ERA a Dewortaii Mate, Belletonte, Pa., November 26: 1915. SEEING THE WORLD. “The world is wet,” said the little frog, “What isn’t water is mostly bog.” “Oh, not at all!” said the little fly!” “It’s full of spiders, and very dry!” “The world is dark,” said the moth so white, “With many windows and arcs of light.” “My poor young friend, you have much to learn. The world is green,” said the swaying fern. “Oh, listen, dears,” sang the little lark, “It’s wet and dry, and it’s green and dark, = To think that’s all would be very wrong; It’s arched with blue, and it’s filled with song.” — Jubilee Gems. THE GIVE DAY. The two of them, old Jonas Tucker, white-bearded veteran, one-negged ever since Gettysburg and Edward Haverford Randall, aged ten, wearing an iron brace on one leg, sat, as they were generally to be found in the afternoon after school, before old Jonas’s tobacco-shop. Jonas was tilted comfortably back in a chair, his leather stump unbuckled and propped up beside him close at hand. Eddie, known in all thoughtless boydom as “Limpy” Randall, faced him from the top of an upturned drygoods box. Ever since the first day of their acquaintance the boy had had the habit of coming to old Jonas with all his troubles. Somehow their mutual misfortune seemed to the boy to deepen and strengthen the under- standing between them. Eddie had just been complaining be- cause his mother would not let him go off with his brothers, Tom and Richard, on a fishing trip the next day. “You see,” he explained, “it’s only a mile or a mile and a half to Edlow's Pond, and I can walk that far easy. I've often walked that far. Mother said Tom and Richard could go, but she wouldn’t let me go.” ” “What do you s’pose she’s keeping you home for?” asked Jonas quizzically. “Just to be mean?” “Oh, no! It’s nothing like that,” Eddie replied quickly. “I suppose she’s afraid I'd get tired or get hurt or something.” “Well, what of it? Maybe there'll be more fun in staying than going.” “I don’t see how that could be.” “Well, you see,” explained Jonas, “fun is all in the way you look at things. There's a lot more happiness in giving than in getting; yet most people are so busy trying to get things for themselves that they never find it out.” “But don’t you like to have people give you things?” “Yes and no,” said old Jonas. “Fact is, I'd rather do the giving myself.” “How do you mean—giving? I don’t understand.” “You can’t understand till you try it. Did you ever think how much other peo- ple give you? Your father and mother give you a home, and lots of good things to eat, and clothes to wear, and a bed to sleep in, and toys and things. Your teacher gives you an education. And what do you give them?” “No - nothing,” stammered Eddie thoughtfully. “I haven't anything to give.” “Don’t you be so sure of that,” Jonas asserted. “What could I give any one?” queried Eddie, still dubious. . “Well, you've got yourself, for one thing. Now here’s your mother that likes all of you boys and never sees much of you week days,because you're in school. Now, when Saturday comes, you all want to go fishing, and she wants one of you to stay at home. Just think how ionesome she’d be all day with you all away. You could give her yourself the whole day tomorrow.” “I never thought of that,” Eddie con- fessed. “Tell you what, Eddie, s’posing we call tomorrow a give day and just see how much you can give other people and see how it goes. Whenever you get a chance to give your services to any one, you just up and do it. Here you are, ten years old—" “Nearly eleven,” interrupted Eddie. “Nearly eleven years old, and all these years you've been getting without giving. Try it the other way ‘round for a change.” “I'll do it,” said Eddie with conviction. “Tomorrow’s going to be my give day— my very first give day.” All the way home and all that evening he was ransacking his brains for ways and means of giving. “What could he give to his father, his mother, his broth- ers?” The more he thought about it, the more he realized how heavy the balance stood against him. All of them were always giving him things. What had he ever given to any of them? But what had he to give any of them? After supper that evening he went off . . | up-stairs to his own room and overhaul- | ed the trunk in which he kept his treas- ures. He knew there was nothing there that would be of much interest to either his father or mother, but perhaps he might find something that would appeal to Tom or Richard. In his enthusiasm over his first “give day” he was deter- mined that it should include every mem- ber of the family. As his brothers were going to make an early start on their fishing-trip and were to be gone all day, he