1490 
"buy,”  next  week  the  producer  would  seek  a  bet¬ 
ter  market,  and  you  would  be  left  high  and  dry. 
Very  much  the  same  relations  obtain  between  our 
club  and  our  egg  man  that  used  to  prevail  between 
farmers  I  knew  as  a  boy  who  had  supplied  the 
same  city  families  with  eggs  and  butter  year  in, 
year  out  for  two  generations.  They  never  squabble 
over  a  few  cents  on  the  price.  Buyer  and  producer 
both  compromise  a  little;  cooperation  extends  to 
both.  They  split  that  65  cents  of  the  dollar  which 
the  middleman  likes  to  get. 
KEEPING  PROMISES.— In  the  fourth  place, 
farmers  who  contemplate  selling  to  cooperative  clubs 
must  keep  their  word.  Sorry  experiences  we  have 
had  with  various  farmers  who  failed  to  stand  by 
their  promises.  Our  faith  in  the  “sturdy  honesty 
of  the  farmer"  has  been  shaken  violently  and  often. 
We  have  bargained  for  apples,  and  found  later  that 
the  farmer  had  a  chance  to  sell  our  load  on  his 
way  to  the  city,  and  deliberately  he  has  sold  that 
which  he  agreed  to  sell  to  us.  because  he  had  a 
chance  to  get  a  few  cents  more  a  bushel  for  them. 
No  one  denies  him  the  right  to  get  the  best  price 
be  can ;  but  when  he  has  bargained  to  deliver,  it  is 
dishonorable  to  sell  that  which  he  has  sold  to  us. 
It  is  really  selling  that  which  does  not  belong  to 
him. 
AN  HONEST  SELLER. — Conspicuously  square 
was  the  man  who  sold  us  potatoes  this  year.  The 
price  we  agreed  oil  was  one  which  he  himself  set. 
When  he  said  $1.25  a  bushel,  it  seemed  exorbitant 
to  all  of  us :  but,  when  we  saw  the  price  ascending 
rapidly,  both  we  and  the  grower  began  to  realize 
that  he  would  lose  and  we  would  gain  by  the  deal. 
After  the  farmer  had  delivered  the  last  load  and 
when  he  came  to  the  office  for  his  cash,  I  said  to 
him,  “I  didn't  know  but  you’d  dispose  of  the  pota¬ 
toes  you  agreed  to  bring  us  at  a  better  price.” 
“Well,”  he  said,  “T  could  have  sold  every  bushel 
I  had  on  today  at  $1.80;  but  I  consider  my  word 
worth  something.  So  long  as  I  had  agreed  to  sell 
them  to  you  for  $1.25,  I'd  stick  to  it.  Besides,”  he 
continued,  “there’s  another  year  coming,  and  I  want 
your  business  next  year.” 
There  is  a  lesson  in  square  dealing  that  many 
farmers  would  do  well  to  heed.  Bred  on  the  soil, 
though  1  was,  I  am  conscious  that  the  occupation 
of  agriculture  is  not  devoid  of  its  scamps,  and  some 
of  them  are  pretty  bad.  It  is  a  principle  of  business 
to  stick  by  your  contract  and  to  keep  your  agree¬ 
ment  to  the  letter,  and  only  the  utmost  honesty  and 
fairness  and  square  dealing  throughout  can  stand 
in  a  cooperative  buying  arrangement. 
TIIE  EGG  TRADE. — I  recall  the  first  of  our  rela¬ 
tions  with  our  egg  producer.  He  was  dissatisfied 
with  the  amount  we  remitted  to  him ;  not  that  the 
price  was  too  low,  for  it  was  according  to  the  city 
quotations  as  we  had  agreed,  but  because  we  had 
deducted,  I  believe,  30  cents  for  breakage.  Out  of 
our  scanty  treasury  I  mailed  him  without  a  word 
50  cents.  It  was  more  than  he  claimed,  but  it  was 
worth  it.  From  that  day  to  this,  through  two  years 
of  high  prices  and  low,  not  a  word  has  been  said 
about  prices  or  payments.  On  the  day  our  ship¬ 
ment  of  eggs  reaches  us  by  trolley  express,  we  ap¬ 
portion  them  among  members  as  fairly  as  possible, 
• 
and  look  to  tbe  daily  quotations  in  the  city  paper. 
The  highest  wholesale  price  is  remitted  each  week. 
That  is  all  there  is  to  it;  the  arrangement  is  sim¬ 
plicity  itself,  and  it  runs  along  like  well-oiled  ma¬ 
chinery  because  there  is  mutual  confidence  all 
around. 
