Pm— Deneorrrlic, atc, Belletonte, Pa., September 4, 1914. | : | THE JOLLY OLD SPIDER. i . { 1 A jolly old architect is the fat spider, His houses are many and quaint; { And he asks not a cent of his tenants for rent : Nor worries at any complaint. * Alesson in thrift is the jolly old spider, He works night and day, oftentimes; Builds cellars and walls, long parlors and halls, i And stairways that nobody climbs. i He is wise, very wise, the fat jolly spider, | For he tries to please every class— : One room on top floor, or, if wanted, a score, | Some of which have walls wholly of glass! A model of patience, this same jolly spider; If his dwellings are swept from his sight By an earthquakeof doom, in the shape of a broom, He'll build them again over night! Oh, this very old, wary old, chary old spider Of Spidertown grim and gray! Though we never may be so famous as he, Let us copy his virtues each day. —The Christian Register. WHILE MOTHERS LIVE. “Jack is at such an uninteresting age —thirteen you know.” Jack, sitting on the front doorstep, heard the words plainly, and a dark flush mounted to his brow. The answer of his sister’s companion killed a budding romance that had but lately entered his heart. “It is too bad, isn’t it? My brother is just the same as Jack. So uninteresting, and always in the way.” Jack rose slowly, and went down the front walk out into the broad, sunny street. Life had lost its flavor for him. His sister’s comment came as the culmi- nation of an unhappy week. And moth- er, who healed al! wounds, was ill, lying upstairs in her pretty room with a new little head pressed against her bosom. A boy! Jack's heart had leaped when he heard the words, but now he was filled with a consuming pity for the new- comer. Inevitably it would have to reach the uninteresting age. It seemed that the whole world was cruel—always ex- cepting mother. And now she was away from him, and he might see her for a few moments only every morning. Thus far, she had smiled at him and he had smiled in return. That had been the extent of their communication. He kicked a pebble viciously. Today was Saturday, baseball day, and, when mother was well, cake and pie day. He | had gone into the kitchen early in the, morning and asked Mary when the cake ; would be ready, and if it would be a | cream cake. She had ansewered him surlily, muttering something about ! youngsters “always on hand.” | Then he had met his big brother, who | swung a cane and wore his trousers up- | turned at just the right angle. The big | brother did not realize what a staunch | little champion he had in Jack, nor what | great admiration he had inspired in the small heart—an admiration preserved | loyally, despite references to his freckles ! and the size of his feet. i But, “Hello, kid!” the elder’s greeting | had been; then, to Jack's chagrin, a | broad smile had suddenly enveloped his countenance. “You are the proverbial ugly duckling,” he had volunteered; “why, you're all legs and arms!” Jack had tried to laugh in return at the joke. But, somehow, he couldn’t. Then, meeting father a little later, he had asked if he might have his weekly allow- ance. He did not say that he wanted to buy mother roses—pale ones with curl- ing petals. Father had given the money to him, and then looked him over with the slow, disconcerting gaze that fathers often be- stow upon their small sons. “You must hurry up, Jack, and grow to an age where you'll be able to do something for yourself,” he said. The words were accompanied by a kind pat, but Jack swallowed a hard lump in his throat. Then he had wandered into the library where sixteen-year-old Dorothy was look- ing over some school papers with her friend Ruth. Jack sat down near them, uninvited, to be sure, but feeling a strange comfort in being with those who would tease him. He admired Ruth, and liked to watch the sweep of her long lashes as they fell upon her.cheek. The conversation had stopped abruptly upon his entrance. It was rather dis- concerting to the boy, for he had hoped for a salutation of some kind. He glanc- ed up from his inspection of the rug after a bit, and looked into his sister's face. “You haven’t polished your shoes this morning, Jack,” she said. Even his ears burned, for Ruth’s long- lashed eyes followed Dorothy’s glance at the muddy shoes. “Haven’t had time,” he answered, sul- lenly. “Well, you can do it now,” his sister suggested, brightly; and he khew that she was glad of any excuse to have him leave. He went out and sat on the front steps. During the afternoon a great baseball game was to be played, but now he did not care. Things had changed since last Saturday. Then his sister’s voice floated out to him. “Uninteresting!” He wondered just when a boy became uninteresting. He, Jack, wasn’t so to himself, or perhaps he had glided so gradually into that state that he hadn’t noticed. But only last week he had thought how very interesting his thoughts were. He had smiled when, looking up into the sky, he saw a floating bit of blue that looked just like mother’s eyes— Then