Belletonte, Pa., September 29, 1917. A GOOD RULE FOR ALL. . When I find myself sitting in judgment Of the faults of a brother man; When I'm tempted to censure his follies, And harshly his conduct to skan; ‘When I tell him, “You shouldn't do that way,” And I am morally certain ’tis true: I remember how many do likewise, And say to myself, “Now do you?” If I notice my friend getting reckless And making too free with his’cash; . If another appears rather heady And a little inclined to be rash; If one wastes and one hoards and one bor- TOWS In a manner I think they must rue; I am somewhat disposed to excuse them When I say to myself, “Haven't you?” Is a neighbor exacting and selfish? Is he haughty, disdaining ‘the mob?” Is he meddlesome, clumsy, intrusive, Or a bigot, a pendant, or snob? Is he shallow, unsteady, or stupid? And I find myself taking that view: I revert to the sins that beset me, And say to myself, “Are not you?” —DBritish Weekly. MISJUDGED. Solomon Jessel kept “the shop” at Little Ashby—at least the name above the many-paned windows was “Solo- mon Jessel,” but gossips would tell you S’lina Jessel kept the shop and Solomon did the talking. Selina did not complain; why should she? Solomon was long and limp and not much inclined to work when she married him twenty years since and everyone knows that limpness and la- ziness is not cured by time. : Selina was a little woman brisk and capable, with energy enough for both. Her temper might be raspy now and then, when business was dull and bad debts were plentiful; then Solomon’s long form and shiftless ways seemed more conspicuous, and realizing his uselessness, would further complicate matters by “tidying” the shop—a form of service in which he meant well but failed to gain the appreciation his efforts deserved. But there was one hour in the week when Selina Jessel abdicated in favor of her husband, and Solomon reigned supreme. This was before closing on Saturday nights. Selina did not re- linquish the reigns of government un- til after the last village matron had made her weekly purchases, and had departed homewards, then were hus- bands and fathers who had been “minding house” free to wend their way to “Jessel’s” in search of tobacco and any news their wives might have missed. This was Solomon's chance; he could serve tobacco even better than his wife, and he was as good as a weekly paper for news. Many a tit-bit of village gossip he carefully hoarded up for the entertainment of his cus- tomers on Saturday nights. Solomon did not dispense his news recklessly—if only Bob Hortop and Phil Stacey dropped in he had not much to say, but if the circle was completed by old Billy Tresise, Joe Fairweather, Thomas Peters and Mr. Gosworthy, the schoolmaster, Solo- mon’s tongue was loosed, and for one short hour he felt he had found his vo- cation. . : On a certain Saturday night just before Christmas, there was a bigger audience than usual at “Jessel’s” for was not Joe Fairweather’s brother Dick home from the war? And even Solomon’s choicest items of intelli- gence fell flat when Dick was present to recount some of his experiences with the “Devons” in South Africa. “Tis uncommon cold,” grumbled a new-comer, a gaunt old man with a sour wrinkled face. “Come in and shut the door, ’tis warm enough inside,” said Solomon, hospitably. ; “I reckon Humphrey Deacon,” said old Billy Tresise, “if you’d been where Dick’s bin, you wouldn't grumble about this ’ere bootiful saysonable weather or anythin’ else.” “He’s had it warm enough anyway,” grunted Humphrey, doggedly button- ing his coat closer around him. “Ay, we had it warm enough, as you say, too warm for some of the poor chaps,” answered Dick soberly, “what with the sun like a furnace, an’ shot falling thick as hail—red-hot, hail too.’ “I thing I'll go and have a chat with the missus, if she ain’t too busy,” said Humphrey, a suggestion to which Sol- omon cordially assented. “Seems as if he’d never get over it,” said Thomas Peters, the shoemaker, with a.jerk of his thumb towards the door through which Humphrey had disappeared. 3 “Over what? Oh, ‘cut and run Deacon, do’ee mean?” said Bob Hortop, with a grin. “Hush, Bob, he’ll hear you,” said the schoolmaster reprovingly, and Bob took the correction meekly, for he hadn’t left school long. “What’s the story?” asked Joe. “I never rightly ’eard it.” Solomon Jessel, Billy Tresise and Thomas Peters opened their mouths to answer Joe’s inquiry, and shut them again to give place to the schoolmas- ter who told it in a few words. “Humphrey wasn’t the cross-grain- ed man he is now when he had a son to be proud of,” he said; “perhaps he set his heart too much on him; he was a fine young fellow when he joined the army, and looked fit to face anything; but *tis no use to judge by appearance, for in his first fight the boy showed the white feather—ran, they say—and was