Bewooratc Aca
Belletonte, Pa., November 9, 1917.
KEEP SMILING.
If I knew the box where the smiles are
kept,
No matter how large the key
Or strong the bolt, I would try so hard—
'Twould open I know for me.
Then over the land and sea broadcast
I'd scatter the smiles to play,
That the children’s faces might hold them
fast
For many and many a day.
If I knew a box that was large enough
To hold all the frowns I meet,
I would try to gather them every one
From nursery, school and street.
Then, folding and holding, I'd pack them
in,
And turn the monster key;
I'd hire a giant to drop the box
To the depths of the deep, deep sea!
—Selected.
A SPANISH ELOPEMENT.
“But why not leave her now?”
asked the Reverend Mother, a touch
of disapproval frosting her even
tones.
The big, black-bearded Spaniard
forgot his elegant manners for the
moment and shifted like an awkward
boy from one foot to the other. His
little daughter, for all her awe of
the tall, erect figure shrouded in black
and white, came deftly to his aid.
“Paparitec wishes, if you please, to
buy me my uniform, and the linen
and silver and other things the letter
said I was to bring.”
From the demure eyes of the de-
mure young sister in attendance up-
on the Reverend Mother shot a gleam
of mischief. Don Antonio felt a sud-
den blush burning his swarthy cheeks.
“Of course I am aware,” he hasten-
ed to say, covering his confusion with
an access of dignity,” that Carmen’s
mother would do better at this sort of
shopping than I, but my wife, is, un-
fortunately, an invalid.”
The Irish eyes tried, not over-suc-
cessfully, to veil their twinkle under
a look of sympathetic concern.
“We have lay sisters who make all
necessary purchases for the convent,”
explained the Reverend Mother, “and
there is small room for individual va-
riations in the wardrches of our pu-
pils, as quality and quantity are pre-
scribed.”
But she had spoken with a shade
too much of authority, and the mas-
culine spirit, cowed at first by the
nunnery atmosphere, now rose in re-
volt.
“I have your list, and it is my
pleasure to make these purchases for
my child myself.”
“As you prefer; but you will not
need to have her with you while you
make them.”
“It is my pleasure to have her with
me while I make them.”
The Reverend Mother gave him her
icy smile. “I had almost forgotten
how favorite a word ‘pleasure’ is in
the world.” ;
Don Antonio’s warm grasp tight-
ened on Carmen’s slender hand. “Am
I to leave my little girl in charge of
those to whom pleasure is unknown ?”
“You shall see for yourself wheth-
er there is joy within our bounds or
not. Sister Protection "and Sister
Consolation, join Sister Silence in
conducting our guests about the con-
vent. You will be welcome, daughter,
when you come to us. Till this after-
noon, then—"
\ “Or possibly tomorrow,” interpo-
lated Don Antonio.
“Till your convenience, sir, adieu.
It is my hour for the oratory—a bles-
sed hour. Our own pleasures are
such as it is not given to the world to
apprehend.”
She slipped her arms under the
long, black folds of her habit, thus
eluding Don Antonio’s half-offered
hand. His profound bow was all the
deeper for his dumb resentment.
They would have greatly enjoyed a
quarrel, these two, but a quarrel was
one of the worldly delights that the
Reverend Mother had forsworn. She
felt, as she glided on, that even the
triumph of the last word, in which
she had just indulged, was of ques-
tionable sanctity.
