Books: Uncle Robert\'s Geography (Uncle Robert\'s Visit, V.3)
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Francis W. Parker and Nellie Lathrop Helm >> Uncle Robert\'s Geography (Uncle Robert\'s Visit, V.3)
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"Don't leave out the barnyard," said Donald.
"What's back of the barn?" asked Uncle Robert.
"The field of timothy; and next to it is the clover field. That is as
far as the farm goes that way."
[Illustration: CLOVER TIMOTHY WHEAT OATS RYE]
"The wheat field is on the other side of the timothy, Frank," said
Donald, "and the oats between that and the road, beside the orchard."
"Put in the potatoes along the road," said Susie.
"Now all we have left is the rye field over in the corner," said Donald.
"That is the way it is this year," said Mr. Leonard, who sat with his
paper in his hand. But the paper was unread. He found the group around
the table much more interesting.
"Now it is all done," said Susie, hopping about on one foot. "Isn't it
fun? Let's draw the garden. I can do it."
"All right," said Uncle Robert, "you shall; but I think we'd better
finish the farm first. Who can tell how many acres there are in each of
these lots?"
"I know there are twenty in the timothy meadow," said Donald, "because
father always calls it the twenty-acre lot."
"Write it down on the map, Frank," said Uncle Robert. "How much in the
clover field?"
"It seems about half as large as the timothy meadow," said Frank.
"That's right," said Mr. Leonard; "it is."
"There are twenty acres in the wood lot, aren't there, father?" asked
Frank. "It isn't quite so wide, but it is longer than the timothy
meadow."
"Yes," said Mr. Leonard, "there are twenty acres there; and it is as
fine woodland as any I know."
"There are ten acres in the orchard," said Frank; "and the cornfield is
the largest of all."
"That must be thirty acres," said Donald. "I remember when father made
the pasture smaller, so that we could have more corn."
"Yes," said Frank; "and that left ten in the pasture. I remember. And
there are fifteen acres each in oats, wheat, and rye; but I don't know
how large the potato field is. It is smaller than the others, though--it
must be about ten."
"Right again," said Mr. Leonard.
[Illustration: (figures, addition, subtraction)]
"Now we have it all but the yard and garden," said Uncle Robert. "Does
any one know how much land they cover?"
The father and mother looked on smiling, but said nothing.
"It's all the rest of the farm, anyhow," said Susie.
"Oh, I know how to find out," said Frank. "We know the whole farm is one
hundred and sixty acres. We can add all these figures, and the
difference between that and one hundred and sixty will be what's in the
yard and garden."
So he added all the numbers together and found them to be one hundred
and fifty-five.
"Yes," exclaimed Donald; "and five more would make it one hundred and
sixty."
"Then there must be five acres in the yard and garden." said Susie,
"Write it down. Frank."
"There," said Frank, looking at his work with
some pride. "It's all in. Now shall I draw it again and make the lines
straighter?"
[Illustration: Map of the farm.]
"Oh, no; this tells the story very well," said Uncle Robert. "The next
time we will measure it off, and make it more carefully."
"Not so bad," said Mr. Leonard, as Frank showed him the drawing.
"I think it is very good for a first time," said Mrs. Leonard, with an
encouraging smile. "With a little practice, my boy, I believe you would
draw well."
"Mother always believes we can do things," said Frank, laughing.
"Tell me more about the river," said Uncle Robert.
"Our side is bottom land," said Frank; "but across the river the bank is
high and steep. Farther down it is just the other way. The steep bank is
on this side, and the low land is opposite."
"The river bends the other way down there," said Donald.
"I see," said Uncle Robert. "How high is the bank?"
"I don't know," answered Frank. "How high is it, father?"
"About twenty feet," said Mr. Leonard.
"Do you go on the river much?" asked Uncle Robert.
"Oh, yes," said Donald. "We have an old boat, and we have been miles on
it."
