L
‘headquarters.
_mear vicinity,
"Bellefonte, Pa., January 10, 1919.
Love Versus
®
Wine
By
Sergeant Arthur Guy
I Empey
Author of “Over the Top,”
“First Call,” Etc.
o—-0-0
Mr. Empey’s Experi-
| encesDuring HisSeven-
teen Months intheFirst
Line Trenches of the
British Army in France
(Copyright, 1917, hy Ine. Mopars Newspaper
The English Lion was roaring, and
his growls could be heard all along the
western front. No doubt many a Ger-
man general was stirring uneasily in
his large concrete shell-proof dugout,
kilos behind the German front line, as
the ever-increasing thundering roar
reached his ears.
We Lad a close-up view of his ma-
jesty, the king of beasts, and to us he
was a scrry-looking specimen. Patches
of hide were worn away, while in his
tail were two big knots. If these knots
had have been labeled it would have
been casy to read “Neuve Chapelle”
and “Gallipoli.” The memory and
pain of these two disasters no doubt
increased the intensity of his thunder.
The British bombardment of the
German lines was on, a bombardment
which lasted over eight days and
nights. It was the forerunner of the
Big Push, or “Battle of the Somine.”
Atwell and I were sitting in a dug-
out of the support trench. Atwell was
a great, big, lovable fellow, and was
my mate. We both had been detailed
to the divisional intelligence depart-
ment, and were engaged upon “spy
work.”
Atwell, although of a naturally
cheery disposition, occasionally re-
lapsed into fits of despondency.
In the light from a stump of a can-
dle I was making out my previous
day’s report to turn imto brigade
Occasionally the en-
trance to the dugout would light up
with a red flare as a shell burst in the
Atwell was sitting on
nis paciz, witli: his back leaning against
the wet and muddy wall of the dugout.
The rays from the candle lighted up
his face.
Finishing my report, I got out a
“fag,” lighted it, and with an uneasy
feeling listened to the roar of the hell
outside. A long-drawn sigh caused
me to look in Atwell’s direction.
Never in my life have I seen such a
dejected and woe-begone countenance.
This, in a way, angered me, because
I, myself, right then, had a feeling of
impending disaster, a sort of unknown
dread, perhaps intermingled with a
far-away longing for the fields and
flowers at home. I wanted to be
cheered, and Atwell’s face looked like
a morgue.
Forcing a smile I slapped Atwell cn
the knee and said: :
“Come out o’ your trance. We've
both got a good chance for Blighty
with this bombardment on.”
Atwell looked in my direction, and
in a tone of voice which from him I
had never heard before, answered:
“Yank, I've been out since 14. I've
buried many a mate and I’ve seen
many & lucky bloke on 2 stretcher
bound for Blighty, and never gave it
a thought, but right now I feel as if
my stay ia the trenches will be short.
I've had semething on my mind since
September, 1914, and it’s been worry-
ing me pink. I’m goin’ to tell you the
story, and I'll give you my oath that
you're the first cne that’s ever heard
it from my lips; but I've got to have
your promise that you'll not judge me
too harshly. I've just got to get it
out ¢’ my system.”
Just then & sighing moan could be
heard overhead. It was one of our
“nine-point-two” shells aimed in the
direction of Berlin. We both instinc-
tively turned our eyes toward the en-
trance of the dugout and waited for
the burst. Nothing happened.
“Another bloomin’ dud,” ejaculated
Atwell, “A few more hundred pounds
gone * c¢,” and then aeain the
gloomy 100k spread over his counte-
nance. I was getting nervous and un-
easy. Trying to hide my fear, I said:
“For th’ love 0’ Mike, Atwell, crack
a smile. Give us that story of yours,
or else I'll go bughouse. You had bet-
ter get it off or your chest, because
I'm thinking that Fritz will soon be
replying to our strafing, and if an
eight-inch shell ever hits this dugout
they'll need no wooden crosses for
us, because our navaes will appear un-
der the caption ‘Missing.’ ”
With another sigh escaping from
his lips, which sent a cold shiver up
and down my spinal coluinn, he lighted
a fag and started in. This is what®he
told me: 3
“It was back in September, 1914.
