—
Deworeaiic atcha,
Belletonte, Pa., November 10, 1916
——
THE PESSIMIST.
He sat down by the wayside,
To all who came along
He raised his voice of scrrow
And sang a dismal song.
Its intent never varied,
For, though long did he sing,
Until the people mobbed him—
It was the same old thing.
“I'm tired of all the war talk,
Of antis and of pros,
Of trenches by siege taken,
Of how the east front goes;
I'm weary cf the Grecians
And if they'll jein the war;
‘While problem of the U-boats
My system gives a jar.
“I'm tired of cost of living,
Of little loaves of bread,
And when there comes coal question
I wish that I were dead.
I'm worn out with the campaign,
Of fuss that speakers bring;
I'll no more read the papers—
I'm tired of everything!”
—Baltimore American.
THE BALKING OF CHRISTOPHER.
The spring was early that year. It
was only the last of March, but the
trees were filmed with green and pal-
ing with promise of bloom; the front
yards were showing new grass prick-
ing through the old. It was high
time to plow the south field and the
garden, but Christopher sat in his
rocking-chair beside the kitchen win-
dow and gazed out, and did absolute-
ly nothing about it.
Myrtle Dodd, Christopher’s wife,
washed the breakfast dishes, and later
kneaded the bread, all the time glanc-
ing furtively at her husband. She had
a most old-fashioned deference with
regard to Christopher. She was al-
ways a little afraid of him. Some-
times Christopher’s mother, Mrs.
Cyrus Dodd, and his sister Abby, who
had never married, reproached her for
this attitude of mind. “You are en-
tirely too much cowed down by Chris-
topher,” Mrs. Dodd said.
“I would never be urder the thumb
of any man,” Abby said.
“Have you ever seen Christopher in
one of his spells?” Myrtle would ask.
Then Mrs. Cyrus Dodd and Abby
would look at each other. “It is all
your fault, mother,” Abby weuld say.
“You really ought not to have allowed
your son to have his own head so
much.”
“You know perfectly well, Abby,
what I had to contend against,” re-
plied Mrs. Dodd, and Abby became
speechless. Cyrus Dodd, now deceas-
ed some twenty years, had never dur-
ing his whcle life yielded to anything
but birth and death. Before those
two primary facts even his terrible
will was powerless. He had come into
the world without his consent being
obtained; he had passed in like man-
ner from it. But during his life he
had ruled, a pelty monarch, but a
most thorough one. He had spoiled
Christopher, and his wife, although
a woman of high spirit, knew of no
appealing.
“I could never go against your
father, you know that,” said Mrs.
Dodd, following up her advantage.
“Then,” said Abby, “you ought to
have warned poor Myrtle. It was a
shame to let her marry a man as
spoiled as Christopher.”
“I would have married him, any-
way,” declared Myrtle, with sudden
defiance; and her mother-in-law re-
garded her approvingly.
“There are worse men than Chris-
topher, and Myrtle knows it,” said
she.
“Yes, I do, mother,” agreed Myrtle.
“Christopher hasn’t ons bad habit.”
“I dor’t know what vou call a bad
habit,” retorted Abby. “I call having
your own way in spite of the world,
the flesh, and the devil rather a bad
habit. Christopher tramples on
everything in his path, and he always
has. He tramples on poor Myrtle.”
At that Myrtle laughed. “I don’t
think I look trampled on,” said she;
and she certainly did not. Pink and
white and plump was Myrtle, al-
though she had, to discerning eye, an
expression which denoted extreme
nervousness.
This morning of spring, when her
husband sat doing nothing, she wore
this nervous expression. Her blue
eyes looked dark and keen; her fore-
head was wrinkled; her rosy mouth
was set. Myrtle and Christopher
were not young people; they were a
little past middle age, still far from
old in look or ability.
Myrtle hand kneaded the bread to
rise for the last time before it was
put into the oven, and had put on the
meat to boil for dinner, before she
dared address that silent figure which
had about it something tragic. Then
she spoke in a small voice. “Christo-
pher,” said she.
