medoUary rayi or " silver grain " .vertically to it (Fig. 11), as in shrinkage contraction takes place at right angles to the rays (Fig. 18) ; the less, therefore, they are incUned to the face the less will be the wanwse or twist '^ The blade of the wooden plane is of iron overlaid in part with steel, the under side having a bevel and a small facet, forming the ground and cutting angle respec- tively (Fig. 13). The bevel is ground at an angle of from 20° to 25" to the upper face. The facet varies according to whether the tool is intended for use in soft or hard wood from 10° to 16° greater than the bevel, so that the upper face of the iron lies at from 46° to 60° from the surface of the work. The angle at which the irons are placed in the various planes varies as their function. The most service- t i FijifS Y F/f.^f r^ f /v/./tf. /=>/.>»: able angle is 45°, and is known as the common pitch, for when it is greater, especially in planing against the grain (Fig. 10-2), its action becomes more scraping than cutting. Nearly all planes are (distinguished by names having reference to the particular kind of work for which they are designed. The stock of the smoothing or hand plane is made short, so that by its use a surface may be smoothed without incurring the necessity of straightening it (Fig. 14). Thus if used on an uneven surface it will rise over elevated portions and settle in hollows, taking its shaving without interruption, producing no material change in the outline of the surface. But the jointer, fore or trying plane, similarly applied, will cut only on the higher parts and by so doing produce an even surface (Fig. 9). The jointer will smooth as well as the smoothing plane, but not until it has straightened the surface. This plane is longer and broader, for its immediate purpose is to remove the ridges caused by Uw jack (Pig. 16-1), and hot to interfere with the surface at the bottom of the hoUowa, for directly ita action penetrate! below that level then occaaion arises for cutting the Bide connection of the fibres (Fig. l6-2xx), entailing greater strength to push the plane along, and the effect of the "jack" begins to reassert itself in a worse form. AJthough the length of the plane-stock determines in a measure the straight- neas of the work, the length of the jack plane bears no relation to the character of the work expected of it, but it is such as can be easily and firmly grasped by the worker. It is used for coarse work, mainly for taking off the rough and ragged surface of sawn lumber and leaving it in a better condition for the action of the smoothing or trying pUne, by which the inequalities left by the jack plane are removed, and the whole surface rendered smooth, level, and perfectly even. What 18 the cutting edge of this blade made round for? To facilitate cutting heavy shavings the iron is ground and sharpened with slightly rounded edge (Fig. 16) so that the plane really cuts out a shaving thick in the centre and gradually tapering to nothing at the edges, leaving a broad and rounaed furrow (Fig. 16-1) on the surface of the wood. Upon the curvature of the cutting edge depends the efficient action of the jack. If the cutting edge were straight, as shown by dotted line (Fig. 16), It would produce a shaving rectangular in section (Fig. 15-2), requiring greater amount of force to remove it, because of having to tear off the sides of the •having (Fig. 15-2«). The term "jack" as applied to various contrivances is a corruption of the Jewish " Jacobus " through Jacquemes to Jacques in France and James in England, and Jacques being the commontct Christian name in th 'ormer country was used as a contemptuous expression for a common man< The i. u-oduc- taon of the word in the same sense into Enghind seems to have led to the use of Jack as the familiar synonym of John, which happened to be there the commonest name, as Jacques in France. !" since every Jack became a gentleman, There's many a gentle person made a Jack." The term then is applied to any mechanical contrivance replacing the personal smice of -an attendant, or to an implement subjected to rough and familiar usage A jack, a screw for raising heavy weights; a boot- jack, a device for taMng off boots • a jack-towel, a coarse towel hanging on a roller for the common use of the house- hold; jack-boots, heavy boots for rough service; jack-plane, a jack-knife, etc. Now, Tom, whatever you have to do, try and do it as well as it can be done even if it were only a grit-box. Work hard, but do not hurry ; do not fuss, and do not be anxious. The happiness of life consists in having something to do, somethinjr to love, and something to hope for. 99 I THE STORY OF A BUMBLE-BEE Pbofessor C. J, 8. Bethdne. On a bright day in spring, when the willows are in bloom and when we feel that the long, cold winter is indeed over, we may often notice a great big yellow- haired bumble-bet- uying about close to the ground and not joining with the myriad of other insects that are buzzing about the willow catkins. What is this great bee doing. Let us watch it for a little while. See, it hn^ ali^'lited on the ground and is creeping through I'le grass; now it comes out again and flies off a little farther; again it stops and creeps into a heap of brushwood or under an old stump— and there it stays for some time. It has probably found what it was searching for— you will hardly guess what !— an old deserted mouse's nest ! The great bee is a queen, and it has been searching for a suitable place in which to begin a new season's housekeeping. JIany things will answer the purpose so long as the materials are soft and afford sufficient slielter for tlie future colony. Our field mice prepare for winter by gathering together a quantity of soft, dry grass, which they make up into a ball in some convenient place protected from the weather. This provides them with warm and snug quarters for sleeping and hiding, and from it they make their runways under the snow to any food such as roots of plants, tender bark of young trees, etc.; as may be within reach. When winter is over they no longer need the nest, and so the bumble-bee can appropriate the deserted abode of the mice without any hindrance. WJien these nests cannot be found, the bee will choose something else. I have known a colony to be formed in a fur sleigh- robe which was carelessly left hanging in a barn, and within whose folds the queen found a nice soft place; at another time a nest was made under some clippings of grass left in a garden corner. What is needed is a mass of soft material for shelter and protection. Having found what she was looking for— it may be after many a long hour's search, in doors and out of doors, in meadow and garden and field, around the barn, amongst the remains of the old straw stack, in a heap of stones or pile of rubbish somewhere the diligent seeker has been rewarded for her toil and has found the mouse's nest or the next best thing to it. Now she feels free to join the honey- p- kers about the tree-blossoms and to partake of a well-earned meal. But soon she begins to work again. She is all alone and has to prepare her nest, lay her eggs, gather honey and pollen, mix them into a mass and start a colony. What an amount and variety of work for one lone bee to do. But she sets to work with a will and soon gathers material from flowers and blossoms for a rough lump of mingled pollen and honey, which she puts to,!iethcr in the middle of her abode. In this she lays some eggs, and while waiting for them to hatch provides more material and lays some more eggs. From those first laid the young soon come out in the form of little grubs and begin to feed upon the pollen mass with which they are sur- rounded ; they grow rapidly and cat voraciously, forming large cavities in the food material that surrounds them. When fully grown they spin a silken wall about them and change within it to the chrj-salis state ; soon a further change takes place and there comes forth a winged and fully-formed bee. These new bees are like the parent queen in color and markings, but are mubh smaller and are neuters or gexless creatures. It is not theirs to found new colonies and be the parents of new generations; their ducies are to toil and work for their own home, and to relieve their mother of some of the many labors