driven back again by the ser- geant. They christened him ‘cut-and- run Deacon’ after that, and made it so hot for him his life was a burden. He served his time, I believe, but there was no more fighting, and he had no more chance. As you know, Humph- rey Deacon was a soldier once, a brave one too, I've heard, and when the miserable tale came to the village, Humphrey swore he’d never look at his son again—that is all, but I re- member him a genial, happy-hearted man, and now—" “What a jolly coward the fellow must ’a been,” Bob broke out, “no wonder—" “Don’t be hard on him, Bob,” said Dick, “you must face the bullets for the first time to find out what you're made of. I didn’t run, an’ I did my best, but as far as I could see it wasn’t the loudest-talkin’ men in camp that were bravest when the shells were burstin’—the bravest man I ever met we used to call ‘quiet Jim.” He’d been a soldier, and joined again as a volun- teer, when the war broke out—mname o’ Smith: there’s lots o’ Smiths in the army—’twas on one of our hottest fights; we had orders to storm a hill; just like one o’ the Dartamooters, only bigger; well, we got nearly to the top, and then we were met by a storm of bullets that told us it was time to stop —mnothin’ livin’ could ’a stood against it. We were willing enough. One young fellow sprang ahead, and fell riddled with shot. We looked out for every bit of cover we could find, and lay as still as possible—an’ that’s harder work an’ more tryin’ than fighting. If we showed as much as a hand it was shot through, and to rise meant death. “As we lay hour after hour the sun baked us, an’ the ants swarmed over us till we were nearly crazed. The word went around, ‘The guns were comin’ up.” Could we hold out? Yes, if we had water. The thrist was aw- ful, and our water bottles were empty. There was plenty o’ water at the foot o’ the hill, but who would fetch it? Quiet Jim. He crawled out o’ the ranks and down the kopje—sometimes hidin’, sometimes runnin’ like the wind. We thought ’twas all up with ’im, for when the Boers saw one of our ‘lot was movin’, they shot for all they were worth, till the hill seemed on fire. I gave him up then and I think I must ’a dozed off, for I woke from a sort o’ dream o’ bein’ a kid again, and pad- dlin’ in the stream for minnies—to find, ‘Quiet Jim’ flat on his stomach by my side, holding a water-bottle to my mouth. Yes, Jim had brought back as many water-bottles as he could man- age, but he was a'sight to see; ‘only scratches’ he said they were, when we crouched behind the biggest stone and bound him up a bit. Well, after that we were lying side by side, Jim an’ me, listenin’ for the guns that were so long in comin’, when Jim whispered to me to look at the poor boy I had told you had rushed ahead of us in the mornin’. We all thought he was dead, but Jim had been watchin’ him, an’ no- niced him move his hand, an’ then his head a little—so had the Boers, an’ a Sot or two nearly struck him as he ay. “Jim’s face flushed, an’ his eyes got steady-like. ‘He was such a bright young chap,’ he said, an’ he pushes a packet into my hand. ‘Take care of it,” he says, an’ away he slipped right across the line o’ fire. How he did it I do not know—he got to the wounded lad, an’ pulled, an’ dragged, an’ car- ried him back to our lines. But just as he reached us he fell in a heap with a bullet clean through his lungs, an’ never heard the cheer we gave when our big guns opened fire, an’ our wait- in’ time was over; you may fancy we thought o’ ‘Quiet Jim’ when the bugle sounded for the charge.” All were interested in the story, and they crowded round to look at the photographs Dick took from his pock- et. One was a boyish soldier with a gentle but irresolute face, the other, the same soldier grown manlier, and with a look of quiet power in his steady eyes and firm mouth. “’Tis written on ’am ‘For father, whoever he may be, but I don’t sup- pose he’d mind your seeing em’,” said Dick, who handed them in turn to Bob Hortop and Phil Stacey, while the old- er men carefully adjusted their spec- tacles. “He was a plucky one, said Phil. “Why, ’tis like this ’ere, in my opin- ion,” cried Bob the reckless, “once a coward, always a coward!” “ A fool’s lie, I tell ’ee!” screamed a voice shrill with passion, as a long, thin hand snatched the portraits from Phil’s hand; ‘““tis my son—my Jim— the bravest of them all—dead!” And old Humphrey Deacon sank into a chair, motionless and half-uncon- scious. “Humphrey, my dear old friend,” said the schoolmaster, soothingly. “You know, Humphrey, it’s what we must all come to,” philosophically murmured Billy Tresise, who did a lit- tle in the undertaking way. “He died a hero instead of living a —”” began Thomas Peters, but thought better of it. “Jim was an uncommon good-heart- ed boy,” said Solomon, with inspira- tion; but Bob and Phil and Joe said