Chapter 10 ODD JOBS

KINDLING WOOD

Cutting kindling wood was ever a boy's job. Most set tasks have little to them but drudgery. But cutting kindling used to be interesting. What is there about it? The struggle to master a stubborn stick, the danger that a slip may bring the axe down elsewhere than on the stick, or that a careless blow may cause the stick to rebound, leap into the air, and give the chopper a whack on the head? Scarcely a boy but can show a hatchet's scar on the foot and I know a girl who will always carry one in the place where most people carry a corn.

The problem of a source of kindling supply on the farm is never one to be reckoned with. There are always old fences going to pieces, old buildings being torn down, and the problem is rather how to store the supply where it can be had when needed. In town things are different. The fences, if any, are iron, the buildings are few and kept in repair because they cost so much to build. There are practically no loose boards lying around and kindling has to be bought outright. The ex-farmer always resents this as an uncalled-for expense. But kindling is a necessity wherever fires are to be made. No patent article quite fills the bill.

Photograph by Helen W. Cooke

An Odd Job That is Never Out of Date

Why should grown men monopolize the kindling business? Because there is good money in it? But any boy can go into this business, if he has any spunk. The capital required is very small. If your credit is good you can borrow a hatchet. The chances are that spunk will supply the wood. It may be rotting in somebody's wood lot waiting till the right boy comes along.

Boys in the South are lucky. They can get fat pine which is in great demand both North and South. Some say the supply has given out, but who believes such tales? The demand for this will never be less than now and there is no substitute for fat pine.

Collecting driftwood is another occupation for boys, sea-coast boys, this time. A kind of substitute for this is being sold. It is a mixture of chemicals and does very well for toy fireplaces in city apartments. But the real thing will always bring a fancy price.

It is the common practice of American lumbermen to regard no part of the tree as valuable, but the trunk. All the rest is rubbish and the expense of trimming off the branches reduces the amount of profit on every log. Some day when our young foresters get enough experience to see all round the great subject they are working at, they will think out ways of disposing economically of the tops and branches of the cut trees. This is one of the big problems of forestry for these reasons: (1) The huge amount of this refuse wood chokes out the young growth and the forest cannot renew itself as it would naturally. (2) The brush dries quickly and whenever a small fire gets started there is fresh food for it everywhere. (3) The brush prevents the fighters from making their way to the threatened district. They have to fight the brush piles before they get to the fire.

This refuse wood might be put to a number of uses, e. g., for pulp wood, thus saving the trunks for lumber; for fuel, nothing makes better fires than the smaller limbs; for kindling, the branches which are too small to use for stove wood make splendid kindling, particularly for fireplaces.

Some of us think gathering faggots too slow and laborious. But we needn't make work of it. When I see men, women and children poking over the masses of evil-smelling rubbish on the mammoth dump-heaps that deface the landscape near some of our great cities, or going from house to house collecting old iron or rubber or newspapers, or picking over the slag along the railways for chance lumps of coal, I wish that there were some way of getting them away into the woods where firewood is rotting and doing harm besides, a waste that works both ways, you see.

There is no excuse for the poor people of a village near woods suffering for fuel. They needn't steal. Let them get permission from the owner to clean up his wood lot. It will be good for the wood lot and the owner knows it if he is an intelligent man. The boys and girls are much safer gathering faggots in the woods than coal along the tracks.

Faggots for kindlings bring a fair price, too, and I recommend it as a way of earning money out of your father's wood lot if he has one. In some villages in Germany the people have the right to break off in the forest all the branches that they can reach when standing on the ground. In those forests there is never any loss of life, nor lumber, by fires, no choking out of young growth by brush piles. You could walk through the forest there and see in every direction miles and miles of clean trunked trees of varying ages, but no underbrush, no rubbish, no decaying logs, no diseased wood.

Maybe those thrifty German people made mistakes when their country was as young as ours. But they found out the way to take care of their forests hundreds of years ago and we can learn how from them.

CLEANING A CARRIAGE

If you get home late at night after a drive in the mud the chances are that you will not clean the carriage till the next day. But if thin mud is allowed to dry on a varnished surface it will be sure to leave spots.

Water is the "first aid to the injured" in cleaning highly polished vehicles. Plenty of it should be flushed onto the varnish, the mud washed off by the force of the water rather than being rubbed off or scraped off. Keep your buggy out of the bright sunlight when not in use, especially when it is wet. Slow drying is better for the varnish.

A coarse sponge is a good thing to wash a carriage with; this should be thoroughly rinsed after each rub to free it from grit. Never use soap on varnish. It may be used on the metal parts of the carriage. Prepared chalk is the best for polishing the ornamental parts. For glass, clean water and a cloth or chamois skin are all you need.

