- driver to be very careful when we got
(Continued from last week.)
The driver of the ambulance was 2
corporal of the R. A. M. C., and he
had the “wind up,” that is, he had an
aversion to being under fire.
I was riding on the seat with him
while Atwell was sitting in the ambu-
lance, with his legs hanging out of the
back.
As we passed through a shell-de-
stroyed village a mounted military po-
liceman stopped us and informed the
out on the open road, as it was very
dangerous, because the Germans lately
had acquired the habit of shelling it.
The corporal asked the trooper if there
was any other way around, and was
informed that there was mot. Upon
this he got very nervous and wanted to
turn back, but we insisted that he pro-
ceed and explained to him that he
wouid get info serious trouble with his
commanding officer if he returned
without orders; we wanted to ride,
not walk.
From his conversaion we learned
that he had recently come from Eng-
land with a draft and had never been
under fire, hence his nervousness.
We convinced him that there was not
much danger, and he appeared greatly
relieved. !
When we at last turned into the open
road we were not so confident. On
each side there had heen a line of
trees, but now, all that was left of
them were torn and battered stumps.
The fields on each side of the road
were dotted with recent shell holes,
and we passed several in the road it-
self. We had gone about half a mile
when a shell came whistling through
the air and burst in a field about three
hundred yards to our right. Another
soon followed this one and burst on
the edge of the road about four hun-
dred yards in front of us.
I told the driver to throw in his
speed clutch, as we must be in sight
of the Germans. I knew the signs;
that battery was ranging for us, and
the quicker we got out of its zone of
fire the better. The driver was trem-
bling like a leaf, and every minute I
expected him to pile us up in the ditch.
I preferred the German fire.
In the back Atwell was holding onto
the straps for dear life, and was sing-
ing at the top of his voice:
‘We beat you at the Marne,
We beat you at the Aisne,
We gave you hell at Neuve Chapelle,
And here we are again.
Just then we hit a small shell hole
and nearly capsized. Upon a loud
‘vell from the rear I looked behind, and
there was Atwell sitting in the middle
of the road, shaking his fist at us. His
equipment, which he had taken off
upon getting into the ambulance, was
strung out on the ground, and his rifle
was in the ditch.
I shouted to the driver to stop, and
in his nervousness he put on the
brakes. We nearly pitched out head-
first. But the applying of those brakes
saved our lives. The next instant
‘there was a blinding flash and a deaf-
‘ening report. All that I remember is
that I was flying through the air, and
‘wondering if I would land in a soft |
spot. Then the lights went out.
When I came to, Atwell was pouring
water on my head out of his bottle.
On the other side of the road the cor-
poral was sitting, rubbing a lump on
his forehead with his left hand, while
his right arm was bound up in a blood-
soaked bandage. He was moaning
very loudly. I had an awful headache
and the skin on the left side of my
face was full of gravel and the blood
was trickling from my nose.
But that ambulance was turned over
in the ditch and was perforated with
holes from fragments of the shell. One
of the front wheels was slowly revolv-
ing, so I could not have been “out” for
a long period.
The shells were still screaniing over-
head, but the battery had raised its
fire and they were bursting in a little
wood about half a mile from us.
Atwell spoke up. “I wish that offi-
cer hadn’t wished us the best ¢’ luck.”
Then he commenced swearing. 1
couldn’t help laughing, though my
head was nigh to bursting.
Slowly rising to my feet I felt myself
all over to make sure that there were
no broken-bones. But outside of a few
bruises and scratches I was ail right.
The corporal was still moaning, but
more from shock than pain. A shell
splinter had gone through the flesh of
his right forearm. Atwell and I, from
our first-aid pouches, put a tourniquet-
on his arm to stop the bleeding and
then gathered up our equipment.
We realized that we were in a dan-
gerous spot. At any minute a shell
might drop on the road and finish us
off. The village we had left was not
very far, so we told the corporal he
‘had better go back to it and get his
arm dressed, and then report the fact
of the destruction of the ambulance to
‘the military police. He was well able
‘to walk, so he set off in the direction
of the village, while Atwell and I con-
‘tinued our way on foot.