"That is, downstream," said Frank. "We have never taken the boat up the
river beyond the village, on account of the milldam."
"There's an island in the river," said Susie, "between here and the
village. We have been there."
"How large an island is it?" asked Uncle Robert--"large enough to have
a picnic there while I am here?"
"Oh, yes," said Susie. "It's just the loveliest place for a picnic!
There are trees all over it, and all kinds of wild flowers."
"Can't you extend your map, Frank, so as to put in the river to the
village, showing the milldam and the island?" suggested Uncle Robert.
"You might draw it this way, too," said Donald, "and show how the river
bends the other way down here."
"Now I want to draw my garden," said Susie, when Frank had finished.
Just then the clock on the kitchen shelf struck loudly.
"It's bedtime now, dear," said Mrs. Leonard. "Can't you draw your garden
to-morrow?"
"We'll plant those pansies to-morrow," said Uncle Robert, "and see what
can be put in all the other beds. Then we'll draw it, and tell just where
everything is."
So Susie went to bed happy, and Frank and Donald soon followed. And all
were glad that Uncle Robert was really come.
CHAPTER III.
THE NEW THERMOMETER.
The next morning as they left the breakfast table Donald said:
"It's going to be warmer to-day."
"I think not," said Frank. "When I went to the barn it seemed quite
cool."
"What do you think, Susie?" asked Uncle Robert.
"It was cool under the trees when I went to the spring for a pitcher of
water," said Susie, "but it seemed rather warm in the sun. I think it is
a lovely morning."
"What makes it warm?" asked Uncle Robert.
"Why, the sun," replied Donald, looking rather surprised at such a
question.
"But does the sun make it warm in the winter?" asked Uncle Robert.
"The sun is nearer the earth in spring and summer," said Frank
confidently.
"You are mistaken," said Uncle Robert. "The sun is farther from us in
summer than it is in winter."
"But it's almost over our heads in summer," said Frank. "How can it be
farther away?"
"The story of the warmth that the sun gives us is not told by
distance," said Uncle Robert, "but by the length of the shadows at noon."
"How is that?" asked Donald.
"When is your shadow the longest?" asked Uncle Robert.
"In the evening," said Donald.
"In the morning," said Susie.
"When is your shadow the shortest?"
"At noon!" they all shouted.
"When is it coolest?"
"Morning," they replied together.
"When is it warmest?"
"Noon," said Susie quickly.
"Now you are wrong," said Frank. "It is often warmer at one or two
o'clock."
"Frank is right," said Uncle Robert. "How can we tell just how warm it
is at any time?"
"If we had a thermometer," said Donald, "that would tell, but we
haven't."
"There's one at the post office," said Frank, "but I never saw any one
look at it unless it was very cold or very hot."
"Perhaps we can find one nearer than the post office," said Uncle
Robert. "Susie, would you know one if you saw it?"
Susie shook her head.
"I would," said Donald.
"Well," said Uncle Robert, "please go to my room, and if you find a
thermometer bring it to me."
Donald soon returned, and when Susie saw what he had in his hand she
exclaimed:
"Is that a thermometer? I never saw anything like that at the post
office."
"Well, I should think not," said Donald. "This isn't much like the
old thing they have up there."
"What does it say?" asked Uncle Robert.
"Sixty-eight degrees above zero," said Frank, taking the thermometer in
his hand.
[Illustration: Thermometer.]
"That isn't cold, is it, uncle?" asked Donald.
"That's just right for the house," said Uncle Robert. "How is it out of
doors?"
"Let's take it out and see," said Frank.
Out on the porch they went and eagerly watched the thermometer.
"It's moving--it's going down!" cried Donald.
"I'll hang it on this nail," said Frank.
"When they looked again Donald said:
"It's fifty-six now."
"How much colder is it than it was in the house?" asked Uncle Robert.
"Twelve degrees," said Frank, counting up the column.
"Oh, let's take it in by the stove," said Susie, "and see how far it
will go up."