she has had to perform alone. They are lively, busy creatures, with their yellow, furry coats and black shiny faces; they bun about the flowers and fill the air with their cheerful hum. Sipping the nectar of flower* for food, they gather pollen with their briitly feet and fill to the brim with the yellow cargo the bankets on their hind pair of leg*. Thi* i* brought home to the neat and added to the mat* already there. Meanwhile more egg* hatch out; mow hole* are made by the devouring grub* and lined with silk, which the queen mother coTer* with a thin layer of wax, thna making imperriou* pot* for the *torage of honey. The Uying of egg* and the hatching of grab* goe* on; more workw. are added to the winged community, and gra^naUy a bu*y, populou* colony i* A Bamble-Bec about to alight on i flower. A Bnmble-Bet feodiBC. formed. In it, when summer is drawing to a close, may be found some large and handsMne new queens, a number of smaller females which provide only male eggs and do not survive the winter, a swarm of workers and some males or drones, lazy creatures who do no work and soon die after mating with the queens. When September has drawn to a close and October has come with its chilly and frosty nights and cold rainy days, a sad change takes place in our bumble-bee's nest. All the busy worker- The have enlivened the sunshine of the summer days die, all the lazy drones also aie, and the poor old queen mother dies— some in the nest and some elsewhere— none survive but the big new queens, who hide themselves away and Bleep through the long cold months of winter in some safe resting-place. In the spring each one that survives establishes a new colony, as already described. " What is the good of the bumble-bee ?" some one may ask. They don't produce ■> 1 much honey, and what they do ii poor staff. Certainly they are of no Talue to ue u honey-prodacen ; that work it left to their oowina the hive beea. But thqr art moat niefnl and important creatures in another way. You will be tnrprised to hear that without their aid we can get no red clover seed. In the early dayi of settlement in New Zealand the fanners procured their seeds of various kinds from Qreat Britain until they were able to raise them for themselves. Amongst other things, red clover was sown and grew and blossomed splendidly, but it produced no seed. A fresh supply was obtained, but the result was the same — no seed at all was developed. Why was this? After a time those farmers found out— there were no bumble-bees in New Zealand. When this discovery was made thqr sent to England again, but this time they wanted bumble-bees u well as more clover seed. With much difficulty and after many disappointments, a supply of the insects waa procured and they soon multiplied nd spread over .lie country. Since then the New Zealanders are able to grow their own red clover seed. This may seem a strange connection, but perhaps if you examine a head of clover you will understand the matter. The head is composed of a number of long narrow flowers crowded together and having stamens which bear pollen before the pistils in their own floret are ready to receive it; it is, therefore, necessary that the pollen should be carried to other florets where the pistils are in a more advanced condition, for if the pollen does not reach the pistil, no seeds are dr.voloped. The flowers are so narrow and deep the wind cannot blow the pollen about, as it does from some flowers, and few insects have tongues long enough to reach the bottom. The honey-bee in search of nectar can sip it from the shorter white clover bloom, but it cannot do so from the red. A large number of other infects that feed upon sweets find the same difficulty — their tongues are too short. But our friends, the bumble-bees, have longer tongues that reach to the bottom of these flowers and enable them to lap up the sweet nectar they contain. While doing this some of the pollen dust in one flower sticks to the tongue and head of the bee and is carried to another, where it gets rubbed off on the pistil. Thus fertilization is accomplished and clover seed is produced — thanks to the bumble-bee. Many other flowers are aided by the bumble-bees in a similar manner. Melons and cucumbers, pumpkins and squash all require the aid of these or other insects to carry pollen from one flower to another. Our apple and pear, plum and cherry and peach trees would bear no fruit at all if it weire not for the insects of various kinds, especially honey-bees, which hum and buzz about them. And so it comes to pass that if the weather is wet and stormy during blossoming time there will be a poor yield of fruit, because the bees are unable to do their work. Boys and girls should know how much we depend upon many kinds of despised insects for various articles of food that we value very much, and should learn not to kill or molest these useful creatures. Many a country boy thinks it splendid fun to rob a bumble-bee's nest — I know I did in days gone by. There was the cautious approach to the nest as near as one dared go — a poke with a long stick — a wild chase with the bee after tlie boy — perchance a sting on the back of the neck. Then, armed with bats of shingle or branches of cedar twigs, the assault would be made again, and each poor bee as it came out to defend its home would be smitten and killed. When all were slain the nest would be rifled and we would suck the "canty store of honey from the dirty- looking cells. It was certainly a cruel proceeding, but boys hardly think of that. We were, moreover, killing our useful friends to whom we owe so much, and who would never sting or injure us if only left to live in peace. This we did not know — there was no " Nature Study " in schools in those days. Boys now are better I Ii M Uught and know mudi more mpecting the common Uiingi about tt»— bird* and iMwt*, inaket and toadi and other UMful creaturee, m well aa flowers and plant*. They should understand that every living thing ha* iU place in this world and its duties to perform, and that notlung should be destroyed unless there is a proper reason for doing so. Some insects, guch aa potato beetles and mosquitoes, we cer- tainly injurious, and we have no hesitation in destroying them, but do not let us interfere with our good-natured, useful, bu«y, friendly bumble-bees. 0) % 9 THE STORY OF WOOL PBorKBsoB 0. E. Day. The rext time you visit a fall fair, be sum you do not come away without going to see the sheep. If you are fortunate enougl to visit one of our large fairs, such as Toronto, London, or Ottawa, you will find the sheep peas a very interesting place. Here you will see many different kinds of sheep; some large, some medium size, and some small; some with white faces, some with brown or grey faces, and some with black faces; some with their faces so covered with wool that they can scarcely see out through it, and some with no wool at all on their faces; some with horns, and many with no horns— in fact, the longer you look at these beautiful creatures the more you will find to interest you. There is one thing about sheep that makes them look very different from all other farm animals, and that is the warm coat which they wear. This coat is so thick and so warm that the sheep can stey outside in the coldest weather without minding the cold in the least, while a horse, or a cow, or a pig, will shiver and look very uncomforteble indeed. Now, the horse, cow and pig have coats, too; biH their coats are made of hair, while the sheep's coat is made of wool, and wool makes a much warmer £•1 coat than hair. i\. Did you ever think of what is the difference between wool and hair? If you part a sheep's wool with your hands you will find that it is made up of a great number of very fine wool hairs, or fibres, which grow out from the skin of the sheep so close together, and so long, thai they form a coat which the wind cannot blow through. After handling the Kg. 1. Lock of ^*""' ^''^ ^'^^ ''"'^ *^"*'' y^"*" ^"^^^ are quite greasy, wool '^ ihowinc This grease, or oil, comes from the skin of the sheep, eoano cr mp. ^^^^ ^^ ^^jj^^ „ y^jj^ « jj. j^^^p^ ^j^^ ^^j ^^^^^ ^^^^ and smooth, and keeps them from tangling or matting together. It also helps to keep out water, so that a sheep can stay out in quite a heavy shower of rain without getting