WORK IN THE ORCHARD

Shield-budding

Many are the light jobs in the orchard or fruit plantation, which fall to the boys. I know a boy who at thirteen was his father's expert budder. There are high school boys in localities where nurseries and orchards are plentiful who follow this as a trade, making good wages at it. It is a wonderful thing to do, a very neat job in handicraft, and while a book might tell how it is done, nobody could learn how to bud or graft without seeing it done and then trying, till the trick is learned. Boys also follow the grafter and tie in the bud or wax the graft.

Boys are often employed in vineyards to follow the pruners and tie the vines to the trellis or wire with rags or raffia. They become very expert and tie an incredible number in a day. In fact many of the light jobs grow pretty heavy after eight or nine hours.

MAKING RUSTIC FURNITURE

Collecting material for making rustic furniture is a pastime that is suggested by walks in the woods. Sometimes a bit of twisted branch may look like the arm of a settee or the leg of a tea-table. Procuring the first part suggests the quest for the other pieces and the fitting them together to make a natural looking, balanced, artistic piece. Rustic furniture to be good, should appear to have grown that way. There is too much of the kind that looks as if it were made to sell. The truth is that the more truly artistic it is the better price it will bring in the right market. Laurel wood is particularly adapted for rustic furniture.

SELECTING SEED CORN

By a careful study of what experts have to say about the best corn for seed, and of the photographs of ears of prize corn, any young man of intelligence may learn to select from his father's field the best corn for seed. It may be that your father buys his seed corn from a seedsman. My experience is that seed corn bought in bulk contains a large number of poor grains. They probably shell the whole ear. The best farmers never plant grains from tips or butts of ears, since it costs just as much to plant and cultivate and harvest a runty corn stalk bearing a nubbin as it does a lusty, towering stalk with two good ears of corn on it.

Prize seed corn

Find out what a good ear of corn looks like. Make note of all the points to be encouraged. The habit of producing two good ears of corn is a good one to establish. Go through the field when the corn is ripe, before the huskers, and select the best ears, with all the points you have learned in mind. Take off the outer husks and draw the rest back, exposing the entire ear. When you have ten or a dozen ears braid the husks together, starting with three ears, adding one after another to the braid till all are secure. Fasten with strong twine and make a loop to hang the bunch by. Seed corn should hang for a few weeks in the open to cure, but should be taken inside before snow. You will have to use a good deal of ingenuity to keep chickens, rats, squirrels, and other thieves away from your seed corn.

When spring comes the corn should be shelled, and every imperfect grain should be discarded. By selecting the seed in this way, demanding of each ear that it shall be perfect, you find the crop will improve, if cultivation is good, the soil well enriched, and the season normal. Every time a farmer boy uses his mind first in connection with any kind of work, the quality of work improves and his interest in his work increases. Selecting seed not only gives better corn but it helps make a better farmer.

MAKING CIDER VINEGAR

Every good apple year there are thousands of bushels of apples that go to waste. It doesn't pay to pick and put them into barrels when the price of barrels is more than you can get for the apples. The farmer is the last man to learn how to make use of what ordinarily goes to waste. Nature is lavish always, but wastes nothing. The farmer has learned to be lavish and wasteful too. They say that every part of the pig is utilized in the packing house except the squeal. That is the principle which the farmer will have to live by if he would succeed. What can be done with those wasting apples? Let the boys have them to make into pure cider vinegar. Every one knows how vinegar has been adulterated, and now the law-makers have put their veto on the practice and a penalty to match the crime.

There is nothing very difficult about the physical part of vinegar making. Nature does the hard work but we can aid nature by providing the ideal conditions for making the product we want.

The best apples for making pure cider vinegar are clean, ripe apples. If you use green, dirty, decayed, or over-ripe apples, your vinegar will probably not meet the lawful tests and your time and work will be wasted. Green apples have not enough sugar in them. The same is true of over-ripe apples. "But there isn't much sugar in cider vinegar," you say. No, that is true, but without sugar in the cider you wouldn't get any vinegar. If you were a chemist you could find out just how much sugar was contained in the juice of your apples. Unless the cider has 85 per cent. of sugar it will not make vinegar good enough to satisfy the requirements of the law. However, plenty is found in cider made from sound, ripe apples, and he who makes cider out of anything else deserves to fail.

Expose any fruit juice to the air and it will change. We say, "Oh, that is fermented," and throw it away. But what is this ferment? Set a glass of fresh apple juice in the sun and watch it. In a few days you can actually see that some change is taking place. It is "working," as they say. The sugar is changing to alcohol; so the chemists tell us. What makes it do this? The chemists must answer again. They say that there are yeast plants in the apple juice. How did they get there? We did not put yeast in the apple juice. No, but the air is full of the spores of wild yeast plants so the juice does not have to wait till we put in domesticated yeast from a little "silver" wrapper. As these yeast plants grow they cause the sugar in the juice to change to alcohol. There are lots of other wild spores in the air and in the dirt which collects on the apples if they are left out very long. Some of these spores may be of a kind that would delay the fermentation. For this, if for no better reason, we should wash our cider apples.

