Bellefonte, Pa., November 13, 1914.
I’VE BEEN THINKING.
I've been thinking, I've been thinging,
What a glorious world were this,
Did folks mind their business more,
And mind their neighbors’ less!
For instance, you and I, my friend,
Are sadly prone to talk
Of matters that concern us not,
And other’s follies mock.
I've been thinking, if we’d begin
To mind our own affairs,
That possibly our neighbors might
Contrive to manage theirs.
We have faults enough at home to mend—
It may be so with others:
It would seem strange if it were not,
Since all mankind are brothers.
Oh! would that we had charity
For every man and woman;
Forgiveness is the mark of those
With whom “to err is human.”
Then let us banish jealousy—
Let’s lift our fallen brother;
And as we journey down life’s road,
Do good to one another.
FROM INDIA.
By One on Medical Duty in that Far Eastern
Country. A Vivid Description of a Trip to the
Mountains. Nights Cold and Days Hot.
GARHI, Dak., SEPTEMBER 21st, 1913.
Dear Home Folk:
Bungalow—Here we are, ninety-eight
miles from the railroad, or two days’
tonga going, and if I had a gifted pen I
could write you a letter that would be
more than worth while. We left Jhansi
at ten o'clock Monday and at two, as we
were admiring the Taj from a distance,
the heat was so bad it really made me
ill and the dry, hot, yellow clay looked
so baked and hard one could think of
nothing but what intense heat must have
been coming for months to produce such
an effect. There is no way I can de-
scribe it to you.
At Delhi it became cooler and by the
time we had reached the climbing stage
to Rawal Pindi it was very comfortable.
For hours we came up and up and up,
through the same kind of barren, water-
corroded formation that one sees in Sim-
1a, reminding one of the caves at home;
but in this case formed of mud instead of
stone. It was beautifully wierd but oh,
so desolate and it scarcely seemed fair
that we should have to come twenty-two
hours’ ride to have only that to see; but
Rawal Pindi, two hours on, proved a
most charming change. It is a beauti-
fully laid out city and I caught most en-
ticing glimpses of gardens full of flowers
and green grass; and the roads, well, I
just longed and longed fora motor, know-
ing we would resemble the “bird-men”
and be a lot more safe.
We stopped at a very, very nice hotel
and when we went into dinner, to see
men and women in evening dress, each
table with its bunch of beautiful roses
on it, and hear the band outside—I sure
did wish to go on to the theatre (?), but
instead, we finished our food and went
back to the room and to bed, for we were
to start at 5:30 for our four days’ (198
mile) drive. We got off allright in the
early morning, before even the moon had
ceased her sway, and those first nine
miles were cold and beautiful. It was
through a flat, level farming country
with high mountains on either side; but
miles away, and when the sun came up,
all was as though ordered.
The Punjabis, through whose country
we are going, is a much better looking,
finer built man than the Hindustani, and
he seems more willing to work and keep
clean. The first relay of horses has been
made and again we go on. We are now
nearer the mountains and the road be-
gins to ascend. and continues for the
next eight miles. Both our teams have
been good. The third team is now put
in and the road, which has been twisting
back and forth like a snake and rising
fairly fast, with the mountains greeting
you at every turn, now becomes a nar-
row strip and I see about ten feet above
me the upper road, the one we are soon
to take. But horrors! One of our horses
is new and rebels against the heavy load
attached to him and such pulling, coax-
ing, heart-breaking driving I don’t think
I have ever seen before and: although I
know that six miles further on a new re-
lay will be put on, vet to get there, for
the road, although in perfect condition,
seems almost straight up, and the way is
long.
Finally we get to the next station and
this team is worse than the one we had
before and the road is, if possible, more
tortuous and steeper, until finally one
horse balks and I am beginning to won-
der, will we ever reach Murree, thirty-
seven miles up, where they say our
troubles will be over. We have to get
out and finally send on the sulky brutes
and ask for a new lot before we can pro-
ceed. It was not a bad thing that hap-
pened to us for the grandeur and the
scenery defies my poor powers to de-
scribe and I can only tell you that to sit
and let the mountain air cool my face,
and gaze and gaze my full—that indeed
was a pleasure so worth while I was
loath to think of anything else; although
all the time I was trying to make a full
picture mentally, that I could later send | f
on to you. But in this I failed dismally.