You know I came out with the first
hundred thousand, the time when all
the fighting was done in the open.
The Germans were smashing every-
thing before them in their drive on
Paris. Our regiment was one of the
few opposed to Von Kluck. It was a
case of hold them for a few hours and
then retreat—always retreat. We
didn’t even have time to bury our
dead. The grub was rotten, and we
ag |
- were just about fagged out, dead tired,
* with no prospect of a relief or rest in
! front of us.
| “It was customary for small patrols
| of ten to twenty men in charge of a
| sergeant, to reconnoitre on our flanks.
| One day I was sent out in charge of
! one of these parties. Oh, yes, I was
a sergeant them, but I lost my stripes
—disohedience of orders they called
it. I suppose X ought to feel lucky I
{ wasn't shot, buat I'll leave it to you
whether I did wright cr not
“At that time I was in for a com-
mission, but, of course, didn’t get it.
If I had received it, no doubt by this
time I'd be pushing up the daisies
somewhere in France. In those days
officers didn’t I=ast long—made fine tar-
gets for the Boches.
“This patrol I was in charge of car-
ried rations for three days. We were
‘| to scout around just in front of the
{advancing enemy, but our orders were
not to engage them—just get informa-
tion, If the information obtained was
valuable enough, I was to send it in
by one of the mmen. There were four-
sidered a fair rider
“For the Love o' Mike, Atwell, Crack
a Smile)”
“The first day nothing happened.
We just scouted around. By night-
fall we were pretty tired, so when we
came to a willage—wasn’t a village,
either; just five or six houses clus-
tered around a chgreh—I decided to
go into billets for the night.
“Riding up to the largest house
which had a four-foot stone wall run-
ning around its garden, I dismounted
at the gate and knocked with the hilt
of my sword. Pretty soon a light ap-
peared at the front door—the house
was on a sort of a knoll, so this door
was in plain wiew., Then the sweet-
est volce I ewer heard called out in
trembling tones, in perfect English,
too, but with Just the suspicion of an
accent: . / $ 1g Bal
“‘Who is there, please?
‘I answered, ‘Just a few English
Lancers who , @esire a place to rest for
the night. The barn will do. We
don't want anything to eat, as we
have rations wwith us. So, if you will
accommodate was, miss, I will be much
obliged! I was in love with that girl
before I saw Xrer—the voice had done
the trick. =
“She answered, ‘Just a moment,
please, until TX tell father,” and then
the door shut and the light disap-
peared. We didn't have_to wait long
before the door opened, and she called
to me:
“‘Father bids you welcome, and so
do I, soldiers of England.’
“Then she opened the gate. There
she stood orn the gravel path with the
lantern held shoulder high. I trem-
bled all over——thought I saw a vision.
I tell you, Yank, she was beautiful.
One of the Xkind you would like to
take in your arms, but won’t for fear
of crushing. No use for me to try to
describe her, ¥ank, it's out of my line;
but she captured me, heart and soul.
There I stood like a great, big boob,
shaking and stuttering. At last 1
managed to blurt out a stammering
‘Thank you, miss.’
“She showed us the way to the sta-
bles and stood in the door holding the
lantern so we could see to unsaddle. 1
was fumbling: around with the buckles,
but for the 1ife of me couldn’t get that
and a broad grin, came over and help-
cd me. That grin got my goat, so on
the sly, T kielzed him on the ~~ He
let out un explosive ‘damn.’ After
that ‘damn’ the silence was ,ainful.
The poor fellow felt like a focl. 1 was
sorry ‘or him, even though I could
have killed kim for his thoughtless-
ness, But our embarrassment was
shortlived, because a silvery laugh
came from behind the lantern, a laugh
that was not loud, but it echoed and re-
echoed among the rafters overhead. I
can hear it right now, Yank.
“After the horses had been unsad-
dled and fed, the men looked appeal-
ingly at me. I knew what they want-
ed—they were dog tired, and dying to
hit the hay. Just as I was about to
ask permission for them to turn in, the
angel butted in with:
“‘Poor, tired soldiers, sleepy and
hungry. Come right into the house.