he choked, and stopped to lean gainst a tree. He stared for some mo- ments at his hands and the few inches of wrist to which they were attached. They were large and sprawly. Was that what made him uninteresting, and did mother find him so? : A bitterness of spirit possessed him. Hitherto he had accepted without even mental comment all the remarks anent his personal appearance, and had turned an unmoved countenance to his deriders, even though he winced. But now what action should he take? A sudden thought of the little sister came to him. She was aged three, and dorothy kissed her ten- derly whenever she toddled into the library. Father picked her up and called her his blessed bit of sunshine even when he was busy with the newspaper. But if Jack interrupted him at that time he received a stern reprimand. He kicked the tree savagely, and a boy of thirteen, who had played baseball for many years and was a noted cham- pion? Did he want to be called a bit of sunshine? Why, on the contrary, he al- observation when mother kissed him and pulled his tie straight. ! ways looked furtively around in fear of | withering self-contempt gnawed at him. entered. His coat was torn _and muddy, Did he want to be kissed and hugged? A and two buttons were missing. The roses were guarded carefully in his tired hands. He stood for a moment looking at her —his dear, dear mother—his pale lady— Then she put out her arms, and in a second he was within them, sobbing un- ashamed, returning her tender kisses, He resumed his walk. He was glad forgetting his hands, his uninteresting that he met none of the boys. He want- age; drinking in her sweet words, teuch- ed to be alone. He did not want to meet | ing her smooth hair with his cheek. even Georgie Sercomb, who was also ing. Jack thought he might have suffer- for boys. : His allowance jingled in his pocket, and with the jingle came a thought and a speedy resolution. He wouldn’t touch a penny of it. He would earn his own money with which to buy the flowers. Perhaps his uninteresting age would not affect the grocer when he saw also such big hands and willing feet. Jack turned his footsteps in the direc- tion of the grocery-store at which his mother dealt. He went to the proprietor, who knew him. “Do you want a boy to help deliver goods,” he asked, “and if so, how much will you pay?” “You're just in time, Jack,” the man answered; “we’re short of help. Get on that wagon going out. I'll pay you fifty cents for the day.” Jack went out into the street again; the wagon was backed up to the curb. “Jump on,” the driver called. Jack did so. The wagon started away at a mad pace. Jack with some difficulty maintained his seat on the rear end. Then, as suddenly as it had started, the wagon gave a mighty lurch and stopped. “Here, kid,” the driver commanded, “take this up to Mrs. Benjamin; third floor.” Jack received the large box filled with groceries and started on his journey. He was puffing breathlessly when he return- ed to the wagon. But a glow of inde- pendence warmed him. He was working! He had torn his coat and skinned his knuckles, but he found that action brought a certain degree of forgetful- ness. When noon came the wagon was driven back to the store. Jack remained out- side, hungry and miserable, and the strange ache at his heart had begun again. His legs also began to ache, and his hands were calloused. He tried to re- member that he was doing something for himself. At least, he could satisfy father on that score. But he could not shorten his arms and legs, nor could he render himself more interesting, for he was un- able to place his finger on the exact characteristic which made him so unin- teresting and unwanted. Again the thought of the baby came to him; he was very sorry for it; he hoped fervently that it might escape the ills that he had endured. If he were anywhere around when it was thirteen, he would help it—you bet! Then the driver came out again, and after hours ot climbing stairs the day ended. Jack took the final big box to the third floor, and walked painfully, limpingly down to the wagon. Every bone in his body was a big, separate ache, and his empty stomach gnawed in- dignantly. He pocketed his fifty cepts, and sought the florist shop. It took him some time to select the creamiest, sweetest roses. It was very late then, but, of course, they hadn’t missed him at home. They had only been relieved because he wasn’t there—in the way with muddy boots and ugly hands that he always tried in vain to hide when his big brother called at- tention to them. He could see them all: father at the head of the table, big brother, Dorothy, and the little sister, and— He stopped short, a roll of misery enveloping him. Mother wouldn’t be there; she was upstairs, lying in bed with a little thing held lovingly in her arms. When the banter which his en- trance always provoked had commenced she wouldn’t be there to say, gently: “Come here, my little man, and sit near mother.” And then the rest usually didn’t mat- ter so much; and when she squeezed his hand under the