The second team of horses came and
we left our nice seat under the trees,
with the corn stalks rustling around our
ears and the cheerful gurgle of the tiny
_Stream that just here started down to-
ward the river, and again we were well
| on our way. Again, up and up and yet
: Ido not see the top and our horses, beau-
! tiful little beasts, are so willing that it | :
i ! In the October American Magazine
| Walter Prichard Eaton, dramatic editor
| seems unfair to ask so much of them.
| But we must reach Murree and finally,
i by a stupendous display of last strength,
| we are whirled around the final hill and
| we are on our way down again. I could
i not think how those poor beasts could
! go further but their driver said yes, so
! on we went another thirty miles down,
down, the mountains always greeting us,
| the picture always new and glorious and |
| the upcoming caravans of fruit and vege-
| tables, grain, etc., that is sent out from
| the fertile Kashmir vailey, met us at
every strip and dangerous turn, adding a
most exciting element to the trip.
| These trains were of bullocks—great
to two-wheeled tongas, with two layers
of grain packed on and spread out so
skilled driver. Ours went past each and
all with the greatest unconcern and on
| idly to say “God-speed,” as the last rays
| of the setting-sun touched
way, way off there across the interven-
‘ing valleys and lesser mountain tops.
And then it grew dark, and you know
how pitchy black mountains can get.
The shadows seem more intense and
blacker here than anywhere else and I
wonder where the moon is and, to
answer my question, her radiance begins
to glow just over the range directly in
front of us, and I am elated.
At last the first rim is seen and up she
pops; not slow and majestically, as you
expect of the queen of the night, but just
like a “man-in-the-box,” and all is silver
and black velvet. Down inthe “Khud”
(valley) a silver band appears, of which
I have been unaware, and tiny “fire-flies”
of fires are seen on the hillsides, where
the native is living. Itis all like fairy-
land and I am going to look for the fai-
ries. But the cold night air stings and I
know they can’t come out to dance to-
flit past in this wierd, gray, musty-like
elsewhere in Northern India, every spare,
(that is, rocky free) level plot is utilized
for farming and methinks the gnomes
must have plenty to keep them busy
helping where so many times help is
needed.
And now we see camels, relieved of
their load, lying in rest for the night,
tongas, this time loaded to the utmost
with——smelly, delicious scented fruit
slow-moving, patient animals, attached |
wide on either side that to pass them on |
this narrow way was a feat worthy a:
we would rush. The snow came out viv- |
it to life,’
night, so guess it will be the gnomes,
those gray, creepy creatures that like to!
air, helping these mountain farmers to'
till their hanging gardens, for here, as
| Money Famous Actors Have Made Out of
the Movies.
| of that publication, writes an article en-
: titled “A new Epoch in the Movies,” in
| the course of which he tells as follows
what some great actors and dramatists
have made out of the business: :
“The actors have a new and added
source of revenue, and possibly the
dramatists have, also. Not all players
1 can get $30,000 for acting a single play
‘in front of a camera, as Bernhardt did
i when she acted ‘Queen Elizabeth.’ But
get as high as $5,000 for the single per-
formance, which includes from one to
‘four weeks of rehearsals. The drama-
tists, also, whose plays are adapted, get
: an added revenue, sometimes in the form
‘of royalty, sometimes a flat sum divided
with the theatrical manager who has
previously produced their play on the
stage.
$10,000.