"What makes you think it will go up by the stove?" asked Uncle Robert.
"Well," answered Susie, "if it goes down when it is cold I should think
it would go up when it is warm."
Susie took the little instrument, and, going into the kitchen, held it
close to the stove.
"Come," she called, "it is going up already. See!"
"How fast it moves!" said Donald. "Hold it close to the stove, Susie.
Maybe it will go to the very top."
"Let us put it in cold water," said Frank. "It won't hurt the
thermometer, will it?"
"Not at all," was the reply. "Try it."
So they held it in the bucket of cold spring water.
"How fast it goes down now!" said Susie. "I wonder if it will go lower
than it did out on the porch. It's down to forty-eight."
"Why does Jane set the kettle of cold water on the stove?" asked Uncle
Robert, pointing to it.
"To boil the water," answered Susie.
"What makes the water boil?"
"Why, the fire, of course."
"How long will the stove stay hot?"
"As long as there is fire in it."
"Longer than that," said Donald. "It doesn't grow cold the minute the
fire is out."
"What becomes of all the heat?" asked Uncle Robert.
"Oh, it goes all round the room."
"Let's put the thermometer in the hot water," said Susie.
"Oh, see it go up!" said Donald. "It is one hundred and fifteen
already."
"What is the difference in degrees between the cold and the hot water?"
asked Uncle Robert.
"Sixty-seven degrees," said Frank.
"What makes the difference in degrees?"
"The difference in the heat," said Frank.
"If the water was boiling and the thermometer large enough," said Uncle
Robert, "it would go to two hundred and twelve."
"That would be ninety-seven degrees higher," said Frank.
"Wouldn't that be a big thermometer!" exclaimed Susie.
"Now put the thermometer on the floor," said Uncle Robert.
"It's seventy-two degrees now," said Donald in a few minutes.
"Let's put it on the broom," said Susie, "and hold it up to the
ceiling."
"It's warmer up there," said Frank, looking at the little gray cylinder
when they brought it down. "It is six degrees higher than it was on the
floor."
"Why?" asked Uncle Robert.
"The heat must go up there," said Donald.
"It goes into the next room when the door is open," said Frank.
"Does it go outdoors?" asked Uncle Robert.
"Let's open the window and see," said Susie.
Frank opened the window, but, instead of feeling the warm air going out,
he felt the cool air coming in.
"Uncle," asked Donald, "isn't the room full of air already?"
"Yes," answered Uncle Robert.
"Then I don't see how any more can come in at the window."
"Are you sure none goes out?"
"I could feel it coming in," said Frank.
"Jane," asked Uncle Robert, "have you a candle?"
"Here is one, sir," said Jane, taking a candlestick from beside the
clock on the shelf.
Uncle Robert lighted it and held it near the window, just below the
sill. The flame flickered as the air from the window struck it, and then
turned straight into the room. He raised it just above the opening.
Instantly the flame pointed toward the window, but it did not flicker as
it had when held below the sill.
"The air must be going out up there," said Frank, "but it doesn't blow
so strongly as the air coming in."
"The air that comes in is cooler than the air that goes out," said
Donald.
"What makes the water boil?" asked Uncle Robert, turning to the kettle
on the stove, which had now begun to sing.
"Why, the heat, of course," said Donald.
"What raises the lid?" asked Uncle Robert.
"The kettle is too full," said Frank. "It is going to boil over."
"Why didn't the water run over when it was cold?" asked Uncle Robert.
"The kettle didn't seem full then."
"Somehow it seems to get more than full when it boils," said Donald.
"See, it is boiling over."
Just then Jane took a pan of apples out of the oven. Each one looked
like a small volcano.
"What happens to the apples when they bake?" asked Uncle Robert.
"They just swell up so big their jackets won't hold them," said Donald,
laughing.
"It is heat that makes the bread rise, isn't it?" asked Frank.