nothing; they had lumps in their throats and couldn’t. “Oh, Mrs. Jessel, will make ’em understand? I can’t— they’re all talkin’ to once an’ won’t lis- ten,” said Dick, desperately; where- upon, after hearing his hurried expla- nation, Salina swooped down on the mournful assembly. With a wave of her hand she commanded attention, a glance disposed of Solomon. Thomas Peters retreated to the doorway, Billy Tresise to his usual perch on the grain barrel; as for the youngsters no one noticed them. “Why, Master Deacon, cheer up! There, let me lift your head, you’re so hasty, like all the men—’cept Solomon —you didn’t hear half the news, an’ the best half, too. ’Tis grand to hear Jim was so brave and good, but that would be ter’ble sorrowful if you were never to see him again—in this world. ‘Shot through the lungs,” was in the cas’alty list an’ five other wounds as well, Dick says, but doctors are clever now-a-days. Bless your heart, they can patch a man up when he’s all to pieces like, an’ turn him out as well as evermost—there, now you’re better, an’ you can understand what I'm say- in’. Jim isn’t dead—he was able to walk aboard the transport—he’ll be home for the New Year, an’ he’s got the V. C.! Now, Solomon, stir round and put up the shutters, an’ p’raps our friends ’ll come in an’ have a bit o’ supper with us—an’ Dick ’ll tell us somethin’ more about ‘Quiet Jim.”— London 8. S. Times. anyhow,” Progress. “Are you interested in food con- trol 2” “I have gotten away past it. What I’m interested in now is appetite con- trol.”—Washington Star. ——=Subscribe for the “Watchman.” ‘ee please : | EE EE SE Ere HEALTH AND HAPPINESS. “Mens sana in corpore sano” Number 24. SOURCES OF BACTERIA IN MILK. Milk When Secreted from the Udder of the Healthy Cow Contains no Bacteria: When it Reaches the Con- sumer in Bellefonte There are From 1,000,000 to 13,000,000 Bacteria in a Cubic Centimeter. the Cow, Hairs, Dust of the Cowbarn, the Hands of the Milker, sils, All Contribute Their Quota to the Number. Filth on Unclean Uten- Fig. 2 Fig. 2.—Air in well kept barn. Fig. was made at time of milking. | SOURCES OF BACTERIA IN MILK. | It is only within the last few years that the relation of bacteria to the changes in milk have been understood by the dairyman but he is now learn- ing that his work, apart from keep- ing the cow, must consist largely in trying to prevent bacteria from grow- ing in milk or in stimulating their growth in cream, butter and cheese for bacteria are nuisances to the milk producer but allies of the butter and cheese maker. It is not an exagger- ation to say that, in this brief time, the application of the discoveries of modern bacteriology has revolution- ized all dairy methods from the cow to the consumer’s table. Milk when secreted from the udder of the healthy cow contains no bacte- ria. They are not found in the circu- lating fluids of healthy animals and are not secreted by their glands. It has been demonstrated that practical- ly all of the normal changes which oc- cur in milk are caused by the growth of bacteria. The uniformity with which milk will sour, and, the seeming impos- sibility of preventing it, led to the belief that this change was a normal characteristic of milk but this has been disproven. The agency of bac- EFFECT OF CONTAMINATED AIR. 3.—Air in poorly kept barn. of the cow afford a ready pathway for the invasion of the udder. After each milking a little milk is always left in the duct and bacteria from the air and elsewhere get into it and multiply rapidly. At the next milking most of these bacteria are washed into the milk pail with the first milk drawn so that the fore-milk always contains more bacteria than the strippings. It is now agreed by most investigators that milk has a feeble germicidal pow- er and, if it were not for this, the bac- teria in the milk ducts would probably grow back into the udder more freely than they do. Fig. 3 The number of spots indicates the colonies that have developed from the bacteria which fell in one minute on the surface of the sterile plate (3 inches in diameter). This exposure A well known physician, city dwell- er, tells that he was summer boarder on a farm where he saw the farmer carry potato peelings to the cows in the milk pail and, after emptying the contents, proceed to milk in the pail without any pretense of cleaning it other than knocking out the loose dirt! It is scarcely necessary to add that he changed his boarding place. (3) The milker himself adds a share to the bacteria in the milk pail as his clothes are usually dirty and his hands unclean. Through carelessness in personal habits of milkmen, it is easily possible to seed milk at this as well as at later stages with germs of serious diseases. It is not uncommon for the milker to begin milking by moistening the hands with saliva and, should he be tuberculous or a “car- rier” of diphtheria bacilli, an infection through the milk could easily follow. (4) Lastly, the air of the cow barn contributes to the milk bacteria, the abundance and kinds depending upon the condition of the barn, time of feeding and nature of bedding. If the cows are fed on dusty hay immediate- ly before or during the milking, the air, of course, will be full of dust and bacteria from this source drop into the milk. (Fig. 3.) Fig. 4.