table he was able to smile at any reference to his awkward- ness, and to banish the undreamed-of hurt that dwelt in his heart. And once—he straightened his shoulders —she had left out the word “little,” and called him simply “my man,” and he had looked at her with eyes so like her own, and way down deep he had promised that she should always have him to lean upon. Aud now tonight she wouldn’t be at the table to look up at him when he entered. He wanted her. He wanted her! He knew now all suddenly what he would do. He would go into the house quietly, return the money to father, then go up- | stairs to her room, and— He didn’t know just what, except that she must smile at him; she must remove her protecting hand from that tiny new head and put it on his ruffled hair. Oh, she must love him as she did when he was little and cuddling and sweet. When he entered the front hall he could hear the voices of his father and brother. He went forward swiftly, the nodding roses in one hand, and his week- ly allowance clutched tightly in the other. Father looked up; he did not speak, and Jack stumbled on the leg of a chair. He recovered himself, and put the mon: ey down on the cloth near his father’s plate. > “I worked today, father,” he said, in a low, clear voice, “and I'm able to return the money to you. I'm just as much obliged, though.” He wanted to be very polite and grate- ful, as mother had taught him to be. He searched his father’s face. “It’s all right, isn’t it, sir?” he asked, for the strange silence surprised him. “I wanted roses for mother—she loves them so, you know.” Still father did not answer, because of a tightening of his throat, and Jack, looking down at the roses, saw that one was drooping. He forgot everything but that mother must have them in their delicious freshness. He turned and flew up the stairs. His heart leaped widly, but he pressed on. When he reached mother’s room he heard no sound. He pushed the door open very gently. Yes, she was there, but the baby was in its crib. Mother was’ lying there, looking out of the window up into the sky. Her beautiful hair was braided and lay over her shoulder, and her slim hands were so white, so quiet. She looked around dreamily as the door opened; then she half started at the sight of the pathetic little figure that ! | ed the companship of Georgie’s dog with . its big understanding eyes and its love | it, ‘sufficient number of limber poles, such And then, after a long, love-filled si- aged thirteen and probably uninterest- lence, he looked deep into her shining eyes, and paid her the one great tribute: “The whole world doesn’t matter, does not even hurts and mocking, while there are mothers left?”—Emily Calvin Blake, in Harper's Bazar. Early American Coins Bore Representa- tions of Trees. Tho first coins that can be called strict- ly American were issued by the colonial mint of Massachusetts. These were gen- erally known as the Pine Tree series al- though there were four distinct varieties. A coin of still earlier date was known as the “Somers Island Piece” and was in all probability struck in England instead of the colonies. The rarest ef the Pine Tree series was a plain, hammered silver coin, and the value, XII. or VI, was made by a punch, says the Boys Magazine. This was is- sued in the early months of 1652, and was followed by others with the repre- sentations of oak, willow and pine trees, and the inscriptions “Massachusetts” and “New England.” Two and three penny pieces were added to the series and the pine-tree variety were the most common. As pay the mint master was said to receive a certain proportion of the coins struck. The next coins in use were what were known as the Rosa Americana series. These coins were originally intended for circulation in Ireland but for political reasons they were repudiated there and were sent to the colonies for use there in 1722, 1723 and 1724. Together with these came the Wood half-penny. All of these coins were struck by William Wood, of London, and were very hand- some indeed, especially the Rosa Amer- icana series. was the head of George I, and on the other was a rose crowned in the first series and uncrowned in the next. In place of King George’s head the Wood half-penny had the figure of Hibernia. A little while after this came what were called the “Higley” coins. These were the first really American coins and were struck at Granby, Conn., by a mint- master of that place. The blacksmith who made the dies was named Higley and he was certainly a genius at making dies. There were two varieties; one had three sledge hammers on: the reverse side, with the motto, “Value Me As You Please,” while the other had a broadaxe with the motto, “I Cut My Way Through.” On the obverse side of each was the figure of a deer standing all at- tention. These coins are very rare and were struck in 1737. » In 1766 Paul Revere issued a brass coin known as the Pitt token, which had a bust of the great Earl of Chatham on the obverse side. Soon after this came the bar cent and in 1773 Colonel Revere struck a coin