Don Antonio, Carmen, and the
three nuns stood without speaking
during the Mother Superior’s im-
pressive withdrawal from the long re-
ception-hall, but with her departure
the nuns (especially Sister Silence)
began to chatter eagerly, and the
whole scene brightened. Dancing
sunshine flooded that chill, tiled sala,
so stiffly set, in view of visiting-day,
with twenty or more little groups of
green wicker chairs. Each group was
gathered about a light green table
that carried a tall glass vase of euca-
lyptus sprays. The slim green leaves
and round white blossoms were fresh
and graceful, and Don Antonio was
vaguely relieved to see that Carmen’s
eyes dwelt on these rather than on
the large wall-pictures of saints and
Maries. The nuns, proud to display
their convent, led the way up-stairs
and down-stairs, through long white
passages, past class-rooms—with
French and English verbs scrawled
on the black-boards—a music room,
an embroidery-room. Library, lab-
oratories, gymnasium there were not;
but Don Antonio was not looking for
these—what should those dainty fin-
gers in his clasp have to do with dus-
ty books and perilous test-tubes?—
and the enraptured child beside him
found nothing lacking in the bright
path of her first adventure. She was
eager for it all and already made it
hers, dancing like a sunbeam across
the stage of the gay little theatre,
with its floor reserved for visitors and
its gallery for the nuns and pupils.
She knelt devoutly before the silver-
ed altar of the hushed, white-vaulted,
delicately pillared church; she flung
a kiss to the rosily smiling Christ-
Child in the sacristy, sitting upright
in his Christmas manger as if impa-
tient for Noche Buena; and in the pa-
tio, whose pillars were wreathed with
flowers in honor of the saint-day of
the Reverend Mother, she ran to re-
twine a drooping spray of jasmine,
Sister Protection, a ruddy, plump
old nun, whese vain longing it was to
look ascetic, shed an approving smile
on the new pupil.
“If you continue as you have be-
gun, my daughter, you will in a few
years pass through the four degrees
of virtue and become a child of Ma-
ry, like those two girls in the door-
way there.” : :
Because of Don Antonio's discredit-
able sex, the nuns were hurrying him
down the corrider that led past the
dormitories, but Carmen turned back
to feast her adoring gaze on the two
tall senoritas, each wearing across
shoulder and breast a broad blue rib-
bon. Was it possible that she, simple
little Carmen, should ever know those
radiant beings? Was it possible that
some wonderful day she might, per-
haps, even touch her lips to the sa-
cred emblems that marked them as
worthy of the Madonna’s special
grace? The child’s hand, which some
minutes before, as she knelt in the
church, had slipped out of her fath-
er’s, made a little ecstatic gesture.
Don Antonio, looking back from the
end of the corridor, saw it, and that
swarthy face of his grew grim. A
chill wind from the future had blown
upon his heart.
From this time on Sister Consola-
tion, who was walking with downcast
eyes beside this forbidding parent,
bearded like a pirate as he was, found
him hard to please. Surely he would
admire their refectories—the series of
three white, narrow halls, whose long
tables, scrubbed for penance until
they shone, and neatly set with bowls
and spoons, grew a little higher, like
the benches on either side, from room
to room. _ Sister Consolation hoped he
would notice that the walls of the re-
fectory for the very little girls were
adorned with bright-colored prints of
the Nativity, while in the second room
the pictures portrayed the education
of the Virgin by Saint Anne, and in
the third were framed large photo-
graphs from famous paintings of the
betrothal and espousals of Mary. Don
Antonio, however, showed small en-
thusiasm for graded art. He gloomed
at the reading-stands, one at the end
of each hall, and picked up, with an
air of exasperation, a manual of de-
votion that lay on the desk in the re-
fectory where they happened to be
standing.
“Do you instruct your pupils even
while they eat?” he asked, so abrupt-
ly that timid Sister Consolation
shrank back, leaving the answer to
chubby old Sister Protection, who,
still panting from the stairs, replied
in gasps:
“We try. But it is ene thing—to
read holy words—and another to
plant them—in foolish young heads.
One would suppose they ate with their
ears—these children—they hear so
little.”
At this she laughed so merrily that
the stern lines which had been stiffen-
ing in Don Antonio’s face relaxed.