AN AMERICA SOLDIER
WHO WENT = =
ARTHURGUY EMPEY
MACHINE GUNNER, SERVING IN FRANCE—=
[©1197 Y
| ARTHUR ay EMPEY
oo
Without further. mishap we arrived
at our destination, and reported to bri-
zade headquarters for rations and bil-
lets.
That night we slept in the battalion
sergeant major’s dugout. The next
morning I went to a first-aid post and
had the gravel picked out of my face.
The instructions we received frem
division headquarters read that we
were out to catch spies, patrol trenches,
search German dead, reconnoiter in No
Man’s Land, and take part in trench
raids and prevent the robbing of the
dead.
I had a pass which would allow me
to go anywhere at any time in the sec-
tor of the line held by our division. It
gave me authority to stop and search
ambulances, motor lorries, wagons and
even officers and soldiers, whenever
my suspicions deemed it necessary.
Atwell and I were allowed to work to-
gether or singly—it was left to our
judgment, We decided to team up.
Atwell was a good companion aud
very entertaining. He had an utter
contempt for danger, but was not fool-
hardy. At swearing he was a wonder.
A cavalry regiment would have been
proud of him. Though born in Eng-
land, he had spent several years in
New York. He was about six feet one,
and as strong as an ox.
We took up our quarters in a large
dugout of the royal engineers, and
mapped out our future actions. This
dugout was on the edge of a large
cemetery, and several times at night
in returning to it, we got many a fall
stumbling over the graves of English,
French and Germans. Atwell on these
occasions never indulged in swearing,
though at any other time, at the least
stumble, he would turn the air blue.
A certain section of our trenches
was held by the Royal Irish rifles. For
several days a very strong rumor went
the rounds that a German spy was in
our midst. This spy was supposed to
be dressed in the uniform of a British
staff officer. Several stories had been
told about an officer wearing a red
band around his cap, who patrolled the
front-line and communication trenches
! asking suspicious questions as to loca-
tion of batteries, machine-gun emplace-
ments, and trench mortars. If a shell
dropped in a battery, on a machine gun
or even near a dugout, this spy was
blamed.
The rumor gained such strength that
an order was issued for all troops to
immediately place under arrest anyone
spy.
Atwell and I were on the qui vive.
We constantly patrolled the trenches
at night, and even in the day, but the
spy always eluded us. :
One day while in a communication
trench, we were horrified to see our
brigadier general, Old Pepper, being
brought down it by a big private of the
Royal Irish rifles. The general was
walking in front, and the private with
fixed bayonet was following in the
! rear.
| We saluted as the general passed us.
i The Irishman had a broad grin on his
: face and we could scarcely believe our
eyes—the general was under arrest.
After passing a few feet beyond us, the
general turned, and said in a wrathful
voice to Atwell:
“Tell this d—n fool who I am. He's
arrested me as a spy.”
Atwell was speechless. The sentry
butted in with:
“None o’ that gassin’ out o’ you.
Fritz. Open that face o’ yours again,
an’ I'll dent in your napper with the
butt o’ me rifle.”
The general's face was a sight to be-
hold. He was fairly boiling over with
rage, but he shut up.
Atwell tried to get in front of the
sentry to explain to him that it really
was the general he had under arrest,
but the sentry threatened to run his
bayonet through him, and would have
done it, too. So Atwell stepped aside,
and remained silent. I was nearly
bursting with suppressed laugliter. One
word, and I would have exploded. it
is not exactly diplomatic to laugh at
your general in such a predicament.
The sentry and his prisoner arrived
at brigade headquarters with disas-
trous results to the sentry.
The joke was that the general had
personally issued the order for the
Spy’s arrest. It was a habit of the gen-
eral to walk through the trenches on
rounds of inspection, unattended by
any of his staff. The Irishman, being
new in the regiment, had never seen
the general before, so when he came
across him alone in a communication
trench, he promptly put him under ar-
rest. Brigadier generals wear a red
band around their caps.