of similar design as the old pine tree shilling, which was called the pine tree cent. A variety of this same coinage had a figure of an Indian chief for the obverse. These coins had for in- scriptions, “American Liberty” and “Non Dependens Status.” the colonists of the sturuggle they were in and to urge the minute men not to! give up for a single minute until liberty was gained. About this time also there was issued | the Virginia half-penny with the profile | of George IIL on the obverse and a coat of arms on the reverse side. There were ! a number of varieties of this Virginia , coin and they were fairly plentiful. The French colonial piece, the Louisiana cent, was issued in 1767 and found its way in limited numbers to the northern colonies about the time the pine tree cent came out. Boy Can Make a Lean-to in Woods, as Indians Did. Suppose an Indian brave was ‘starting off alone, or with one companion, to lay up a supply of meat or to trap for furs. All the outfit he really needed was knife and hatchet, bow and arrows, with or without a canoe, according to the coun- try he had to cross, says Boys’ Life. He proceeded on foot to a good camping place, and. there built his temporary shack of whatever material was most abundant. If in the woods, he would probably make a “lean-to,” which is con- structed thus; In a dry and protected spot, find two | saplings at the right distance apart, and | connect them by poles laid upon the forks of each at an equal height, about | eight feet. This forms the support of your lean-to. Against this horizontal bar, and slanting out to windward, place small poles close together, driving them firmly into the ground, and proceed to ' thatch from the ground up with over- lapping rows of flat and thick evergreen boughs. An angle is formed with about the slant of an ordinary roof, and under- neath you must spread several layers of the same kind of boughs for your bed. One side is usually left open, facing the fire, which is built just outside. This is an ideal summer or fisherman’s camp. You can make a similar shelter of grass or rushes, but in this case you must have the poles closer together. The dome-shaped wigwam or “wick- iup” is made in a few minutes, almost anywhere, by sticking into the ground a Just as willows, in a circle the size you want. Each opposite pair is bent inward, and the ends interlocked and tied firmly. Use any convenient material for the covering; an extra blanket will do. You can make any of these tent shel- ters, which are or have been in use by most Indian tribes, except the cliff dwellers, with no tools but your hatchet or strong knife. The object is to protect yourself and your possessions from cold, wind, rain and the encroachments of an- imals. As to the latter, however, they are not likely to trouble you unless very hungry and in almost unexplored coun- try. Under such circumstances a fire is good protection. Dodger. “Now, why are you crying?’ “My husband is so evasive,” yelped the bride. “Every time I ask him how he likes my biscuit he tells me that I have beautiful eyes.”—Louisville Courier-Journal. On one side of the latter, ** death-warrant. They were true liberty coins and were used to remind ! iE FROM INDIA. By One on Medical Duty in that Far Eastern Country. Native Nurses a Trial. A Try at Gardening. A Visit to a Rich Patient and the Doctor Gets Mad. JHANSI, jury 24th, 1913, Dear Home Folk: Here am I going to write to you again and really and truly nothing to write about. The “medical assistant” is off on her vacation and I have her work to do and am generally too “scratchy” after a morning with the comers and goers at the dispensary to even try to find new material to write about, or twist the old stuff about to make a new showing. I am afraid I bristle with spines. The girls have just come in to get their working apparatus ready for the day. These nurses are the nicest, and yet worst youngsters I have ever seen; abso- lutely no reliance can be placed upon them, and yet they are loveable. If one stands over them and drives, they do their work well. But perhaps part is due to their all being from orphanages. Many are the remains of large families, who died during the last famine, and you and I know how little training they would get in public institutions. Then, they are nearly all below eighteen years of age, and no woman has experience in In- dia if she be of native blood, so you see it is like having entirely new material to work with. Unfortunately, heredity hasn’t been any too good, and such mor- al things as with us are almost always understood, are not even known here. Perhaps one would find nothing better among the same class at home. : I have been trying to do some garden- ing for the past two days. The treesand bushes in this garden had not been trimmed for years and had run riot and were full of dead branches until the whole thing looked like a jungle patch. The poor old “mali” (gardener) was heart- broken when a whole lot of his “beloved- , est scimpy” looking bushes received their But already it begins to