—Showing the bacterial contamination arising from hair. Three hairs from a cow were allowed to Jall on sterile agar plate. The adherent bacteria developed in this medium, and the number of bacteria thus introduced into the milk from these hairs can be estimated by the number of developing colonies. teria in this, one of the earliest known fermentive processes, was established by the work of Pasteur in 1857. It was first shown by Hueppe in 1884 that a particular species of micro-or- ganism was usually associated with the process. It is now known that milk, if kept free from bacteria, will remain sweet indefinitely. Drawn un- der aseptic conditions it has been kept unchanged for a period of three years. Collected with proper precautions in clean bottles and placed immediately in a refrigerator-room it has been found sweet and wholesome after two to three months. Milk carefully pro- duced and handled has been sent from different parts of this country to Eu- rope without losing its palatability. As ordinarily drawn, however, milk is sure to contain many bacteria by the time it enters the milk pail, the numbers of this initial content de- pending, of course, upon existing con- ditions. Collected with care it may contain a few thousand (2000 to 6000) germs per cubic centimeter (15 drops approximately;) with careless manip- ulation, it may be highly contaminat- ed (50,000 to 200,000 or more.) Since the milk secreted by healthy milk- glands is, as a rule, sterile, these bac- teria must come from external sources and these are the following: (1) The cow herself is the most pro- lific source of bacterial contamination for, while her milk when secreted is us- ually sterile, the milk ducts in the teats The exterior of the cow’s body, dus- ty and the hind quarters, often filthy with manure, furnishes millions of bacteria. During the milking, hairs, bits of dried manure, and other dirt fall into the pail but while these coarser particles may be later strain- ed out, the straining will not remove the bacteria as they pass through the finest strainer unimpeded. (2) The milk pail as commonly washed is not absolutely clean and there are always many bacteria left in the cracks ready to begin to grow as soon as the next milk fills the pail. The erroneous and almost universal idea that to wash utensils means to free them from bacteria is difficult to combat. A careful housekeeper, whose milk was in demand because of her well established reputation for cleanliness, indignantly disputed the statement that there could be many bacteria in her shining, tin milk pail after it had been washed, as customar- ily, with soap and water, rinsed and wiped dry. To convince her, after its regular cleaning, the pail was rinsed with 100 ec. c. of sterile water, a few drops of the rinsing water plated on agar and within twenty-four hours many colonies of bacteria had devel- oped. But she then declared the bac- teria had been in the sterile water and not in her pail and, even after repeat- ed demonstrations of a similar nature, refused to be convinced. Her attitude, unfortunately, is only that of many. The large ““fuzzy’’ looking spoils are molds. Having finished milking, the pail will sometimes be set aside in a con- venient place while the milker goes about other work and, by the time the milk pail is carried from the barn, it is not unusual to see the surface cov- ered with dirt and bits of straw. The milk thus gets filled with bac- teria, and, as it is an excellent food and at the proper temperature when drawn to stimulate bacterial growth, they multiply rapidly and in a few hours may have increased a thousand- fold. Within twenty-four hours there may be millions in a cubic centimeter, the number at this time depending upon the initial contamination and the temperature at which the milk has been kept. These excessive numbers of bacteria may seem incredible but are easily understood when it is remembered that, under favora- ble conditions, bacteria may grow so rapidly as to divide every twenty to thirty minutes. It is this almost unlimited power of multiplication that makes them agents of such signifi- cance. The temperature factor is all- important as after milk is once seed- ed with bacterial life no other factor exerts so potent an effect upon the rate of growth. Next week—*“Influence of Tempera- ture Upon the Growth of Bacteria in Milk.” : Straining milk through cloth or wire strainers, as ordinarily