Jean has some supper and wine ready
for you.’
“We stammmered our thanks and fol-
lowed her into the house like a string
filling a glass here and there, laughing
with us and making us feel at home.
The war was forgotten. By this time 1
was madly in love with her, and she
knew it, beca tise when she leaned over
my shoulder to replenish my glass with
my shoulder and gave it just the slight-
est squeeze. I was in heaven.
“It was getting late and the wine
was beginning to tell on the men. They
were falling asleep in their chairs. 1
had a hard job waking four of them
to go on guard. They got their rifles
and were standing around ine for in
structions, when our hostess came over
to me and, resting her hand on my
arm, with again the slightest of
squeezes and pleading eyes, interceded
for them.
“ ‘Sergeant,’ she said. ‘let the poor
boys sleep. They are so tired. There
is no danger. The Germans are miles
away. Iknow this to be true. Do this
for me.” And again that squeeze.
“I, like a fool, listened to her, and
gave an unwilling assent. The men
' looked their gratitude. Jean, the man-
. servant, led them out to the barn,
where an abundance of hay had been
! spread for their beds. I was following,
teen of us, and we were mounted. I |
was in the Lancers then, and was con- |
i arm stole around my waist.
when a whisper in my ear made my
head swim:
“‘Don’t go yet, my sergeant, stay
with me.
“I stayed, worse luck.
“We sat on-a settee, talking, and her
I wasn’t
! slow, either, and as you know, Yank, I
head in bewilderment.
have a pretty goed reach. Once, she
spoke to me in French, but I shook my
In a few min-
‘ utes the servant returned, and Adri-
' enne—she told me her name—called
him to her, and said:
“Jean, go down in the wine cellar
"and get some of that old port and give
it to the soldiers of England. Poor
boys, it will warm them.” She added
! something in French I could not under-
stand. Then she added:
“Leave a bottle here for the ser-
geant and me.’
“I protested against more wine for
the boys. Her pleading overruled my
good judgment, and I consented. The
servant left to do her mission, and I
proposed. Her answer was a kiss. I
was the happiest man in France.
“Presently Jean returned and silent-
ly placing a bottle and two glasses on
the table withdrew. We were alone.
She took the bottle and, pouring out a
glass of wine, touched it to her lips
and handed it to me with this toast:
“ ‘Drink, my sergeant. Drink to our
betrothal. Drink to, the honor of
France. Drink to the honor of Eng-
land. Drink to the confusion of our
enemies.’
“I drank with my fool heart pound-
ing against my ribs. Then blackness.
“When I awoke, I was lying on the
settee, my head bursting with pain.
The gray dawn was filtering through
the curtained windows, and there, in
the middle of the room, with my Adri-
enne in his arms, stood a captain of
Uhlans. I was a prisoner. I saw it all
in a flash. She had betrayed me. Now
I knew why she had wanted no guard
posted. That wine we pledged our
troth in was drugged. What an ass I
hag been! :
“I closed my eyes and pretended to
be asleep. They were talking:.in Ger-
man. Pretty soon the captain came
over and roughly shook me. I only
grunted. With an exclamation of dis-
gust, he called out in German. Two
troopers came in and, lifting me by the
shoulders and feet, carried me out into
the air. I slightly opened my eyes and
to Me, Will You?”
saw that I was being carried out to the
gate, where two horses were standing
with thelr reins thrown over : hitching |
post. By the equipment I knew cne of
the horses belonged to the captain,
“The captain said something to the
orderly, who left in the direction of
the house. Now was my chance.
Springing to my feet and leveling the
pistol at the captain, I grabbed the
reins of his horse from the post ané
mounted. The orderly came running
toward me, yelling cut in German, and
I could see soldiers emerging from the
stable. I had to act quickly.
“When 1 mounted, the captain
reached for his revolver. I covered
him with mine and, with a shriek of
terror, Adrienne threw herself in
front of the Uhlan captain to protect
him. 1 saw her too late. My bullet
pierced her left breast, and a red
smudge showed on her white silk
blouse as she sank to the ground. I
shot the orderly’s horse to prevent im-
mediate pursuit and then away on a
mad gallop down the road. It was a
long, chase, but I escaped them.