In a glass of cider set out in the sun it does not take long for the yeast plants to convert all the sugar to alcohol, because warmth hastens the work. In the barrel set in a cool cellar it takes longer, about six months.

But you have no vinegar yet. You have nothing but "hard" cider which isn't fit for anything. But in the barrel along with the yeast plants are lots of other bacteria, to be seen under the microscope. Among them is a kind that causes alcohol to change to acetic acid. Did you ever pour off the vinegar from a jug and find a mass of jelly-like substance stopping the mouth of the jug? They called it "mother" didn't they? This mother contains great numbers of acetic acid makers and if placed in your barrels will hasten the changes that fit the hard cider for use on the table.

The making of cider vinegar is almost all profit for there is very little outlay for materials and very little work is required. It does take some knowledge of what to do and when. A little study and experience makes success almost certain. A bulletin of the New York State Experiment Station at Geneva gives the following directions, somewhat abbreviated here, for making good cider vinegar at home:

"Use sound ripe apples, picked before they have become dirty or crushed. Observe ordinary precautions to secure cleanliness in grinding and pressing, and use no water. Let the juice stand a few days to settle, then draw off the clear liquid into barrels that have been cleansed and treated with steam or boiling water. Do not fill more than three fourths full. Put a loose plug of cotton into the bung hole. If kept at a temperature of fifty to forty-five degrees Fahr. the alcoholic fermentation will be complete in about six months. This time can be shortened to three months by keeping a temperature of sixty-five to seventy degrees in the storage room and by adding one cake of Fleischmann's compressed yeast dissolved in a little water, to every five gallons of juice. When the cider stops 'working' you will know that the sugar has all been changed to alcohol. The clear liquid should now be drawn off, the barrels rinsed and filled again. To each barrel should now be added from two to four quarts of good vinegar containing some 'mother.' If kept at a temperature of sixty-five to seventy degrees Fahr. the vinegar may be ready for use in six months. If kept very cool it may be two years. When sour enough to be 'just right' the barrels should be filled as full as possible and tightly corked or the sourness may disappear."

MAKING GRAPE JUICE

Any girl with a little experience in canning fruit can make for home use and for sale a harmless and delectable beverage out of the surplus grapes. Every good grape year on the farm there comes the question of what to do with the grapes. A little jelly is made when the grapes are green but most people prefer currant jelly or blackberry or crab apple. Canned grapes are pronounced "no good" by all the family, and grape marmalade is full of "splinters of glass," though how they got there who can say?

The housekeeping magazines give receipts for preserving grapes but cold storage alone gives good results and few farms have cold storage plants. Those grapes hang there by the bushel and try as you may you do not get them all eaten fresh.

Grape juice is not wine. If you should try to make wine you would probably fail. But unfermented grape juice is easier to make than jelly and as it needs no sugar your investment is small. Grape juice has food value, as it contains more solid matter than milk, and is recommended as a drink for children and for invalids. In many European countries "grape cures" have long been popular. In the pure, unadulterated, unfermented juice of the grape we have a palatable, nourishing food and a refreshing drink in one. It is highly recommended as a preventive of some diseases, a cure for others, and as a restorative of general health.

So much for the product. Now how is it made? It is possible to make grape juice from start to finish in the open air. If the grapes grow on an arbour what more delightful occupation can you imagine than spending a day or two converting the perfect fruit into nectar? Idling in a hammock may appeal to some, but a row of shining fruit jars worth seventy-five cents apiece looks better to an enterprising girl than a finished novel.

You will need a table, a rocking chair, a large basket and scissors, granite pans and double boiler, an oil or gasolene stove, clean jelly bag and flannel filter, jars or bottles, corks, rubbers, etc.

When the grapes are just right to eat out of hand they are right for grape juice. Green or over-ripe grapes are not worth working over. Discard all unsound fruit, wash, and crush. Put into a freshly washed bag of coarse, strong muslin, tie securely and twist and squeeze it until the juice is all out. Two people can work to advantage at this job.

The juice should now be put into a stone jar set in a pan of water or heated in a double boiler. It is just at this point that most people make a mistake and destroy the fine flavour of the grape by boiling the juice. It should never boil. If you have a thermometer use it now. The object of heating this juice is to destroy the yeast spores and other organisms which have alighted on the grapes as they hung in the arbour and which are so small that they came right through the mesh of the muslin bag. A temperature of one hundred and eighty degrees to two hundred degrees Fahr. is high enough. Take the juice from the fire when the two hundred Fahr. is reached. A thermometer is not absolutely necessary. When the juice begins to steam it is getting close up to two hundred and twelve degrees Fahr., the boiling point, which you must avoid.