“A popular feature film generally rents
| for $40 a day, while it is new and fresh,
‘and from twenty-five to thirty-five prints
| are sent out. That means a gross re-
turn of from $1,000 to $1,400 per day, or
from $7,000 to $9,000 a week. The life
months (at a lesser rental during the
last month).
the gross return is very large. Some
films, such as Hackett in ‘The Prisoner
of Zenda,’ or the ‘Rainey Hunt,’ have
, continued popular for more than a year,
fresh prints being made. The copyright
laws are still lax and rather chaotic con-
cerning motion pictures, and the Authors’
League of America is working better to
protect authors whose books and stories
are used for films, since a popular book
often makes as good a movie drama as a
play. But these conditions will doubtless
be corrected, and it may be said that the
author and perhaps the dramatist of the
immediate future, if he writes the kind
of books or plays which have interesting
| plots, and especially if the scenes can be
| source of revenue from the motion pic-
tures.”
How Not to be Fat.
In the Woman's Home Companion a
woman contributor, who declines to sign
her name, writes a practical little article
entitled “How Not to be.Fat.” She says
: that she began by noticing that stout peo-
| ple sleep too much. She gradually work-
ed her alarm clock back from seven-
thirty to six o’clock in the extra time
exercising and bathing. Then she took
up the habit of walking after breakfast.
In ten week’s time she found that she
| was losing flesh slowly—less than half a
pound a week. Then she took up the
| problems of diet and exercise. Of these
' she writes in part as follows:
| “The problem of diet was to me a diffi-
cult one—I was so fond of good things
I to eat, and I had seen dieting continue
into nervous dyspepsia.
| cold water I wanted before and after, but
j only one cup of tea or coffee.
| “It was now four months since I had
Miss Anglin, and players of her rank, :
So it is easy to see that!
| put into pictorial setting, will have a new
r Spef I began by cut- |
and we again pass a long train of horse | ting down the liquids at meals—all the |
and so we see all forms of receptacles | gone into training, and all at once I be-
and burden bearers and our progress is | 8an to realize that I was not eating as
still fast and our way down, but now so |
short, and almost before I can think we |
stop at a native bazaar and the Dak |
3 : |
Bungalow of Kahala is pointed out to us!
perched, Swiss like, high above the com- |
mon herd of houses, and we breathe a |
sigh of relief that we can get out and
stretch ourselves. So gathering what we |
may want for the night we go up, follow- |
ed by various coolies and after removing !
much as formerly. My appetite was
| keen, but it took less to satisfy it. I kept
to a mixed diet, but I limited myself to
one starchy food and one sweet ata
meal.
“Eating, sleeping, bathing, working,
playing—the last two remained to be
dealt with. I would see what could be
done in these lines. Work: there seemed
no change practicable, except that I
might work harder, and I did. But I am
satisfied that the extra work had no
bearing on my loss of weight, for I was
just what dust is loosest and eating din-
ner, roll into bed, too tired to think to
wish you good-night, even in my mind.
(Continued next week.) :
To Detect Counterfeits.
The President of a bank, when asked
by a young clerk how he could distinguish
the bad bills from the good, said:
“Get familiar with good bills, and you !
will recognize the bad bills at sight.”
Here is a vast volume of wisdom sum- |
med up in a simple sentence. This |
homely advice applies not only to the |
detection of conterfeit money, but with |
equal force to the detection of the coun- |
terfeit in all departments of life. i
The man accustomed to handling only |
{never as tired at night as I used to be
'when I slept until half past seven and
| then rode down-town.
| “As for my playtime, I joined a tennis
, club; and of all reducing exercises I can
i cheerfully recommend tennis as the
' quickest and most inevitable. The only
trouble is, it might kill a really fat per-
son; by the time I could play tennis,
{ however, I was not- so very fat! The
! fourth, fifth and sixth months, I lost
|
| eight pounds!”
In one year she lost twenty-five pounds
and in the next five months took off three
pounds more, bringing her down to nor-
mal weight or in fact two pounds less
than what is called for by her height.
What Oriental Rugs Express.
good corn, good wheat, good potatoes,
has no difficulty in detecting the faulty.
He detects intuitively. Even without
Sscopniend thought, he fixes upon the
ault.
The skilful egg handler passes good
eggs before the light with a rhythmic
rapidity that is amazing; but an imper-
fect egg instantly breaks his routine and
interrupts his process.
To the trained musician, accustomed
to doing and knowing high-grade work, a
false note comes like a stab of pain.