And even his jealous mood could find
no fault with the garden. The gener-
ous space inclosed by the towering
walls, so blank to the outer view, was
a paradise of lawn and flower-beds,
palms and orange-trees, fountains
and bowers and shrines. Along the
farther side stood a magnificent row
of eucalyptus, the trunks gleaming
white in the sunlight through their
rich mantle of green. At each corner
of the garden the blue-flowering
convolvulus that ran along the
top of the walls had been train-
ed ‘into a living tower of leaf
and blossom. Everywhere were
girls—Ilittle girls playing on the
lawns, larger girls pacing the walks,
pairs of girls on marble seats telling
each other romantic secrets under
trellised roses that blushed in sympa-
thy, and girls weaving garlands about
the altar of a favorite Virgin. The
air rang with their fresh young voices
—voices so blithe and withal so shrill
that the Reverend Mother was seen
to lean out from an upper window and
shake a reproving finger.
Under the shadow of a giant bou-
gainvillea, fairly foaming with pur-
ple clusters, and making, arched from
cypress to oleander, a pavilion fit for
an emperor, Don Antonio bowed his
farewells.
“This afternoon, or perhaps to-
morrow morning,” he said, angrily
conscious that the downcast eyes of
Sister Silence were twinkling at every
word, “I will bring my daughter back
with her complete equipment.”
“I trust she will be very happy
with us,” murmured Sister Consola-
tion rather abstractedly, for her
childlike gaze had been diverted to a
lizard scuttling down the wall.
“Happy! To be sure she will!” in-
terposed Sister Protection, briskly.
“Qur life is mirthful, my child. We
have many fiestas. Once the head
gardener and the two under garden-
ers gave us a mock bull-fight, out
here in the garden. We had seats and
tickets and all, as in the actual corri-
da. The girls wore white mantillas.
The bull—that was Pedro, the head
gardener—tossed both the boys, Ja-
mie and Diego, but Diego, who had
borrowed a real terero’s suit from his
cousin, one of the most noted bull-
fighters in Andalusia then, but he was
killed in the ring the next year—or
was it the year after 2—Diego jump-
ed up again and stabbed the bull. It
was only a piece of sugar cane he had,
not a knife, but that made it all the
more amusing. I never laughed so
hard in all my life. Whoof! How my
sides did ache! Even the Reverend
Mother was obliged to wipe her eyes.
Alas! But she hal to dismiss Diego
the next week—so handsome as he
looked in his bull-fighter’s dress—be-
cause all the girls fell in lo—ach!”
Sister Silence had trodden, a little
too vigorously, on the old nun’s foot,
but her precaution was needless. Car-
men was not listening. Her innocent
eyes, wide with joy and wonder, were
drinking in all the beauty and all the
promise of that entrancing fairyland.
In every flitting girlish form she saw
the mystery and marvel of a poten-
tial friend; in every cosy nook a holy
place for confidences, tendernesses,
dreams. Her heart had taken its first
peep from the nest and was already
poised for flight. The blood sang in
her veins.
All that afternoon they shopped in
the splendid city that lay an hour’s
drive below, at the foot of the hills.
This, too, was a bewitching experi-.
ence for the village child. The move-
ment and variety of the people on the
streets, the stately civic buildings and
beautiful old churches, the shop win-
dows glittering with confections, toys,
colored images, fans, laces, jewels,
and the astonishing ease with which
her mighty business was accomplish-
ed! Sister Silence, rather to Don An-
tonio’s annoyance at the time, had
marked the list of required articles
with the names of those shops from
which the convent regularly bought
such supplies, and it was a simple
matter for the clerks to take Car-
men’s measures and select from their
stock the sedate little garments,
which she caressed with shy, swift
touches.
When at five o'clock, Don Antonio
realized that there remained nothing
to buy but a napkin-ring, his counte-
nance fell.
“There are napkin-rings in the win-
dow across the way,” he said to Car-
men, with a wistful undertone in the
big voice. “We might pick out the
prettiest now, and be driven back to
the nunnery at once, so that I could
take the night train home to mama.”
If only the child would turn and
cling to him—would implore him to
leave them that one evening more to-
gether! But Carmen lifted one of her
brightest smiles and said, with a
happy trill rippling across the docile
phrase:
“As you please, paparito.”