Christopher made no reply.
“It is a good morning to plow, ain’t
it?” said Myrtle. :
Christopher wag silent.
“Jim Mason got over real early; I
suppose he thought you’d want to get
at the south field. He’s been sitting
there at the barn door for most two
hours.”
Then Christopher rose. Mpyrtle’s
anxious face lightened. But to her
wonder her husband went into the
front entry and got his best hat. “He
ain’t going to wear his best hat to
plow,” thought Myrtle. For an awful
moment it occurred to her that some-
thing had suddenly gone wrong with
her husband’s mind. Christopher
brushed the hat carefully, adjusted it
at the little looking-glass in the kitech-
en, and went out.
“Be you going to plow the south
field 7” Myrtle said faintly.
“No, I aint.”
“Will you be back to dinner?”
“I don’t know—you needn’t worry
if I'm not.” Suddeniy Christopher
did an unusuagl thing for him. He and
Myrtle had lived together for years,
and outward manifestations of affec-
tion were rare between them. He put
his arm around her and kissed her.
After he had gone, Myrtle watched
him out of sight down the road; then
she sat down and wept. Jim Mason
came slouching around from his sta-
tion at the barn door. He surveyed
Myrtle uneasily.
“Mr. Dodd sick ?” said he, at length.
“Not that I know of,” said Myrtle,
in a weak quaver. She rose, and,
keeping her tear-stained face aloof,
i lifted the lid off the kettle on the
, stove.
“D’ve know am he going to plow
to-day?”
“He said he wasn’t.”
Jim grunted, shifted his quid, and
slouched out of the yard.
Meantime Christopher Dodd went
straight down the road to the minis-
ter’s the Rev. Stephen Wheaton.
When he came to the south field,"
which he was neglecting, he glanced
at it turning emerald npon the gentle
slopes. He set his face harder. Chris- !
topher Dodd’s face was in any case
hard-set. Now it was tragic, to be:
pitied, but warily, lest it turn fiercely
upon the one whe pitied. Christopher
was a handsome man, and his face !
had an almost classic turn of feature.
His ferehead was noble; his eyes full
of keen light. He was only a farmer,
but in spite of Lis rude clothing he
had the face of a man who followed
one of the professions. He was in
sore trouble of spirit, and he was
going to consult the minsiter and ask |
him for advice. Christopher had nev- |
er done this before. He had a sort of !
incredulity now that he was about to:
do it. He had always associated that |
sort of thing with womankind, and.
not with men like himself. And,
morecver, Stephen Wheaton was a
vounger man than himself. He was |
unmarried, and had only been settled ;
in the village for about a year. “He
can’t think I’m coming to set my cap |
at him, anyway,” Christopher reflect- |
ed, with a sort ¢f grim humor, 1s he |
drew near the parsonage. The minis- |
ter was haunted hy marriageable la- |
cies of the village.
“Guess you are glad to see a man!
comirg instead of a woman who has |
doubts about some doctrine,” was the
first thing Christopher said to the
minister, when he had been admitted
to his study. The study was a small
room, lined with books, and only one
picture hurg over the fireplace, the
portrait of the minister's mother—
Stephen was so like her that a ques-
tion concerning it was futile.
Stephen «olorea a little angrily at
Christopher's remark—he was a hot-
tempered man, although a clergyman;
then he asked him to be seated.
Christopher sat down opposite the
minister. “I oughtn’t to have spoken
so,” he apologized, “but what I am
doing ain’t like me.” |
“That’s all right,” said -Stephen. He
was a short athletic man, with an ex-
traordinary width of shoulders and a |
strong-featured and ugly face, still |
indicative of goodness and a strange |
power of sympathy. Three little mon- |
grel dogs were sprawled about the
study. One, small and alert, came
and rested his head on Christophers |
knee. All animals liked him. Chris- |
topher niechanically patted him. Pat-
ting an apvealing arimal was as un- |
conscious with the man as drawing
his breath. But he did not even look |
at the little dog while he stroked it!
after the fashicn which pleased it |
best. He kept his large, keen. melan- |
choly eyes fixed upon the minister; at
length he spoke. He did not speak ;
with as much eagerness as he did |
with force, bringing the whole power
of his soul into his words, which were
the words of a man in rebellion
against the greatest odds on earth
and in all creation—the odds of fate
itself. :
“I have come to say a good deal,
Mr. Wheaton,” he began.