its coat wet through. Then, again, if you look at these wool fibre* closely, you will see that they are not per',„cly straight, but that they have a wavy appear- ance. In some kinds of wool these waves, or bends, in the fibre are much closer together than in other kinds. Look at the two locks of wool shown in Figs. 1 and 2. In the first there are very few waves in the fibre, while in the second the waves are Flf. 2. Lock of wool ihowinc madium crimp. ■*mmmim 83 cloM together. The finer the fibre it the more wtvet it hu. while wool with cotne fibre hu jerjr few wtvei. The«> warn, or bendf, ere called the "crimp" of the wool. When the wavee are very clo«e together, the crimp ii uid to be fine, lo that one wool hae fine crimp and coarie wool haa coarte crimp. But there ii anothtr difference between wool and hair. If you take a uosk fibre of wool, and Uke hold of the end that grew next to the body of the iheepTand then draw the fibre between the finger and thumb of t'le other hand, you will find that It ilipg through very graoothly. But if you take hold of the other end of the fibre, and then draw it bviween the finger and thumb a> before, you will find that It leemi to catch, and does not slip between the fingers nearly so easily. Why is ihis? It IS because every wool fibre has hundreds of very, very small scales on It, something like the scales on a fish, only so small that they cannot be seen without looking at the wool with a microscope, which makes the wool fibre appear many times larger than it really is. These tiny scales all - aint towards the outer end of the wool fibre, so that when you took hold of the outer end of the fibre and tried to draw it between the fingers of the other hand, the points of these little scales caught on your fingers and made it hard to plill. The picture (Fig. ,3) shows how these scales grow on the wool fibre, but the fibre and scales are made to appear very much larger than their natural size. Hair also has scales upon it, but the points of the scales on the hair are rounded and they lie so close to the Imir that they do not catch hold of anything th'jy rub against; wliile the scales on the wool fibre have sharp points and rough edges, so that they catch and cling to everything they touch. Thi.-t difference in the kind of scales is the most important dif- ference between wool and hair. Now, when the weather grows warm in the spring, the sheep does not need its warm winter coat, and so the farmer ■ Ds it all off, or shears the sheep, as v^ say. The wool is then sold, and is sent to the large factories, where it is made into all sorts of clothing, blankets, yam and other goods. •hiSfif'ielkS!' *"""■'■ Before it is made into cloth the wool is twisted, or spun into yarn. If the wool fibres had no crimp, they would not stay tightly twisted together, and the yarn would be of very poor quality. Then the yarn is woven into cloth by machines, and the way the wool is handled in spinning and weaving causes the little scales, which we have described, to catch mto one another and the wool fibres become all tightly matted, or felted together, making a firm, strontr r^iece of cloth. From what has been said you will see the use of 'he crimp a. e scales of the wool. The cnmp makes it possible to twist the r nto yarn which will not easily untwist again, and the scales cause the wool fibres to stic' 'ther, or felt. It would take too long to describe all the different things that can be made out of wool ; so we shall mention only a few of the principal classes of goods. Wool that is very long, strong and coarse in fibre is often called " braid " wool, because it is from such wool as this that braid is made. Then there is other wool, not quite so coarse as the braid wool, but still quite long and very strong in fibre; this is made into what are called " worsted " goods, if orsteds are used very commonly in mak- ing men's clothing. Some sheep produce wool that is quite long and yet very fine in fibre. Wool that is between two and three inches long and very fine in fibi« usually sells for a higher price per pound than other kinds. It is used very largely for making iMUct* dreM goodt, niofa m dakioM, and ia oftan eallad "daUina" wool. Wool that ia abort and tm in libra ia naad for making aoob gooda u broad- eloth, iba undardothing, twaada and othar gooda of that kind. Soma wool thit ia long and coaraa haa weak spota in ita ilbraa; and any wool that haa waak fibraa cannot ba uaad for daUinea, woratada, or braid, bnt ia mada into chaap twaada, blanketa, coaraa nnderclothing, carpeta, ooaraa atoeking yam, and roch like. That, you aea, thara ara many kindt of twaad, onderdothhig, blanketa and tttch gooda depending upon the quality of the wool tiiat ia uaed in making them. Such gooda u delaines and woratedt have a smooth aurface. This is because the wool is put through machinery which stretches the wool fibres out straight, and they are then twiated together in such a way that all their ends are tucked in out of aight. Thia atretchiog is called " combing," and the wool fibres must be sound and strong in order that they may not break during the operation. But if you examine a piece o! tweed or blanket, you will see the ends of the wool fibres stand- ing out from th«j surface, making the material look rough. This ia because the wool haa not bwn combed, but haa been put through a prooeM called " carding," in which the wool is rolled up in such a way that when it is spun the ends of the wool fibres stand out from the yam and give a rough appearance to the cloth after it ia woTen. Aa a rule, wool that Ia lesa than two inches long is not combed, but is uaed for carding ; and wool that is weak in fibre will not atand combing, and there- fore must also be carded. There are many other interesting things which might be aaid about wool, but I aimply ask that whenever you aee a sheep, you will think of what you hare learned about the wonderful coat it weara, and remember that we ahould always be kind to theae gentle and timid animala, becanae we owe them much of the most, beautiful and most comfortable clothing which we wear. THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF TOMBOY J. Hugo Bekd, V.S. I am a four-year-old filly. My name is Tomboy. My mother is a half-breed, and her name is Duster. My sire's name is Jim Waaaen; he is a thoroughbred. Therefore I am three-quarters bred. My mother is a large white mare, a great favorite of my master, who both rides and drives her. She is a grand saddle mare and hunter. She likes to gallop across country after the hounds with my master in the saddle. She jumps over fences, ditches, stone walls, and anything that is not too high ; she can run fast and jump better than the other horses in the hunt. She is large and strong, and although my master weighs two hundred pounds, she likes to carry him, aa he is kind to her, rides her well, never pricks her sides with the spurs, nor hits her with the whip, nor hurts her mouth by bearing too heavily on the reins. He has always been kind to her and fed her well, and that is why she is strong and sound and as lively as when she was young, although she has done a great deal of hard work in both harness and saddle. The first thing I remember was one Sunday morning in May. 1898, when my master and Ernest, his stable man, came to the stall where my mother and I were. I was only about one hour old, but I was walking around the stall. They looked at me for a while, and then my master came into the stall and put his hand on me and spoke kindly. I was afraid at first and ran behind my mother, but he followed me, saying, " Poor little thing, do not be afraid, I will not hurt yowii ; so after f ■i a littl* time my tmt left m«, and I hart imtw )ma afraid of him sioM, and ha haa alwaji bt*a kind to m«, and provided ma with a nice clean box itall with plenty of •traw to lie on and good food to eat, and he never work* me too hard. That morn- ing, after looliing me carefully orer, ha Mid, " Well, my little beauty, I am glad that you are • Ally; you are tall enough but ratiie too alim, but time and good cart will cauM you to grow itouter : your knee* are rafhor weak, but they will grow itrong after a white; 1 will call you Tomboy ; and if ytm make at good a mare u your old mother you will do well." He then gave my mother a nice feed