decided he must find something for them before he went to bed. One by one he went over his possessions. There was his stamp-album. Both his brothers had much more complete than his. Eddie's in fact, was made up largely from the specimens they had discarded as dupli- cates. There were his beloved books. It would be useless to offer them. Tom and Richard cared little for books. No, there was nothing in the trunk that would do for either of them. As he put back the articles, he stood meditating with his hands in his pockets. Instinc. tively his fingers closed on his dearest possession, his knife, the wonderful knife that uncle George had given him only a week before, with four blades and a file and a screw-driver. Richard wanted that, he knew. Hadn't he offered to trade him all sorts of things for it? So far he had refused all offers. He just couldn’t give up that wonderful knife. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to keep it. All the blades in it were ever so sharp. He wanted it, too, for carving out a boat. He was going to begin just as soon as he succeeded in finding the right kind of a piece of wood. He must discover something else for Richard. He just couldn’t get along without that knife. He was still racking his brains for albums already, ! | some other gift when bedtime came. As | his mother, after unstrapping his brace, was massaging his leg, as she always did, a new appreciation of her kindness came to Eddie. He felt that every day was a “give day” with mother. She was always { giving up her time to do things for him. | “Say, Mother—” he began. | “Yes, Eddie dear, what is it?” she ask- | ed, quite accustomed to her youngest’s | bedtime confidences. | “I'm glad I'm not going tomorrow. I'd | rather stay here with you.” { “Im so glad,” she answered. “Mother would be very lonesome with all her boys gone all day.” “I don’t mind a bit,” said Eddie. “It'll be a lot of fun staying at home.” “You're a dear boy to say that,” said Mrs. Randall, giving him an extra hug as she bade him good night. An unwonted sense of peace and com- fort filled Eddie’s soul. Old Jonas was right; it did make you feel good to say nice things and do nice things. And as Eddie fell asleep, he had almost decided to give the knife to Richard. But still there was Tom—what could he give Tom? A breakfast-table conversation the next morning decided the question for him. “Tom,” said Mr. Randall sternly, “you promised that if I would let you go fish- ing today, you would cut the grass of the front lawn yesterday afternoon. Why didn’t you do it?” “I forgot,” was Tom’s truthful reply. “I've half a mind not to let you go,” said his father. A gleam of pleased delight came to Eddie’s face. Here was a chance to do something for Tom. “I'm not going to- day, Father,” he said, I'll cut the grass. It'll give me something to do.” In the look of surprise in his father’s face at his unusual activity and in the expression of gratitude in his brother's countenance, Eddie felt well repaid. “Well,” said Mr. Randall, “I'll let Tom off this time as you agree to do it, but all you'boys must keep your promises when you make them.” “Yessir, we will,” answered Tom as the chief offender. A little later, while lunch was being ‘packed, Eddie found a minute alone with Richard. “Say, Dick,” he announced, “here’s my knife you can have if you want it.” “What!” exclaimed his delighted broth- er, “you don’t mean it!” “Sure,” said Eddie. “You can have it. I don’t want it.” Z “You mean just for today or for keeps?” “For keeps,” said Eddie bravely. “Gee, Eddie,” said his brother, “that’s great! I wish you was going with us. But never mind, I'll bring home a lot of willows for you, an’ I'll show you how to cut a whistle.” In his satisfaction at the auspicious way in which his “give day” had begun, Eddie felt hardly a pang of disappoint- ment as his brothers started off. As soon as they were out of sight, he got out the lawn-mower. He pretended he was an invading army. The grass was fell to the attack. Even where the enemy made®desperate resistance along the edge of the walk and under the shel- ter of the shrubs, it was quickly van- quished. Almost before he knew it, the task he had undertaken in his brother's behalf was done. “It wasn’t any work at all. It was just fun,” he said to himself as he put the lawn-mower away. ...Made thirsty by his labors, he invaded the kitchen for a drink of water. Black Maggie, the cook, was out on the back porch shelling peas and grumbling. “I don’t see why we got to have peas on the day I's got ma sweepin’ and dustin’,” she complained. Eddie's condition of self-satisfaction received a sudden and severe jolt. In his “give day” plans he had