“Then say it, Mr. Dodd,” replied |
Stephen, without a smile.
Christopher spoke. “I am going
back to the very beginring of things,”
said he, “and maybe you will think it
blasphemy, but I don’t mean it for
that. I mean it for the truth, and the
truth which is too much for my com-
prehension.”
“I have heard men swear when it
did not seem blasphemy to me,” said
Stephen.
“Thank the Lord, you ain’t so deep
in your rut you can’t see the stars!”
said Christopher. “But I guess you
see them in a pretty black sky some-
times. In the beginning, why did I
have to come into the world without
any choice?”
“You must not ask a question of me
which can only be answered by the
Lord,” said Stephen.
“I am asking the Lord,” said Chris-
topher, with his sad, forceful voice.’
“I am asking the Lord, and T ask
why ?”
“You have no right to expect your
question to be answered in your
time,” said Stephen.
“But here am I,” said Christopher,
“and I was a question to the Lord
from the first, and fifty years and
more I have been on the earth.”
“Fifty years ard more are nothing
for the answer to such a question,”
said Stephen.
Christopher looked at him with
mournful dissent; there was no anger
about him. “There was time before
time,” said he, “before the fifty years
and more began. I don’t mean to
blaspheme, Mr. Wheaton, but it is the
truth. I came into the world whether
I would or not; I was forced, and then
I was told I was a free agent. For
fifty years and more I have thought
about it, and I have found out that, at
least. I am a slave—a slave of life.”
“For that matter,” said Stephen,
looking curiously at him, “so am I. So
are we all.”
“That makes it worse,” agreed
Christopher—“a whole world of
slaves. I know I ain’t talking in ex-
actly what you might call an ortho-
dox strain. I have got to a point
when it seems to me I shall go mad if
I don’t talk to somebody. I know there
is that awful why, and you can’t an-
swer it; and no man living can. I'm
willing to admit that sometime, in an-
other world, that why will get an an-
swer, but meantime it’s an awful thing
to live in this world without it if a
man has had the kind of life I have.
My life has been harder for me than a
harder life might be for another man
who was different. That much I know.
There is one thing I've got to be
thankful for. I haver’t been the
means of sending any more slaves in-
to this world. . I am glad my wife and
I haven’t any children to ask ‘why?’
‘alive.
| place where
“Now, I’ve begun at the beginning;
I'm going on. I have never had what
men call luck. My folks were poor;
father and mother were good, hard-
working people, but they had nothing
but trouble, sickness, and death, and
losses by fire and flood. We lived
near the river, and one spring our
house went, and every stick we own-
ed, and much as ever we all gct out
Then lightning struck father’s
new house, and the insurance compa-
ny had failed, and we never got a dol-
lar of insurance. Then my oldest
brother died, just when he was get-
ting started in business, and his wid-
ow and two little children came on
father to support. Then father got
rheumatism, and was all twisted, and
wasn’t good for much afterward; and
my sister Sarah, who had been ex-
pecting to get married, had to give it
up and take in sewing and stay at
home and take care of the rest. There
was father and George’s widow—she
was never good for much at work—
and mother and Abby. She was mv
voungest sister. As for me I had a
liking for books and wanted to get an
education; might just as well have
. wanted to get a seat on a throne. I
went to work in the grist-mill of the
we used to live when I
was only 2 boy. Then, before I was
twenty, I saw that Sarah wasn’t
going to hold out. She had grieved a
cood deal, poor thing, snd worked too
hard, so we sold out and came here
and bought my farm, with the mort-
gage hitching it, and I went to work
for dear life. Then Sarah died, and
then father. Along about then there
was a girl I wanted to marry, but
Lord, how could I even ask her? My
farm started in as a failure, and it
has kept it up ever since. When there
wasn’t a drought there was so much
rain everything mildewed. There was
a hail-storm that cut everything to
' pieces, and there was the caterpillar
vear. I just managed to pay the in-
terest on the mortgage; as for paying
the principal, I might as well have |
tried to pay the national debt.