PURCHASING  HONEY.— Let  me  tell  you  of  our 
honey  deal.  In  the  course  of  a  two  days  delightful 
hike  across  country,  my  small  boy  and  myself  on 
one  glorious  morning  in  October,  when  the  hills 
were  aflame  with*  red  maples,  ran  plumb  into  a 
man  who  was  contemplating  with  leisurely  Sunday 
admiration  some  fine  Jersey  grade  heifers  in  a 
barnyard.  (I  must  be  careful  what  I  say,  for  he 
takes  The  R.  N.-Y.  and  swears  by  it).  Conversa¬ 
tion  developed  the  information  that  his  bees  had 
made  a  couple  of  tons  of  honey,  which  he  had  sep¬ 
arated  and  strained,  and  was  selling  in  five-pound 
pails  at  50  cents  a  pail.  It  took  rather  less  time 
than  it  takes  to  tell  it  to  separate  me  from  50  cents 
and  affix  me  to  a  pail  of  that  honey,  and  I  have 
been  stuck  on  it  ever  since.  We  lingered  about  the 
place  a  couple  of  hours,  talking  about  the  milk 
strike  and  so  on,  and  I  lately  received  an  invita¬ 
tion  to  come  back  and  spend  the  night.  But  I’m 
getting  away  from  my  story.  During  tbe  remainder 
of  that  glorious  hike  I  toted  that  pail  of  honey. 
After  we  had  sampled  it  at  home  that  night,  I  placed 
a  portion  in  a  small  bottle  and  ga<e  a  taste  of  it  to 
my  fellow-cooperators.  An  order  ensued.  A  ship¬ 
ment  of  26  pails  came  by  express,  with  charges  of 
about,  two  cents  a  pail  for  the  transportation.  Home 
vent  the  cooperators,  each  carrying  a  pail  of  honey. 
IShe  RURAL  NEW-YORKER 
Back  they  came  in  the  morning,  clamoring  for  more 
• — much  more!  Two,  three  or  four  pails  more! 
Alas!  By  the  time  our  second  order  got  in.  the 
man's  honey  was  mostly  sold,  and  all  he  could  sell 
us  was  18  pails.  But  here  again  was  a  lesson  in  co¬ 
operation:  Eighteen  persons  had  ordered,  from  one 
to  four  pails  each.  The  IS  took  one  pail  apiece, 
and  went  home  rejoicing.  That’s  cooperation !  I 
don’t  just  know  what  the  retail  price  of  honey  is ; 
but  it  is  my  impression  comb  honey  is  around  20 
cents  a  pound.  I  never  was  good  at  figures ;  so  I’ll 
let  you  calculate  the  percentage  of  saving.  Some¬ 
time  I’ll  write  about  the  farm  outfit  the  honey  man 
has,  how  complete  and  diversified  his  farm  interests 
are  and  how  snug  and  comfortable  he  is  back  on 
the  hills  of  New  York  State.  Walter  h.  main. 
New  York. 
A  Backyard  Nut  Orchard 
ONE  of  the  most  interesting  exhibits  at  the  re¬ 
cent  Fall  show  of  the  Massachusetts  Horticul¬ 
tural  Society  in  Boston  was  the  competitive  dis¬ 
play  of  native  nuts.  Almost  everybody  seems  to 
be  interested  in  nut  culture,  in  theory  at  least. 
The  collection  which  won  first  prize  was  shown  by 
F.  Schulz.  It  was  grown  in  his  little  backyard  gar¬ 
den  in  a  suburban  district  of  Boston.  This  little 
plot  of  a  few  square  rods  supplies  a  good  part  of 
the  family  stock  of  vegetables,  and  maintains  a 
number  of  fruit  trees  and  a  prolific  flock  of  hens. 
It  also  includes  a  unique  collection  of  nut  trees  and 
plants.  There  are  hazels,  chestnuts  and  three  kinds 
of  walnuts.  By  nut  plants  is  meant  the  chufa  or 
earth  almond,  an  entirely  hardy  and  very  prolific 
speeies.  The  grass-like  top  grows  about  a  foot  high, 
and  each  plant  produces  on  its  roots  hundreds  of 
rough  surfaced  little  tubers  about  the  size  of  pea¬ 
nut  kernels,  but  without  shell  or  detachable  skin. 
The  tubers  are  planted  early  in  Spring,  receive  no 
special  cultivation,  and  are  dug  late  in  tbe  Fall. 
