Seed Corn

1916

I remember well my father's kitchen of 75 years ago. It was about 20 feet square, with a brick fireplace with cranes and pot hooks, a large tin baker and a three legged spider to set over the coals. In the ceiling were driven hooks, from which poles were suspended on which to dry apples and pumpkins, and on the walls of the room were hung traces of seed corn for next year's planting. That way of drying apples and pumpkins has been discontinued, but this method of saving seed corn I consider the perfection of wisdom.

The chit or germ of a kernel of corn is imbedded in a soft wet cob, and unless this cob is dried out in a reasonable time, its vitality is impaired or destroyed.

In experiments I made years ago, I found that the seed kernels taken from near the top of the ear produced not only earlier but better developed stalks and ears than the seed kernels taken from close to the butt or lower end of the ear. The difference, I believe, was owing to the smallness of the cob and the better curing of the seed from top of ear.

Next month, farmers will secure their seed corn for the coming year, and they should give the matter the attention that its importance demands. Pick corn before main crop is harvested; get the best, discarding all ears with large cob at the butt; husk immediately, and braid into traces of a dozen ears, and hang on a rack in the kitchen or an attic with a warm chimney and a good circulation of air is an ideal place.

In three or four weeks, remove to a dry place and you will have seed corn that will not need to be tested to prove its vitality. — Maine Farmer.

Eloping Pair Are Wed Deep in Waving Corn

1916

Doctor Outwits Farmer's Wife in Race to Win Bride — All Ends Happily.

WILMINGTON, Delaware. — Maud Muller on a summer day never looked lovelier than Margaret Beattie, a farmer's daughter of Hockessin, when she stood a bride in the middle of a waving cornfield.

The bridegroom was Dr. Alvin Rupert, of New Rochelle, N. Y. It was a runaway match — so much so that the bride played her stately part in the fetching simplicity of a sunbonnet and a gingham frock.

A difference in religious beliefs had caused her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Beattie, of "Fernside," to forbid her marriage to Dr. Rupert on August 17, as the young people had arranged.

But the enamored doctor was not to be denied. Accompanied by his parents, Mr. and Mrs. John Rupert, he established quarters on a neighboring farm, that of William Crossan.

Communication had been forbidden, but the sighing pair discovered a hollow tree of the type traditionally favored by Cupid as a lover's postoffice, and thus in scribbled words they exchanged their hopes and plans.

Dr. Rupert came to Wilmington, procured a marriage license and a clergyman and motored with them back to Hockessin. Margaret Beattie met them at a turn in the road, having slipped away from her father's farm in her everyday clothes.

Fearful of pursuit, the wedding party hastily penetrated the sheltered expanse of a cornfield. It was as much as the minister could do, however, to get thru the service quickly enough to outspeed the bride's vigilant mamma, who had followed Margaret and arrived breathless just after the ring had been slipped on her finger.

Faced with the inevitable, the Beatties decided to forgive their daughter and her Lochinvar, and the happy pair went South for their honeymoon.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Sept. 16, 1916, p. 5.

Cock Shooting In Tall Corn

1901

Cock shooting in tall corn is as easy to the expert as it is puzzling to the novice. You will, of course, work with the rows, not across them, and if you are wise you will shoot at every glimpse of a bird and very frequently after an instant's sight of him, when you can only guess where he is. Sharp work, say ye, my masters. Yes, in a measure, but not so wonderful after all. You certainly must be ever ready and swift and smooth in action, but actual sight of the bird at the instant of pulling trigger is not necessary.

Green corn won't stop even fine shot, and your charge will give a pattern as big as a bushel basket: hence the shaking of a leaf, the flick of a vanishing wing, are enough for the master of the art. In an instant his gun is on the spot where a species of lightning calculation tells him the bird should be, and the trigger is pressed without the slightest delay. The difficulty with the novice is to get him to shoot at once instead of waiting in vain for a clear view. Experts kill bird after bird in this way. The novice must dismiss all thoughts of empty shells. No good sportsman worries over misses, though he will learn from failures how to hold next time. There is no royal road to success in the field. Nothing but experience really counts. So let the novice crack away, although he may only get one bird in ten. We all know what he'll get if he doesn't shoot at all. — Outing.

A Great Prison Whistle

1896

Warden Sage, of Sing Sing prison, is having constructed an immense and powerful steam whistle to be used to alarm officers and citizens in case of an escape, an uprising in the prison or fire. It will also signal the beginning of work in the shops in the morning and the shutting down at night.