done to clean it from coarser particles of dirt, will not remove bacteria as they pass through the finest strainer unimpeded. Agriculture is Breaking Down. From the time of John Stuart Mills down to the present, political econo- mists have condemned tenant farming as destructive of farming and the far- mer as well. Herein is one explana- tion of the decay of agriculture in the United States, writes Frederic S. Howe in the Century Magazine. Nearly 40 per cent. of our farmers are tenants. Along with this, the pub- lic domain of the Nation is gone. There is no more free land. Land val- ues have gone up in consequence. The value of farming land in the United States increased 118 per cent. in ten years’ time. It has acquired a specu- lative price, and is held at so high a figure that buyers can make a living, if at all, only by the hardest kind of application. This has made it difficult for the man with a little capital to be- come a farmer. This is true not only in the East; it is true in the West as well, where the great estates carved out of the public domain, sometimes of a million acres in extent, are being cut up. into small holdings and sold to immigrants and workers from the cities. Instances have been reported to a California commission of men who had acecumu- lated from $2,000 to $5,000 and who mm ——— — had purchased worthless farms, only to lose their entire savings because: they could not meet the annual pay- ments. They paid from $100 to $300 an acre for land that was not worth one-third that sum. One instance was reported of a col- ony of Russians whose members had invested $150,000 in worthless hard pan in a western State, while great numbers of persons have been lured into the reclamation projects of the Southwest, which are so inhospitable and hot that women are able to live there only a portion of the year. I have in my possession reports of individual men who have been induc- ed to invest all they possessed in land on which they worked for two or three years and realized less than $200 a year from it; of men who had re- sponded to some alluring advertise- ment, and had lost the accumulations of 10 or 20 years’ labor in a worthless investment. The fact is, agriculture is breaking down. The old order of things really ended 10 or 20 years ago, and a study of land monopoly, of tenantey, of farm credits and marketing conditions con- firms the farmer’s complaint. Strange- ly enough, that which has happened to America has happened to other countries, including Australia and m—— aan} yet recognized these facts or the ne- Canada. But America is almost the only agricultural nation that has not cessity of a new agricultural program. We are almost the only people who have not begun to work out a con- structive policy for placing people on the land under proper conditions and for the protection of the farmer from exploitation after he has gone there. rer Re. Served Him Right. A rather facetious individual called at the house of an eminent literary man of Boston. “My dear,” said he to the little girl who occupied the study while her father was at dinner, “I suppose you assist your father by entertaining the bores.” “Yes sir,” said “please be seated.” er ———— ——The Panama Canal was opened to navigation on August 15, 1914, The first ship to pass through was the United States Government steamship Ancona. The cost of constructing the Canal is officially estimated at $325,- 201,000, to which should be added $50,000,000 paid to the French Canal company and to the Republic of Pan- ama for property and franchise. the child gravely, FARM NOTES. —We sow today and reap tomorrow. Thus as the seasons come and go we plant seed, gather the crops and pre- pare for seed time and harvest. There is no time for halting, complaining. The diligent farmer must ever be on the alert to take advantage of every opportunity for larger crops and bet- ter harvests. —Coal ashes are of far less value as a fertilizer than wood ashes are, yet they have a value especially on a soil inclined to clay. They change the soil, making it lighter and more easily han- dled, and besides this it becomes more productive, because of the mechanical change made to the soil. There also is 2 slight element of fertility in these ashes. —Those who have had any experi- ence in handling sheep will know how difficult it is to get them into a barn or shed after dark. The interior is dark and they are afraid to enter. Of course, it is possible to catch one or two and carry them inside, but even then the rest will not follow. A lan- tern placed where the sheep can see it frightens them away instead of en- ticing them inside. But a lantern placed just inside the door and to one side, illuminates the interior of the barn and does not frighten the sheep. The sheep will readily and quietly en- ter a barn lit up in this way. —The profits of agriculture