forgotten to include Maggie, and she did lots of nice | things for him. She saved him hot rolls when he was late for meals. Often, too, she made thegingerbread and cookies he liked. Had he ever done anything for her? Had he ever given her anything? He could not remember that he had. Here was his opportunity. He could offer to shell the peas for her. “Let me shell em,” he suggested. “Run away, chile,” she ordered; “don’t | bother me.” “No, I mean it,” Eddie persisted; “let me do them.” Amazed beyond further protest at such surprising and unusual consideration, Maggie relinquished the huge bowl of peas and with a doubtful shake of her head vanished to attend to her sweep- ing. There on the porch, industriously splitting the never-ending supply of pods, Mrs. Randall found Eddie on her return from market. “What's mother’s boy doing?” she | asked. “Shelling the peas,” he answered. Unobserved by her son, Mrs. Randall opened her purse and then made a pre- | tense of fumbling among the pods. “My, : what a lot you've got done,” she said as , she passed on into the house. [ A few minutes later Eddie followed her { with a delighted shout. “Oh, Mother!” | he cried, holding up a bright, shining dime. “Look what I found in the bottom ; of the pail of peas.” | “Well! well!” exclaimed Mrs. Randall | with well-simulated surprise. “I wonder | how that came there!” “May I have it?” Eddie asked. | “Why, certainly! Finders, keepers. You deserve it surely for shelling all those peas.” May Igo and get an ice-cream with it?” | “You may do what you like vou found it,” his mother said. | His heart aglow with all the sudden and newly acquired wealth, Eddie grab- bed his cap and started down the street. “I'll bet Tom and Richard aren’t hav- ing any more fun than me,” he solilo- quized, more jubilantly than grammatical- ly, thinking how much he would enjoy with it; mysterious dime among the peas, and of how surprised they would be. “I'll bet neither of them ever found any money like that. A give day’s lots of fun.” Just then it came to him, with the thought of the “give day,” that thus far he had given nothing to his mother—to mother, who gave him most of all. He slackened his pace and fell into deep thought. What could he give her? He had ten cents to spend as he liked. Why not, instead of buying something for him- self, buy something for her? He felt sure that that was what old Jonas would ad- vise. Yet what was there that he could get for ten cents that his mother would like? As if in answer tohis question a sign loomed up before him on the florist’s window, “Fresh Lilacs, Only Ten Cents a Bunch.” But right next door was the ice- cream parlor. ; : Eddie was only human, and. ice-cream the enemy. Boldly and determinedly he telling them about the finding of the | th to a boy is always spelled in capital let- ters. he gazed for a moment into the florist’s window. He could, to be sure, get an ice-cream soda for five cents. Per- haps he could prevail on the florist to split a bunch of lilacs and give him five cents’ worth. Still he felt that such a compromise would not do. It was moth- er who gave him most of all. He would spend all his money for her. His mind quickly made up, he went hurrying back home, carrying a great bunch of the fragrant blossoms. “Home so soon?” his mother called out in surprise, as she heard his footsteps on the porch. “Yes’m,” cried Eddie, “and look what I've got for you.” As he spoke, he plump- ed into her lap the armful of flowers, eying her expectantly to see if she liked them. Only mothers, mothers delighted be- yond measure at unexpected appreciation from those dearest to them, know how to say the words that brought a happy thrill to Eddie’s heart, that filled his throat with a funny, choky feeling, and spread through his whole being a sense of peace and satiety that all the ice- cream in the world could not have pro- duced. And while he and his mother sat there in one of those rare moments of complete understanding and apprecia- tion, such as ail too seldom come be- tween mother and son, Mr. Randall en- tered, unexpectedly come home to lunch- eon. He was carrying all sorts of inter- esting-looking and mysterious packages. “I don’t know why those two lazy boys should have all the picnics in this fam- ily,” he said exuberantly. “Just look what I've got here. Eddie, you open them.” A delighted shout from Eddie announc- ed each new discovery. ‘‘Macaroons!” “Candy!” “Ice-cream!” “Oh, good!” exclaimed Mrs. Randall. “We'll have a picnic all to ourselves out on the back porch—just the three of us. It’s quite warm enough to eat outdoors.” “That'll be fine!” cried Mr. Randall. “Great!” said Eddie. “And Eddie’s to have all the