(Concluded next week.)
Carnegie’s New Summer Home His-
toric.
Concerning Mr. Carnegie’s new
summer home, Shadow Brook, Lenox,
Mass., the New York “Herald” says
the purchase was completed by Mrs.
Carnegie Saturday afterncon. Her
trip followed that of her daughter,
Miss Margaret Carnegie. Miss Car-
engie was at the Aspinwall Hotel for
several days early last month and
looked over the property. Mr. Car-
negie has not been in Lenox. Mrs.
Carnegie intends to spend $100,000 or
more in improvements.
The only private residence in Amer-
ica said to be larger than that of
Shadow Brook is the Biltmore House
of Mrs. George W. Vanderbilt, at
Ashville, N. C.
Shadow Brook, first named by Na-
thaniel Hawthorne, is one of the
show places of the Berkshire region.
Early in 1890 the late Anson Phelps
Stokes began buying farm, forest und
mountain land on the west side of
Mahkeenac Lake, and acquired a place
comprising 900 acres. Half way up
the side of the mountain, along the
crest of which the estate runs for twe
and one-half miles, Mr. Stokes built
a mansion of old English architecture,
the first story and towers being of
quarry faced marble, the second and
third stories of stucco and timber and
the roof of red tile. There are be-
tweer sixty and seventy rooms
the house.
The interior finish is chiefly old
English oak. The Pompeiian entrance
hall extending through the house is
finished with white panels with Pom-
peiian frieze. The room has a white
marble fountain in the center.
The property cost Mr. Stokes near-
ly $2,000,000. In the summer of 189%
when he was riding a spirited horse
through a bridle path the animal be-
came frightened and dashed against
a tree, crushing one of Mr. Stokes’
legs so badly it had to be amputated. !
The next year the property was offer-
ed for sale, and the house and 250
acres were bought by Mr. Shotter.
The remainder of the estate is now
owned by the Rev. Anson Phelps
Stokes. The land bought by Mr. Car-
negie (250 acres) has a quarter of a
mile frontage cn Lake Mahkeenac,
and the elevation of the house is 1,100
feet.
Before its purchase by Mr. Shotter
the house was occupied for several
seasons by William A. Reed, of New
York, and for two seasons it was leas-
ed as a hotel. Last year Mrs. Alfred
G. Vanderbilt had the place, which is
one and three-fourths miles from
Lenox Center and five miles from
Stockbridge Center.
Canadian Efficiency Meets War
Problems.
During the twc years following the
opening of hostilities abroad, Canada
raised an army of 340,250 men. This
number was recruited from among
the 1,250,000 subjects, eligible for
service, out of a total population of
about 8,075,000. It fitted these nen
with the most modern equipment and
established six large training camps
in Ontario, Manitoba, Alberta, Brit-
ish Columbia, and Quebec, where vol-
unteers have been and are being
rounded into shape. In July of this
vear the various provinces had sent
190,000 trocps to the aid of the allies
and were drilling the remainder of its
forces.
The Canadian soldier receives the
highest wages of any engaged in the
present conflict. Privates are paid at
the rate of $1.10 a day, while the
maximum for a commanding officer
amounts to $25 a day. Thirty-three,
thousand casualties have occurred
among the 190,000 men sent overseas,
in addition to a large number of
maimed and permanently disabled
fighters who have been returned.