Gloomily Don Antonio entered the
shop over the way and asked in trag-
ic accent to look at napkin-rings. One
after another the whole assortment
glistened out on the counter before
him—enough napkin-rings to supply
all the pupils of the convent and all
the nuns besides.
They had spent a full hour over the
counter and it was dusk as they came
out upon the street. Don Antonio
tenderly wrapped up his little daugh-
ter’s throat and drew his crimson-
lined cloak over his face to his eyes.
“It is far too cold and dark for that
drive up into the hills now,” he de-
clared. “I will send a telegram to
mama from the hotel and we will go
out to the theatre this evening. Eh?”
“As you please, paparito,” answer-
ed the gentle voice, somewhat muffled
in wrappings. He could not tell
whether she was glad or sorry, but
the excitement of the great, clatter-
ing dining-room, and the dazzling
stage, where the playlets began at
eight in the evening and, one after
another, went on till two in the morn-
ing, kept her cheeks softly flushed
and her dark eyes beaming.
Yet she dreamed of the convent
garden, with the Reverend Mother
and paparito playing at bull-fight,
while old Sister Protection laughed
herself into a fit. When the bitter
Spanish chocolate, with a few long,
narrow sponge-cakes, was brought to
her bedside at nine, Carmen waked
with a delicious expectation of find-
ing herself in a dormitory full of
girls.
It was nearly noon before paparito
sent for her, and even then he was in
no hurry about the shopping. They
sat on a sunny terrace in the hotel
garden while he smoked cigarette
after cigarette, not in a talkative
mood, but more affectionate than ever
with his little daughter, upon whom
he recklessly lavished slabs of sugar-
ed citron and small, round chestnut
cakes in a thick jacket of pink frost-
ing, until it was time for luncheon.
Carmen’s appetite had been spoiled
by the sweets, and Don Antonio not-
ing with concern how little she ate
promptly concluded that she was not
well and should have a long siesta. It
was four o’clock when they finally set
out on their quest, and at six they re-
turned to the hotel, still unsuccessful.
“A package for you, sir,” and a
page, resplendent in many gilt but-
tons, handed Don Antonio a diminu-
tive box on a colossal tray. All un-
suspiciously he opened it in Carmen’s
presence, and there, in a bed of white
soiton wool, lay a familiar silver cir-
clet.
“Oh! oh!” exclaimed the child, for-
getting her hotel decorum and jump-
ing up and down with delight. “Here
is my very own napkin-ring. Mama
must have done it up and sent it off as
soon as your telegram came. Isn’t
she a dear mamita to be so thought-
ful and so quick?”
' “Ugh!” grunted Don
“Your mother is a very intelligent
woman. Yes. Certainly. Umph! I
hope she didn’t exert herself over-
much. She always does. She would
better, fragile as she is, have been
content to leave this little matter to
me. However, it’s altogether too late
to take you to the convent tonight. I
will send mama another message, but
a shorter one, this time. It’s a mis-
take to go into details in a telegram.”
“But what will the Reverend Moth-
er think?” Carmen ventured to ask.
“The Reverend Mother may think
what she chooses,” returned Don An-
tonio, an unholy fire smoldering in
Antonio.
his eyes. “I could telephone her, but
I won’t. It might disturb her at her
orisons.”
Carmen’s sense of filial duty would
not allow her to feel shocked.
Her eyelids were so heavy when
she returned from the theatre in the
small hours that the spinster cham-
bermaid indignantly expressed to the
night porter her views of Don Anto-
nio.
“He’s not fit to be a pearent, that
Senor Don Herod Black-Whiskers.”
“Few parents are,” assented the
Hight porter, who had seen much of
ife.
Late the next morning a pale-
checked Carmen, tired of waiting for
a summons, ventured down alone to
the hotel garden. There sat paparito,
rolling cigarettes, and tossing, now
and then, a copper to an old guitar-
player crouched just within the gar-
den gate. Don Antonio was, or af-
fected to be in the blithest of spirits.
