Old Ironclad Strawberry. 
Mr. A .M. Purdy of Palmyra, N. Y., editor 
of Purdy's Fruit Recorder , and whose name 
has frequently appeared in our advertising 
columns seems to have an eye to all parts 
of the country, especially where small fruits 
are grown, looking out for something new 
in his line. One of the latest of his acquisi¬ 
tions and one which is undoubtedly destin¬ 
ed to prove a success is the new strawberry 
which he is now disseminating and which 
he has named Old Ironclad. He says of 
it: “In our long experience in growing 
strawberries and having grown every sort 
worth growing that we have heard of, we 
find this sort distinct in growth of plant 
from any other variety we have grown.” 
The fruit resembles the Sharpless greatly 
in size and shape. Five days earlier than 
Wilson’s; blossoms perfect, requiring no 
other plants to be set near it for fertiliza¬ 
tion. Our cut gives a fair representation 
of some specimen berries. Purdy’s cata¬ 
logue is worth getting and tells all about it. 
In his youth Schiller learned to play 
upon the harp. A neighbor who disliked it 
once said to him: “Herr Schiller, you play 
like David, only not so finely.” “And you,” 
quicklv replied Schiller, “speak like Sol¬ 
omon, only not so wisely.” 
Some write, talk and think so much about 
vice and virtue that they have no time to 
practice either. 
THE FARMER. 
The king may rule o’er land and sea. 
The lord may have right royally, 
The soldier ride in pomp and pride, 
The sailor roam o’er ocean wide, 
But this, or that, whate’er befall, 
The Farmer he must feed them all. 
The writer thinks, the poet sings, 
The craftsmen fashion wondrous things. 
The doctor heals, the lawyer pleads, 
The miner follows the precious leads, 
But this, or that, whate’er befall, 
The Farmer he must fee 1 them all. 
The merchant he may buy and sell, 
The teacher do his duty well, 
But men may toil through busy days, 
Or men may stroll through pleasant ways. 
From king to beggar whate'er befall. 
The Farmer he must feed them all. 
The farmer’s trade is one of wo* - th, 
He’s partner with the sky and earth, 
He’s partner with the sun and rain, 
■ And no man loses for his gain, 
And men may rise, or men may fall 
But the Farmer he must feed them all. 
The farmer dares his mind to speak, 
He has no gift or place to seek, 
To no man living need he bow ; 
The man who walks behind the plow 
Is his own master, whate'er befall. 
And king or beggar he feeds us all. 
—New York Ledger. 
A man who was kept awake hour after 
hour by the barking of a dog, said he never 
wanted to use a shotgun so had in his 
life. “What for—to shoot the dbg?” asked 
a friend. “No,” he replied, “but to shoot 
the fool who wrote : t Tis sweet to hear the 
watch dog’s honest bark.’ ” 