Making prime quality unfermented grape juice requires two forenoons. If you want your jars to be clear from top to bottom instead of muddy with sediment you will set the juice away in an enamelled or glass vessel until morning, when you will see why this precaution is necessary. With greatest care dip the clear liquid off and filter it. A flannel bag made in the shape of a cone with a stiff wire or wooden ring at the top to hold it open, is the best filter. Several thicknesses of flannel or felt are better than one. All the tiny particles of sediment will be caught in the woollen meshes and the juice will be pure. The last traces of settlings, will be removed and the liquid will be clear. The colour and flavour will depend on the kind of grape used.

Put the filtered juice into bottles or fruit jars that have been sterilized by boiling in water. Do not fill them quite full. Wiping is unnecessary. Fit a false bottom made of a thin board or slats into the bottom of the washboiler and set the jars of grape juice with rubbers and covers on but not screwed down in on this. Put water into the boiler till it comes up to the shoulders of the jars. Heat now until the water is on the point of boiling, but do not let it boil. Remove jars from the water and screw down the covers. If bottles are used, clean, sterilized corks must be put in, while the juice is still in the hot water. If the corks are very tight further sealing is not required, but wax or paraffine is put over them by cautious persons to make assurance doubly sure.

Quart jars are probably most economical and will find a ready sale. Grape juice will ferment very soon after unsealing and should be used immediately. Even a small family will have no difficulty in consuming a quart if given the opportunity. Many delicious desserts can be made with this juice combined with sugar, eggs, gelatine, cream, lemons, and other fruits.

MAKING LEAF MOULD

Every year I see boys and girls raking leaves from the lawns and either piling them in the street or in the back yard and then burning them. Nobody likes an outdoor fire more than I do, whether it is a real camp fire, a little back yard faggot fire just enough to roast a few potatoes and onions and play gypsy, or a big blazing bonfire, almost dangerous and wholly splendid. What I don't like is a sickly, smouldering pile of leaves sending out a suffocating smudge, bursting with sudden flame at night and having to be put out after you had your slippers on and had begun a new book. Such a fire is a nuisance to you and to the neighbourhood and no satisfaction.

Burning leaves is like burning money. That is quite another way of looking at it. "Why, most people have to pay out money to get their leaves taken away," you say. True, but that is because we are such a lot of wasters. We are just beginning to learn to be economical, because we must. To make a long story short, turn your leaves into money by composting them.

For greenhouse work pure leaf mould is a necessity and the supply of the real article is never equal to the demand. Ask the florist in your town where he gets leaf mould and how much it costs him.

Making leaf mould is simple. All you have to do is to rake the leaves into a pile where they can lie still and rot. To make a really neat job and lose none of your work or leaves make a frame of boards a foot high or so and as large as you think your leaves will require. Set this frame in some part of the yard where it will not look unsightly but as near the source of leaf supply as is permissible. If you have to carry the leaves by wheelbarrow you will see the force of this. Use a pony and cart for the job if you have them. A big box or barrel on a wheelbarrow is better than the wheelbarrow alone. Get a layer of leaves a foot deep, then tramp it. If water is handy, wetting them with a few pailfuls would make them pack well. Put on layer after layer of leaves if pure leaf mould is to be made.

Lay boards over the top to hold the leaves down or the autumn winds will scatter them for you. Forking over a few times will hasten the process of decay. A very small quantity of leaf mould for home use can be made in a store box or barrel. This should not be water tight. Let the leaves be exposed to all the elements; the rain, the air, freezing and thawing, help on the process of decay.

Leaves are a very valuable ingredient in the making of compost for the garden. I have from an expert gardener this receipt for his favourite

"GARDEN FRUIT CAKE"

Three parts selected leaves.

Three parts cow manure.

Two parts garden soil.

One part kitchen refuse and weeds.

One part pasture sod.

Compost these in alternating layers for one, two, or three years under cover. The result is a rich, brown, moist compound which, added to common garden soil at suitable times, is warranted to raise flowers and vegetables fit for the queen's table.

Now then, instead of burning your leaves, go out and gather all you can from the neighbour's yard as well as your own and make leaf mould. Combine the boys on the street into a "Leaf Mould Syndicate" and get the local florists interested in a home-made product.

MAKING LAVENDER STICKS

The weaving of lavender sticks has been described to me as "the harmless occupation of old-fashioned fingers." In these days when the revival of old-time industries is so often undertaken, it is well to learn from our aunts or our great-aunts some of the fancy work that employed their elegant leisure when they were girls. The lavender stick is such a sweet and dainty object that I hope for it a renewed popularity. It is one of the always acceptable gifts the Pacific coast can send to the Atlantic where it is so hard to make lavender grow. I might say here that there is good reason to advise the growing of lavender in the light limestone soil of some of our Southern states. Immense quantities are used in the manufacture of lavender water and perfumery, and although the dried flowers are retailed as a preventive for clothes moths, I have grave doubts about that.

The best way to learn how to make lavender sticks is to have some dear old lady show you. Failing this you may try to follow these directions and the picture that goes with them. Late June is the best time, September the next best. The lavender must be in full flower. If too young the stems will cure limp. The finest odour passes with the going to seed. Cut the flower stalks in clear weather and before the heat of the day.