"Of course," said Susie. "Don't you know sometimes if the bread doesn't
rise, mother says it is because it is too cold?"
"There is something besides heat that makes the bread rise," said Uncle
Robert.
"Yes," replied Susie, "the yeast; but it must be warm--I know it must."
"It seems as though everything is bigger when it is hot than when it is
cold," said Frank. "And now I believe I understand something that
happened not long ago."
"What was it?" asked Uncle Robert.
"Peter and I were driving to town," began Frank, "and the tire of one of
the wagon wheels slipped right off. We managed to get to the
blacksmith's shop, and he put the tire in the fire until it was hot. Then
he put it on the wheel, but it was still loose. We couldn't have gone a
step without its coming off again. He brought cold water and poured over
it, and soon it was as tight as could be. I thought the water made the
wood of the wheel swell up--you know water does that to the pails and
tubs when they leak; but now I believe the fire made the tire larger, and
then the cold water made it small again. That is just what happened."
[Illustration: The blacksmith shop.]
"But air can't grow bigger, can it?" asked Donald.
"If you can find an empty bottle, Donald," said Uncle Robert, "perhaps
we can soon find out about it."
Uncle Robert took a piece of thin rubber out of his pocket and tied it
tightly over the mouth of the bottle."
"By the way," he said, "is there anything in this bottle?
"No," said Susie, looking through the glass.
"Oh, yes," said Donald, "there is air in it."
"Well," replied Uncle Robert, "please get a pan of hot water, Frank."
Frank brought the water, and as Uncle Robert began to put the bottle
into it they all exclaimed:
"Be careful; you'll break the bottle!"
"What will make it break?" asked Uncle Robert, pausing.
"Why, the hot water," said Susie.
"It always breaks glass if you put it in too quickly," said Donald.
[Illustration]
"Well, we'll warm it a little first," holding the
bottle close to the water. "I think I can try it now."
As he spoke he lowered the bottle into the water, and the rubber tied
over the neck began to bulge out.
"See!" cried Susie. "What makes it do that?"
"Try the cold now," said Uncle Robert. "Here, Donald, hold the bottle in
this pail of cold water."
"The rubber is going down," said Donald in a moment. "It is going right
into the bottle."
"Does the air in the bottle pull the rubber in with it?" asked Susie.
"But, Uncle Robert," said Donald, "what if wagon tires, apples, and air
do swell up when they are hot? I don't see what all that has to do with
the thermometer."
"I think I see," said Frank. "Why wouldn't this gray stuff in the
thermometer get bigger when it's hot, if everything else does?"
"What is it that moves up and down in the thermometer?" asked Susie.
"It is mercury," answered Uncle Robert, "which is sometimes called
quicksilver."
"It looks like silver," said Susie, examining it closely.
"Perhaps you can see this better," said Uncle Robert, taking a small
bottle of mercury from his pocket and pouring a little into Donald's
hand.
"How heavy it is!" exclaimed he, letting it roll about. "It feels just
like lead."
"It is almost twice as heavy as lead," replied Uncle Robert.
"Put it in my hand, Donald," said Susie. "There, you've spilled it on
the floor! Just see it run around!"
"Is it always soft like this?" asked Frank.
"No, it becomes hard when it is very, very cold."
"How cold, uncle?" asked Donald, looking at the thermometer.
"Thirty-nine or forty degrees below zero," was the reply. "In the
coldest of countries alcohol thermometers are used. It must be much
colder than that to freeze alcohol."
"Why is mercury used, uncle?" asked Frank.
"Because it takes a very great heat to make it boil." said Uncle Robert.
"Then you have seen how quickly it shows a change of temperature. When
it is warm we call it a high temperature, and when it is cold it is
called a low temperature."
"That is because the mercury goes up when it is hot, and down when it is
cold, isn't it?" said Donald. "I wonder how it would feel if it was
forty degrees below zero. See, it is away down to there!"