of warm bran and cruihed oati and a drink of water. He told Emeet to clean the itall out and put in a liberal supply of clean itraw. I liked to lie on the straw, and did so moat of the time for a few days. Whenever I got hungry I got up and took some milk and walked around a little. My mother did not lie down for three days after 1 was bom ; she appeared to be afraid to do so for fear of hurting me. My master and V/^ Plf. 1. Tomboy'i Mother. " Duster, ' 23 .veari old. mistress came to see me often, and would always pet and handle me. I liked to see either of them come, and would always walk up to them to be petted. Ernest gave my mother her food and water, and kept the stall clean, and well supplied with straw. He liked horses and was very kind to us. and we both liked him, and would do what he told us. When T was three days old, my mjwter put a little halter on me, and Ernest put one on my mother, and led her out of the stall. I was net. afraid, but did not know what to do. My master, however, was kind and did not get angry and jerk or hit me but petted and coaxed me; he did not expect me to lead the same as a horse that had been trained to it; so I soon learned what he wanted me to do and went along with him. They took us to the yard between the stable and the house. I forgot to tell you that we live in town. There •ii 36 was some uice grass in the yard, and as soon as our halters were taJ' i off and we irere given our liberty, my mother commenced to eat it. The day was fine and warm, and it was nice to be out in the open air. • I began to run around my mother and kick up my heels. My master and Ernest stood and watched us and laughed at the fun I was having. Master said, " That is right, Tomboy, have a good time, but do not hurt yourself; you are not very strong yet and {i little sun will do you good." When I became tired I lay down and stretched myself out in the sun. All this time my mother continued to cat grass, but would. often look to see that I was all right; she was very proud of me. After a little while some bad boys came along and 'hrew stones at me ; one of them hit me on the head and hurt me. I jumped up and ran to my mother; the boys continued to throw stones, and mother became greatly excited ; she galloped around and whinnied, and my master Heard the noise and ran out. He was very angry at the boys, and told them that if they ever threw stones at me again he would horsewhip them. " .'& -were then taken back to the stable. We were taken out to the yard every fine day after that, and left there for a few hours, and I soon became stronger. When I was two weiks old I had my photograph taken. You can see by it that I was tall and slight, and that my knees had not yet become quite straight. When I was about three weeks old we were taken out as usual. A third man was leading my brother, who was a year old. His name is Ban- bury. Instead of leading us to the yard as usual they took us in the opposite direction, down a long street, until we came to a gate. They led us through this gate into a field, took off our halters, and set us at liberty. There was plenty of good grass in the field, and a stream of nice, cool, clear water running through it. Banbury and I had any amount of fun running and kicking up our heels; our mother would occasionally join us in our frolic, but usually she would just look on. I soon discovered that grass tasted nice, and I used to eat all I could. The weather was warm, and we stayed in the field day and night. There was plenty of grass and good water, and we had a good time, with nothing to do but eat, drink, play, and sleep. After a while, the grass became rather dry and less plentiful, and the flies began to torment us during the day time. Our master soon noticed this, and every morning, about the time that the flies were beginning to trouble us, he would mount his wheel and ride down to the gate, which he would open. Then he would whistle; and as soon as we would hear him we would all gallop up to him, when he would put a halter on my mother and lead her out of the gate. We would follow, and he would then shut the gate, mount his wheel, and start towards home. Banbury and I would sometimes run ahead and some- times lag behind ; but we never got far away. We all were taken to the stable and put into our stalls, the windows of which were darkened to keep the flies out. Ernest then gave us some nice new hay and crushed oats, having nailed a little box up in one corner of the stall, just the proper height for me to eat out of. I was too small to reach my mother's feed box. When evening arrived, we were taken back to the field, as the flies did not bother us now, and it was better for Fig. 2. Tomboy when tno weeks old. 87 J us to be out than in the stable, and we liked it better. This was done every day until the weather became colder in the fall, and the nights were so cold that we would be uncomfortable in the field. The flies had mostly all disappeared by this time, so we were kept in the stable at night and turned out in the day time. After a time the weather became so cold that we were not taken to the field at all, but were allowed to run out in the yard for a few hours every fine day. The time soon arrived when I had to be weaned. I was taken to a nice stall in a part of the stable distant from my mother. I did not like to be taken away from her. Neither did she like to be left alone. I was taken to her stall and left with her for a few minutes three times a day for three days; then twice daily for three days; then once daily for a few days; after which I was not allowed with her at all for a long time. By this time I had grown quite stout and strong, and my knees had become straight, as my master said they would the first time he saw me. I was fed all that I could eat the first winter. Ernest gave me good hay and scalded chopped oats, with a carrot or two every day, and twice weekly he gave me a feed of bran. My stall was kept clean and weh supplied with straw, and I was allowed to run out in the snow with Banbury every day that was not too cold or stormy. My master used to trim my feet every month. He said that the wear was not equal to the growth, and that if he did not keep them trimmed to the natural shape there was danger of them becoming ill-formed and injuring me for life. He used to put a little bridle on me and leave it on for an hour or two every day. He said this was to give me a mouth. By that he meant to ac- custom me to the bit. I did not like it at first, but after a few days I did not mind it in the least. Then he put a set of little harness on me and left it on for a few hours daily. He soon put a check rein on the bridle. A portion of this rein was elastic. He fastened the rein to the check hook, but did not check me up tightly. When I poked my nose out the elastic would stretch; but when I relieved tension it drew my nose back to the proper position. He said that this would gradually teach me to yield to the restraint of the bit, give me a good mouth, and thereby make me a more valuable horse, and more pleasant to ride or drive. I did well the first winter, and I "Earned a great many things that came very useful afterwards. When the grass became plentiful and the weather fine in the sprin- Banbury and I were taken out into the country and turned into a field on the farm of Mr. B. This was about the end of May. Our master told Mr. B. to watch us closely, and if we should not do well to be sure to let him know. The grass was very nice, and there was a stream of clear, cold water running through the field. We enjoyed ourselves very much, and resumed the sports of the previous summer, as we were always great chums and never quarrelled. In two or three days I began to feel unwell, my throat became sore, and I could not swallow easily. I felt cold all the time, although the weather was warm. I did not feel well enough to play with Banbury. I grew worse day by day. The soreness of my throat increased until I could not swallow anything without feeling great pain; my eyes became sore, tears ran down my cheeks, and I could not bear to look at the sun. My joints became sore. I had a painful cough and a discharge of mucus from the nostrils. Mr. B. saw \is every day. One day he said to his son, "The filly has a cold, but I guess she will soon get