“Pretty frequent. It hasn't yet this year; there wasn't much snow last winter, you see, and the early spring floods weren't very high. But if we have a long wet spell, as we do have sometimes as late as July, you'll see water here.” “That's not very encouraging,” said Hiram. “Not for corn prospects, at least.” “Well, corn's our staple crop. You see, if you raise corn enough you're sure of feed for your team. That's the main point.” “But people with bigger farms than they have around here can raise corn cheaper than we can. They use machinery in harvesting it, too. Why not raise a better paying crop, and buy the extra corn you may need?” “Why,” responded Henry, shaking his head, “nobody around here knows much about raising fancy crops. I read about 'em in the farm papers--oh, yes, we take papers--the cheap ones. There is a lot of information in 'em, I guess; but father don't believe much that's printed.” “Doesn't believe much that's printed?” repeated Hiram, curiously. “Nope. He says it's all lies, made up out of some man's head. You see, we useter take books out of the Sunday School library, and we had story papers, too; and father used to read 'em as much as anybody.” “But one summer we had a summer boarder--a man that wrote things. He had one of these dinky little merchines with him that you play on like a piano, you know----” “A typewriter?” suggested Hiram, with a smile. “Yep. Well, he wrote stories. Father learnt as how all that stuff was just imaginary, and so he don't take no stock in printed stuff any more.” “That man just sat down at that merchine, and rattled off a story that he got real money for. It didn't have to be true at all. “So father soured on it. And he says the stuff in the farm papers is just the same.” “I'm afraid that your father is mistaken there,” said Hiram, hiding his amusement. “Men who have spent years in studying agricultural conditions, and experimenting with soils, and seeds, and plants, and fertilizers, and all that, write what facts they have learned for our betterment. “No trade in the world is so encouraged and aided by Governments, and by private corporations, as the trade of farming. There is scarcely a State which does not have a special agricultural college in which there are winter courses for people who cannot give the open time of the year to practical experiment on the college grounds. “That is what you need in this locality, I guess,” added Hiram. “Some scientific farming.” “Book farming, father calls it,” said Henry. “And he says it's no good.” “Why don't you save your money and take a course next winter in some side line and so be able to show him that he's wrong?” suggested Hiram. “I want to do that myself after I have fulfilled my contract with Mrs. Atterson. “I won't be able to do so next winter, for I shall be on wages. You're going to be a farmer, aren't you?”