ice-cream he can eat,” announced his mother. “He has earned it. He cut the grass, and he shelled the peas for Maggie, and with ten cents he found he bought me all these wonderful lilacs, the very first I've seen this year. See!” ‘ “My, but they are pretty!” exclaimed Mr. Randall in proper appreciation, as Eddie flushed with becoming pride. “And after the picnic we’ll all go to the ‘inovies.” ” Late that afternoon, Eddie, tired out after the “movies,” yet thoroughly hap- py in the consciousness of a day well spent, was swinging idly in the hammock on the front porch, wondering how soon his brothers would be back from their fishing-excursion. It did not seem possi- ble that so many pleasant and interest- ing things could have happened in the same day—and to think that only yes- terday he had looked forward with dread to being left at home! As he lay there, content in pleasant retrospection, an odd whirring noise reached his ears. It seem- ed to come from somewhere up in the sky. Eddie hastily scrambled out of the hammock and hobbled into the street to look up. At the sight he saw he gasped in amazement. “It’s an air-ship,” he cried excitedly, as he saw a great birdlike thing moving rapidly toward him. Though it was the first aeroplane he or any one else in the town had seen, he recognized it at once from pictures. As he looked, the whirring: ceased, though the biplane glided on and on. coming nearer and nearer, and, oh, joy! coming down! “Oh!” he cried. “It's going to stop here.” As fast as his lameness permitted, he headed for Tucker's back lot, arriving there before any one else, just as the great aeroplane settled slowly and grace- fully down to earth. A leather-jacketed young man climbed out of the seat and pushed back his goggles.- “Here, young fellow,” he said, extend- ing his watch, “make a note of the time. I'm in the intercity race, and I've got to have a witnessed record of how long I stop. Where can I get some oil?” “There’s a garage just two blocks down the street,” said Eddy, pointing excitedly; “down that way. Can I go for it?” “T’ll get it myself,” said the aeronaut, striding rapidly away. “Watch her till I come back.” Eddie quickly found himself the cen- ter of an interested crowd eager to in- spect the aeroplane, and he proudly ex- plained to all of them about the race. As the aviator returned and began putting in the oil and tightening up the braces, a sudden daring resolve came to Eddie. “Would you mind very much,” he asked politely, his voicealmost sinking away in his throat as he did so, “if I got my brother’s camera and took a picture of you and your air-ship?” “Go ahead,” said the man, “I'll be here at least ten minutes longer.” In a jiffy Eddie was back with Tom’s camera and tremblingly squeezed the bulb while the obliging aviator posed be- side his machine, and the crowd looked on enviously. “Now, wait a minute,” said the aviator as Eddie carefully turned the film. Tak- ing the camera from him, he lifted Eddie into the seat of the aeroplane and snap- ped a picture of him sitting there holding the wheel. “There youare, kid,” he said, returning the camera. “Now you've got two pic- tures worth having. And here, sign this record—twenty-two minutes for a stop. You are the only one that was here when I landed.” Feeling more important than ever be- fore in his life, Eddie, turning the pre- cious camera over to his father to guard, grasped the aviator’s fountain-pen and wrote his name—not. it must be con- fessed, in his best handwriting—but his full name, Edward Haverford Randall. A moment later the engine was start- ed, the propeller-blades began to revolve, e whirring sound increased in volume, for a few yards the great machine glided over the turf, and then, rising slowly and gracefully above the fence, above the houses, it mounted up and up and sped farther and farther away until finally it was lost in the distant sky, and the miracle was over. At supper that night Eddie and his father were still discussing the wonder- ful event and looking again and again at the pictures which Mr. Randall had had the photographer develop and ‘print at once. “You can tell it's me, can’t you?” Eddie asked for about the tenth time, as the steps of Tom and Richard were heard on the porch. “Let me tell them about it,” he whispered, and his parents nod- ded assent. “Well, boys, what luck?” asked Mr. Randall as they entered. “We didn’t get a bite,” said Tom cross- ly. “And I broke my new fishin’-rod.” “An’ Eddie, all the blades in your knife got broke,” added Richard. “I don’t care,” said Eddie, “if you broke a hundred blades.” Something in his jubilant tone attracted the attention of both his brothers. “What's