harvesting this valuable product, but with 
what enormous waste. The work of cut¬ 
ting is seldom commenced until the foliage 
of the plants is struck by frost and by the 
time the last is cut, the leaves are dry, and 
crumble to pieces at a touch. Such fodder 
is hardly worth handling and it should 
never have been allowed to get into such a 
condition. If the farmer properly estimat¬ 
ed its value, he would think it of as much 
importance to provide adequate help for 
this work as for harvesting his wheat and 
other grain. Corn should always be cut up 
as soon as the ears commence to harden 
and it will pay to put in crew enough to do 
the work up expeditiously, initead of letting 
it drag through several weeks. 
There is only one economical method of 
feeding corn fodder, and that is to cut it 
up fine, stalks and all, and feed in tight box 
mangers. If wet up and a little feed 
■sprinkled on, all the better. It is the com¬ 
mon practice to pitch the bundles out into 
the yard, where they wiil soon get trampled 
into the snow and mud—a tangled mass of 
tough, unbroken stalks. There they remain 
-until it is necessay, in the spring, to either 
haul them away to the field or turn them 
over in the endeavor to get them rotted. 
In one case they are nearly useless as ma¬ 
nure and a very great impediment to the 
plow and harrow. In the other case, much 
labor is necessary in order to get them rot¬ 
ted and tearing apart the mass and turning 
is certainly about a§ hard labor as the farm¬ 
er is called upon to perform. 
Take it all in all we are a little too waste¬ 
ful in this respect. Let us manage a little 
more economically with our corn stalks 
and see if we cannot, by the means, carry a 
few more head of cattle through each 
winter. 
THE OLD DINNER HORN. 
I’ve heard many a strain that has thrilled me with 
joy, 
But none, I will say, since the day I was born, 
Has pleased me so much as, when a small boy, 
I heard on the farm, the old dinner horn. 
The trumpet was tin, a yard or so long, 
And was blowed for “the boys” at noon and at 
morn, 
'The monotone strain was piercing and strong, 
But sweet for all that, was the old dinner horn. 
When building the fence or tossing the hay, 
Or reaping the grain or plowing the corn, 
With appetite keen, at the noon of the day, 
Oh, sweet to my soul was the old dinner horn! 
A mother’s fond lips pressed the trumpet of tin, 
And blew her full soul through the barley and 
corn. 
Oh, I hear even yet, the “Welcome, come in, 
Come in, my dear boys, to the sound of the horn!” 
Those lips are now still, aDd the bosom is cold, 
Which sent to us boys the blast of the horn; 
She is waiting in sleep, beneath the dark mould. 
The archangel’s trump and eternity’s morn. 
Joel Swarts, D. D ., in Tribune and Farmer. 
The Iris. 
So beautiful a plant as the iris, says a 
writer in Vick’s Magazine, and one having 
so many points in its favor, should be bet¬ 
ter known. The orchids, rare, costly, ten¬ 
der and difficult of successful cultivation, 
are no handsomer than their hardy, easily 
cultivated relative, the iris. No hardy 
flower gives us such wonderful combina¬ 
tions of beautiful shades and pure colors. 
Differing as much in habit, form and period 
of blooming as they do in colors, the va¬ 
rieties of the iris are sure to be appreciated 
by lovers of the beautiful. There are sev¬ 
eral species, some of which have been made 
to sport into many varieties. The divisions 
known as English, German and Spanish 
iris are, undoubtedly, descendants of the 
true Spanish iris, which have been crossed 
and re-crossed with each other until vari¬ 
eties are numbered by hundreds. Their 
great diversity is due to the fact that they are 
not only very sensitive to^the fertilizing in¬ 
fluence, but they are easily grown. They 
are all hardy and bloom in May, June and 
July. Their flowers are on stems from 
eighteen inches to two feet high, and are 
large and brilliant and very sweet. The 
amateur who wishes to raise ^varieties of 
the iris is recommended to obtain collec¬ 
tions, for as no painter can paint them, 
so no writer can describe them, consequent¬ 
ly the catalogue descriptions are not 
reliable. 
If thou art wise, thou knowest thine own 
ignorance, and thou art ignorant if thou 
knowest not thyself.— Luther. 