A lavender stick

As some lavender sticks should be shorter and some longer to suit their various purposes, you should next sort the stalks into groups according to length. For a handkerchief box nine short ones would be right. To make a large "stick" for a linen closet shelf choose twenty-five of the longest, heaviest heads. Always have an odd number. Strip off the leaves, draw the stems down till the heads are all on a level, then tie them "gently but firmly, under their chins" with soft cotton yarn that will hold but not cut. Use plenty of string and leave very long ends. Build the thistle-like head into a shapely oval-but not with cotton, after the way of the Philistines. Plump it out with a little sheaf made of the heads that are too small to use, and add a few leaves to round it out. With those long string ends wind the head, now, and tie securely.

The next step is one where skill and care are necessary. Each stem is to be bent directly backward at a sharp angle and it will be a wonder if you do not break every other one. Crease each stem over your thumb-nail before turning it back over the head. When all are safely reversed, double one end of a bolt of lavender ribbon over one stalk, close to the top and begin to weave. The simplest weaving is the most artistic, under one stalk and over the next, passing round and round till the head is covered. At this point it is best to fasten the end of the ribbon, wind the stems with common string and begin on another till you have brought all to the same stage. Lay them all away for a month to cure. You will find that the weaving will then have to be tightened about the head. Now wind the ribbon tightly round the handle and fasten it there. A tuft of loops at the end is a simple and old-timey finish. The less attempt at decoration the better. A lavender stick is a very acceptable gift for one who is fond of its perfume and can detect the aroma of homely sentiment that mingles with its sweetness.

DRYING CORN

In my girlhood the surplus sweet corn was not left to dry on the stalks. It does not make very good fodder. The best ears were marked and left to ripen for seed, but the surplus green corn was dried. The boys would bring in a bushel or so of ears in the husk. We prepared these as carefully as if for immediate use on the table. Every silk was removed. The ears were then put into boiling water a few at a time and left only five or six minutes, just long enough to "set" the milk. As soon as the corn had cooled sufficiently we began to cut it off, with thin, sharp knives. With the butt of the ear resting on the flattest big platter, one sliced from top to bottom. We had orders not to cut deep the first time-just to take off the tops of the grains. The next cut was thin, too, and came off in a slice which fell apart. We cut three slices, at least, before we came to the cob. By this means we obtained a final product far superior to that of the neighbours who made one cut suffice. When a platter was full, the corn was spread evenly and put out in the sun, on a long table and covered with netting to keep off flies. When partially dry we transferred it to a large cloth and continued the drying until every vestige of moisture was gone from it. It was then put into a loose muslin bag and hung up near the ceiling where mice and dampness could not get at it. I have eaten evaporated corn, and find it a poor substitute for the sun-dried article.

To prepare dried corn for the table wash well, soak over night, and then steam slowly on the back of the kitchen stove from morning till late afternoon, with salt to taste. By this time most of the water will have been absorbed or evaporated. The corn will be soft and all its native sweetness will be right there. Add a generous libation of cream, a lump of butter, a whisk of pepper, and you have a delectable dish.

MAKING A TENNIS COURT

The largest item in all the estimates for making a tennis court is for labour. If a boys' club can supply this they can have a court without expense except for the wire netting and the necessary posts. A standard double court is seventy-eight feet by thirty-six. Choose a well-drained piece of ground; the more nearly level the better. Locate the courts with reference to the time of day when they will be most used and the direction of the sun's beams at that hour.

The first job is to get rid of the grass and weeds, root and branch. If a plough is used do not begin the levelling until every root is gone. Turning grass under is bad practice. Some kinds of grass can grow no matter which end is up. Next with rakes make the surface fairly level. Level is one of those adjectives that can not be compared. If a court is level it can't be any leveller, and to be right it must be done with a straight edge and a spirit level. If there is one boy in whom you all have confidence, it is a good plan to elect him boss of the job and follow his instructions. "Team work" is the right thing in this kind of a job, just as in games. When the court is level it must be rolled and rolled and rolled again, with the heaviest roller you can get.

A surface of ordinary dirt does not wear well. Some people prefer to spread on a layer of ashes, next three inches of sand, soil, and clay mixed.

Roll each layer thoroughly. For a top finish a very fine gravel is used on some courts, sand is used on others. You will probably use that which is most available. Clay is hard to work with, but when overlaid with fine sand makes a hard court on which the swiftest experts can play with enjoyment.

The care of the court should be taken week about, two boys working together. The roller should be used often, especially after a rain, and worn spots mended immediately before they get bigger.

Most clubs count in an expensive marker when estimating the cost of tennis. An ingenious boy can make one for nothing. A square varnish tin or olive oil can holding a gallon or more can easily be held by a framework upon a wheelbarrow or wheel hoe in such a way that the drip from two nail holes will fall upon the broad rim of the wheel. Fold a piece of paper into funnel shape, fill the can with thin whitewash and paint mixed and you are as well equipped as if you had spent five dollars for a marker.