He had made out a festal program
for the day—a stroll by the river, a
luncheon at a rose-clad venta famous
for its Manzanilla wine, a peep, per-
haps, into the art-gallery, a saunter
along the fashionable promenade,
and, after dinner, the “cine,” known
in our own popular parlance as the
“movies.”
To be pleased when anybody tried
to please her was Carmen’s crowning
grace. She went through that Wed-
nesday bravely, and the Thursday,
and the Friday, but on Saturday such
a jaded little smile answered Don An-
tonio’s lively propositions for a new
round of gaieties that he bit off the
end of his cigarette and nearly chok-
ed himself.
“If you wish me to put you in the
convent today, out with it,” he growl-
(Continued on page 3, Col. 4).
Health and Happiness
SERIES of articles on the rela-
tion of bacteria to milk now
being published in the Watchman :
Aug. 17—The Bacterial Content of
Milks Supplied to Bellefonte.
Aug. 24—How the Number of Bacte-
ria in Milk is Determined.
What Are Bacteria ?
Aug. 31 and Sept. 7—Environmen-
tal Influences upon Bacteria.
Sept. 28—Sources of Bacteria in
Milk.
Oct. 5—Influence of Temperature
upon the Growth of Bacteria
in Milk.
Oct. 26.—Effect of Bacteria upon
Milk.
Number 27.
THE RELATION OF DISEASE
BACTERIA TO MILK.
It has been demonsirated beyond
dispute that milk may be a vehicle for
the dissemination of certain infec-
tious diseases. The danger of infec-
tion from this source lies in the fact
that it is consumed in a raw state and
also that, even though the normal
bacteria are present, disease-produc-
ing bacteria may thrive in milk with-
out producing changes sufficient for
their presence to be detected.
Pathogenic bacteria in milk may be
divided into two groups, depending
upon the manner in which infection
occurs: (1) germs derived directly
from the cow, (2) bacteria pathogen-
ic for man but not for cattle and in-
troduced into milk with infectious
material of human origin.
DISEASES OF THE COW TRANSMISSI-
BLE TO MAN THROUGH THE ME-
DIUM OF MILK.
In the first group—diseases of the
cow transmissible to man through the
medium of milk—the most important
is tuberculosis, but in addition to this,
foot-and-mouth disease (aphthous fe-
ver in children), and acute gastro-
intestinal troubles have been traced
to a similar origin. Anthrax, though
not ordinarily a milk-borne disease,
can cause infection of milk in the lat-
er stages of the disease.
The danger of milk from tubercu-
lous cows is so generally admitted
that discussion here is unnecessary.
It is advisable to exclude from milk
supplies intended for human use, all
milk of animals that respond to the
tuberculin test; or at least to treat it
in a manner so as to render it safe.
Exclusion or treatment is imperative
because the danger is greater with
children with whom milk is often a
prominent constituent of their diet,
and also for the reason that the child
is more susceptible to intestinal in-
fection than the adult.
Although tuberculosis attributed to
milk is commonly assumed to be due
to bacilli of bovine origin, it is also
possible for milk to become infected
with tubercle bacilli from tuberculous
persons. It is a not unknown prac-
tice for milkmen to begin the milking
process by moistening the hands with
saliva. Milk may also become con-
taminated with human tubercle bacil-
li by means of the “infectious drop-
lets” discharged in coughing or
sneezing.
It is not known that rabies or the
pleuro-pneumonia of cattle has ever
been conveyed to man by milk, al-
though if injuries of the mouth or di-
gestive tract exist, infection by this
channel is theoretically possible. In
view of the manifold, if not yet clear-
ly understood, possibilities of infec-
tion from diseased cows, the use of
uncooked milk from an animal with
any symptoms of illness should be
avoided.
DISEASES TRANSMISSIBLE TO MAN
THROUGH INFECTION OF MILK
AFTER WITHDRAWAL.