Next day we passed the Irishman
tied to the wheel of a limber, the be-
ginning of his sentence of twenty-one
days, field punishment No. 1. Never
before have I seen such a woebegone
expression on a man’s face,
For several days, Atwell and I made
ourselves scarce around brigade head-
answering to the description of the.
Back to headquarters you goes, Mr.
quarters. We did not want to meet
the general.
The spy was never caught.
CHAPTER XXIV,
The Firing Squad.
A few days later I had orders to re-
port back to divisional headquarters,
about thirty kilos behind the line. I
reported to the A. P. M. (assistant pro-
vost marshal). He told me to report
tions.
It was about e*ght oclock at night
and I was tired and soon fell asleep in
the straw of the billet. It was a mis-
erable night outside, cold, and a drizzly
rain was falling.
About two in the morning I was
| awakened by some one shaking me by
the shoulder. Opening my eyes I saw
a regimental sergeant major bending
over me. He had a lighted lantern in
his right hand. I started to ask him
what was the matter, when he put his
finger tc his lips for silence and whis-
pered :
“Get on your eguipment, and, with-
out any noise, come with me.”
This greatly mystified ine,
obeyed his order.
Outside of the billet, I asked him
what was up, but he shut me up with:
“Don’t ask questions, it’s against or-
ders. I don’t know myself.”
It was raining like the mischief.
We splashed along a muddy road for
about fifteen minutes, finally stopping
at the entrance of what must have
been an old barn. In the darkness, I
could Lear pigs grunting, as if they
had just been disturbed. In fron: of
the door stood an officer in a mack
(mackintosh). The R. S. M. went up
to him, whispered something, and then
left. This officer called to me, asked
my name, number and regiment, at the
sarae fime, in the light of a lsntern uc
was holding, making a notation in a
little book.
When he had finished writing, he
whispered :
but 1
and no talking. Understand?”
I stumbled into the barn and sat on
the floor in the darkness. I could see
no one, but could hear men breathing’
and moving; they seemed nervous and
restless. I know I was. \
During my wait, three other men
entered. Then the officer poked his
head in the door and ordered:
“Fall in, outside the billet, in single
rank.” :
We fell in, standing at ease.
he commanded :
“Squad—'Shun! Number!”
‘There were twelve of us.
“Right—Turn! Left—Wheel! Quick
—March!” And away we went. The
rain was trickling down my back and
I was shivering from the cold. :
With the officer leading, we must
have marched over an hour, plowing
through the mud and occasionally
stumbling into a shell hole in the road,
Then
4 Buried With Honors.
when suddenly the officer made a left
wheel, and we found ourselves in a sort
of enclosed courtyard.
The dawn was breaking and the
rain had ceased.
In front of us were four stacks of
rifles, three to a stack.
The officer brought us to attention
and gave the order to unpile arms. We
each took a rifle. Giving us “Stand at
ease,” in a nervous and shaky voice,
he informed :
“Men, you are here on a very solemn
duty. You have been selected as a
firing squad for the execution of a sol-
dier, who, having been found guilty
of a grievous crime against king and
country, has been regularly and duly
tried and sentenced to be shot at 8:28
a. m. this date. This sentence has been
approved by the reviewing authority
and ordered carried out. It is our duty
to carry on with the sentence of the
court.
“There are twelve rifles, one of
which contains a blank cartridge, the
other eleven containing ball cartridges.
Every man is expected to do his duty
and fire to kill. Take your orders from
me. Squad—'Shun!” <
We came to attention. Then he left.
My heart was of lead and my knees
shook.