If conditions favour a grass court the sod should be taken off and the ground beneath spaded, raked, and made level. Then the sod should be matched and laid accurately, then rolled, sprinkled, and rolled again; for three days at least the rolling and sprinkling should be repeated.

SHOVELLING SNOW

The boys of our neighbourhood made an abundance of pocket-money in the winter time by combining into a "Snow Shovellers Union." Most of the men on our street take early trains and have very little time, and even less inclination to shovel snow. The boys are out early before the snow gets packed on the sidewalks. They work by the job or by the hour, whichever the employer prefers.

At first the boys expected the employers to furnish the tools. But that didn't work very well. To make work a pleasure one must have his tools right and an expert snow shoveller does not want to use a dilapidated spade on one job, a short-handled shovel here, and a long-handled one there. He wants snow shovelling tools and after a little experience he knows what he wants.

The tools can be made by the boys. Our boys made a most efficient plough for walks, out of cheap store boxes, and a scraper for steps that fit every corner accurately so that one scrape did the trick and no false motions to waste time and strength. For informal paths to chicken house, garden, etc., a shovel made of light barrel staves sawed in halves was found to be better than an expensive iron-bound shovel from the department store.

If there is a lame boy on your street take him into the Union too; although he can't keep up with you at the shovel, he can have a book, keep track of the time each boy can work, call at patrons' doors to arrange about their work, and these things are just as important as the actual shovelling.

MOWING LAWNS

In summer the Snow Shovellers Union can reform into the "Lawn Mowers and Irrigators, Limited." Every year I used to send my lawn mower to a "tinker" who charged me one dollar and twenty-five cents for sharpening it. I learned one day and it made me sad, that a lawn mower properly cared for keeps itself sharp. Any boy who is strong enough to run a lawn mower ought to be smart enough to take care of one. He needs to know how the machine is put together, what parts do the work and where the wear comes on the parts. The directions which come with a good machine are worth reading. The man who sells the mower may not be able to explain any part you don't understand. His business may be to sell, only. If you go into the hardware store and find the man who knows all about lawn mowers, he will be only too glad to show you how to run the machine so that it will do its work and last. It is to his interest to have you recommend his machine. Make yourself familiar with a machine in perfect working order. Your ears and your eyes ought to tell you when it is going wrong.

It is, above all, of greatest importance to know how to adjust a lawn mower. A wrench, a screw-driver, and an oil can should be your constant companions. Go over the machine before you begin and put it in shape. It is ten minutes well spent. Tighten screws, oil the parts that rub, adjust the knife to the kind and condition of the grass. When the job is done, look the mower over. If a screw is lost be sure to supply a new one before the next using; clean the machine and put it away in a dry place.

UTILIZING WOOD ASHES

Boys who have as part of their daily work the cleaning out of ashes would do well to stop and consider before they dump their pails. Coal ashes are as nearly worthless as anything I know of although they can be used in making a tennis court, and are even advised by some for a very stiff garden soil. A garden must be pretty bad off to be improved by coal ashes.

But there are thousands of cords of wood burned every year and wood ashes are very valuable. There is no fertilizer equal to them for certain purposes. Not only are they valuable at home, but they are an article of commerce, and have a market value. Who has a better right to the ashes than the boy who manages the ash pan?

Barrels are the most convenient receptacles to store ashes in. Cheap boxes come next. They should be tight and kept under cover. Leaching takes the value out of wood ashes.

PLANTING CROCUSES ON THE LAWN

Did you ever see crocuses, yellow, lavender, and white, scattered informally in the lawn, coming into blossom with the earliest springing grass. One fall we tried the experiment of poking a crocus bulb down in the hole where we took out a dandelion and the result was charming. There are philosophers who profess to a liking for dandelions in the lawn. Perhaps it is Hobson's choice with them, as with many, but although the dandelion flower is bright as gold the leaves are a real nuisance. They are coarse and rank and they resist the lawn-mower, and discourage the fine grasses. Except when in blossom they are a disfiguring feature. Crocuses are certainly more delicate in flower than dandelions and their leaves are more like grass. Moreover they die down early and are out of the way of the lawn mower. So instead of just digging out a dandelion or a thistle and leaving a bare hole, I recommend that you poke in a crocus bulb next fall. Your reward will come in gold and purple.

MAKING ICE

Lots of us get along without ice in winter because we cannot afford to buy it all the year round. We put things outside and they freeze, we keep them in the kitchen and they spoil. The butter is either too hard or too soft all the time.

Boys and girls like ice-cream the year round and yet many of us do without it in the winter time because the iceman does not come around. Sometimes you may have thought when you broke the ice in the watering trough that there was nearly enough to make a freezer of ice-cream.