In the second group—diseases trans-
missible to man through infection of
milk after withdrawal—are the bac-
teria of typhoid fever, of cholera, and
of diphtheria and probably the yet
undiscovered germ of scarletina.
These find their way into milk
directly through the agency of con-
valescents or by persons suffering
from mild attacks of these diseases
who are engaged in the handling of
the milk. Not infrequently an indi-
vidual may serve as nurse to a sick
person and also assist in the hand-
ling of the milk and epidemics have
been traced to this source.
“Germ Carriers.” The role played
by the “carrier” —an apparently
healthy individual who carries about
with him germs which, when trans-
mitted to another, will cause disease
—is now known to be of serious im-
portance in the spread of contagious
diseases.
An interesting illustration of the
relation of the “carrier” to the spread
of disease through milk is found in
the report by the State Board of
Health, April 1917, of an intermit-
tent outbreak of typhoid fever in Ba-
kersfield, California, (Amer. Med.
Jour. June 23, 1917).
For a twelvemonth, beginning
June 1916, there had been twenty-two
cases of typhoid scattered over the
city with a mortality of 9 per cent.
The water supply had been examined
and the typhoid incidence could not
be connected with it. The matter of
shell-fish and ice cream was also in-
vestigated with negative findings.
Suspicion was therefore naturally di-
rected toward the milk supply of the
city.
There were twenty-five dairies sup-
plying the people of Bakersfield and
the families in which typhoid had de-
veloped had repeatedly changed from
one dairy to another when purchasing
milk. To ascertain definitely the
name of the dairyman who had been
supplying a family during the incu-
bative period of the typhoid illness
in that family was, therefore, an ex-
ceedingly difficult task.
Examination of members of the
families in which typhoid had occur-
red brought forth evidence that left
nine dairies under suspicion. Further
examination sifted it down to three
dairies, and after baffling efforts, the
data collected indicated the cause to
be a migratory carrier who had had
to do with the handling of the milk of
each of the three dairies, at different
times. Pursuing this clue, it was
found that the source of the series of
typhiod cases which had occurred in
the city between June, 1916, and
April, 1917, was the milk supply of a
small producer who had intermittent-
ly sold bottled milk to the various
dairies and later had bought out one
of the dairies and operated it for his
own. His family gave a positive his-
tory of past typhoid infection. He
had had typhoid forty-eight years be-
fore. His wife had had it twenty-
eight years before and once
since that time. Her son and
daughter, brother and nephew had
all had typhoid several years
before. The milk supplied by this,
Dairy D, was bottled at his dairy by
himself, his wife and three daughters.
Laboratory examination of the feces
specimen from his wife, Mrs. D.,
proved positive for typhoid bacilli.
This proved her a typhoid carrier and
the cause of the outbreak.
Another epidemic of typhoid due to a
“carrier” (Amer. Med. Jour. April 21,
1917), in May 1916 at Helm, Califor-
nia, during which time there were
twenty-three cases and three deaths
was traced to chocolate ice cream eat-
en at a country school picnic. Both
vanilla and chocolate cream were
served but persons who ate only va-
nilla did not become ill at all. The
woman who made the chocolate cream
was found to be a typhoid “carrier.”
Specimens of her stool were examin-
ed from which the typhoid bacillus
was isolated. On questioning it was
learned that she had had typhoid fe-
ver seventeen years before when liv-
ing in Kansas. Of her immediate
family, the son had typhoid fever.
During the last five years, six dis-
trict school teachers had boarded at
her home where she cooked for the
household; while living here four of
these teachers developed typhoid.
The summary of this epidemic by
the health officer is:
“The typhoid history of Mrs. V.
demonstrates the inefficiency, from
standpoint of community health, of
treating a case of typhoid without
seeking the source of infection. It is
seventeen years since she herself had
typhoid; there are many isolated cases
of the disease reported among those
with whom she came in contact; final-
ly, this epidemic, traced indubitably to
her occurred. Had the first case,
years ago, for which she may have
been responsible, been traced to its
source, the subsequent cases, the eco-
nomic loss to the community, and the
Yi deaths could have been avoid-
ed.