At the time of writing, Canada has
raised $400,000,000 for carrying on
the war and is understood to be on the
verge of voting additional funds. The
country has contributed liberally to
relief funds; up to last April had sup-
plied 48,000 herses for its own and
England’s cavalry and artillery, and
has sent nearly 10,000 physicians, sur-
geons, and nurses to the front.—Fop-
ular Mechanics.
SSSR
Plan for Shortening Misissippi River |
Two Hundred Miles. |
The levee system on the Mississip-
pi River from Cairo to the Gulf of
Mexico was intended to protect the
cultivated lands adjacent to the river. |
This system has resulted in building :
up the bed of the river from year to
year by reason of the fact that all of |
the tributary streams running into !
the Mississippi River have greater ve-
locity, and consequently sediment!
river between Cairo and the Gulf. |
This is the main cause of the flood
line going higher each year with a
given rainfall.
Now, the most practical and cheap-
est remedy for thisis to make a
shorter outlet to the sea for this vast
volume of silt-bearing water, and this
outlet is via the Atchafalaya River,
the source of which is near the mouth
of the Red River where it empties into
the Mississippi. The Atchafalaya
River runs straight to the tidewater
of the Gulf, a distance of about 100
miies, whereas, via the Mississippi
River, the distance from the mouth of
the Red River to the Gulf is 300 miles.
The fall of the Mississippi River from
the mouth of the Red River to the
Gulf is about one-tenth of a foot per
mile; of the Atchafalaya about three-
tenths of a foot to the mile.
The increase in velocity from the
mouth of the Red River to the Gulf
via the Atchafalaya would probably
lower the grade line of high water to
two-tenths of a foot per mile, which
would reduce the high-water line for
that point (mouth of Red River,) 20
feet or more. This reduction in high-
water mark would probably extend as
far north as Memphis, or even Cairo;
thus it can be see that the levee as
now built from Memphis to the Gulf
would be of ample height and strength
to give safety to the adjacent coun-
Russia’s Arctic Ports.
The recent activity of German sub-
marines in waters to the north of
Norway revives interest in Russia’s
Arctic and White Sea ports, all save
one of which will be closed to navi-
gation until late next spring, when
the ice blockade will be broken once
more by that brief but most welcome
visitor to North Russia, the warm
summer sun,
bulletin of the National Geographic
dition to the White Sea metropolis of
i Archangel, the Czar’s kingdom main-
tains communication with the outside
world in spite of the war-bound Baltic
and the impenetrable Dardanelles.
Of the half a score of fishing vil-
lages that cling to the fringe of the
Arctic Circle in European Russia, one
of the most interesting is Yekaterina,
or Catharine’s Harber, 175 miles
within the Circle, yet having an ice-
free port the year round, thanks to
which sweeps around the North Cape
of Norway. The Russian Government
founded the town of Alexandrovsk
here 20 years ago, but it has not
grown as rapidly as might have been
expected, considering its
of ice-free water throughout the year.
compared with Archangel’s six
months of isolation. The harbor is
screered from the ocean by a lofty
island, which keeps the inner waters
as calm as a lake while Arctic storms
rage just bevond the perpendicular
cliffs. The harbor
than a mile long and from 400 to 600
of water. The greatest drawback to
its development is the fact that the
cliffs come to the water’s very edge,
and practically no room is left for the
construction of warehouses.
The village of Kem 180 miles west
of Archangel, has 2,000 people, most
of whom are engaged in fishing for
try for probably a hundred years or
more.
Would this improvement leave New
Orleans an inland =ity? No. For
the slowing down of the velocity of
the water in the Mississippi from the
mouth of the Red River to the Gulf
via the old channels would result in
all the sediment being carried to sea
via the Atchafalaya, leaving the old
channel a clear-water canal, which
could be maintained at all times by a
little dredging such as is necessary
now at the jetties. The railroads en-
tering New Orleans could then bridge
the Mississippi River there and would
profit in the long run, by obviating the
flooding of the tracks.