Did it not occur to you that you could make home-made ice, supply the refrigerator in coldest weather, and make ice-cream whenever you want it? All you need is the cold weather and a heavy tin pail. Fill the pail with clean water some clear, cold night and stand it where it will get the greatest exposure. If the mercury is a little below zero it will freeze a coat of ice two or more inches thick on top and sides of the pail. Turn the pail upside down on a bench and turn enough hot water over it to loosen the pail; then take it off. The ice on the bottom will be thin. Break this and dip out all of the water, but about two inches. This will freeze very quickly in cold weather and you can put in more. Keep filling it up until your ice pail is solid. It is then ready for the refrigerator.

From making one block of ice in a heavy tin pail it is an easy step to making a winter supply to store in sawdust where the sun cannot melt it during a thaw and where you can get at it when needed. From this the logical conclusion is that a man and his boys could make a supply of ice for both summer and winter by following the same tactics.

How well I remember the hardships of the ice harvesters of my home neighbourhood. The ice had to be cut in the river three miles away, and hauled up a bad hill. If the roads were good the ice was bad as a rule. Good sleighing meant ice covered with snow. There was always anxiety for fear we should not get a supply, and often the houses were filled with thin cakes, for fear the cold weather was over for the year. Then the hauling and the cutting in the bitter weather was bad for men and teams. The ice was river ice and we knew it was unsafe.

A writer in Country Life describes how he made his supply of home-made ice. He first had a tinner make heavy tin boxes of a size convenient to handle. He had them made an inch smaller at the bottom than at the top and the top was bound over a heavy wire. When the cold weather came the clean pans were filled from the well. The cakes were turned out of the pans next day and dipped and filled just as described above, as solid cakes formed. These were packed in the ice house for the summer's supply as fast as made. The cost was less in time and cash, than putting up "wild ice," even including the cost of pans, which can, of course, be used over and over, year after year.

CUTTING SEED POTATOES

For cutting seed potatoes

Cutting seed potatoes is a job that most boys and girls dislike and no wonder. It takes so long, is so dirty, your thumb gets so scored and even cut seriously. But most fathers want the potatoes cut before planting and who is to do it but the boys and girls? Two ingenious boys invented a contraption which decreased the time and labour to a minimum and almost made the job a pleasure. This description of their potato cutter is adapted from Farming for April, nineteen hundred and seven. A dry goods box holding several bushels was fitted with four strong legs, just long enough to lift the box to a height convenient to sit by. At the bottom of one side of the box a board was removed to let the potatoes roll out on a shelf attached beneath the opening. The shelf should have a rim two or three inches high and there should be a crack where shelf and box come together to let the dust sift down. The knife is driven into the end of a short piece of plank and held with fence staples. The boy sits on the plank. The potato is pushed forward against the sharp blade and the pieces drop into the basket. A man can cut forty bushels of potatoes in a day with this outfit.

The work ought to be done out under a tree, and if the boys want to wear gloves to keep their hands clean and smooth for more delicate work, I should encourage them to do so.

PRUNING

Rosebush before pruning

When I see a lot of ignorant labourers put onto the job of pruning trees, my blood fairly boils. Their work, unless overseen by an expert, is pure butchery. Many a noble tree has been so mangled by saw and axe that it has become an easy prey to all sorts of diseases.

Rosebush after pruning

Pruning is work that requires intelligence. In orchard and door yard any one with the strength to wield a saw or shears can do the annual pruning. A woman can do it as I can testify, except occasionally where large limbs are to be handled. Such occasions seldom arise on a well-cared-for place. It is impossible to treat the whole subject of pruning in one short chapter, but there is nothing difficult to understand about the principles or practice. In ten minutes an expert grape pruner could show a pupil how to prune a grape-vine so as to produce the best and largest crop. Each kind of shrub whether for fruit or flowers requires its special treatment. It takes experience to acquire judgment but the principles are easy to learn and to practise. You should go to a book on pruning to learn just how to prune the various kinds of shrubs, vines, and trees.