happened?” they asked suddenly suspicious. “Oh, nothing much,” said Eddie, strug- gling to restrain his impatient tongue. “Oh, go on, tell us,” demanded his biothers, now reading something unusual in the faces of all three of the home- stayers. “I cut the grass,” began Eddie slowly, feeling that his narrative was entirely too exciting to tell all at once, “and then I shelled the peas, and what do you think? I found ten cents in the pail.” “Is that all?” asked Richard disap- pointedly. “No, that’s not all,” said Eddie trium- phantly. “Dad came home to lunch with macaroons and candy and ice-cream, and we had a picnic on the back porch, and then Dad took us three to the movies—" “Pooh! That's nothing,” said Tom, al- though his face showed sad regret at having missed the fun. “But wait!” shrilled Eddie, his voice rising in his excitement. “There was a great big aeroplane came sailing through the sky, and it came down and landed right in Tucker's back lot, and I was the very first person there when it got there, and the man asked me to watch it while he went and got some oil, and I watched it, didn’t I, Dad? And then he let me take a picture of him and it with your camera, Tom, and then he took a picture of me sitting right in the aeroplane, and he got me to sign his report as an official witness; nobody else but me, didn’t he, Dad? And here’s the pictures we took.” Quickly his brothers grasped the photo- graphs, even their hunger forgotten in their eagerness to see this confirmation of Eddie's wonderful tale. “Oh, gee!” said Tom sadly, “I'd a lot rather ’a’ stayed at home.” “Sure,” said Eddie happily, “a give day is lots more fun than a fishing day.” In the excitement of looking at the photographs nobody noticed Eddie's re- mark except his mother—somehow moth- ers notice everything—and after supper, when Eddie had conducted his brothers out to Tucker’s back lot to show them the exact spot where the aeroplane had landed, Mrs. Randall said to her hus- band: “Wasn’t Eddie a dear to spend all his money for those lilacs for me, but he does say such queer things. I wonder what he meant by a ‘give day?” “A what?” asked Mr. Randall, who was busy with the evening paper. “A ‘give day.’” Mrs. Randall repeated. “I don’t know,” he replied cai elessly. “Boys get funny notions.” So Mr. and Mrs. Randall never did know about their youngest son’s first give day and how it turned out, but Ed- die told old Jonas all about it the next afternoon. “And you were right, Mr. Jonas,” he concluded. “Giving is lots more fun than getting. I'm going to try to make Svery day a give day as long as ever I ive.” Old Jonas nodded his head sagely. He didn’t have to say anything. Eddie knew that he approved. It takes these lame fellows that have to sit around a lot to understand each other.—By William Johnson. An Absurd Law. It is getting to be almost a misdemean- or to possess an American flag in Massa! chusetts; and Boston, with memories of Paul Revere and Bunker Hill and Lex- ington and Concord, is the chief €xpo- nent of a most absurd law. It is ruled that the use of the American flag as any part of the illustrated front cover of a magazine is a debasement of the flag to purposes of advertising. Even a glass paper weight, devoid of a single word, cannot be sold or given away, if it con- tains the flag. . During the past three months three excellent magazines, of national reputa- tion, were barred from circulation in Bos- ton, under penalty of heavy fines—and what was the “offense?” On one agroup of aged women were portrayed in the di- abolical act of sewing an American flag; in another a Fourth-of-July girl had two small American flags in her hair, and the third showed the flag with patriotic quo- tations from the President of the United States printed below. In each instance the flag was used in a dignified manner. What more impress- ive than the bent form of white-haired mother-hood fashioning with trembling fingers the stars and stripes? What more beautiful than young womanhood, with all the charm of grace and beauty, espousing the flag which has given more to daughters and mothers than any other flag on earth? What more appropriate than that the momentous words of the commander. of the Army and Na should find expression beneath Old Glo- ry, to honor and protect which he has taken his solemn oath? At heart we are sound, but in our de- sire to avoid the semblance of devotion to royalty we have gone to the other ex- treme. For fear of appearing sentimental, we reluctantly arise when the national an- them is played; we see its folds break from the peak with covered heads and faint applause. Must we have another scourge of shot and shell to teach us the lesson of its worth? What we need in this great melting pot of nations is not less American flag but more of it. Let it fly from every school-house, in every State; let it un- furl when our courts of law convene; let its folds drape our pulpits; give it aplace in every shop, and office, and home. Let our girls wear it in their hair, and our boys wear it on their breast. Let it not be the emblem of a holiday, but let it find its response from the first words of first-born all the way through life, and with his last breath let him praise its grandeur and bequeath its trust to chil- dren’s children.