“The rest of my men were captured.
At our headquarters I had to lie like
a trooper. Told them we had been
ambushed and wiped out. It was the
only way to save my skin. There
were no witnesses against me, so I
got off with reducticn to the ranks and
a transfer to another regiment. They
smelled a rat, all right, but had no
proof.
“os that Is my story, Yank. Just
forget that I ever told it to you.
Enough to make a fellow get the blues
occasionally, isn’t it? Just pass me a
fag, and take that look off your face.”
I gave him the cigarette and, with-
out a word, went cut of the dugout
and left him alone. I “vas thinking of
Adrienne.
Upon reaching the tronch I paused
in wonder and f° Li. 'Yhe sky was
alight with a red glave. The din was
terrific. A constant swi hing and
rushing through the air, intermingled
with a sighing moan, gave tes-
timony that our batteries were
sweating blood. The trench seemed
to be rolling like a ship. I stood in
awe. This bombardment of ours was
something indescribable, and a shud-
der passed through me as I thought
of the havoc and destruction caused
in the German lines. At that moment
I really pitied the Germans, but not
for long, because suddenly hell seemed
hear their “five-nines”
through the air and bursting in the
artillery lines in our rear.
ally a far-off rum-hum-rump-rump,
Crash! Bru-u-nn-u-gg! could be heard
as one of their high-calibered shells
came over and burst in our reserve.
I crouched against the parados, hardly
able to breathe. While in this position,
right overhead, every instant getting '
louder, came a German shell—hiz-z-z!
bang-g-g! I was blinded by the flash.
Down I went, into the mud. Strug-
gling to my feet in the red glare of the
bombardment.
I saw that the traverse on my left :
Covered
had entirely disappeared.
with mud, weak and trembling. I could
hear what sounded like far-distant
volces coming from the direction of
the bashed-in traverse.
“Blime me, get ’is bloomin’ napper
outa th’ mud; ’e’s chokin’ to death.:
Pass me a bandage—tyke ’is b’yonet
fer a splint. Blime me, 'is leg is
smashed, pot ’arf h’it h’aint. Th’ rest
o’ you blokes ‘op it fer a stretcher.
‘Ello, ’e’s got another one—quick, a
tourniquet, the poor bloke’s a’bleedin’
to death. Quick, h’up against the par-
apet, ’ere comes another.”
Whiz-z-z! Bang-g-g!
Another flare, and once again I was
thrown into the mud. I opened my
eyes. Bending over me, shaking me
by the shoulder was Atwell. His voice
sounded faint and far away.
came to with a rush.
“Blime me, Yank, that was a close
one. Did it get you?”
He helped me to my feet and I felt
myself all over.
right, he yelled in my ear:
“We've got to leg it out of ‘ere.
Fritz is sure sendin’ over ‘whiz-bangs’
and ‘minnies” Number 9 platoon in
the next fire bay sure clicked it: About
. eighteen of them have gone West.
* Come on, we'll see if we can do any-
- thing for the poor blokes.”
We plowed through the mud and |
came into the next fire bay. In the
' light of the bursting shells an awful
sight met our eyes. The traverses were
: bashed in, the fire step was gone, and
. in the parados was a hole that looked
| you Poor English Fool! Make Love ; lie & subway entrance.
saddle off. One of the men, with a wink |
There was
mad and blood.
Every now and then, ducking as a
| “whiz-bang” or “minnie” came over,
: we managed to get four of the wound-
while th2 other was the orderly’s. The
two trsepers dumped me down on the
road, one giving me a kick with his
boot. 1 was lying on my left side, and
by a certain hard pressure on my ribs
1 knew they had neglected to search
me. That pressure was my automatic
pistol. A feeling of exultation rushed
ove? me. I would euchre them yet.
“Fate worked into my hands. A hail
i in German came from the stables, and
one of the troopers left to answer it.
