912 IOWA DEPARTMENT OF AGRICULTURE 



do not take into consideration that we can do live on tlie fat of ttie land. 

 We do not have to eat beef or chicken that huyer or seller can't tell how 

 old it is. Then again we can enjoy all of God's out doors without the 

 noise and tumult of the town. 



When we talk of the strenuous life of the farmer it is all bosh. This 

 is the remedy I am glad to offer to all who imagine their lives strenuous. 

 Count your blessings. Get a little sunshine into your lives. Give your- 

 self a holiday. Have a family picnic. Don't work so hard on Saturday 

 that you will be too tired to go to church on Sunday. Go to every far- 

 mers' institute you hear of. Take the whole family, yes even take the 

 dog, but remember he must be thoroughbred. 



THE TIME TO SELL. 



Bkeedebs' Gazette. 



When the father of the writer was a backwoods lad he and his broth- 

 ers made a trap for wild turkeys. It was a rail pen in the woods with 

 a door on one side that would fall when a string was pulled. From this 

 door he laid a trail of corn out along a game-frequented path and corn 

 was placed inside the trap. Then the boys stationed themselves to watoh. 

 Fortune favoring them soon came a pair of old turkeys and fourteen 

 nearly grown young ones and finding the corn started eagerly upon the 

 trail, picking it grain by grain. Thej'^ reached the pen, some went in an. 

 the boys' hopes rose. More went in; all was tense excitement behind the 

 'olind. All the young ones were in; then the mother of the brood entereu. 

 "Pull the string, William," whispered the brothers. "Wait till the old 

 gobbler goes in," he replied. "Pull tht string," they insisted. "Wait, 

 I say; we want them all." Out came the old hen. "Pull, pull." "Wait 

 till she goes back in." Out came two young turkeys. "Pull the string, 

 William," was the demand, despairingly. "Wait till they go back, I tell 

 you." 



More came out. Finally the string was pulled. One runty youngster 

 was imprisoned, the rest flew away. 



Afterward when William was a man he was offered 11 cents per 

 pound for his live hogs. He needed 12 and held them — only to peddle out 

 the dressed meat, home-cured, at 11 cents. A neighbor of William wao 

 offered .$1.35 for his wheat. He decided to hold for the inevitable $1.50 

 and sold instead for 93 cents. 



The writer, having several cars of fat lambs to sell, was offered $7 

 per cwt. for them. He wanted a little more money than that to make 

 his accounts look just right and declined the offer. He has the lambs 

 yet, waiting in hopes the old hen may go back! 



The moral? Only the rich can afford to scoop the whole pile. The 

 poor should be content with the old hen and her fourteen young ones. 