The  little  nuts  are  shaken  off  the  roots,  washed  and 
rinsed  in  two  or  three  waters  to  get  the  grit  out 
Commercial  Walnut  at  Left ;  Schulz  Seedling  at  Right 
of  the  rough  surface,  and  put  away  to  dry.  “We 
have  some  that  we  have  kept  two  years,*’  said  Mrs. 
Schulz,  “and  they  grow  sweeter  with  time.  The 
meat  is  a  little  coarse  compared  with  peanuts  or 
chestnuts.  They  are  not  oily  like  tree  nuts,  blit 
very  sweet.  The  children  like  them  to  eat  now  and 
then,  and  we  use  the  nuts  sometimes  in  nut  cake, 
first  running  them  through  a  food  chopper  set  fine 
the  same  as  when  making  peanut  butter.  We  have 
never  tried  to  put  any  nuts  on  tbe  market.  They 
would  pay  if  there  were  any  market  for  them,  as 
they  are  easily  raised,  and  a  single  seed  tuber  often 
produces  about  800  nuts.” 
The  gem  of  the  collection  is  a  fine  tree  of  the 
Persian  or  English  walnut  species.  It  was  raised 
from  a  seed  nut  brought  over  by  the  family  18 
years  ago  from  near  Frankfort,  Germany.  The 
nut  has  long  been  grown  in  that  part  of  the  coun¬ 
try,  say  the  Schulz’s,  and  is  well  acclimated.  The 
growers  called  it  simply  walnusse  or  walnut.  The 
nut  produced  true  to  seed,  and  the  tree  is  in  fine, 
thrifty  condition,  well  shaped,  with  stout  branches 
and  20  to  25  feet  high.  It  lias  borne  eight  or  nine 
crops,  producing  every  year  after  beginning  to  bear, 
except  one  year  when  the  new  wood  was  winter 
killed.  This  was  three  years,  ago.  This  year  the 
tree  bore  about  300  nuts,  and  the  Crops  have  ranged 
from  200  to  400  nuts,  running  about  24  to  the 
pound.  It  is  a  large  nut  and  of  good  appearance 
and  flavor,  comparing  well  in  every  way  with  the 
market  nuts  in  the  stores.  The  family  call  it  the 
Boston  walnut.  There  is  quite  a  demand  from 
well-known  nurserymen  in  New  York  and  Penn¬ 
sylvania  who  buy  the  scions,  budding  stock  and 
nuts,  but  no  special  attempt  seems  to  have  been 
made  here  to  place  the  variety  on  the  market. 
“We  huve  some  young  trees  of  the  Japanese  wal¬ 
nut,”  said  Mrs.  Schulz,  “and  my  daughter,  who  is 
very  much  interested  in  horticulture,  plans  to  graft 
them  to  our  kind.  The  Japanese  walnut  is  hardy 
and  grows  fast,  but  the  nut  is  .small.  Walnuts  are 
whip-grafted,  I  am  told,  the  second  year  from  seed, 
and  Dr.  Deming,  the  nut  cultnrist,  offers  to  show 
December  2,  1916. 
us  how  to  do  it.  The  scions  and  buds  are  taken 
from  two-year-old  wood.  The  crops  are  borne  on 
the  wood  of  the  same  year’s  growth.  Taking  off 
so  much  wood  for  stock  has  reduced  the  growth  of 
the  tree  and  lessened  the  yield  of  nuts.  Thieves? 
No;  at  least,  not  the  two-legged  kind.  The  woods 
nearby  are  full  of  squirrels,  and  we  have  to  pick 
the  nuts  a  little  sooner  than  the  hulls  crack  open, 
to  save  them.  The  boys  around  here  don’t  seem 
to  have  found  out  that  nuts  are  good  to  eat,  and  we 
are  not  hanging  up  any  signs  to  let  them  know.” 
G.  B.  F. 
How  We  “Struck”  in  the  Milk  War 
MY  neighbors  and  I  live  up-State;  that  is,  we 
are  many  counties  removed  from  that  great 
city  at  the  mouth  of  the  Hudson  which  we  have  come 
to  look  upon  as  our  market.  We  see  the  little  riv¬ 
ulets  of  milk  trickling  down  from  our  hills  each 
morning  to  unite  with  others  and  finally  to  merge 
into  the  great  stream  that  supplies  New  York  with 
its  one  indispensable  food.  We  are,  of  course,  in¬ 
terested  in  the  people  for  whom  we  produce  this 
milk,  and  when  tbe  time  came  to  keep  it  at  home 
we  felt  sorry  for  the  babies,  the  sick  folks  and  the 
poor  who  might  for  a  time  be  deprived  of  one  of 
the  necessities  of  life. 
It  has  been  growing  upon  us  for  years,  though, 
that  our  own  babies  were  being  deprived  of  things 
which  they  needed  because  some  one  between  us 
and  town  was  reaching  into  our  cans  with  a  great 
dipper  and  skimming  off  the  cream.  While  we  were 
shipping  our  milk  eastward  the  grain  that  we  had 
to  buy  to  keep  our  cows  in  production  was  coming 
from  the  West.  To  use  a  miller’s  phrase,  we  were 
milling  that  grain  in  transit,  though  we  were  put¬ 
ting  the  product  into  cans  instead  of  paper  sacks. 
In  spite  of  ourselves,  we  have  become  middlemen, 
and,  because  of  our  inability  to  fix  prices  on  either 
side  of  us,  our  middle  place  has  been  that  between 
the  upper  and  lower  millstones.  Things  grew  from 
bad  to  worse,  until  finally  we  decided  to  adopt  tbe 
weapon  of  tbe  labor  unions  and  strike — and  we 
struck ! 
The  daily  papers  kept  us  informed  of  the  condi¬ 
tions  in  the  city;  now  the  milk  supply  was  60 
per  cent,  of  the  normal,  now  40,  and  now  even  less. 
The  people  were  getting  desperate  and  milk  wagons 
were  in  danger  of  being  mobbed.  But  we  were 
having  troubles  of  our  own ;  if  milk  was  iu  scanty 
supply  in  the  city,  it  was  in  danger  of  becoming 
too  abundant  upon  our  farms.  One  man  recalled 
a  previous  experience  when  he  Interrupted  a  League 
organizer  to  exclaim :  “I  kept  my  milk  home  once — 
never  had  so  much  milk ;  had  four  cans  one  day, 
eight  cans  the  next  and  the  next;  never  saw  so 
much  milk  in  all  my  life !” 
But  our  leaders  were  canny,  as  milkmen  get  to 
he,  and  they  called  the  strike  for  just  the  right 
season  of  the  year.  Coming  in  October,  it  avoided 
the  Spring  flush  of  milk.  Our  supply  of  milk  was 
shrinking  and  we  helped  on  that  heretofore  unwel¬ 
come  condition  by  slacking  up  on  the  cows’  feed; 
thus  saving  money  both  comiug  and  going,  for  once. 
A  few  who  had  only  a  small  amount  of  milk  start¬ 
ed  in  to  make  butter,  as  in  the  old  days.  The  beans 
were  turned  out  of  the  churn  and  it  was  washed 
and  scalded  for  its  proper  use.  With  veal  and  pork 
at  their  present  prices,  no  one  felt  sorry  to  have 
some  skim-milk  to  feed.  Many  had  no  facilities  for 
making  butter,  however,  and  others  did  not  wish  to 
attempt  it;  most  of  us  wished  to  dispose  of  our 
milk  in  some  other  way. 
At  Catatonk,  four  miles  south  of  us,  was  another 
shipping  station,  and,  of  course,  another  branch  of 
our  League.  Here  was  au  empty  building  that  had 
formerly  been  used  as  a  cheese  factory.  In  it  was 
stored  a  large  cream  separator,  still  in  good  con¬ 
dition,  and  nearby  was  a  man  who  had  formerly 
been  a  creamery  operator.  The  value  of  this  com¬ 
bination  was  quickly  apparent  to  the  energetic 
Catatonkians.  The  first  of  October,  the  day  set  for 
the  strike,  came  on  Sunday,  and  on  Saturday  a  few 
farmers  gathered  at  that  old  cheese  factory  and 
started  a  quick  and  thorough  renovation.  A  steam 
thrasher  engine  in  the  neighborhood  was  obtained 
and  a  farmer  was  sent  in  his  car  to  a  neighboring 
town  to  see  if  he  could  not  find  a  rubber  gasket 
to  replace  one  missing  from  the  cream  separator. 
Some  late  night  work  was  necessary,  but  Sunday 
morniug  came  with  all  in  readiness  for  the  battle. 
The  old  steam  engine  had  proved  unequal  to  its 
task,  but  a  gasoline  one  had  been  secured  and  belt¬ 
ed  up  to  the  line  shaft.  Not  a  drop  of  milk  left 
that  shipping  station  on  Sunday  morning,  and  we 
of  the  neighboring  League  were  invited  to  use  the 
facilities  provided  and  ship  our  cream  with  the 
rest  to  a  nearby  cold  storage  and  butter-making 
plant.  Over  in  Honey-pot,  at  the  other  side  of  the 