The odds were even, one against one.
i I slowly turned over on my face, as if
of sheep. Yank, to me that meal was a |
dream, She flitted around the table, |
red wine, her hair would brush my |
cheek, and once she rested her hand on |
in sleep, and my fingers grasped the
butt of the automatic, but just then I
heard steps on the gravel walk, The
captain and Adrienne were coming to-
ward me.
“She stopped beside me and said in
English: :
“‘You poor English fool! Make
love to me, will you? Good-by, my
foolish sergeant. While you are rot-
ting in prison think of your Adrienne, :
bah!
“My hand gave the butt of my auto-
matic just the slightest squeeze. I
was thinking of her hand on my
shoulder. Well, two could play that
game.
ed on the stretchers, and Atwell and
I carried one to the rear to the first
aid dressing station.
minutes before, or at least, what used
to be the dugout, but now all that
could be seen was a caved-in mass of
dirt; huge square-cut timbers sticking
{ out of the ground and silhouetted
against the light froin bursting shells,
looking like huge giants. A shudder
passed through me as I realized that
if we had stayed in the dugout we
would have now been lying fifteen to
twenty feet down, covered by that
caved-in earth and wreckage.
Atwell jerked his head in the direc-
tion of the smashed-in dugout, and, as
was his wont, remarked :
“How about that fancy report you
were writing out a few minutes ago?
Didn’t I tell you that it never paid to
{ make out reports in the front line?
| plokes look where vou're goin’? Youd
It’s best to wait until you get to head-
quarters, because what’s the use of
wasting all that bally time when
you're liable to be buried in a
dugout?”
Turning my head to listen to Atwell, I
ran plump into a turn in the trench.
A shout came from the form on the |
stretcher:
“Why in the bloody ’ell don’t you
think this was a bloomin’ Picadilly
screeching
Occasion-
Then I
Seeing I was all !
We passed the |
dugout which I had left but a few |
buss, and I was out with my best girl
on a joy-ride.”
I mumbled my apologies and the
form relapsed into silence. Then the
muddy Tommy on the stretcher began
to mumble. Atwell asked him if he
wanted anything. With a howl of rags
he answered:
“Of all the bloody nerve—do I want
anything—only a bloody pair o’
crutches, a dish of ‘fish and chips’
and a glawss of stout.”
When we came to the first aid dress-
ing station we turned our charge over
to some R. A. M. C. men, and ducking
and running through the communieca-
tion trench, we at 'ast reached one of
the roomy and safe “elephant dug-
outs.” At last we were safe. Stum-
bling over the feet of men we cae to
an unoccupied corner and sat down in
the straw. Several candles were burn-
ing. Grouped around these candles
were a lot of Tommies, their faces pale
and a frightened look in their eyes
Strange to say, the conversation had
nothing to do with themselves, They
were sympathizing with the poor fel-
lows in the front line who were click-
inc it.
T must have dropped off to sleep.
When I awoke it was morning, and oé-
ter drinking our tea and eating our
bread and bacon, Atwell and I report-
ed to brigade headquarters, and were
again detailed into the froni-lins
trench.
10,600 Porto Ricans Found War Jobs.
Approximately 10,000 Porto Rican
laborers have been brought into the
continental United States Employ-
ment Service in the last two months
and have proved a very considerable
asset in relieving labor shortage at
various construction projects under
way for the War Department in
southern States.
Delayed at the outset by lack of
transportation facilities, the importa-
tion of Porto Rican labor went on
smoothly for some weeks with two ar-
my transports running regularly be-
tween the island and Southern ports.
As soon as the armistice went into
effect the shipments were stopped, in
order not to complicate domestic la-
bor problems.
All of the Porto Ricans brought in!
in this manner have been employed at | O1'¢ Pall in a year.
to burst loose from the German lines | ,, jects under the control of the ar- |
as their artillery opened up. I could |
They are
paid the full wages current in the dis-
tricts of their employment.
Unwonted prosperity has
! brought to many Porto Rican fami-
{ my’s construction division.
' squabs a year.
FARM NOTES.
_—Storing potatoes for abnormally
high prices is a very risky proposi-
tion. The grower who accepts a fair
price for his tubers delivered from the
field to market is playing safe.