over it." The son said, "Bui, father, you promised to let Mr. R. know if anything went wrong with the colta. You know he is very fond of tfiem, and you should send him word about it." Mr. B. said, " I'll think of it some day when I am in town." I gradually became weaker, as I could neither eat nor drink. One day we saw our master coming I ; 88 down the lane, and we were both veiy glad. (Banbury was quite well, but was very anxious about my condition.) We knew that he would do something to help me As soon as he saw me he said, « Poor Tomboy, how you have failed. What IS ttie matter?" Mr. B. was there, and after our master had examined me, he said to Mr, B., " Why did you not let me know that the filly was ill? You are in town mostly every day." He said that I had influenza, and that it would require verv careful nursmg to pull me through. He was very angry with Mr. B. for not tellmg hun. He took both Banbury and me home. I was very weak, and we had to go slowly. When we reached home he rubbed something on my throat and gave me some medicine, which did not taste nice, but did me good. He and Ernest gave me a great deal of attention, and my throat soon got better, and I was able to eat. When I got strong enough he turned me out to pasture on Mr. W.'s farm, where we remained until the weather became cold, when we were taken back to town. The following winter we both did weU. One day my master put a set of harness on me and drove me out on the street. I was so accustomed to harness and to do as I was told that he had verj^ little trouble with me. He did this a few times, and then he hitched me to a light cutter. It was something new for me to have to draw a load, but I knew that it was all right, else my master would not ask me to do it. He walked behind at first, but I went all right, so he got into the cutter and I drew him too. He drove me a little every day for a couple of weeks, and I heard him tell Ernest one day that I was pretty handy now and would never give any trouble in harness. The next spring we were again turned out on good pasture and again taken to the stable in the fall. We were well cared for during the following winter. Banbury did some regular driving, and I was driven some to continue my education. The next spring Banbury was four years old and I was three. One day a man can^e to the stable and looked at all the horses. He asked if Banbury was for sale, and my master said, " Yes, I will sell him; he wU make an exceUent lady's saddle horse." The man said that he wanted him to send to South Africa with the mounted infantry. My master then said " WeU, you cannot have him, as"! will not sell him for that purpose"; so the man went away, and I was glad that he could not get Banbury to send to the wars. After a httle while a lady came to the office one day and asked my master if he had a good saddle horse to sell. Banbury was taken out for her inspection. She hked his looks, and asked if she might ride him. My mistress's saddle and bridle were put on him, and the lady mounted and rode away. When she came back she said she liked him, that his paces were good, and he had an excellent mouth and good manners. She bought him. I was sorry to see him leave the stable, but glad that he had been bought by a kind lady who wanted him for herself. My master saw him a few months later, and I heard him tell Ernest that he looked well, that he was homesick for a few weeks, but was now quit*; contented and happy in his new home, that his mistress was kind to him, and very fond and proud of him. One day Mr. T., a friend of my master's, asked permission to ride me. He was told that I never had been ridden, that I was of a nervous, sensitive disposition and required very gentle, kind treatment, and that he wo'-id like to ride me first himself, but was too heavy for me. Mr. T. said that he would like to try me, so a saddle and bridle were put on me, and I was taken out to a vaccnt lot. My master held me while Mr. T. mounted, and then led me for a while. I was afraid, as I never had weight on my back before, but while my master went with me I 'knew that it was all right, and I went nicely. He said to Mr. T., " Now, I will let her go; be gentle with her and do not worry her mouth"; so he let go. I became nervous then and made two or three plunges. Mr. T. sat me well, was easy with my mouth, and spoke kindly to me, so I settled down and walked along quietly. '■aaii^ Mr. T. then said, " So, my lady, you thought you could unseat me, but I will teach you that I am master here." He then drew heavily on the reins and hurt my mouth, and he hit me a smart cut with his whip, which caused me pain. This made me angry, as he had no right to punish me when I was acting nicely ; so I bucked and threw him off. He alighted heavily on the hard ground ; and I stood still until he got on his feet. My master came to me and caught the bridle; he asked Mr. T. if he was badly hurt, and told him that he should i.ot have punished me. Mr. T. said that he was not badly hurt and that he would mount again, which he did; and as he used me kindly I did not throw him again. The next day I heard my master tell Ernest that two of Mr. T.'s ribs had been broken by tba fall. I felt sorry, but really it was his own fault. After this I was ridden daily by Ernest. He was kind to me, and I acted well. I soon became handy, and Ernest said that I was very easy to ride. One day my mistress asked if she might ride me; and my master said yes, that I was perfectly safe. So they put saddles and bridles on me and my mother, and my mistress and master rode us. After that she rode me often, and said that she liked me better than her own saddle horse. She sits me well and has very light hands. I like to have her ride me. She says that I walk, trot and canter well, and that my mouth is perfection. One day she asked me to jump a ditch, and I did it so well that she tried , me over fences. I like jumping; I think I inherit the liking and ability to jump from both my parents. When the hunting season com- menced, my master rode a big bay half-bred that he calls Pharoah, and my mistress rode her big bay half- bred mare, Dorothy. There are so many barbed wire fences and so many swamps around here that they cannot hunt foxes as they do in some coun- tries; so the huntsman rides across the country with a ball soaked in oil of anise trailing after him. He avoids swamps and barbed-wire fences. Then the club comes on horseback, and the huntsman brings the hounds out. The hounds scent the anise, and follow the course that the huntsman had gone. This is called " banting a drag." The hounds make a lot of noise which is called giving tongue. I heard my mastc tell the huntsman one day to make a short run, as he wanted to try Tomboy across country, and that he would ride Duster; that the one was too y-juiig and the other too old for a long run, and to make it about four miles. So we were taken out one afternoon. My master rode my mother, and my mistress was up on me. As soon as the hounds came in sight I noticed that my mother became excited. She pawed the ground and champed the bit and wanted to be oft. I did not understand it, as I saw nothing to be excited about. There were about twenty ladies and gentlemen in the saddle. After a while the hounds scented the drag, and one of them gave tongue. My master said, " Old Cecil has found; steady. Duster, steady." Away the hounds went over the fence. My master had his hands full con- trolling his mount, but he managed to steady her and said to my mistress, " Now, I will give you a lead; steady her well at the jumps." He gave my mother her head and took the fence. I followed and off we went after the hounds. The other riders followed. My mother was very anxious to go fast, but her rider held in, Fi(. 8. The colt KiTei a lesson. i i ! , 40 and said to my niistre.., " Keep Tomboy back for a while; we will save our mounts at Iirst, and see if the old mare and her daughter cannot beat them all out at the hnish. 