After standing at “attention” for
what seemed a week, though in reality
it could not have been over five min-
utes, we heard a low whispering in our
rear and footsteps on the stone flag-
ging of the courtyard,
Our officer reappeared and in a low,
but firm voice, ordered :
“About—Turn!” ~
We turned about. In the gray light
of dawn, a few yards in front of me, I
could make out a brick wall. Against
this wall was a dark form with a white
square pinned on its breast. We were
to billet No. 78 for quarters and ra- |
|
“Go into that billet and wait orders,
i many people to be composed of
supposed to aim at this square. To the |
right of the form I noticed a white spot
on the wall. This would be my target.
“Ready! Aim! Fire!”
The dark form sank into a huddled
heap. My bullet sped on its way, and
hit the whitish spot on the wall; I
could see the splinters fly. Some one
else had received the rifle containing
the blank cartridge, but my mind was
at ease, there was no blood of a
Tommy on my hands.
“Order—Arms! About—Turn! Pile—
Arms! Stand—Clear.”
The stacks were re-formed.
“Quick — March! Right — Wheel!”
And we left the scene of execution be-
hind us.
It was now daylight. After march-
ing about five minutes, we were dis-
missed with the following instructions
from the officer in command ;
“Return, alone, to your respective
companies, and remember, no talking
about this affair, or else it will go hard
with the guilty ones.”
We needed no urging to get away. I
did not recognize any of the men on
the firing squad ; even the officer was a
stranger to me.
The victim’s relations and friends in
Blighty will never know that he was
executed; they will be under the im-
pression that he died doing his bit for
Einz and country.
In the public casualty lists his name
wili appear under the caption “Acci-
dentally Killed,” or “Died.”
The day after the execution I re-
ceived orders to report back to the
line, and to keep a still tongue in my
head.
Executions are a part of the day's
work, but the part we hated most of
ail, I thinke—certainly the saddest. The
British war department is ther by
regrletions all wound around with ra
tape. But it has a heart, and one of
the evidences of this is the considerate
way in which an execution is concealed
and reported to the relative of the un-’
fortunate man. They never know the
truth. He is listed in the bulletins as
among the “accidentally killed.”
In the last ten years I have several
times read stories in magazines of
cowards changing, in a charge, to he-
roes. I used to laugh at it. It seemed
easy for story-writers, but I said,
“Men aren’t made that way.? But over
in France I learned once that the
streak of yellow can turn all white. I
picked up the story, bit by bit, from
the captain of the company, the sen-
tries who guarded the poor fellow, as
well as from my own observations. At
first I did not realize the whole of his
story, but after a week of investiga-
tion it stood out as clear in my mind
as the mountains of my native West in
the spring sunshine. It impressed me
80 much that I wrote it all down in
rest billets on scraps of odd paper.
The incidents are, as I say, every bit
true; the feelings of the man are true
—I know from all I underwent in the
fighting over in France.
We will call him Albert Lloyd. That
wasn’t his name, but it will do:
Albert Lloyd was what the world
terms a coward.
In. London they called him a slacker.
His country had been at war nearly
eighteen months, and still he was not
in khaki.
He had no good reason for not en-
listing, being alone in the world, hav-
ing been educated in an orphan asy-
lum, and there being no one dependent
upon him for support. He had no good
position to lose, and there was no
sweetheart to tell him with her lips
to go, while her eyes pleaded for him
to stay.
Every time he saw a recruiting ser-
geant he’d slink around the corner out
of sight, with a terrible fear gnawing
at his heart. When passing the big re-
cruiting posters, and on his way to
business and back he passed many, he
would pull down his cap and look the
other way from that awful finger
pointing at him, under the caption,
“Your King and Country Need You;”
or the boring eyes of Kitchener, which
burned into his very soul, causing him
to shudder.
Then the Zeppelin raids—during
them, he used to crouch in a corner of
his boarding-house cellar, whimpering
like a whipped puppy and calling upon
the Lord to protect him,
Even his landlady despised him, al-
though she had to admit that he was
“good pay.”
He very seldom read the papers, but
one momentous morning the landlady
put the morning paper at his place be-
fore he came down to breakfast. Tak-
ing his seat he read the flaring head-
line, “Conscription Bill Passed,” and
nearly fainted. Excusing himself, he
stumbled upstairs to his bedroom,
with the horror of it gnawing into his
vitals.