The jetties at the mouth of the
Mississippi could be dredged to a
depth of 40 to 50 feet and remain so,
for no sediment would be going out
that way to fill them up. The high-
water line at New Orleans wold
hardly exceed 10 feet above low wa-
ter.
The low-water line at New Orleans
being only 1 foot above sea level. with
a depth of 50 to 60 feet of water, it
can be seen that nct only would New
in |
Orleans be secure from floods in the
{future but that the largest vessels in
| the world could enter its harbor.
| The Mississippi River, fron the jet-
| ties to the mouth of the Red River,
would be a canal, navigable at all
times, with a little dredging, per-
haps, between Baton Rouge and the
Red River; and all that rich country
on either side of the river frem the
mouth of the Red River to the Gulf
would he absolutely secure from
floods.—Popular Mechanics.
New Steam Auto Possesses Remark-
able Features.
As a result of prolonged experi-
ments, a Detroit inventor has devel-
coved a steam-power automobile which
seems to obviate most of the objec-
tions usually presented by vehicles of
its type. In a general way it embod-
ies many of the best features of both
gas and steam cars. By turning a
switch and opening the throttle, the
car is started almost instantly. There
are no gears, levers, cor clutch to op-
erate, while urlimited flexibility is af-
forded. From a snail’s pace to a
speed of 80 miles an hcur, the car is
said to run practically without engine
vibration. There is no noise, and
nothing to watch but the road. So far
as appearance is concerned, the ma-
chine would ordinarily be mistaken
for a gasoline car. Fourteen miles
can be covered with a gallon of kero-
sene. The steam is condensed, after
being used, and saved. This makes it
possible to travel from 1,300 to 2,000
miles without replenishing the water
supply. The fuel is vaporized, mixed
with air in a carburetor, heated, and
burned in a specially designed com-
bustion chamber. A small electric
blower supplies the necessary volume
of air, while the ignition is accom-
plished electrically. The latter is the
striking feature of the system, for it
relieves the driver of the necessity of
giving attention or labor to the mat-
ter of firing the boiler. In case the
car stands inactive for several days,
about a minute and a half is required
in starting it. If, however, it has
merely beer idle over night, or during
a corresuonding period, it starts at
once.—Popular Mechanics Magazine.
Amending Mother Goose.
How would this go at this critical
stage when to live or not live is the
question? I call it “A mother Cow
Melody:”
Hey, diddle, diddle,
The cat and the fiddle,
The cow jumped cver the moon;
And the dairyman laughed
To see such craft,
And vowed: “We'll have higher milk
soon.”
—Ewes that are in good condition
require little cr ro grain now, if they
have planty of gcod roughage. About
a month before lanbing time a little
grain should be given them daily, so
that they will be able to produce a
good supply of milk and satisfactorily
meet the other demands made upon
them. Thin ewes will need grain all
through the winter months, so that
they will be able to pick up themselves
and at the same time produce a good,
strong lamb and a large crop of wool.
SS S—— {
——For high class Job Work come
herring, salmon and navago. The
i shoals of herring in this portion of
the White Sea often are so great that
| fishermen allow their cars to rest on
| the congested masses. The annual
catch in five villages of this section
amounts to 15,000,000 herring, and
the average price for the fish, before
they are smoked or salted, is from 25
cents to 75 cents a thousand. The
navago is a species of fish which is
not shipped, but is consumed by the
villagers. It is so easily caught that
this part of the fishing industry is
given over to the children who use
bate tied to a string, without hooks.
The bated line is dropped through a
diately by the ravenous navago. Fre-
quently more than one fish makes a
strike for the same bait and the dis-
appointed one seizes the tail of the
Thus two fish are
Each bit of
to the surface.
landed at the same time.
bait is used many times.
The season for the salmon catch is
from May to November, and the price
for this species is 70 cents per hun-
dred pounds.
Several varieties of fish which are
not considered edible by the inhabi-
tants are caught in great quantities,
dried in the sun and used as forage
for cattle during the winter months.