1 soon understood my mother's excitement, as I was becoming excited too, and anxious to run to the front. Our riders held us back without being severe or cross with us, and we jumped everything that came in the way. We enjoyed the sport as much as our riders. My mistress talked to me and praised the way I was carrying her, and said she would let me :.ave a brush with my mother at the finish. By this she meant that she would let me try to outrun her. I would rather have gone faster, but wanted to please my mistress, and I knew that she was the better judge. Some of the riders were ahead of us and some were behind, as their horses refused to jump. We went along steadily and did not make any mistakes but took our jumps well. After we had gone about three mile, we noticed tho«e Pig. 4. Tomboy and Duster lead the waj. in front of us stop short. The riders took their mounts back and then turned and whipped them ; after which they ran to a certain place and balked Two of the riders went forward over their horses' heads and were lost to view while the horses galloped over the field with empty saddles. My master said to my mistress. Ihey have come to a stream and the horses refuse to take water." He meant that they would not jump over the water. « It is a broad jump, and our mounts will require speed to take it; steady Tomboy and follow me, but do not whip her" He gave my • ,ther her head, and «he went fast, with me close up. We passed through the other horses and both jumped *'- stream with ease. The hounds had lost the scent and were running around the field without making any noise We came to a standstill and got a rest. Our master blew his horn, when every hound raised his head and looked toward ns. He blew again, and tliey all came to us In the meantime some of the horses got across the stream, but some would not taJce It. Master told the hounds to hunt, and Cecil again found and gave tongue The others soon joined her, and away they went, making a great noise. Both my mother and I were excited now and anxious to be off, but our riders controUed us until the hounds got well away, when our master said, "We are near the finish . t'l . I'lj jgrr; 41 now, so let u* ha\e a brtisli nnd try Tomlwy's mottle."' They gave us our heads and off we wfiit side by side. I was anxious for my mistress to win ; but my mother can run fast even though she is old. We left the" other horses behind. There was an open gate leading into the road, and alrout a quarter of a mile off we saw the hounds had lost again, and we knew that this was the finish. We ran down the road very fast; and just at the last I got about half my length ahead of my mother and won. 1 think she allowed me to do so, but she will not admit it. This was near home, so we were ridden home, and my mistress gave me great praise and said she would never allow me to be soM. but would keep mc for her own saddle horse. I was glad that I had done .*o well, as 1 liked my mistress and had a good home, and a horse never knows wliat kind of master he will get when he is sold. We were taken home and giv.-n a few moutbfiils o' water, put into our stalls, and given a nice warm masli each, rubbed until we wcro dry, and bandages put on our legs, and left on for about three ham^. The next day we were given some walking exercise, and we both felt quite fresli. "Sly mistress intends to ride and hunt me regularly, Init my master says my motlier is too old for such violent exercise and he does not think he will hunt her again. Tfi- says he will keep her as long as she lives; that it would be mean to sell so good ji servant in lior old age; and that he could not Itear to see her owned by any person wlio niigh* n^t be kind to her. THE STORY OF APPLE SCAB Prof. J. E. Howitt. Nearly every year black spots are seen on apples, especially on such varieties as Snows and Greenings. When we enquire what causes them we are told that they are due "to a fungus disease known as Apple Scab. Naturally the next ques- tion that comes to our mind is "What is a fungus disease?" Most of us are inclined to think that a fungus disease is something mysterious, something which cannot be explained. However, a high power microscope shows us that there is nothing more strange about a tungus disease than tlicrc is about a dog having fleas. A flea is a small and low form of animal life which lives upon and obtains its nour- ishment from the dog, which is a larger and more liighly developed form of animal life, while a fungus disease is caused by a fungus which is an exceedingly small and low form of plant life, which lives upon and obtains its nourishment from a larger and more biglily developed form of plant life such as an apple tree or a potato plant. These little plants, which are called fungi, are just as much plants as are sun- flowers, turnips and maple trees. They differ from su'-h well known plants as these chiefly in tiseir very small size, in the fact that they have no roots, stems, leaves, flowers or green color, and al^o in the way they get their food. Most fungi are very, very smaJ, though there are some quite large ones. Some "idea of liow small many of thciu are can be had when we are told thai we can onlv see them when there are several hundreds of them growing -^osc together, and then usually only as mere specks. Instead of being composed of roots, stems and leaves, fungi are made up •f very fine and delicate threads, some of which bear little bodies. called spores, which take the place of the seeds of our familiar plants. These seed bodies or spores are generally very numerous and always very .small, so small indeed that tliev mm iilii only h^ seen without a magnifying gUua when there are wveral htindreda of them m*»«ed together. Being so small they are very light, and, therefore, very easily blown about by the wind, washed around by rain, or carried on implements and clothing from place to place. The familiar plante, such as trees, flowers, grains and yegetables, take certain robstances from the soil and air, and out of these they manufacture their food. Fungi have not the power to manufacture their own food, so they steal it from other plants or get it from the bodies of dead and decaying plants or animah. Those fungi which steal their food from other plants injure them in various ways and thus cause what are known as fungus diseases. So we see that after all there IS nothing ve^r wonderful ab. .t fungus diseases, except the small size of the little plants called fungi which cause tnem. Now that we kiiow something about the nature of fungus diseases we are better able to understand "The Stoiy of Apple Scab." If we go into an orchard and ooK over an apple tree we shall see that there are black and brown spots on the leaves as well as on the fruits. If the spring and early summer have been very wet and the trees have not been sprayed, in all probability nearly all the fruits will be disfigured and many of the leaves destroyed by the apple scab If we could examine under the microscope the black or brownish spots on the fruits and leaves we should find that they were made up chiefly of fungus threads and very small somewhat oval spores. These spores are produced just under the outer layer of the apple skin which is soon pushed off so that they are right on the surface of the spot, from which they are easily washed away by rain, blown about by the wind or carried oflf on the bodies o.* insects. By such means the spores pro- duced on a scab spot are spread aU through the orchard. Those that reach an apple or an apple leaf, if there is plenty of ooisture, begin to grow. They send out very small threads called germ tubes which bore under the skin and grow into numerous fungus threads and spores which soon show on the surface of the leaf or fruit as spots. Plenty of moisture is necessary to cause the spores of the scab fungus to grow and produce new spots. This explains why apple scab is always worse in a wet season than it is in a dry one. The spores found on the surface of the spots are often caUed summer spores because they spread the scab during the summer months. They are not, however the ouly spores produced by the "»b fungus. If in the early spring we examine the fallen leaves under an apple tree on which the scab has been bad the previous year, we shall notice on both surfaces of the leaves little black, pimple-like bodies some mare specks, some as large as a pin's head. If we could examine these under a microscope we should find that they were round black cases, each with a very small hole or mouth. In each case we should find a large number of little sacks, and in each sack eight little spores. In the spring, when