Having saved up a few pounds, he
decided not to leave the house, and to
sham sickness, so he stayed in his room
and had the landlady serve his meals
there.
Every time there was a knock at the
door he trembled all over, imagining it
was a policeman who had come to take
him away to the army.
One morning his fears were realized.
Sure enough, there stood a policeman
with the fatal paper. Taking it in his
trembling hand he read that he, Albert
Lloyd, was ordered to report himself
to the nearest recruiting station for
physical examination. He reported im-
mediately, because he was afraid to
disobey.
The doctor looked with approval
wpon Lloyd's six feet of physical per-
fection, and thought what a fine
guardsman he would make, but exam-
ined his heart twice before he passed
him as “physically fit;” it was beating
so fast.
(Continued next week).
——For high class job work come
to the “Watchman” office.
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
DAILY THOUGHT
Life is not so short but there is always
time for courtesy.—Iimerson.
Since the creators of style are co-
i operating with the government and
| advising us to use less wool, spring
costumes show much originality and
| ingenuity. Makers of women’s clothes
have agreed to use not more than 4%
+ | yards of woolen material in any suit |
i or frock; when possible, not more than
| three yards will be required, and it is,
i of course, advisable to eliminate wool
| altogether and wear suits of satin,
| jersey, silk, or similar fabrics. In
{ America, women have been accustom-
ed to wear such materials only in
| summer, or in frocks beneath heavy
| coats, but the satin suit may yet be-
i come popular for early spring use.
{Jersey has made its bow in a new
| form this spring, artificial silk being
| used instead of pure silk or wool. This |
| new jersey should be very satisfacto-
i ry, since it is somewhat heavier than
i the older materials of this type.
| A suit need not be wholly of wool,
{of course; very interesting combina-
| tions are made of serge, tricotine or
| gabardine, with satin or silk. The tu-
{nic skirt lends itself particularly well
! to such combinations, since the tunic
ican be of the heavier material and the
| underskirt of satin or silk. A suit,
' made with such a skirt, may have a
vest of the satin, or may have collar
and cuffs of the lighter weight mater-
ial which is used in the skirt. Mate-
{ rials of the same weight are frequent-
| ly used together, a plaided or checked
| material being made with a plain fab-
| ric harmonizing in coloring. Plaids
j are very fashionable this spring, the
{ darker colors being most favored.
| Tans, grays, browns, especially the
i ever popular tete de negre, and all
i shades of blue, are shown in the va-
| rious woolen materials.
i Colorings and materials chosen, the
j maid who would a-shopping go will
find that she has but little choice in
{the matter of the lines of her new
! costume. The silhouette must be
straight and flat, no matter how it is
achieved. Although the new skirts
are narrow, they are so made that
there is no restriction of movement,
for the woman of today is too much
occupied with her own duties and war
relief work to be -bothered by ham-
pering modes. The short jacket,
fashioned on Eton or bolero lines, is
to be popular, although the woman
who prefers a longer coat will find
that she has not been forgotten. One
suit, which somehow managed to come
within the regulations regarding the
use of wool, had a plaited coat which
came to the finger tips; perhaps the
necessary material was obtained by
making the skirt particularly narrow.
These suits, which are made wholly
of wool, should be of cheviot or home-
spun, since such fabrics are less easy
to combine with other materials than
are serges or tricotines.
The popularity enjoyed during the
winter by separate dresses and coats
has not waned, and the new spring
coats are decidedly smart in appear-
ance. Tweed, cheviot, jersey, duvetyn,
all are used for them, and they emu-
late the frequently mentioned silver-
lined cloud by possessing linings
which may well be shown to the world
occasionally. Nothing could be smart-
ier than a plain colored coat lined with
| checked material, and linings of plain
colored silk with effectively placed
bands of a contrasting color are
equally interesting. Both coats and
dresses seek to be taken for each oth-
er this spring; the coats, by being
trimly belted and collared as coat
dresses have been for so long, the
dresses, by acquiring trimly tailored
bodices and narrow sleeves. For
house wear, foulard has made its cus-
tomary spring appearance, blue pre-
dominating as usual. Taffeta is chos-
en for many an attractive frock, the
fabric lending a somewhat “dressed-
up” air which may be counteracted by
severity of line. One-sided draperies
and fastenings are much in vogue just
at present, and an occasional bustle
drapery bears witness to the lingering
fondness for that style.