In any occupation, any man fully en-
gaged in doing the right thing will have
no difficulty in recognizing the wrong.
Right and wrong are as far apart, or
unlike, as day and night; and he that is
most accustomed to walk in the light is
quicker to note the shadows.
There is only one way to know the bad,
the imperfect, the untrue, and that is by
knowing the good, the perfect, the true.
Stop the Leaks.
! The chief rug-producing lands are Per- |
| sia, Asia Minor, the Caucasus, Central
i Asia, and China. Symbolism enters
‘largely into the designs for rugs, particu-
; larly the Namazlik or prayer rug with its
i arch or mihrab pattern as the principal
i feature. In Persian rugs itis formed by
: gracefully curving lines, and in others is
| of geometrical design. The arch being
' the symbol of the mosque, “at call for
| prayer, says Waker A. Hawley, who has
| written a book of great interest to rug
| collectors which is reviewed by the Egypt-
| ian Gazelle, “the faithful Moslem spreads
' his rug with arch directed towards Mec-
. ca, and kneeling with the palms of his
: hands at each side of the center, he bows
| his head till it touches the rug.” As
! these are held sacred by the Mohamme-
| dans of Persia and seldom sold, they can
| only be actually distinguished from those |
made for trading purposes, the well
| worn nap showing where the knees of
| father and son have often pressed.”
| The size and shape of the rug are indi-
cations of the purpose to which it is as-
signed, e. g.. the large square center
If a ship springs a leak it would be a- piece (the Khali) is used to cover the
foolish captain who would crowd on sail center of the assembly hall, and the nar-
and try to run away from the leak. The row strips (the: Renares) are placed at
first thing to do is to stop the leak, for | the sides and ends for the servants and
the very press of canvass increases the | less honored guests.
danger. Look at the drains which affect |
However pleasing the design or elabo-
some women in the same light as the
leak. It is no use to use stimulants and
tonics, as if they could carry away from
the effects of that leakage of vitality.
The first thing to do is to stop the un-
healthy drain, which is robbing the body
Dr. Pierce’s Favorite Prescription does,
it stops the drains which weaken wom-
en. It regulates the periods, heals ulcera-
tion and inflammation, and relieves
female weakness. When the local health
of the womanly organs is established,
women find an. improvement in their
general health at once. There is no need
or tonics or stimulants. There is no
more nervousness. The whole body is
built up into sound health. “Favorite
Prescription” makes weak women strong,
sick women well.
re — ———————————
——The WATCHMAN enjoys the proud
distinction of being the best and cleanest
county paper published.
of strength with every day. That's what |
, rate the detail, it is principally in the
. coloring that these rugs claim our inter-
i est and admiration. The different shades
| have different moods, expressing peace,
joy, pensiveness, sorrow, the meaning of
which the oriental mind, with its subtle
and serious imagination, has grasped as
i has none other.
In the highest grade of antiuge rug we
find, as in all real works of art, that ex-
cellent combination of work for the love
of work, and personal distinction in han-
dicraft which results in satisfaction to
its creator as well as its possessor. With
these happy conjunctions, and the use of
wool of the finest texture and colors,
have been produced those delightful
tones which only time can produce. Mr.
Hawley gives expression of this feeling
when he says: “There was a time when
the Oriental had not learned the mean-
ing of tempus fugit or seen the glitter of
western gold, when his dyeing and weav-
ing were proud callings into which enter-
ed his deepest feelings.”—The Monitor.
Help the Belgians.
{| In all the annals of human history
‘it would be hard to find a worthier case
for giving and helping than that now pre-
sented by brave little Belgium, the inno-
cent victim of a nation which had given
its “sacred” word to respect her neu-
trality.
Never did a people stand more firmly
ror courageously for right and justice.
' Never did a nation more valiantly defend
itself against ruthless invasion. Till the
end of time the valor and true patriotism
of the Belgiums will shine out as the
whitest light among the many colored
flashes of this greatest war.