the weather begins to get warmer, if there is plenty of rain these spores are set free into the air, and some of them are blown on to the lower leaves of the apple tree, where, if there IS plenty of moisture, they grow and produce scab spots with numerous summer spores, which, if the weather is wet, soon spread the scab through the. orchard. As these spores which are found on the fallen leaves in the spring of the year serve to carry the fungus over the winter, they are often called winter spores. Just when they are liberated in the spring of the year depends upon the time we get our rams. Moisture is required to set free these winter spores as well as to cause them to grow, hi most seasons we get enough rain to set free the spores and cause them to grow just about the time the leaves of the apple trees are unfolding. The scab fungus only grows and spreads rapidly when there is plenty of moisture, so that the times of the year that the acab uauallj doea the most damage are during the spring and early summer months, which are very likely to be wet, and during the early fall rains which we often have about the middle of August or first of September. If we enquire how to prevent apple scab we are told to spray with lime- -uiphur or Bordeaux mixture. These subatancea are what are called fungicides, that is, they kill fungi; and the object of spraying ia to cover the surfaces of the leaves and fruits with them so that when a spore reaches a leaf or fruit it is poi- soned and cannot grow and cause scab. We see, therefore, that if spraying is to accomplish its object it must be very thoroughly done; every fruit and leaf must be all covered with the poison so there is not the least space on which a spore can grow. Spraying must also be done at the proper time. The poison should be on the leaves and fruit before the spores reach them. We have already learned that the spores only spread and grow during wet weuther. The times of the year, therefore, that n get our wet 'leather are the times when we have to spray if we are going to prevent scab. One spraying with either lime-sulphur or Bordeaux mixture is not suflBcient as the rain in time washes the apray oft and, as the leaves and fruit grow larger, there is more surface to cover. In order to he sure of pre- venting apple scab we must spray with lime-sulphur or Bordeaux mixture from three to five times during the summer, the number of sprayings depending upon whether the season is wet or dry. The first spraying should be done early in the spring just as the leaf buds burst, the second just when the blossom buds are showing pink, the third immediately after the blossoms have fallen. If the weather is wet after this time another spraying should be given in about two weeks. After this last spraying we seldom get very much rain until late summer when the weather very often becomes cold and wet and favorable for the spread of scab. In such seasons it is necessary to spray again in August. THE STORY OF THE SMALLEST LIVING THINGS Prof. Dan H. Jokxs. The smallest of all living things are known as bacteria. These are very tiiy little plants that cfinnot be seen unless we use a very powerful microscope to look at them with. They are so very small that a million of them could be placed on the head of a small pin and not be crowded. There are many kinds of bacteria. Some of them are round like a ball ; fiome of them are straight like a pencil ; some of them are twisted like a cork-screw , and some of them are long and thin like a thread. Some kinds *hen placed in a drop of water under a powerful microscope can be seen to swim about quickly like little fish ; other kinds move about slowly like worms, while other kinds cannot move about at all. Those that move about have little whips called flagella sticking out from their bodies. Some kinds have these whips at the end of the body, while other kinds have many of them scattered all over the body. When they lash these whips about in the water it causes them to move like fish move when they wiggle their tails. Bacteria are found everywhere that other living things are found. They are present on the ground, in the air, in water and on our hands and clothes. Many kinds are very useful to us and are used for many purposes. Others are very 44 injurious as they cause diMase and death. One kind causes typhoid feter and another kind causes diphtheria, while another kind causes taberculoiis or eoasump- tion, and still other diseases are caused by other kinds. One kind causes vegetables to rot in the ground or in the cellar, another kind causes a blight on apple trees And 7'f-X, Fig. 1.— Different types of bacteria. Pig. 2.— Yeast plants, some of them budding Fig. 3.— Different types of microscopic animals. pear trees, and still another kind causes cucumber plants to wilt and die. So you «ee that though bacteria aia very small, so small that we cannot see them without « highly magnifying microscope, they are very important and W3 should learn all 48 we ma about them «o that we may kuow how to help the good aud useful kitida- and how to destroy the bad and dongerooa kinda. In the soil of the garden, the field and the woods, bacteria are very useful. They are not only useful here but neceuary, as the plants and trees could not grow without them. They are known as the soil bacteria. Their work in the soil is to prepare the food lor the plants. Then we eat a piece of bread and butter or anything else we have to chew it in our mouth and then digest it in our stomach before our boHy can use it to make blood and bone and muscle. The bacteria in the soil digest the plant food that is there, and make it so that the plant can take it in through the root hairs to make leaves and branches and flowers and fruits. So you see that if the plants in the garden arc to grow their best wc must encourage the bacteria in the soil to digest or prepare plenty of food for the plants to take in. If they are to prepare plenty of food for the plants we must put plenty of food into the soil, as manures and fertilizers, for them to work on. Then, as the soil bacteria like plenty of air, we must keep the soil well worked up with the hoe and cultivator, as this enables air to get into the soil. They also require moisture, so we miut not let the garden get too much dried out. In a teaspoonful of good garden soil there are several millions of soil bacteria. The richer the soil is the mure bacteria there are, and so the more plant food is prepared for the plants that are growing in it, causing them to grow larger and better than plants growing in a poorer soil. Some kinds of soil bacteria, instead of digesting the plant food that is added f- ' ^ soil, as manure, are able to obtain from the air itself much valuable food in the shape of nitrogen which they add to the soil and make it so that plants can use it. The- plants ^emselves cannot do this. If we keep fresh milk or cream in u warn* pluce it stwn turns sour or changes some other way. If we keep it in a cool place it will also turn, but it take.>« a longer time. These changes are caused by bacteria of various kinds. These bacteria get into the milk in many ways. If the milk pails, cans and bottles are not well scalded, there will be bacteria in them, and so when milk is put into these vessels the bacteria in them will begin to act on the milk right away. If bits of hay and straw and particles of dust and cow hairs and flies are allowed to drop into the milk they will bring many bacteria with them, and these on getting into the milk will at once begin their work of spoiling it. So you see how necessary it is if we are to have good milk, we must not only get it from good healthy cows, but we must be very careful to have all cans well scalded and to take all care to keep flies and bits of dirt and other things from getting into the milk. We must also keep the milk in a cold place, as the bacteria will not be able to change it so rapidly when it is cold as when it is warm, for, however careful we are, we cannot, in the ordinary way of caring for milk, keep all bacteria from getting into it, but the more careful we are the fewer will get in, and the better the milk will be. In the dairy, when butter is to be made from cream, a " lactic starter " is first added to the cream and allowed to work over night. This is a