The whistle is known as a Fitts patent twelve-inch three-barred steam gong, and is the largest in use. It is composed of three cylindrical bells or barrels placed one above the other. These barrels are fastened to the steam conductor, which passes through them. The entire whistle is eight feet in height, and, contrary to ordinary whistles, the barrels or resonators are inverted. Each barrel has a different tone, thus producing a blended sound, without ear-splitting effects.

It is asserted that under favorable atmospheric conditions the whistle can be heard at a distance of thirty miles. Even under unfavorable circumstances the alarm should be heard seven to ten miles away.


New Use for Corncobs

Frank Shafer took to Lacon, Ill., recently, a sample of sirup which a number of experts pronounced genuine maple sirup. It was nothing more nor less than corncob sirup, made as follows: Twelve clean cobs were put in a gallon of water and boiled until soft. Then the juice was strained off and a gallon of dark brown sugar solution added. This is boiled a little while, resulting in a fine quality of sirup, hardly distinguishable from the maple product. — Chicago Times-Herald.

Thieves' Smooth Trick

1909

WILKES BARRE, Pa., Oct. 6. — All records for impudent thefts were broken at Bloomsburg this week, when a furnace, with all its flues and attachments, was stolen bodily from the home of C. C. Barger. The thieves, John James, of Mausdale, and Joseph Kelly, of Danville, who were arrested today, admitted their guilt and were held under $500 bail by Justice Jacoby.

They learned that the Jeremiah Fowler estate, which owns the Barger house, was to place a new furnace in it, and Wednesday went to the house, said they had been sent to take out the old furnace, carted it away in a wagon they hired and sold it to a junk man. So plausible was the whole affair that not until yesterday was it discovered that the furnace had been stolen.


Bluffed By A Corncob

EVANSVILLE, Ind., Oct. 6. — Earl Sappenfield, an escaped lunatic, held policemen and detectives at bay for ten minutes with a small corncob covered with a handkerchief. The officers thought he had a pistol.


Howard Nesbit Convicted

Sentenced to Sixty Days, but Gives Bond for Appeal

NEW HAVEN, Conn., Oct. 6. — Howard Nesbit, brother of Mrs. Evelyn Thaw, received a sentence of sixty days in jail here. He pleaded not guilty to the charge of attempting to obtain money under false pretenses, and City Attorney Hoyt produced evidence to show that young Nesbit offered for sale at a pawnbroker's shop here a white sapphire ring for which he tried to procure $35. It was worth about $3, according to Jeweler F. I. Glouskin, from whom Nesbit tried to get the money.

Nesbit appealed the decision, but was taken to jail. Bail was fixed at $200, and J. F. Francis, who says that he is a New York City banker, arrived just after Nesbit's trial took place. He offered bond money and Nesbit was released.


This Is The Only Way

Do not reason with a conceited man; flatter him.

Long Bow Stories — Old Legends, Maybe Some Fact

1907

Legends of the Famous Archers of the Remote Past

Many "long bow" stories may be cited in the literature of the world, and by far the greater part of them had their origin in the remote past.

Vergil, in the "Aeneid," tells of four archers who were shooting for a prize, the mark being a pigeon tied by a cord to the mast of a ship. The first man hit the mast, the second cut the cord, and the third shot the pigeon as it flew away. The fourth archer, having nothing left at which to shoot, drew his bow and sent his arrow flying toward the sky with such speed that the friction of the air set the feathers on fire, and it swept on like a meteor to disappear in the clouds. That is a bow and arrow story that tests the strongest powers of credulity.

The stories of Robin Hood's archery, illustrated by his wonderful performance as Locksley in Scott's "Ivanhoe," are also a decided strain on one's power of belief.

The famous legend of William Tell is believed by some to have a foundation in fact. There was a Dane named Foke of whom the same story was told, and William of Cloudesley, an Englishman, is said to have shot an apple from his son's head merely to show his skill.

The majority of bow and arrow stories relate to the accurate aim of the archers, but a Frenchman, Blaise de Vigenere, tells one in which the main point is the tremendous force with which an arrow may be propelled if the bow is strong and long enough. According to his own account of the matter, he saw Barbarossa, a Turk, admiral of a ship called the Grand Solyman, send an arrow from his bow clean through a cannon ball. Whether the cannon ball had a hole in it or not he neglects to inform us.

Perhaps the most astounding of all stories about arrow shooting is that of the Indians who used to inhabit Florida. It is said that a group of them would form a circle; one would throw an ear of corn into the air; the rest would shoot at it and shell it of every grain before it fell to the ground. Sometimes the arrows would strike the ear of corn so hard and fast that it would remain suspended in the air several minutes, and the cob never fell until the last grain had been shot away. — Chicago Record-Herald.