With the exception of one empire
, blinded by worship of a false god, the
i whole world has admired and applauded
the stand of this little kingdom. And
| the Belgians appreciate all this.
i Now, however, it is time for another
! sort of evidence of our admiration; for a
! stretching out across the sea of the hand
' of helpfulness.
In their devastation of Belgium the
i German forces have withered tens of
‘ thousands of homes. Peasant-cots and
palaces alike have fallen before the fury
' of the despoilers.
| Out of these homes has been driven a
! great host of old men and old women;
These revenues have, in some
cases, amounted to as much as $8,000 or !
! of mothers widowed and boys and girls
of the average feature film is about three | orphaned and little babies still too young
; to understand the terror.
They are homeless and without means
| All they had or held dear has been taken
| from them. Nothing is left but grief, |
{sorrow and want. Already the snows
and bitter cold of winter are in sight.
In many parts of our country, always
' ready to help those who are deserving,
{ relief funds have been started. In Phila-
' delphia several thousand dollars already
have been subscribed to sucha fund, and
{in addition to this, articles of wearing
| apparel are being collected by willing
‘women and these will be sent to the suf-
ferers in Belgium.
| If you have not already contributed in
i money or clothes, do what you can with-
out delay.
In this, as in all cases of need, he gives
twice who gives quickly.
. Do what you can, and do it now!
| Make a sacrifice, if necessary. In the
‘life of the average person are many
' things which can be given up without
' any real loss,—at least for a time. And
i surely there is no way of securing such
| profit as by paying for this opportunity
| to help with sacrifice.
Seas and boundary lines and differenc-
* es of tongue and customs do not alter the
great fact that we all are one great fami-
ly. The suffering in this unfortunate
little kingdom is simply suffering in the
‘ room next to ours in the big house which
| shelters us all.
i Put your hand in your pocket and then
i stretch it out to these homeless and help-
; less women and children and old men.
I Don’t delay, for often, under such cir-
| cumstances, one day spells the difference |
| between life and d~ath.
rm
A Race of Tenors.
| Generally speaking,
I high altitudes have weaker and more
"highly pitched voices than those living
in regions where the supply of oxygen is
: more plentiful.
: Thus, in South America, among the
. Indians living on the plateaus between
| the ranges of the Andes, at an elevation
of from ten "thousand feet to fourteen
| thousand feet, the men have voices like
women, and the women like children,
their singing being a shrill monotone.
The Australian native has a weak
voice, but a knack of sending ita long
! distance, and the lowest tribes of African
Bushmen would come into the same
category; but, it is said, of all human
beings, the pygmies of Central Africa
have, in point of volume and compass,
the weakest of human voices.
‘““Man, Know Thyself.’
Such an inscription was carven on the
front of a Grecian temple. It is an in-
scription which should be carved on the
public buildings of every city. Doubtless
there are thousands who die every year
because of their ignorance of their own
bodies. The value of Dr. Pierce’s Com-
mon Sense Medical Adviser may be
judged from this one fact—it makes men
and women to know themselves, and the
faculties and functions of the several
organs of the body. This great work
contains 1008 pages and 700 illustrations.
It is sent free on receipt of stamps to pay
the cost of mailing only. Send 21 one-
cent stamps for the book in paper covers,
| or 31 stamps for cloth. Address Dr. V.
| M. Pierce, Buffalo, N. Y.
Where the Fault Lay.
A newspaper man tells of a friend
who edited. with more or less success,
a paper in a small town. That he was
somewhat discouraged by the lack of
interest shown in his journal ‘was evi-
! denced by this notice which one after-
Boon appeared on the editorial page:
“Burglars entered our house last
night. To the everlasting shame of the
community for whose welfare we have
labored, be it said, they got nothing.”—
Harper's Magazine.
Bewildered Him.
“I say, Weggie, I'm in an awful
mess. Miss Smart means to sue me
for ‘bweath of pwomise’ or somethin’
howwid like that.”
“Weally 2
“Yaas. I said 1 was awfully sowwy
not to ask her to mawwy me, but dad
would cut me off if 1 did, and all she
said was, ‘You needn’t imagine I'm the
kind of a girl that accepts an apology
for a man.’ "—New York Tribune.