—H. H. Windsor, in the December number of Popular Mechanics Magazine. Apple Crop in State Shows Big Short- age. Estimates made by the bureau of statistics of the State Department of Agriculture, from reports made by its agents in every county, are that the ap- ple crop of Pennsylvania will run about 14,000,000 bushels this year, against 22, 000,000 bushels in 1914. Not one county reports a full crop, and some of them report less than 30 per cent. of the aver- age for the last ten years. ——They are all good enough, but the WATCHMAN is always the best.’ Guarding Meat Supply. More than 58,000,000 meat animals were slaughtered in establishments under Federal inspection during the fiscal year ending June 30, 1915. Since approximate- ly from 58 to 60 per cent of the animals killed in the country are slaughtered in establishments where Federal inspection is maintained, it appears that about 100,- 000,000 meat animals are now being kill- ed each year in the United State. Of the animals subjected to Federal in- spection, 299,958 were condemned as un- fit for human use and 644,688 were con- demned in part. Thus a little more than 13 per cent of all the animals inspected were condemned either in whole or in part. These figures include only cattle, calves, sheep, goats, and swine. Tuberculosis was the chief cause of the condemnations. More than 32,644 carcasses of cattle and 66,000 carcasses of swine were entirely rejected on ac- count of this disease, and in addition parts of 48,000 cattle and 440,000 swine. Hog cholera was responsible for the next largest loss, nearly 102,000 swine being condemned entirely on this account. The annual appropriation for the Fed- eral meat-inspection service is now about $3,375,000, so that the cost to the people would be between 5 and 6 cents per ani- mal if the service was confined entirely to the inspection of the animals and carcasses. In addition, however, great quantities of the meat and products are reinspected. In this item there was a very considerable increase during the last fiscal year, the reinspection resulting in the condemnation of a total of nearly 19,000,000 pounds of products of one kind or another. Furthermore 245,000,000 pounds of imported meat or meat pro- ducts were inspected and more than 2,- 000,000 pounds condemned or refused entry. In the course of its work, the Bureau of Animal Industry, which is in charge of the meat-inspection service, has dis- covered a new method of destroying trichinae in pork, which is an adaitional safeguard to human health. Refrigera- tion ata temperature of 5 degree F., or lower, for a period of 20 days will de- stroy these parasites, which occasionally give rise in human beings to the serious disease known as trichinosis. Hitherto the only known safeguard against this disease has been thorough cooking of all pork and pork products, and those per- sons who neglect this precaution have always been more or less exposed to the danger. Unless pork is known to have been subjected to refrigeration as above indicated, it should be thoroughly cook- ed. The microscopic examination of pork for the detection of trichine has been abandoned, as the usual methods have proved inefficient. In this connection it is interesting to note that more swine were slaughtered in the past year in establishments under Federal inspection than ever before. A total of 36,247,958 were inspected at the time of slaughter, and approximately 35,900,000 passed for food.