look decent and after a little more time, and a little more fertilizer is used, I think we need not be ashamed of it. It of course, all depends upon the rains; the best endeavors one can make are all for naught unless there is plenty of water at hand. In all my life I never knew the need of water so thoroughly as I have learned it in this dry, hot India, and I wish the New York Board was rich enough to let us have water piped into the premises. There are pipes laid with- in a short distance of us and it would mean but a little additional outlay, and we could keep things so much cleaner and fresher, at less expense. Just now a gray eyed Hindu came in and I stopped to write out a prescrip- tion; her eyes startled me, they seem so out of place in the walnut-brown face and in such contrast to the dead-black hair. I wonder how such a freak of na- ture occurs; although, I have seen very, | very fair women with blue eyes, and they look as though they must have European , blood some place in their make-up, and I wonder’ harder, why these “purdah” women are not pure white, when they are exposed to the air so little and rarely see the sun, unless covered closely; "and yet they are all yellow skinned like Italians. History says they should real- ly be our cousins. Tell me where the , change comes in, for even after these al- | most two years in India, I am whiter I and of course it was all due to their hav- ing money. Hope I won’t have to meet that same kind again. In the afternoon I was again called out and this second time it was a worker in the bank here. It was really a pleasure to do what they wanted, they were so nice and friendly. When we came away the little nurse said: “Miss ‘Sahibje’ you canbe so nice when you want to, but you were so angry this morning, I was scared ” The reason I fussed so about taking off my shoes was, you are never asked to do such a thing except in a Temple, or you are a servant; they must always cover their head and come into your presence with bare feet. It is night and I have had to change my place of writing. It is raining—the first for a few days, just a nice little down-pour. I doewish it wourd rain all night, but nothing so good as that would happen in this Jhansi; it will probably be all over in ten or fifteen minutes and tomorrow morning, except for the washed look of the roadway, you would never know it had rained. The mosquitoes are just a bit thicker and other insects a bit more trying, is all I have found different from the hot and the rainy weather. (Continued next week.) ‘Meat Eating. Little Talks on Health and Hygiene by Samuel G. Dixon, M. D., LL. D., Commissioner of Health. Ever since man lost the instinct that the lower animals have which enables them to select the food stuffs that best agree with them, questions of diet have given rise to innumerable arguments, Historians and political economists have | discussed the bearing of this important factor in the life of nations. The medical profession has devoted profound research ! work to determining what food stuffs are best suited to nourish men in various vocations in different climates. The question of what to eat and how to get it has occupied a large proportion of the thought and effort of mankind and will undoubtedly continue to do so. The increase in the price of meat dur- ing the past few years, not to mention the past few weeks, has set thousands of housewives seeking information as to the relative value of meat as a food stuff compared with other available commodi- ties Albumen or nitrogen is to be found in meat, beans and other vegetables. It can be obtained from meat more easily than from vegetables. This form of nutrition is in greater demand by the growing child or youth than the developed adult. An allowance of two or three ounces of red meat a day according to the amount of physical exercise is all that an adult should eat. With this they should have from one to one and a-half ounces of fats and 5} to 63 ounces of mixed vege- table diet, such as potatoes, white bread, oatmeal, hominy, etc. Meat once a day is enough for those taking moderate exercise, with eggs, vegetables, bread, and a little sugar and butter or other fats. Beans make a good substitute for meat for those who can digest them but re- quire as a rule about twice the quantity in weight. Squash, turnips, spinach, lettuce, etc., can be eaten in moderation according to the degree with which the individual can digest them. When an excess of meat is eaten the liver, kidneys and other organs are over- worked in burning it up and getting rid of the ashes. As a people Americans eat entirely too much meat, particularly in hot weather, and waste much money and health thereby. Real Estate Transfers. Melissa Bowes et al to Edgar L. Morri- son, 2 tracts of land in Liberty Twp.; | than when at home; probably due to |$1600 continual profuse perspiring, and my hair is not much darker than formerly, ; while I haven’t seen a single light-haired ! native woman or man, except that Al- bina, since I came here. Isit the cold | winters