culture of one kind of bacteria, the lactic acid bacteria, which has the power to give a good flavor to the butter. When butter is bad flavored it is generally due to other kinds of bac- teria being present in the cream from which the butter is made. In the summer time it is very difficult to keep raw meat in a fresh condition unless it is kept in a refrigerator. This is due to various kinds of bacteria gbtting- on to the surface of the meat during the handling of it from the air and from flies. Flies have millions of bacteria on their legs and so when they get on to meat they plant bacteria on it wherever they walk over it. These bacteria on the flies' legs- come from the filth and manure in which flies breed. Aix-^lMr tiny microMopic plant which it different from bacteri* u the yeut plMt * we teke a very uwU bit of Fleiwihmut'a yeMt on the point of a needle, mix it in a imall drop of water on a microecope ilide and look at it throng a highly magnifying microecope, we ahall eee that it i« made np of a rery large number of oval or egg-ahaped bodice. Each one of these oval or egg-thaped bodiee ia a yea«t plant. In a cake of Fleiechman'e yeaat there are many milliona of them. There are many varieties of yeast plants, though they look verv much alike. Some of them, like Fleischman's yeast, are very useful and others are not useful, and some of them are even injurious. Yeast plants are used in the manufacture of bread, beer, wine, whiskey, root beer, cider, etc. When yeast plants get into any- thing containing sugar and water, or fruit juices, they begin to grow and multiply. They feed on the sugar water by absorbing it and almost immediately begin to bud. At first very small buds will begin to show on the surface of the yeast plant. These buds will quickly grow until they are as large as the plant that has produced them and then they will lAgin to bud, and so they continue growing and budding, or multiplying, as long as the material they are growing in is suitable for them. During this process they act on the sugar and change it into alcohol and carbon dioxide gas. It is this carbon dioxide gas that causes the dough to rise when bread is being made. It helps to make the bread light, spongy and digestible. Yeast plants are very common on the surface of fresh fruits, though, as they are so small, we cannot see them. If, however, we put some fruit into a jar or bottle and crush it, tnen allow it to stand for a few days, a fermentation will take place in the fruit juice. This fermentation is the result of the growth and multiplication of the yeast cells that were on the fruit at the time it was put into the bottle. If when canning fruit for preserves we are not careful to kill, by boiling or steaming, all the yeast and mold plants that are on the fruit then the jars of fruit will fer- ment and spoil. Many jars of fruit ar spoiled in this way every year. In the manufacture of wine the grapes are crushed and the juice extracted is allowed to ferment. This fermentation is caused by the growth and multiplica- tion of the tiny yeast plants which -e invisible on the surface of the grapes. Sometimes the wine is good and someumes it is bad. Whether it is good or bad depends as much on the varieties of yeast plants that are on the grapes as on the quality of the grapes themselves. In the manufacture of cider the apples are crushed and the juice strained off into barrels. It is then sweet cider. If the cider is to be used as sweeti cider it has to be pasteurized. That is, it has to be heated to 70-75 degrees centigrade *or twenty minutes to kill all the yeast plants that are in it that have come from the t...r- face of *he apples. Care must also be taken to keep yeast plants from getting into it after it has been pasteurized or else it will ferment. If it is intended for hard cidor then it is not pasteurized but filled into barrels and allowed to ferment. This fermentation is brought about, as in the case of wine, by the growth and multiplication of the yeast plants that were on the surface of the fruit that was crushed. Sometimes a little Fleischman's yeast is added to the juice when it is put into the barrels. This haatf ns the fermentation. The fer- mentation results in changing the fruit sugar that was in the apple juice into alcohol and carboii dioxide gas, and the fermented juice is then known as hard cider. There are many tiny microscopic animals as well as microscopic plants. These, however, are usually a little larger than bacteria or yeasts. They are very common m swamp water and roadside puddles. Like bacteria and yeasts tiiey are too small to be seen without a highly magnifying microscope. i<:ii. Vf THE STORY OF THE PLOW J. R. Sn\. B.S.A. Toa IuT« Mw your fathen or brothers plowing in the fields and are doubt- lees so accustomed to this commonplace fsrm operation that you may think that farmers always had horses, harncM and plows like we have to-day. But plowing the fields was not always the simple and easy thing it is now, A long time ago the farmers had no horses, but had to use slow, clumsy oxen instead. They had no leather harness, but used willow branches twisted into thongs with which to hitch the oxen to the plow. They had no steel plow like your father's, but used a crooked stick as a substitute. The first plow was a pig'i* no«e. Not that the farmer plowed with a pig's nose, but the first plowing was done by pigs as they rooted OTer the soft earth in search of juicy plant roots or fat grubs. The farmer of long ago noticed the efficient manner in which the pigs turned over the soil and tried to imitate them. He cut down a small tree and trimmed ofT all but one branch, leaving this one about two feet long and sharpened on the end. A long stick was fasteneu to the trunk of the tree with which to steady it, and the plow was ready to use. This was dragged up and down over the area to be planted and the earth torn up until it was sufficiently loosened to give a covering of soil for the seed to be sown. The only reason given for plowing the soil in tiiose days was to get a covering of earth for the seeds. It was soon found, however, that the weeds got thicker and thicker after each crop, and as years went by and the field was plowed again and again the soil heeame harder to work. It would be very sticky when wet and bake into a hard mass when dry, and the plants were greatly injured by the dry weather. Now the reason of this was tliat the stick-plow did not turn the weeds and weed seeds under PrlmlUr* plowing. Merely ■eratehlng the lurfaee of the ground. The first type of plow with moldboard. the soil to smother and die, neither did it turn up their roots to be killed by the frost. Neither did the plow crumble the soil as do the plows we now use ; nor did this stick-plow loosen the soil to any great depth, for had the soil been worked deeper it would have held more of the rains and the plants would not have died of thirst in the hot season. And so we see with such a poor plow only poor crops could be produced, and farmers were not very prosperous at this time. Some men who have studied the history of fanning tell us that the story of the plow is the story of farming ; that if the plow used by the farmers of a nation is poorly constructed and gi^es but indifferent results, we are sure to find that nation lacking in agricultural know- 48 The one-furrow plow; In common iim in Ontario. Plowing two furrows at on* timt. 49 ledgt' tiiid the homrM ol: <„■ iMn that till' iiuiii who i.« ii ^'ii<„l furn lUT- I I .TV •i.inf'irtiiM.'. I .ii|i|h>m' thi lloWii woulil have II jifMxl pmli iiiiia fii;;;,'e'.tc(l liv ' Jimde i" the chiiix' of the plov thp plow reinaiiK il nf liest n el i n very uli^'ht (h'pth, and iliti iioi A peeuliar eiistoiii in :«ir tails of the horM'ji or oxen. " ic harness was unknown. So \>ii and eheap a wa.v of "hiteliin;; u|, a while people In-jjan fo dee tlia, nmkinjr if a erinie to plow in tlii ■ • ' ' I'lownian. mid ilie Uiv or ;;irl who hI.' ..t i.,H' ihi' irround -or plow ih(\ at leiwt had ]>!■■ - nose, and niaiiN inijiroMnieiit.- wen- soon |(h in.t.a>ed its n-eriilne-... Itnt for many vear* 'I'ipl.'iniiit xviiii h ..eru'd to -tir the soil to r)tdv I ihe wifd- and ;:rnMs as a ;;.H.d plow should do. ■I trie- was to draw jdow. In tvin;; them to the ' 10 h irness-tuakers such ■• v, • have, an