—U. S. Dpt. gr. Golden Era for Labor. The approach of winter usually means lessened opportunity for labor to find profitable employment. The present season, however, isa noteworthy excep- | tion to this rule, for instead of decreas- ing, the demand for labor this fall, both skilled and unskilled, is constantly grow- ing. The U. S. Government Employment and Labor Distribution Branch, located at No. 135 South Second street, Philadel- phia, Pa., has on file hundreds of oppor- tunities for workmen in various lines, and comparatively few applicants to meet the demand. Commissioner of Immigration, E. E. Greenawalt, under whose supervision the Federal Employment Bureaus in Ptila- delphia and Pittsburgh are operated, and who for the past thirty years has been closely identified with labor affairs, says thatin all his experience he has never known a condition that could be compar- ed with the present industrial activity. “The year 1915,” he declared. “with all its frightful calamities, will nevertheless go down in history as marking an era of golden opportunity for labor in the Unit- ed States of America.” The invaluable service rendered by this Government Labor Bureau to both employers and those seeking work, is ab- solutely free of charge. The following live opportunities are now on file in the office of the Commissioner of Immigra- tion, Philadelphia, Pa. Persons desiring to make application for any of these po- sitions can obtain full particulars con- cerning same by applying either in per- son or by mail to the U. S. Labor Distri- bution Branch, at either No. 135 South Second street, Philadelphia, or Berger Building, Pittsburgh, Pa. Unlimited number of first-class ma- chinists, tool makers, etc., good pay, for various sections of Pennsylvania. Laborers for foundries, stone quarries, sewer work, railroad workers, furnaces, cement workers, painters, etc. First-class sheet metal workers for Philadelphia. Miners, mine laborers, machine run- ners, etc, for coal mines in Pennsylva- nia and West Virginia. Unlimited num- ber wanted. Machinist’s helpers, carpenter’s help- ers, quarrymen, moulders, etc., for West- ern Pennsylvania. Farm hands for Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Delaware and West Virginia. Have a large number of calls from dif- ferent sections for domestics at good pay. Potatoes Shrink in Storage When Held for High Prices. A potato storage house should have good ventilation and be dry. If it can be maintained, a temperature of 32 to 40 de- grees is best. With a higher tempera- ture there is a greater loss of moisture by evaporation and more danger of loss from rotting, ‘in case diseases affecting stored potatoes are present. Growers contemplating holding pota- toes for jhigher prices should bear in mind the inevitable loss from shrinkage in the stored product, even when disease is absent. This loss, depending upon conditions, may range from 8 to 15 per cent or more, from digging time to March or April. Interesting figures on potato shrinkage were secured by the Pennsylvania Ex- periment Station at State College in an experiment conducted last winter. It was found that in twenty-six varieties of potatoes stored under the same condi- tions there was an average shrinkage of 10 per cent from October to April. The least shrinkage was 7.88 per cent and the greatest 14.32 per cent. The mean tem- perature of the storage room by months, except for the first and last months, .I ranged from 33.3 degrees to 39 degreesF. HR FARM NOTES. . —One drop of gasoline will kill a wasp instantly, but if applied to a bee or a fly it will be ineffective. —Dogs live 15 to 25 years; years; the horse, 25 to gle, 30 years; the stag, heron, lion and bear, 50 years each; the raven, 80 years; elephant, turtle, parrot, pike and carp, 100 years each. —An entirely new use for sugar beets is being considered and experimented with, and is reported successful in France —that is the making of flour. This sugar beet flour is estimated to contain some- thing like 82 per cent. of pure nutriment, —The dairy cow is a great food pro- ducer. It is not at all necessary to kill her to utilize the feed she produces. A beef steer must be slaughtered to get the benefit of the feeds he consumed, but the dairy cow produces milk and butter- fat and a calf every year during her life. We need more dairy cows. —DMillet leaves the soil in shape to pro- duce a better crop of wheat. At the North Dakota Experiment Station it has been found that the three crops of wheat following millet produced 163 bushels more wheat than the three crops of wheat following wheat. When the mil- let was manured the next three crops of wheat were increased 26} bushels or 10 bushels of wheat for the manure. —Frequent and abundant rainfall has resulted in a good celery crop in all parts of the country. Quality will be better than usual, and this will be helpful in the disposition of a large crop. Our American markets demand awell-blanch- ed product. In England green celery finds ready sale, but our consumers ex- pect white stalks. If well-blanched stalks also possess high quality, consumers are pleased and consumption is increased. —Hats off to the American hen! Sta. tistics show that the egg crop of this country for one year amounted to $280,- 000,000. The total value of the gold, sil- ver, wool and