In this seemingly primitive region
the sawmilis which do* the shores are
practicelly all lighted by electricity.
These mills, which furnish the timber
for the shipbuilding operations of the
long winter months, when fishing is
impossible, have 81,000,000 acres of
forest from which to secure their
logs.
One of the oddest customs of this
region is the manner in which the na-
tives have trained wila ducks to play
the role of the American hen. The
nests are robbed regularly for food
and, acording to a Governor of the
province, the olcer birds become so
accustomed to this thet if, by a na-
tive’s oversight, one of the eggs is
left behind and eventually hatches,
the unwelcome duckling is dragged
from ‘the nest and drowned by the
astonished mother bird.
Not His Fault.
It was the first case ever tried in
Stony Gulch, and the jury had sat for
hours arguing and disputing. At last
they straggled back, and the foreman,
a tall mountaineer, expressed the gen-
eral opinion: “We don’t think he did
it,” he said slowly, “for we allow he
wa’'n’t there; but we think he would
ef he’d had the chanst.”
In Murder Trials.
“It’s bound to come.”
“What is?”
“The time when the beautiful ac-
tress, instead of telling the jury her
life story, will have it shown to slow
music as a film.”
——As an illustratior of the move-
ment of Far Eastern markets toward
the United States for their supply of
metals, it is interesting to note that a
firm in Hong-Kong, <China, has re-
cently placed an order in the United
States for a considerable quantity of
zine. Heretofore these supplies have
been almost entirely from Germany
and Belgium, though at times some of
the metal has been obtained from
China.
——No great war of our time has
ended in the winter months, nor with
the exception of the Russo-Japanese
war, has any begun then. For a cen-
tury all wars have begun in the
spring, summer or early autumn and
ended between March and August.
—The population of the United
States has increased by 24.000,900
people in the last 15 years, and the
number of beef animals has decreased
6,000,000 and sheep 10,000,000, while
hogs have increased only 11,000,000.
—The United States Department of
Agriculture has a large force which
devotes its entire time to developing
new by-products and methods of sav-
ing material now wasted.
——A brilliant and permanent
green can be produced from the juice
of the stalk ard leaves of nettles and
is used to dye woolen stuffs.
—Grackles and blue jays often de-
stroy eggs and nestling of other
to the “Watchman” Office.
birds.
says a war geography |
the warm currents of the Atlantic
advantage !
is a little more
hole in the ice and it is seized imme- |
successful victim as it is being drawn |
FARM NOTES.
—Sorghum grain is a valuable poul-
try feed.
{ —The 48 States are now spending
| $280,000,000 a year on good roads.
| —Diseases of animals cause losses
i of $212,000,000 a year in the United
: States. Much of this loss is preven-
| table.
—Wash water used in the churn
i should be approximately the same
brought into the main river, whose | Society in describing two of the Eu- | temperature as the buttermilk, or
current is slower, is deposited in the | ropean ports through which, in ad- | withir 2 degrees of it.
{ —More than 26,000 boys anc girls
| were enrolled in 1915 in agricultural
| and canning clubs conducted co-oper-
i atively by State colleges and the de-
| partment.
—It is estimated that the man who
ships 20 cars of grain containing 20
! per cent of moisture pays freight on 1
i car of excess water, using 15 per cent
| moisture as a basis.
i
! —Before the hogs go into winter
, quarters it is a geod p'an to do a sat-
| isfactory job of disinfection for the
{ purpose of killing lurking disease
i germs and vermin. Probably the most
convenient methcd of general disin-
i fection is the custom of applying
whitewash made by slacking lime in
the proportion of one and one-half
pounds of lime to one gallon of water.
The effectiveness of this wash is in-
creased by adding carbolic acid, at the
rate of one pint of crude carbolic acid
to four gallons of whitewash. For
disinfection of building 2 3 per cent
: solution of any cof the coal tar prep-
arations is recommended, and if de-
sired this preparation can be appiled
with a broom or spray pump.