depend on the intelligent cultivation of the soil and the preservation of its fertil- ity. Dairy farming is increasing in almost every section of the country, largely because # is the most econom- ical form of agriculture so far as soil fertility is concerned. A ton of butter removes from the soil less than a dol- lar’s worth of fertilizing elements. Dairying also is growing because dai- ry products are an important part of our food supply. Opportunities for dairying are found in every agricul- tural district. The different sections of the country have peculiarities, but all need milk and its products, and everywhere there is a ready sale at good prices for all that is produced with proper attention to cleanliness and sanitation. —Notice the fruit trees carefully. See which tree bears heavily, ripens on time and matures a high grade of fruit. Notice the trees that are shy bearers, the tender trees susceptible to disease and insect injury. It is highly desirable that the fruit-grower become thoroughly familiar with the" tendencies of the various trees, so he will know how to treat them. Trees are much like animals. A person can always get better results with animals if he understands their peculiarities. Furthermore, one always wants to know the good trees and the poor trees. The poor will need to be re- placed as soon as practical. The de- sirable trees bearing large crops of highly-desirable fruits may be repro- duced. Propagation should be from the best. —The wise farmer is constantly on the alert to improve his dairy condi- tions. Much of this improvement can be made (and in the least time and with the least cost) by the use or a pure bred sire. But it is not only im- portant that he should be a pure bred animal, but that he should represent a strain of good milkers. There should be a history back of that sire. It is foolish to go back five or six genera- tions for this history. The important point is, what is the reputation of the immediate ancestors? Are they, or have they been heavy producers? Did his dam, and his granddam on his sire’s side, produce milk, or butterfat, or both, in large quantities? If the immediate family history is first-class in every way, the question of pedigree is largely settled. It is immediate ancestry that counts. —Professor Trueman, of Storrs Ex- periment Station, in referring to the sire says: ; The bull chosen should be a good individual as well as have a good pedi- gree. It is not wise to use a poor ani- mal simply because his ancestors have been good, for he will be one of the ancestors of the succeeding genera- tions. The bull should be vigorous as shown by a bright eye, a wideawake, active disposition, a full crest, broad chest, fine silky hair and soft hide. He should have a large deep body, with well sprung ribs, indicating feeding capacity. He should not be coarse and beefy. The hind quarters should not be peaked, but should be comparative- ly light. The thighs should not be overloaded with fat, and he should be well cut up in the twist. He should have a fine straight-away walking gait, not cross-legged. When you find one just right, buy him, and do not be too particular about the price. This bull should be used on the best cows that can be selected from those available. They need not be pure- breds. In fact, many men will get better results to stick to grades. It does not require as much skill to breed good grades as it does to breed good pure-breds. The pure-bred bull will be prepotent over the grade cows, and the calves will be more than half- blood in actual characteristics. The strong blood of the pure-bred bull im- presses the offspring much more than does the weaker blood of the grade, so that the bull becomes more than half the grade bred. On the other hand, in breeding pure-breds together, great judgment is required to get the two currents of strong blood to mix well; otherwise the results may be, and oft- en are, disastrous. The two do not “nick” well, and the offspring is poor- er than either parent. . The blood of the good bull may be more strongly impressed upon the grades by closer inbreeding than is advisable when raising pure-breds. A strong bull bred to grade cows gets strong heifers, and he may be bred again to his own with a strong likeli- hood of getting good results. This method gives 75 per cent. of the blood of the sire in the heifers of the sec- ond generation. It is not wise te in- breed too much when raising pure- breds, but it may be practiced with excellent results in the case of grades. The average daily ration fed 2-year- old heifers in the Storrs College barn during the winter of 1908 was as fol- lows: Hay, 8 pounds; silage, 20 pounds; grain, 13 pounds. The grain mixture was made up of 300 pounds of bran, 100 pounds of cornmeal and 100 pounds of linseed meal. Sia?
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