sheep produced in Ameri- ca during the same year amounted to but $272,434,315, being $7,656,685 less than the earnings of the poultry indus- try. The same year the entire sugar production reached but $20,000,000; the wheat crop, $229,000,000; the oats crop, $78,984,900; swine, $186,529,033; tobac- co, $35,579,225; cotton, $259,161,640 The poultry earnings, too, are many millions greater than the combined results from the hay, straw, flax, millet, cane, broom corn and castor beans. —One of the most effectual means of keeping a herd free from worms is to keep the surrounding conditions sanitary, It is in fostering filth in the barn, yard or pasture that these parasites breed. But if cleanliness is observed, and an ef- fort made to keep the place dry, and if the pastures are frequently changed, there will be less danger of the pigs be- coming seriously affected. Worms seem to be a pretty general af- fliction in young pigs. They measure from 4 to 10 inches in length, and keep the intestines of the pigs in a constant state of irritation. It is food lost to en. deavor to fatten such pigs as long as the worms remain, as the latter consume, practically, all the nutriment in the food. A simple remedy is a teaspoonful of turpentine daily, to every 100 pounds of live weight, fed in slop or milk. The treatment should be continued for three days in succession. This remedy will prove more effectual if the pigs are kept off feed 12 hours before administering it. —Philadelphia Record. —The housewife who makes her own vinegar may be assured of both its puri- ty and strength if she follows certain spe- cific directions, according to Miss Carrie Pancoast, of the Missouri College of Ag- riculture. Good vinegar can be prepar- ed from cider. Fill the barrel or cask half or two-thirds fuil. A considerable surface of the liquid must be exposed to the air. For this purpose bore two-inch holes in opposite sides of the barrel—one near the surface of the liquid and one near the top of the barrel. Cover the holes with wire netting to prevent the entrance of flies. One of three methods may be pursued in the formation of vin- egar from the cider: (1) Allow the ci- der to stand until souring occurs: (2) add a little vinegar of good quality, or (3) hasten the process by the addition of the “mother” of vinegar previously pre- pared. Part of the vinegar may be drawn off and the loss made good with fresh cider, using care not to break the film. The added cider will rapidly be converted into vinegar, and the process may be repeated in three or four weeks. When drawn off the vinegar should be strained and placed in tightly-stoppered vessels—otherwise it will lose its strength. —Now that the cold and dreary days are about at hand, it is fitting that the farmer turn his attention to the comforts and discomforts of the young animals in his care. If the lots, floors or beds become wet, and the pelts of lambs, pigs and calves gather moisture indoors and out, the fee- ble animals become chilled, and the body warmth of even the robust is taxed, so that a part of the feed goes only as so much fuel to maintain the normal tem- perature. This increases the food of support and lowers the amount to be di- rected to increase of growth. Dark, damp days and dark, damp pens or beds are not only a tax on the vitality of the young animals, but also on the feed bin. The dark, damp pen not only breeds discomfort and taxes vitality, but it im- proves the conditions in which disease germs multiply and thrive. Dampness and darkness favor the rapid increase of microbes, a prolific source of disease. ess checks the development of these microbes, but it does not destroy them. They only lie dormant, ready to renew their increase as soon as the need- cattle, 25 30 years; the ea- 35 to 40 years; ‘ed moisture arrives. The dreaded cholera germ may lie dor- mant for months in a dry place. Sun- light destroys disease germs. It is essen. tial to life and health. So it ought to be clear to every farmer that the best method of keeping live stock in a healthy condition during the winter is to allow plenty of sunlight to enter the stables and pens, and allow the animals to be out in the open air enough to invigorate and cleanse them. There are rainy periods during which there is very little, if any, sunlight, and when dampness increases in pens and conditions favorable to microbes and dis- ease trouble us. It is especially then that some powerful disinfectant be used, such as zenoleum, a coal-tar product, which will remove the musty odor and destroy the germs of disease. Damp bedding of no kind must be allowed to remain in the pens. :
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers