250 
American Agriculturist, March 17,1923 
N. 
[L 
TiuJowir^' 
out at 
|)oor 
Levd 
Ratented 
Door Front 
Ladder 
No Other Silo Like It 
S ilos may look alike from the rear, but a 
Unadilla Silo has its unusual character on 
its front. To judge a man, you “look him in the 
face”. Judge silos the same way. 
Silos are made to use, twice a day, for 6 or 7 months. Climb¬ 
ing in and getting out is a chore—but not with a Unadilla. 
An ever-ready, safety ladder formed by^the door-front ladder 
makes it easy and safe. Here, too, you tighten or loosen 
hoops when necessary~and preserve the life of the silo. 
In a Unadilla you push silage out at the door level, because 
these doors can’t stick or freeze tight. Silage is removed on 
a level and not pitched overhead. You don’t jump into a 
Unadilla, you step into it. 
There is no other silo like Unadilla in convenience, safety 
and labor saving that its front affords. 
Send for the big, new catalog illustrating all Unadilla features. 
UNADILLA SILO CO., Box B, Unadilla, N. Y. 
He Always Told The Truth 
The Deacon Sold the Dominie a Cow, But—! 
T he Rev. Winfield By C. F. 
Babington Kelsey 
had just located his family in a new 
parish. At the rear of the manse was 
a small barn and a beautiful little 
stretch of pasture land. He was happy 
indeed to be out in the fresh country 
air again after having spent ten years 
in the city. “If I had a cow to crop 
some of the grass that is going to 
waste in that pasture it would give me 
a little exercise in caring for her, and 
would afford my family all the milk, 
butter and cottage cheese that they 
could consume,” thought the minister. 
That very afternoon he started out 
to purchase a milk producer. Meeting 
a farmer on the road, he asked if he 
knew where he could buy a good cow. 
“Be you the new minister?” queried 
the farmer. “I am,” answered Rev. 
Mr. Kelsey. “Wal, then, that man who 
lives in yonder yellow house always 
has cows for sale or trade.” Thanking 
the man, the prospective buyer went on 
ROGERS “Is this cow a good 
one?” inquired the 
prospective buyer as he pointed to 
a big, square, typey, white individual. 
A lump began to rise in the milker’s 
throat. Maybe this man wasn’t as big 
a fool as he tries to make out. He had 
spotted the best cow in the herd the very 
first thing. That’s isn’t a cow that you 
would want; I couldn’t conscientiously 
sell you that cow,” answered the owner. 
When the farmer finished milking the 
cow, he appeared to walk aimlessly 
down' the alley mentioning the good 
points of one cow after another, v/hile 
all the time he was moving as fast as 
possible toward the cow which he 
wished most to sell. As he reached the 
third animal from the end of the row, 
he stopped and remarked, “There is a 
cow that I would sell easy.” 
The eye of the would-be purchaser 
rested on the little black cow with evi¬ 
dent satisfaction. Because of her sleek, 
slippery condition, she did not appear 
For More Protection 
Craine 3-Wall Silos offer more protection to your silage; greater 
protection for your silo investment. 
With their giant strength is combined a handsome, smooth, 
upright exterior that is unmarred 
by bothersome hoops and ugly 
lugs. 
Three walls reinforce every 
square inch of surface against 
tremendous strain of tons of 
weight inside and violent weather 
from without. 
Men who know silos from ex¬ 
perience with others or through 
investigation choose Craine 
Triple-Wall Silos. 
You can rebuild an old 
stave, iron-hooped silo 
into a permanent, beauti¬ 
ful Craine 3-Wall struc¬ 
ture at about half the cost 
of a new one. 
Write for Illustrated 
Catalog. Early orders 
earn extra discount. 
CRAINE SILO CO., Inc. 
Box 120. riorwich. N. Y. 
IF YOU HAVE ANYTHING TO BUY OR SELL, S tulri 
of American Agriculturist. A single advertisement reaches over 120,000 farm folks. 
“All I told you,” said the Deacon, “was that her mouth was just as 
good as mine, and that was the truth, ’cause I haven’t got 
a tooth in my head” 
his way, “Come, Tips,” commanded 
the farmer as his big black was a little' 
slow in getting under motion, “ef Dea¬ 
con Bartley trims his own preacher es 
bad es he skinned me on our last trade, 
I shouldn’t wonder but what folks will 
be lookin’ for another preacher before 
fall,” chuckled the farmer. 
Deacon Bartley’s big, powerful hands 
were extracting two large streams of 
milk from one of his best producers as 
a small, neat-looking man walked down 
the alley behind the cattle. “Can you 
tell me who has a good cow for sale?” 
he asked of the tall, thin man on the 
milk stool. “Amos Bartley has got 
good cows. He don’t keep any other 
kind, and anything or everything he 
has in the barn is for sale or trade.” 
“Who is Mr. Bartley,” asked the little 
man. “I am Amos Bartley,” replied 
the milker. “Now you just go ahead, 
pick out any cow that suits you, ask 
any questions you care to about her, 
and I will promise to answer them 
truthfully.” 
In fairness to the Deacon, let it be 
said that he supported his family well, 
helped his neighbors when they were in 
trouble, intended to go to church regu¬ 
larly, prayed with fervent devotion at 
the prayer meetings and had a splendid 
Christian character. But, like all hu¬ 
man beings. Deacon Bartley had a 
weakness, a time when the lower, 
worldly man conquered the higher, 
spiritual man, and that one time was 
when a cow deal was on. The man 
knew his weakness, but always tried to 
soothe his conscience by repeating to 
himself the fact that he always told 
the truth. However, he never could 
bring himself to say that he told all 
the truth. 
When Deacon Bartley was not cow¬ 
trading, his countenance was kind, 
meek, and pious, but when the winds 
of barter were in the air his gray-blue 
eyes assumed a keen, steel-like glance 
and his mouth curled in a half leer and 
a half smile which was known through¬ 
out the country-side as Deacon Bart¬ 
ley’s smirk. 
like a thirteen-year-old, and her large, 
meaty udder evidenced a heavy pro¬ 
ducer, in the estimation of the min¬ 
ister. “How much does she give?” 
asked the preacher. “Right to-day she 
gives more milk than any cow in this 
end of the row,” responded the owner. 
“Has she any teeth?” was the next 
question. “She’s got more teeth than 
I have,” was the prompt rejoinder. 
“Does she kick when she is milked?” 
asked the minister. “No, she does not 
kick when she is milked,” answered the 
farmer. “Would she make a good 
family cow?” was the last question. 
“With that good cow in his possession 
a man would be sure to have peace in 
the home. If you want that cow for 
(Deacon Bartley now looked indescrib¬ 
ably wise) fifty dollars she is yfiurs.” 
The minister pulled out five ten-spots, 
borrowed a rope and led his prize 
home. 
“You’ve been cow tradin’; that self- 
satisfied smirk gives you dead away,” 
demanded Mrs. Bartley that evening 
at the supper table. “Yes, I sold a cow 
that I’d been trying to dispose of for 
the last seven years, and, by th'e way, 
Carlotta, we’ve got to get out to church 
Sunday; Brother Bowers tells me that 
the new Elder is the Godliest man who 
ever stood in our pulpit. To think of 
them getting such a preacher as that 
without a word of counsel from me is 
unbelievable.” 
Two evenings after the deal, the min¬ 
ister, rope in hand, entered the stable. 
In an angry voice he shouted; “You 
said that cow was a big milker, had a 
good mouth, was a non-kicker, and 
would make an ideal “family cow!” 
Deacon Bartley’s face was so meek, so 
kind, that the speaker felt almost sorry 
for the man as the latter began to de¬ 
fend himself in a mild, passionless 
voice. “I didn’t say the cow was a big 
milker; I said that she gave more milk 
yesterday than any cow in this end of 
the row. All the other cows in this end 
of the row are dry.” 
“I said that she had more teeth than 
I’ve got, but that didn’t meanA|Bi||i#iiise 