Pollution of Milk Utensils.—Some-
times infections may come about in a
more circuitous way as by cleaning
cans and other utensils with water
that may be polluted with typhoid
bacilli. Intentional adulteration of
milk with water inadvertently taken
from polluted sources has caused
quite a number of typhoid outbreaks.
Sedgwick found in an epidemic of ty-
phoid in Massachusetts that the milk
cans were placed in a well to cool the
milk, and the well was subsequently
shown to be contaminated with ty-
phoid fecal matter.
A serious source of danger lies in
the improper disposition of excreta
and in the fact that flies may convey
typhoid bacilli from infected vaults
to milk.
Infantile Diarrhea.—The occur-
rence of “summer” diarrhea in young
children whose food consists wholly
or in part of cow’s milk has been the
subject of much investigation for as
a cause of sickness and death these
diarrheal diseases exceed in impor-
tance all other specific diseases pre-
viously referred to. The higher mor-
tality of bottle-fed infants in compar-
ison with those that are nursed di-
rectly can be explained only on the
theory that cows’ milk is the carrier
of the infection. In Berlin, during
five years, there were 41,383 deaths
of infants whose method of feeding
was ascertained; only 3995 of these
were breast-fed; in other words, more
than nine-tenths of the infant mortal-
ity occurred among those fed artifici-
ally. Infantile mortality is a class
mortality, highest, as a rule, in those
cities and towns where women work
in industrial establishments and put
their children early to the bottle.
The cause of infantile diarrhea is
not as yet ascribed by bacteriologists
to any specific kind of bacteria but is
generally attributed to the result of a
number of varieties of bacteria. Au-
thorities are mostly agreed, however,
that there can be no doubt as to the
influence of the numbers of bacteria
in milk. The most conclusive inves-
tigations on this point are those of
Park and Holt who found that during
hot weather the effect of bacterial
contamination on the health of in-
fants was very marked when milk
was fed without previous heating and
concluded “When milk is taken raw,
the fewer the bacteria present the
better the results. Of the usual va-
rieties, over 1,000,000 bacteria per cu-
bic centimeter are certainly deleteri-
ous to the average infant.” What is
believed to represent the actual con-
ditions is set forth in the following
abstract from the “Third Report of
the Commission on Milk Standards”
(Public Health Reports, Feb. 16,
1917):
Relation of Large Numbers of Bac-
teria to Infant Mortality.—The Com-
mission believes that the numbers of
bacteria in milk have a relation to the
infant mortality, for the following
reasons: fo
(a) Evidence furnished by clinic-
al observations of groups of children
fed on milk containing small num-
bers of bacteria, and large numbers
of bacteria show a higher death rate
in the latter than in the former.
(b) In general, a reduction in in-
fant mortality in cities results from a
substitution of milk containing small
numbers of bacteria for milk contain-
ing large numbers of bacteria.
(¢c) Bacteria causing no specific
intestinal infections in adults may
cause infant diarrhea, and milk con-
taining large numbers of bacteria
more often contains species capable
of setting up intestinal inflammation
in infants than milk containing small
numbers of bacteria.
November 16.—“Preservation of
Milk and the Significance of the Bac-
terial Count.”
The New Dog Tax Law.
Under the new dog law, which goes
into effect January 15th next, bor-
ough and township school districts
will no longer get the dog tax here-
tofore collected, as provided by a
special act of the Legislature.
Throughout the Commonwealth
county commissioners and officials of
first and second class cities are pre-
paring to enforce the new law. They
are now preparing a blank form to be
urnished assessors, on which, before
December 31, the assessors must set
forth the name of every owner of
dogs detailing the number owned, sex
and other information. Assessors at
the time they secure this information
should inform the owner that he must
have a license for each dog. Kennels
are specially licensed.