The right way. The wound is healing

The wrong way. The stub prevents healing

But if there is a limb to be cut off a tree in the door yard who is likely to be delegated to the job? Every boy ought to know how to do this right. You may be acquainted with the boy who sat on the limb and sawed between the tree and himself, but you will certainly not share his fate. When you use the pruning shears on the branches and twigs of a tree or shrub you are, so to speak, cutting its fingernails or hair: but when you go up with a saw you are performing a far more serious operation. Do not forget that the life processes of the tree, the circulation of the blood, the assimilation of the food, the respiration, all go on right under the bark. The "heart" of the tree is a misnomer. That fresh moist layer which is uncovered by the skinning of a tree is the only part of the tree which is really actively alive and at work. This layer, called the cambium, extends like a tight-fitting garment over the entire tree. Every tiny twig and spur is overlaid with it. If you ever had an "infected" finger from a scratch or pin prick or cut you have some idea of the danger the tree is exposed to when the cambium layer is laid bare and the wound neglected. Compare the two drawings on this page. Look at the trees in your yard. Are there some like No. 1 and others like No. 2? In No. 1 the pruner cut a branch off close up to the main trunk. The wound was dressed with thick paint to close the pores. All around the edge of the wound was the cut edge of the cambium layer. A roll of new tissue formed there, covering a part of the wound the first year. In a year or two more the roll became broad enough to close over the smooth base where the severed limb was. The wound is healed. But look at the long stubs of No. 2. That was the work of a "tree butcher." Already the stub has begun to rot and the injury has gone far into the tree, past cure. You have seen a fine board ruined by a knot hole? That knot hole was made by careless pruning. Have you seen beautiful "curly" places in fine woodwork? Those curls or "eyes" are made by the healing over of places where limbs came off. As the cambium adds layer after layer over it, the base of the old limb becomes more and more deeply buried in the wood.

Learn the principles of pruning: cut off the branch, no matter how small, close to the trunk or larger branch from which it grew; cover the wound with a dressing to prevent decay. Trees, shrubs, vines, and bushes should be pruned every year. Cut out all dead wood, and then prune to shape the tree or shrub as you want it or to produce the greatest quantity of fruit, blossoms or branches.

CLEANING RUGS

The sanitary home has never a carpet these days, but rugs on bare floors. These rugs, if small enough to handle every week, make the semi-annual old bugbear of house-cleaning a thing of the past. What could be more dreary than to come home from school some afternoon and find the floors littered with flattened old straw, so gray with dust as to be scarcely recognizable? Getting that straw out was the boys' work, the girls did the sweeping and mother washed the floor. How cheerless the days that followed! How damp the floors, how extra careful we had to be not to carry in dirt on our way to bed! The whole house wore a dejected expression reflected by the family. All because of those miserable carpets. They had to be beaten, too, and the clouds of dust that had to be breathed before we heard the welcome call, "That's enough now. Don't whip that carpet all to pieces. Fold it up and bring it in." As we folded it we realized how far from clean it really was and how we longed to turn the hose on it. But no one had the courage to suggest such an unorthodox proceeding. Probably the colour would all run and the carpet would shrink and everything. But anyhow we wished it was really clean, now that so much discomfort had been endured to clean it.

Rugs on bare floors are preferable. They can be swept and beaten every week and they can be washed. No rug should be hung on a line to be beaten. It is bad for the rug and a waste of energy. A rug-beating rack can be made which will save the wear on the rugs and get them more nearly clean than any other dry method I know of. It is described, by Mr. W. C. Egan, who devised it, as follows:

Rug-beating frame up against the barn

Make a frame of four by four pine timbers, braced across the corners. It should be somewhat bigger than the biggest rug you expect to beat. Stretch galvanized iron fencing over this frame and staple it securely all round. The best place for this frame is at the side of the barn. Strong strap hinges should be used to attach it to a piece of four by four spiked to the barn at a height convenient for your beating. When the frame is not in use it is pushed up and rests against the side of the barn, held in place by hooks. A rope and two pulleys enable one to raise and lower the frame easily. When down, the frame rests on swinging legs made of inch iron pipe and attached to the frame at the outer corners. The rug should be laid on the netting pile downward.

Rug-beating is hard work no matter what kind of tools one has. But who does not love to ply the hose? I made up my mind once that a rug that had to have an expensive compressed air bath or stay dirty was not living up to its function as a sanitary floor covering. I experimented with an all-wool rug, some good white soap, warm rain water, and a scrubbing brush. A good lather was laid first on the back, then I threw discretion to the winds and lathered the face of the thing. I scrubbed it as if my life depended upon making the colours run, if they would. Then I let the children turn the hose on it. We turned it over and over and over again, till it was very, very wet. It was also clean. We left it on the grass in the shade the first day. Then we laid it still damp, face down, on the clean, dry floor of the porch where the sun could get at it and the breeze. It was dry by the night of the second day and so clean that it was a real joy to handle it. One by one we put every rug in the house through the same course of treatment. A couple of Wiltons, a few of Brussels carpeting, some that were woven out of old ingrain carpets, the rag ones, and finally the precious Orientals went through the water cure. Before I dared do this last act, I got advice from a rug man, who said that really good rugs would suffer no harm from such treatment. But one never believes until he tries it, and now we all believe, and our rugs are more beautiful than before. We treated the best rugs very gently, of course, but none the less thoroughly, and we dried them face up on the hard floor right in the sun part of the time. It takes about three days and nights to get the dampness all out.

Rug-beating frame, down in use

Good rugs ought never to be treated roughly. They should be swept gently with the nap, and never beaten with a whip, hung on the line, or shaken. Lay on a soft carpet of grass or on a rug-beating frame and beat gently with a flat rattan beater. When rolled, roll with the nap; never fold them.

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