Athletic Vocalization.
“Is a ventriloquist a person who
throws his voice?” asked Mr. Lobrow.
“So to speak.”
“Well, we've got one next door to us.
She hasn’t thrown it yet, but she is
giving it a terrible struggle.”—Wash-
ington Star. 2
Shrank From the Job.
Angry Customer—You certainly took
an execrable photograph of me. Pho-
tographer—But, sir, my plates are sen-
sitive ones.— Baltimore American.
Every one learns from his own expe-
rience; the wise learn also from the ex-
perience of others.
——Subscribe for the WATCHMAN.
ABET
to secure food, shelter or needed clothing. ;
races living at!
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN
DAILY THOUGHT.
No man can be brave who considers pain
to be the greatest evil of life; nor temperate who
considers pleasure to be the highest good.—
Cicero.
Why, if a fashion is pretty and becom-
ing to a number of women, should it be
abolished forever after it has been popu-
lar for a certain length of time simply to :
make way for a new fad, which may be
neither pretty nor becoming? This is the
law which
What person with any ieeling for
clothes has ever ransacked some old
worm-eaten chest full of old lace and
quaint jewelry and heavily flowered or
lavender color gowns all made in the
fashions of years ago without experienc-
ing some sensation of regret?
It was, of course, absurb at any time
in the history of the world for old women
to wear ringlets, but it is just as absurd
for no women to wear ringlets because
somebody or other says they have gone
out of fashion. Certain peach bloon
cheeks were made to be shaded by the |
soit dusk of black curls, just as certain
heads were born to look perfect under
the latest hat in black straw and para-
dise plumes. There is the woman who
never looks so handsome as in hard-
plain tailor made costumes, and her sis-
ter who turns us all dizzy when she ap-
pears in loose draperies of ivory tinted
lace sprayed with flowers.
In fact, it shourd be the aim of dress,
, as it should be the aim of life, not to
stunt character or destroy individuality.
There should be a thousand fashions,
where now there are only a hundred, and
all these fashions should be on show at
one and the same time. And every wom-
an should be true to herself and her
character of beauty. She should change
her fashions every hour of the day if she
' were so disposed until she has succeeded
' in finding the exact fashion which made
her a thing of perfection.
And then, by law, she would be allow-
ed to change no more.
In choosing the individual note in dress
it should be done with an eye to color.
Every woman has her own particular
shade, suggested perhaps by her hair or
eyes, and it is the shade that suits her
best once she knows it. She should let
her dress maker or tailor do the rest for
the color harmony. What prettier pic-
ture could be imagined than the woman
with the curious touch of amber in her
| eyes in a white gown with amber beads
‘and amber waistbelt?
Activities of Women.—New York has
' 2,152,433 workers, of whom 586,193 are
' women.
Kansas City has 4,436 working women,
{ whose average wage is $6 per week.
| Queen Elizabeth of Belgium is a fully
qualified doctor of medicine.
Women barbers, hairdressers and
manicurists in New York City number
3,864.
Suffragettes in England are now train-
ing themselves to shoot a rifle and even
the department stores have set up ranges
for shoppers to practice at.
The International Association of Steam
Operating Engineers have a woman's
auxiliary organization which is absolute-
ly independent of the men.
Women jurors in Washington are pro-
testing against the non-provision of pow-
! they are detained over night on a case.
sions in Pennsylvania, while 1,500 who
have made application will have to wait
owing to the inability of the appropria-
tion to provide for all.
When my little girl was born the old,
colored nurse [ got for her told me that
if I brushed her hair the wrong way it
would make it curly. Whether that was
ways stood away from her head in a soft,
pretty way. Mammy’s instructions set
me to thinking.
fall as they grow old, and I wondered
der puffs and nighties for them when
Only 128 mothers are receiving pen-
what did it or not I do not know, but her
hair, while it never really curled, has al-
I realized that all faces !
FARM NOTES.
| —A cabbage grower says that fresh
powdered hellebore, mixed with water at
: the rate of one ounce to 12 quarts,makes
a spray for cabbage that wil] keep it free
from worms.
— Where there are crops and animals to
market at intervals during the year diffi-
culties are not -met in keeping up the
cash expenditures of the home. Diversi-
fied crops with animal husbandry is the
safest and best plan for profitable farm-
ing.
governs clothes, a law for:
which there seems to be no good reason. !
—R. H. Garrahan, a successful Penn-
sylvania market gardener, uses the fol-
lowing fertilizer per acre in growing cab-
bage: Six hundred pounds tankage, 600
pounds acid phosphate, 400 pounds pot-
ash. This is applied broadcast and work-
ed into tne soil with an Acme harrow.
, Plants are set 23 by 13 feet. The cab.
bages are cultivated and hoed as soon as
they have struck root and then a small
handful of nitrate of soda is applied
around each plant at the rate of from
200 to 500 pounds per acre.—Philadelphia
Record.
—Butter-making on the farm is not so
extensively carried on now as in former
years owing to the increase of creameries.
Yet there are farms in sections so re.
mote from creameries that butter-making
can be made quite a profitable affair.
To make high-grade butter calls for
scientific methods. As a rule, the farm-
er’s wife has this particular task to per-
form, and when we find one who under-
stands the principles of good butter-
making we find her surrounded with con-
ditions that enable her to make better
butter than any creamery butter-maker
under creamery conditions.
As the farmer has only his own milk
to handle, and has only himself to blame
if it is not clean and in otherwise good
condition, he receives his milk fresh and
is enabled to ripen the cream to his own
liking.
Cleanliness is the most important thing
in all dairy operations. It is impossible
to make high-grade butter from dirty
milk. Keeping the barn clean, seeing
that the cows are well bedded and cur-
ried at least once a day is work that is
of untold value.
The good milkman just before milking
wipes off the sides and udder with a clean
rag. This removes the loose hairs and
dirt. A damp towel is then used to more
effectually remove what dirt remains. If
a damp towel is used in winter care must
be taken to dry the teats thoroughly to
prevent their cracking.
| All of the dairy utensils must be thor-
oughly clean, which is best done by wash-
ing in Jukewarm water to which a small
amount of good washing powder has
been added. Then rinse in scalding
water. When well rinsed with scalding
water they will dry in a few minutes,
and will be much more sanitary than if
dried with a cloth.
Properly ripening the cream is the next
important step to be taken. Itis a com-
, mon practice to mix all the cream. for a
week, and churn at the end of that pe-
riod. Some of this cream is a week old,
while often some of itis skimmed just
before churning. Good butter cannot be
made out of cream a week old, even
when one has good cooling facilities.
I It is better to churn two or three times
‘a week, and, while this will necessitate
more work, it is amply repaid by the im-
proved quality of the butter.
It is a mistake to put fresh cream into
| the cream to be churned within 12 or 18
hours before churning. When each new
lot is added the cream should be well
stirred. This will insure more even
ripening. As soon as skimmed cool the
| cream to as low a temperature as possi-
"ble. This will check the growth of bac-
teria. Before mixing with the old, each
fresh lot should be cooled. About 12 to
18 hours before churning warm the cream
to 65-70 degrees Fahrenheit, and allow
it to ripen or sour at this temperature.
The moment the cream thickens cool it
down as low as possible until ready to
. churn.
Just what is the best temperature for
churning really cannot be told. For in-
why it wouldn't be wise to wash and | Stance, cream from cows kepton pasture
dry the face up instead of down. I not | requires churning at a lower temperature
little daughter to do this than from cows kept ondry feed. There
only taught my litt z | are various other conditions that affect
—she always wipes upward—but I began
on myself. Today, at 47, not a muscle
in my face has fallen; there are no
droopy lines at my chin. My eyelashes
ward so prettily (they didn’t before I be-
gan the upward treatment,) and my
daughter’s are just like them.
Many housekeepers do not know the
value, both economic and epicurean, of
what they regard as waste material. Sour
cream is one thing the usefulness of
which Americans do not generally appre-
may be done with the unjustly despised
curdled mass that too often is “thrown
out.”