"Do you remember that day last winter when Peter froze his ears driving
to town?" asked Frank. "Well, it was twenty below that day at the post
office. I saw it. But father is calling me; I must go."
CHAPTER IV.
WITH THE ANIMALS.
"Don't forget to set that hen, Donald," called Mr. Leonard, as he and
Frank went away together. "I think there are enough of those Plymouth
Rock eggs for one more setting."
"You ought to see our little chickens, Uncle Robert," said Susie. "They
are just too cunning for anything."
"When you go to set the hen, Donald," said Uncle Robert, "I will go with
you. Then you can show me everything about the barn."
Donald went to the storeroom and soon came back with the eggs.
"There are thirteen," he said, as he joined Uncle Robert in the porch,
"but I think she can take care of them. She's one of the largest hens
we have."
Then together they went to the henhouse, which stood next to the barn.
The chickens, seeing the basket in Donald's hand, ran toward him.
"You needn't think I am going to feed you again so soon," he said. "You
have had one breakfast this morning."
Donald always talked to all the animals as though they could understand
him.
[Illustration: The poultry yard.]
The mother hens paid no attention. With quiet dignity they walked about,
their broods of fluffy little chicks looking like balls of gold in the
sunshine. With a "Cluck! cluck!" each anxious mother called her children
to her as her sharp eyes discovered some new dainty. Then the greedy
little yellow things ran as fast as their short legs could carry them to
be the first to take the good things from the self-sacrificing mother.
"How many little chickens are there?" asked Uncle Robert as they stopped
to watch them.
"There are forty-six hatched," said Donald. "Three hens are setting, and
this one will make four."
"I see you have some fine turkeys, too," said Uncle Robert.
The big turkey cock spread his tail and strutted about before them as if
he understood how much he was admired.
"Mother thinks a great deal of her turkeys," said Donald. "They are much
harder to raise than the chickens. But mother knows just how to do it.
We don't lose many."
"Have you ducks and geese, too?" asked Uncle Robert.
"Yes," said Donald, "but I don't see any of them about. They must have
gone to the creek. There they are," and Donald pointed toward the
pasture where a line of white could be seen moving slowly along under
the trees.
"They march pretty well, don't they?" said Uncle Robert. "Do they always
go that way?"
"Not always," said Donald, "but very often. When that old drake wants to
take a swim, he starts and the rest follow. You'd never catch him
walking behind."
"As the head of the family I suppose he thinks it is his place to lead,"
said Uncle Robert, smiling.
Donald laughed. "Wouldn't it he funny," he said, "if father made us
follow him that way?"
They found the hen to whom they were carrying the eggs on an empty nest.
Donald drove her off that he might put in the eggs, but she was very
cross with him for disturbing her. She walked about with her feathers
ruffled up, clucking angrily, but eagerly went back to her nest as soon
as they were gone. She moved the eggs about with her feet, placed them
to suit herself, and contentedly settled down.
Donald then led Uncle Robert into the barn, where old white Nell stood
in her stall. Besides Nell there were three strong Normandies in other
stalls, and two stalls that were empty.
Mr. Leonard had a very large barn. There was the main floor, running
through from the two big rolling doors at either end. The great hay mows
on both sides, reached by short ladders, held some of last year's
cutting. Under the mows were the stalls for the horses and the
stanchions for the cattle. A machine for cutting hay stood on the barn
floor.
Under the barn was a deep, roomy cellar, in one corner of which was the
sheep pen, lighted by large windows.
Near the barn was a tool house, in which all the tools and machinery
were housed during the winter.
"It pays to have a nice warm barn and a good place to keep the tools
from rusting," said Uncle Robert. "Do you always keep the horses in the
barn when they are not in use?"
"Oh, no," said Donald. "Sometimes they run in the pasture along the
creek. The cows and sheep are there now. After the timothy and clover
are cut we'll put them in those fields."
"Do you keep many cows?"