Separate skirts, especially those of
satin or taffeta, are effective when
worn with the dainty hand-made
blouses that are being shown in such
variety; and the woman who has a
last season’s silk or satin dress, which
she wishes to remodel, will find it pos-
sible to make a fashionable separate
skirt from the material on hand. As
for the blouses, they are here in great
variety. Georgette, batiste, handker-
chief linen and similar materials are
used for the frilled or much-tucked
blouses; the beautifully colored crepes
which are shown for summer frocks
make exquisite blouses when used
with white collars and cuffs and some
of Rodier’s fabrics are most effective
when thus used. One, of pale blue and
white checks marked off with machine
hemstitching, is unusually attractive
blouse material, and another of pale
vellow with a hint of lavender is al-
most as good. Interesting combina-
tions are made of white and colored
materials, a yoke of one being hem-
stitched to a blouse of the other. Much
can be done with hemstitching, small
pieces of Georgette frequently being
combined in this way.
The hand-made blouse has never
been more popular nor more befrilled,
although it may follow the example of
a blouse of pale blue batiste and boast
a severely high collar and a front
whose only trimming was hand-sewn
pin tucks. The more strictly tailored
blouses are usually of linen, and these
also show combinations of two colors.
Crepe de chine is also used for these
waists, and blouses of dark taffeta are
worn with tailored skirts. :
A hat, which is chosen now with
a summer’s wear in mind, may well
be of one of the new rough braids
combined with silk; such combina-
tions are effective and wear well.
Feather trimmings are to be fashion-
able, burnt ostrich being among the
most popular. Many of the wings are
artificial ones, so one may choose
these in preference to the others.
Flowers are highly conventionalized,
and oddly colored fruits will bring de-
lightful color schemes into being, on
more than one fashionable hat this
spring.
Cleveland has over 10,000 women
Red Cross workers.
New York is the first State with a
| heavy immigrant population to give
the complete vote to women.
FARM NOTES.
| —Pennsylvania farmers on March
{1 held about 42 per cent. of the 1917
| oats crop.
i —Statistics show that only 63 per
; cent. of the 1917 corn crop was of
{ merchantable quality.
{ —It is estimated that 40 per cent.
of the wheat produced in Pennsylva-
‘nia is shipped out of the counties
i where grown.
—Buttermilk is equal to skim milk
i for feeding hogs, while whey is half
: as valuable. Whey, being low in pro-
| tein, is not well suited for young pigs
.and should be fed to older animals.
—By substituting grain, green feed,
: buttermilk, and whey for skim milk
{in animal feeding, much skim milk
imay be released for use in cooking,
| for condensing, or for making cottage
! cheese.
—Ordinary grass pasture, or green
i rye, oats, sorghum, rape. clover, al-
| falfa, peas or beans can take the place
lof skim milk after the little pigs get
{a start. Much green feed can be rais-
ed without greatly reducing the acre-
age of other crops.
{ —Calves and pigs do well when
i some skim milk is fed, but they need
{it only for a short time and in limit-
ied quantities. Except when fed to
| very young animals, skim milk is fed
i most economically when supplemented
(with grain. For dairy calves skim
milk may be substituted in part for
whole milk on the tenth day. If the
{calves are vigorous they should re-
| ceive a little grain and hay at two
| weeks of age, and it is safe to discon-
i tinue the skim milk five or six weeks
| later.
| —Not all farmers are able to sup-
| ply sufficient stable manure to fur-
‘nish the soil with the required quan-
‘tity of humus, and planters generally
have learned that the quickest way to
| secure humus is to plant cow peas.
| This leguminous crop gathers the un-
| used nitrogen from the air and un-
{locks with its roots the dormant pot-
ash and phosphoric acid in the sub-
soil. If, when the peas are sowed, they
are given the necessary amount of
| phosphoric acid and potash in a fer-
| tilizer, the nitrogenous power of the
pea will be increased, and when the
stubble and roots are plowed under
much of the mineral elements will re-
main in the soil ready to be taken up
by the next crop.