—Why Hens Dont Lay.—
| Why don’t hens lay at this ti:ne of the
| year?
3 Shey do, if their owner is on to his
job.
It is abont as natural for a hen to
lay in the fall and winter as it is for
roses to bloom at the same season.
But the expert poultryman now-a-
days with his modern methods of
breeding, of feeding, of housing and
of handling has his hens to lay two
hundred or more eggs per year and to
lay 2 goodly number of these in the
fall and winter.
Can an ordinary farmer or small
poultry keeper get a good fall and
winter yield of eggs?
He can if he will have a properly
built house—not meaning an expen-
sive one, but a house that poultry use
and live in and can’t be kept out of.
He can if he will feed the modern
way or feed all grain in litter; feed
beef-scrap, fish scraps or milk—ani-
mal protein—heavily; feed dry mash-
es, and perhaps wet mashes.
Questions like the above are now
flooding the Pennsylvania Department
j of Agriculture and the replies are
broadly like the above.
The outstanding feature of most of
these letters is the fact that these
writers manifestly believe that if they
i can learn what to feed their hens they
| must lay. That feed, good feed, or
| plenty of feed, will make hens lay is a
! great if popular fallacy.
| The Department wishes to especial-
i ly emphasize that fecundity and per-
| sistency in laying are inherited fac-
| tors and that usually, if a flock is to
{lay well it must be out of a flock
ahead of it that has laid well. And
i that this is the factor that means the
{ the difference between hens not lay-
| ing well at this season.
—About the safest way to select a
i dairy cow is to see her milked, We
| know then what she is capable of giv-
| ing. One can also tell pretty correct-
|ly by outward appearance, but this
calls for more or less experience. The
biggest risk is to take the owner’s
, word. He has her for sale, and don’t
! want to lose a customer—and—well
{ vou know what human nature is!
The buyer wants a good cow, a cow
' that will show satisfactory profit over
i the cost of feed and care. So he will,
| to a large extent, have to use his own
{ judgment.
i It is not uncommon for the seller to
| deliberately misrenresent the qualities
; of the cow he has to dispose of. Itisa
| rare case where he will sacrifice his
personal interests to tell of the ani-
I mal’s shortcomings. He may not in-
I tend to defraud his customer, but he
i will permit his enthusiasm to color his
| judgment.
| There are comparatively few own-
i ers of cows that really are acquainted
i with the capicity of their animals.
{ Their knowledge is either guesswork,
or from a careless measurement. A
fresh cow in the morning, at her
heaviest milking, will often top off
{ her pail of milk with two inches of
i foam, and the exuberant owner will
! quickly give her credit for all milk,
i the two inches of foam being too
small a matter to take into consider-
ation.
When the aforesaid owner comes to
realize that his 11-quart pail had a
flaring top, and a margin of two inches
more, he finds his pail three quarts
less than “full.”
At night the cow gives several
quarts less than in the morning.
If the milk is accurately weighed
night and morning for a week or two,
the owner may find that she gives an
average of four gallons a day when
fresh. At the end of two months she
is apt to drop to three gallons per
day, in six months to one gallor, and
in nine months she is dry. In the
year it may be found that she has
given 6000 pounds of 3 per cent. milk,
or an average of less than two gallons
per day.
It is possible to come close to the
cow’s capacity by judging from ap-
pearances. As a rule, the wedge-
shape, the prominent and tortuous
milk veins, the deep chest and expan-
sive barrel, the well-sprung ribs, the
large and prominent eyes, the loose,
smooth skin and fine hair, the angu-
larity ard mildness of disposition, all
show strong possibilities of capacity
for converting feed into milk with
economy. Unless a cow has a large
well-balanced udder, no one would ex-
pect her to be a good milker.
There is just as much right in fol-
lowing facts as given out to select
the desirable milch cow..as there is
to look for blockiness in the animal
upon which to base good beef quality.
An expert can usually pick out the
best cows in a herd by following the
dairy form.
w