After January 15 next all dogs over
six months of age must wear a license
tag. The fee for male dogs and spay-
ed female dogs is to be not less than
$1 nor more than $2, to be determin-
ed by the county commissioners in
counties and by councils in first and
second class cities. The fee for un-
spayed female dogs is $2 to $4, deter-
mined by same officials. This is the
oly fee required for the keeping of a
og.
Metal tags must be furnished coun-
ty treasurers by the county commis-
sioners, and owners of dogs must re-
ceive a license from the county treas-
urer, as the hunters. The assessors
supply a list of all owners of dogs in
their districts to the commissioners.
Justices of the peace or aldermen may
issue licenses on blanks furnished by
the treasurer, and are allowed a fee
of 15 cents.
The new act provides specifically
that all dogs six months old not Jli-
censed before January 15 of each year
must be killed without further ado.
Dogs properly licensed which are
found running at large and unaccom-
panied by a keeper, must be im-
pounded, and if not redeemed either
sold or destroyed. Night straying of
animals is prohibited absolutely—the
act applying even to fox terriers or
other house dogs. Violation of the
terms of the act may be punished by
a fine of not exceeding $100 or im-
prisonment of three months. The
new law is far more drastic than the
old, and will greatly encourage the
sheep’ industry in Pennsylvania, say
its farmers, it being especially direct-
ed against the running of dogs at
large.
In accordance with the powers
vested in them by the law, the com-
missioners have fixed the dog license
at $1 for males and $2 for females,
the same to run from January to Jan-
uary of each year.
Opportunities for Education at
Washington.
To the young man or woman who
seeks to obtain a college degree and
a livelihood at the same time, no city
in the country offers an opportunity
more attractive than that to be found
in the national capitol. The several
universities at Washington provide
evening classes with hours arranged
conveniently for government em-
ployees, who ordinarily complete their
day’s work at half-past four and all
libraries, including the library of
Congress, are open at night.
For years thousands of young peo-
ple have entered the civil service at
Washington with the main idea of
devoting three or four years to equip-
ping themselves for a professional or
scientific career while supporting
themselves. Many of the young men
live at fraternity houses, co-opera-
tively conducted, thereby lessening
the living expense and also securing
a place where they can entertain their
friends.
In addition to the university
courses, the Young Men’s Christian
Association and private schools con-
duct evening classes in technics, lan-
guages, accountancy, stenography
and typewriting, and the usual High
school studies.
Notwithstanding the drafts for mil-
itary service, practically all schools
in Washington show an increased en-
rollment this year. This is due to the
great influx incident to the war. Ten
or twelve thousand new clerks and
other employees have been appointed
in the departments and this great civ-
ilian army is being added to daily. -
Stenographers and typewriters and
mechanical draftsmen for the service
generally, and what are known as
schedule clerks, index and catalogue
clerks, clerks qualified in statistics or
accounting, and clerks qualified in
business administration for the office
of the Ordnance Department of the
army are in demand.
The representatives of the Federal
civil service commission at the post-
offices in all cities are receiving nu-
merous inquiries from persons who
wish to be at the seat of government
at this time of big events and to have
a part in the actual administration of
the government’s great business.
Women are finding in this office work
an opportunity to “do their bit” in a
very practical way.
Brain Blood-Supply Must be Good.
The importance of having pure blood
is perhaps never more deeply impressed
on us than when we are told by physiolo-
gists that if the brain is supplied with
impure blood, nervous and bilious head-
ache, confusion of ideas, loss of memory,
impaired intellect, dimness of vision, and
dullness of hearing, are experienced, and,
in time the brain becomes disorganized
and the brittle thread of life is broken.
The more we learn of the usefulness of
the great blood purifier, Hood's Sarsapa-
rilla, the more grateful we are for this old’
and successful family medicine, which
has accomplished so much in removing
gerofula, rheumatism amd catarrh amd
other blood diseases and correcting run-
down conditions ef the system. If you
need a blood purifier, get Hood's Sarsa-
parilla. 62-44
t
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