Viennese Salad Dressing—One cupful
of thick sour cream, one tablespoonful of
sugar, a saltspoonful of salt. Whip the
cream until it is thick and then stir in
the vinegar, enough to give the dressing
a slightly tart flavor. This is delicious
for chopped cabbage, lettuce or any green
salad.
Sour Cream Pie—One cupful of thick
sour cream, one cupful of sugar, one
half cupful of seeded raisins cut in two,
two eggs, one half teaspoonful of cinna-
mon, one fourth teaspoonful of cloves, a
pinch of salt. Use the whites of the eggs
for a meringue. Beat the yolks of the
eggs for a meringue. Beat the yolks of
the eggs. Add the sour cream. Mix the
cinnamon, cloves, salt and sugar thor-
oughly and add them to the eggs and
cream. Beat thoroughly with the egg
beater, then add the raisins. Use this
mixture as the filling for a pie and bake
slowly.
Sour Cream Cookies—Two thirds of a
cup of butter beaten to a cream, two
cups of sugar, one egg, two thirds of a
cup of sour cream, one teaspoonful of
soda. Enough flour to roll out as softly
as possible. Flavor with lemon juice.
Chocolate Gingerbread—Mix well one
cupful of molasses, one half cupful of
sour milk, two teaspoonfuls of soft but-
ter, one half teaspoonful of salt, one tea-
spoonful of salt, one teaspoonful of soda
dissolyed in one tablespoonful of water,
two cupfuls of flour sifted with one tea-
spoonful each of ginger and cinnamon,
and four tablespoonfuls of grated choco-
late. Bake this in a loaf in a steady
oven until a straw inserted comes out
dry. This will be greatly improved by
the addition of vanilla or chocolate
icing.
—If you always want to have the
best take the WATCHMAN and you'll
have it.
are always noticed because they curl up- |
ciate. The following recipes from Good |
Housekeeping are illustrations of what
| churning temperature. The temperatures
at which best results can be secured will
; vary from 50 to 60 degrees F., depending
| upon conditions. While it is a fact that
! the lower the temperature the better the
“quality of butter, it must not be forgotten
| that it is possible to get the cream so
i cold thatit will be difficult to churn.
| Butter should be churned at such tem:
. perature that it will come in not more
| than a half hour, and be firm when it is
' churned. Should the butter come in half
that time, and be soft, it is a good indi-
i cation that the cream was too warm.
When the granules of butter are about
| the size of grains ¢f wheat the churn
i should be stopped. It is a mistake to
| churn into a solid mass. Over-churning
‘in this way retains a large quantity of
buttermilk which it isimpossible to wash
out, besides it destroys the grain of the
butter, thus injuring both the appear-
ance and the keeping quality.
As soon as the butter is churned to
the size of wheat grains, the buttermilk
must be drawn off, and as much wash
water added as there was buttermilk.
Wash the butter by giving the churn
| eight or ten revolutions. Should the
water come out white, wash again with
an equal amount of water. The tem-
perature of the wash water should be at
least five degrees colder than the churn-
ing temperature of the cream.
When treated in this way the butter
should come in granular form from the
wash water. Do not work any before
salting. Salt at the rate of three-fourths
to one ounce of salt per pound of un-
A fine grained dairy or
worked butter.
table salt should be used.
Butter must not be overworked, as it
destroys the grain and makes a salvy
butter. The salt should be evenly dis-
tributed. If the butter is starting to
soften it should be set in a cool place to
harden up and to allow the salt to dis-
solve. Then work again to more eyenly
distribute the salt, and to remove the ex-
cess of water. After the butter is work-
ed the broken surface should appear
granular.
In other words, churning should cease
as soon as the granules are the size of
wheat; all buttermilk should be washed
out with one or more washings in water
equal in quantity to the buttermilk re-
moved, and at a temperature not less
than 5 degrees Fahrenheit below the
churning temperature of the cream. Salt
at the rate of three-fourths to one ounce
of salt per pound of unworked butter.
Work the salt evenly through the but-
ter, care to be taken that it is not over-
worked.