—All skim milk should be used—
none wasted. It should furnish the
maximum of food to human beings
and does this better when used direct,
as cottage cheese, prepared butter-
milk, or other by-products, than when
fed to animals and converted into
meat. Surplus skim milk may be used
economically to feed hogs, yet 100
| pounds of it, which will produce 15
‘pounds of cheese, produce only 4.8
pounds of dressed pork if fed with
corn. Skim milk if made into cottage
cheese furnishes nearly seven times
as much protein and nearly as much
energy as the dressed pork it would
produce. Of course the most nourish-
ment is obtained when skim milk is
used direct, either for drinking or
cooking. As far as possible, there-
fore, skim milk should be used for hu-
man food and only the excess fed to
I live stock.
—~Commercial fertilizers when used
alone act only as a temporary stimu-
lus, but when used in connection with
this legume, prepare the soil for a ro-
tation of crops; say oats, or wheat,
next year corn with cow peas, next
castor beans, supplying with each crop
the fertilizer best suited to its needs.
As the cow pea will not grow profita-
bly on very poor soil it must be given
the fertilizers it requires. Let us see,
then, what the cow pea will do for
the farmer in return for the mineral
fertilizers. It shades the soil and sup-
plies the nitrogen. It goes deep in
the soil and brings up the water and
mineral matter needed by the plant.
If sown thickly it will smother all the
weeds and clean the ground for the
next year’s crop. It prepares the soil
for every crop the farmer can plant.
It will grow in every kind of soil and
in any climate where corn, wheat or
oats will mature in the north, and will
flourish wonderfully far down in the
tropics. It thrives in the long, warm
summer, and by continued planting
will bring worn-out lands back to
their virgin condition.
—“While doing Farmers’ Institute
work in Indiana and Ohio this winter
I found many things that should in-
terest the farmers of Pennsylvania,
one of which is the concrete feeding
floor used by hog feeders,” Says Chas.
G. McLain, farm adviser of the Penn-
sylvania Department of Agriculture.
“This feeding floor is of a size to
accommodate the number of hogs be-
ing fed and every one of the men us-
ing them speaks very highly of them
from a sanitary and economical stand-
point.
“The feeding floor is usually about
30 feet by 30 feet square and is from
four to six inches thick. The thick-
ness is usually governed by the nature
of the ground on which the floor is
built.
“The great advantage of a feeding
floor is in the saving of feed, especial-
ly corn fed on the ear. If fed on the
ground or a sod, as usually is done,
much of the grain is lost while the
hogs are shelling it as it is trampled
into the soft ground. Another point
is that this feeding is usually done in
one spot and the result is if a rain
comes it is worked into a mud hole
and more grain is lost, and not only
that but a very dirty and unsanitary
spot is the result. Where this feeding
is done on a concrete floor every grain
is used by the hogs and the cobs can
be cleaned off every day or two or as
often as desired or is necessary.
“Where a number of hogs are fed
the saving in grain is considerable.
The sanitary point is one to give con-
sideration as the hogs are not gath-
ering up all kinds of filth from a con-
crete floor and the stench from a mud
hole is eliminated.
“In talking with a number of men
who are using the feeding floor the
general concensus of opinion is that
the cost of the floor is saved in a short
time in the feed bill and those who are
using them would not do without them
for any consideration. :
“This is a good permanent improve-
ment and the first cost is the last for
concrete improvements if properly
put in are permanent and repairs are
a negligible quantity.”
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