that keep our skins so white, or | what is it. | Ihad a peculiar encounter with a rich man today, and it was this: Just asl | was finishing up my morning work along came a man asking to have me go and , see a rich woman, who had an abscess $ on her arm. Two white horses and a very good looking carriage awaited me, so after calling to my nurse to get things ready, I finished my work and we drove off in style. I was hungry and tired, for it was just breakfast time and I had had plenty of work from 6:30 and this was 10:30; jbut I thought I had best go. We at last arrived and in a tiny first room, as usual, were at least twenty men. I asked to see my patient and they said “she is upstairs,” but never thought to to show me the way, and when I started I was requested to take off my shoes. Can you imagine just how angry I became, since only servants are so treat- ed. Of course I refused, and demanding my fee started for home, but when they found that they had to pay me for my time I was at once shown the stairway and was allowed to proceed without further trouble. Again I went through room after room, absolutely bare, up stairs that must resemble the pyramids of Egypt, and finally out onto a tiny porch where, lying on a rope bed, was a young girl, her face covered, although her feet and legs, to above the knees, were bare, while her ankles, arms and neck were covered with gold jewelry. I was then allowed to look at this ab- scess but when I suggested lancing it, although it was quite soft, such a fuss was made I could almost feel myself be- ing torn to pieces; I was only to see it. There and then I demanded my fee; would not move until it was paid, etc., and left them with the knowledge that doctors are people of some consequence. 1 have had many different kinds of ex- periences out here but this was the first time I was ever treated as a servant; Alfred Thompson et ux to Robert C. Thompson, tract of land in Snow Shoe Borough; $100, William C. Heinle to John J. Myers, 2 tracts of land in Snow Shoe Twp.; $1. John I. Thompson et ux to Jacob Edw. Johnstonbaugh, tract of land in Patton Twp,; $5000. Moses Thompson Exrs. to ‘George B. Thompson, 2 tracts of land in Patton Twp. ; $9000. Centre County Commissioners to J. D. Neidigh, tract of land in Patton Twp.; 1. Centre County Commissioners to John Forest Bible, 2 tracts of land in Potter Twp.; $7. Centre County Commissioners to John Forest Bible, tract of land in Ferguson Twp.; $5. William Harpster to Ezra Smith, tract of land in State College Boro.; $1250. Paul R. Harper to Bertha Laird Har- per, tract of land in Rush Twp.; $1. Dr. Simon S. McCormick et ux to John > Miler, tract of land in Walker Twp.; 500. , Crying Spells. There are some women who have “cry- ing spells,” which seem to be entirely unaccountable, and are generally attirb- uted in a vague way to “nerves.” A man hates to see a woman cry under any circumstances, and these bursts of tears awaken very little sympathy in him. They would if he understood all the weakness and misery that lie behind the tears. Dr. Pierce’s Favorite Prescription has brightened many a home, given smiles for tears to many a woman just because it removes the cause of these nervous outbreaks. Disease of the deli- cate womanly organs will surely affect the entire nervous system. “Favorite Prescription” relieves these diseases, and builds up a condition of sound health. For nervous, hysterical women there is no medicine to compare with “Favorite Prescription.” War Secretary Killed at Sea. It is somewhat remarkable that the first British secretary of war, Sir W. Clarke, was killed in a naval action. His duties were those of a socretary to the commander-in-chief, and, as such, he accompanied the duke of Al- bemarle to sea in 1666, and was killed on June 1. His official salary was at first $2.50, and subsequently $5 a day, out of which he paid his clerks. ——— FARM NOTES. —Hogs fatten best when not disturbed or excited. . ; —Don’t spice turkey feed with red pepper. It’s a killer. —A small quantity of creolin placed in the bath will kill lice on the birds. —Don’t torget that eggs are affected if left in the nest on a hot day, especially if the nest is bughouse. —The best tools are the cheapest, the best stock the most profitable and the highest fertilization and cultivation will bring the largest crops. —An excitement or expenditure of nerve force costs in milk. The quietly kept and well-fed dairy cow puts all her vital energy into milk production. —The real test of value in a horse is strength, lively action and endurance, combined in the lightest weight possible. In the make-up of a first-class draft horse quality counts for more than bulk. —Hogs more than 6 months old make less rapid gains when fed on corn alone than when fed on corn and a supplement in connection with bluegrass or timothy, but the gains made from the former ra. tion are usually as cheap as from the latter. —Some pigs require more feed than do others, and it is not easy to average the daily ration to each. One-third pound : of oats and two-thirds