"We have six cows and two calves," replied Donald. "Father gave one calf
to Frank and one to me. They're beauties. All our cows are Jerseys.
Frank and I are going to keep ours until they're grown. Then if they
give as much milk as the other cows do--and I'm sure they will--we are
going to take it to the creamery and sell it. There's a creamery not far
from here."
"Does your father sell the milk there now?" asked Uncle Robert.
"Not now," said Donald. "Mother likes to make the butter herself."
"That's why it is so good," said Uncle Robert.
"Has Susie a calf too?"
[Illustration: The Barn.]
Susie, tired of waiting for them to return, had come to see what they
were doing. So she answered for herself.
"No, uncle," she said, "but I have the prettiest little lambs you ever
saw. They always run to me when they see me coming. Please come out to
the lot and see them."
"How many have you?" asked Uncle Robert.
"Two," replied Susie. "They're twins, and are just alike. Their mother
is dead. It was cold when they were born. There was snow on the ground.
Father brought them into the kitchen in a basket to keep them warm.
Mother and I taught them to drink milk, so father gave them to me. I'm
going to keep them always."
"Father likes us to have our own things to take care of," said Donald.
"I think it's ever so much more fun, don't you, uncle?"
"Yes, indeed," said Uncle Robert. "But you help take care of all the
animals, don't you?"
"Oh, yes," replied Donald, "and I like them all; but my calf seems just
a little nicer than the rest. I know it isn't any better, really, but I
like to think it is my very own."
They stopped to watch the pigeons circling about the pigeon house.
"I love to watch the pigeons," said Susie. "See all the pretty colors in
their feathers!"
[Illustration]
"Are they very wild?" asked Uncle Robert.
"Oh, no," said Susie, "they're very tame. When we throw grain to them
they come down all around us."
"Come and see my pigs!" shouted Donald, who had run ahead and was
looking into the pen.
Four white, fat Berkshire pigs lay in the straw, lazily rolling their
little eyes toward their friend and feeder. A succession of grunts
served for conversation.
"I put in fresh straw every day," said Donald, "so my pigs can keep
themselves clean. And they have a patent trough to eat out of."
"I thought farmers in the West let their pigs run in the woods," said
Uncle Robert.
"We had a lot of razorbacks for a while, but they didn't pay," said
Donald. "Our Berkshires make nice pork."
"How warm the sun is getting!" said Uncle Robert as they turned away
from the pigpen.
"The wind is from the southwest," said Donald, looking at the weather
vane on top of the barn. "It always gets warmer when the wind is from
that direction."
"Uncle," said Susie, "before we begin to plant the seeds let's go and
see my lambs."
"You go ahead, and I'll get some salt for the sheep," said Donald. "They
always run to me when they see me coming with a pan. They know what that
means."
Donald soon joined them with the pan of salt.
"Mother says she can't work in the garden until afternoon," he said, "so
we needn't hurry back."
As they entered the pasture the sheep were quietly grazing on the slope
of the hill, where the grass was nibbled very short. A few lambs were
frisking together at the foot of the hill.
"See the lambs playing, uncle," said Susie. "The two little ones with
long tails and black noses are mine. Aren't they cunning? They'll see me
in a minute. Then how they will run!"
The quick ears of the sheep caught the sound of their voices. They
raised their heads. Donald held out the pan of salt, shaking it gently.
In a moment one of the flock started slowly toward them. Donald stopped
under one of the large oak trees that grew on the top of the hill. Uncle
Robert and Susie stood beside him. The old sheep came nearer. One by one
the rest of the flock began to follow. The lambs stopped playing. Susie
held out her hand and called softly, "Come, Sally! Come, Billy!"
[Illustration: Feeding the sheep.]
The two little lambs switched their tails and started up the hill.
Donald sprinkled a little of the salt on the ground. Then the whole
flock broke into a run, and the sheep were soon eagerly licking up the
salt as Donald scattered it about for them.
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