pound of ground corn is a good proportion, and a little bran or middlings may be added with a : little oil- meal of either kind. : soil. —No industry is so vital to the well- being of the nation as agriculture, and nothing is so vital to agriculture as the How to use and not abuse the soil is the most important problem which faces the farmer of today—one worthy of the best efforts of our most profound and learned scientists, for upon its solu- tion depends the future prosperity of the nation. —When cows are dry they should be well fed to put them in good condition at the time of freshening. Such cows will milk much better than will those that are thin at the beginning of their milking period. It pays to feed liberally during the period when a cow is carry- ing and feeding the calf and preparing for a heavy strain on her system during the coming lactation period. —One reason for so many failures with pigeons is because so many fellows keep them bughouse. They imagine pigeons are boiler plate, so pigeon lime is allowed to cake deep on the floor,pilein pyramids in the nests and lice ticks breed without limit. We have seen it so bad that mice even nested with the pigeons and rats came in and helped themselves to squabs. —The great value of sheep on the farm lies in their ability to utilize the rough- ages to advantage, their consumption of woods and other waste products and the return they make to the soil in the form of manure. Even though prices were so low that, as a business in and of itself. sheep growing did not pay, still every farmer ought to have upon his farm as many sheep as he can practically grow feed for. —Winter rye is of great value as a pasture, and as its worth becomes better known it will be used tc a greater extent than it is. For providing pasture, none of the small cereals will compare with it. Rye may be sown at almost any time of the year, and a good pasture may be se- cured fall and spring from the one sow- ing. A stand of grass may be obtained while it is being grazed, and it may usually be followed by another crop the same season. —For a good pasture in autumn, rye should be sown this month. It should then be grazed closely, for if allowed to grow rank, the head may form, destroy- ing its power to crop out in the spring. Another, and probably a more important reason for grazing closely, is to prevent the tendency to rust when it becomes of rank growth. While the weather is still warm rust- ing may be prevented by cropping, and may thus be made to produce a large amount of grazing in the autumn, but when it does, the grazing furnished in the spring will be less than that secured from rye under similar conditions of growth, but’sown later and not pastured. Earlier grazing is furnished in spring by rye than by any other plants used as pasture. The length of time the grazing can be continued. depends upon the closeness of the cropping, usually it does not continue good more than six weeks. About that time, however, there generally is plenty of other grazing. Excellent crops of these are frequently grown after rye pasture. : —Melons. It is no easy matter to train the pickers togather melons in just the right condition for shipment. Con- sequently, many green and overripe melons are very apt to be hauled daily to the packing sheds. Unfortunately, some melons of this class find their way to the markets. : A Rocky Ford cantaloupe, for instance, in right condition for shipment has a pe- culiar grayish green color, which, con- trasted with the light-colored netting, gives the melon a brownish cast. The netting should be well out and fully de- veloped, quite rough. and of a grayish white color and lacelike appearance. The stem parts at its juncture with the melon, leaving none of its tissues adherent to the fruit. A yellow color, however slight, creeping o%er the melon is an indication of over-ripeness: As the melons continue to ripen the field should be picked over once each day until the height of the season ar- rives, when it will become necessary to go over the vines two or three times a day. A high percentage of over-ripe ‘melons may be avoided by frequent pick- ings. Each member of the picking gang takes a row, and the field is gone over sys- tematically. A burlap sack flung over the shoulders of the picker is usually used for picking in, but some growers use half-bushel baskets with handles. If sacks are used the melons are emptied into piles along the “heap rows” made at intervals across the field. From these piles they are picked up into crates and baskets and hauled to the packing shed. If half-bushel baskets are used the melons are left in them to be carried to the packing shed, and the handling is reduced to a minimum. However, a great many baskets are required for handling the crop in a large field. The melons once picked should be taken with the least delay possible to the packing shed and got out of the hot rays of the sun. Careful handling in picking and hauling is essential.—Philadelphia Record.
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