—DMore animals should be raised to
conserve the surplus crops. The ani-
mals will do their own harvesting and
relieve the farmer of considerable
work. They save the high cost of
marketing bulky products and retain
much of the fertility that crops, if
sold, would remove.
-—If the old fruiting canes of the
raspberry and blackberry bushes have
not been cut out, it should be done at
once. After the fruit crop is matured
the fruiting canes die, and are likely
to harbor insects and diseases. Cut
out and burn these, and also all small
weak canes. Mulch the patch with
rotted stable manure or other decay-
ed vegetable matter and work this in-
to the soil in the spring.
—For food
usually ciassed
ally the
purposes pigeons are
with poultry. Cultur-
in a class by themselves,
produci..z meat only, producing it
very quickly, and under conditions
that do not admit of growing any oth-
er creature used for food.
While the ideal arrangement for
pigeons is to have their house on the
ground, and a smail covered yard—
called a “fly”—connecting with it—
pigeon keeping may be carried on ex-
tensively in upper rooms, or lofts,
with or without an open-air fly. Many
flocks of pigeons are kept in large
cities in quarters provided for them in
the lofts or on the roofs of buildings
used for mercantile and manufactur-
ing purposes.
A space six feet square, and high
enough for the attendant to stand
erect, will accommodate eight to ten
pairs of pigeons for squab breeding.
The birds mate and begin breeding
when six to seven months old. Two
eggs are laid by a hen. Then the
male shares with her the duty of in-
cubation. The young hatch in about
17 days. At four weeks old average
good squabs will weigh about three-
quarters of a pound each. Some of
the larger ones will weigh over a
pound at that age.
A good pair of breeders will pro-
duce six or seven more pairs of
J As many as eleven
pairs of squabs have been produced by
When production
is high the female lays and begins in-
| cubation while she has young still in
the nest, leaving the care of them to
. her mate.
been |
lies as a result of this movement. It!
. is estimated that 90 per cent. of the
; islanders had no steady employment ing have been due to poor stock—old
before coming to the mainland. Here
they earned an average of $4 a day,
and sent regular allotments averag-
ing half this sum back to their homes.
office authorities for the establishment
of money order stations at the camps
+ where the Porto Ricans are employed.
i An interesting feature of the exper-
iment has been the discovery that
many of the Porto Ricans, brought in
Ofiginay as common laborers, are in
reality skilled workers of considera-
ble ability. Many.of them who work-
ed as carpenters at home Brought kits
i of modern tools with them, and hav-
, work, received - wages
| promise. ;
i The newspaper comment in San Ju-
i Service is unanimous that it is “the
! best thing that ever happened in Por-
to Rica.” Recently a number of wom-
| en secretaries, stenographers, typists,
' ete., conversant with both Spanish
and English, have registered with the
! San Juan office of the Employment
. Service, in the hope of obtaining po-
| sitions in the mainland.—New York
Times.
A Pearl Farm.
i The New York Mail describes an
extensive salt-water farm in Japan
To facilitate this procedure ar-|
rangements were made with the post- |
|
‘
i
Good breeding stock is necessary to
succeed in pigeon raising. It is advis-
able to buy pigeons from reliable
breeders—those who guarantee their
stock. Many failures in squab-rais-
pigeons past their period of useful-
ness, or perhaps too many male birds.
There are a great many varieties of
pigeons, but only a few are used in
squab-raising. The Homer is gener-
ally considered the most popular va-
riety. The United States Department
of Agriculture has a publication on
squab-raising, Farmers’ Bulletin 684,
which will aid the beginner.
Raising squabs has greatly increas-
ed in cities in recent years. On farms
the tendency has been the other way.
On a farm a flock of free pigeons, if
not kept down by killing off the in-
| crease, soon. becomes a nuisance, de-
|
| an on this activity of the Employment |
{ the table.
i
i
1
|
|
|
|
|
: ing proved their ability to do the | :
which made | 2° C2mage,
| America seem a veritable land of | 8TOURd.
stroying grain and doing a great deal
especially on new-seeded
_ The remedy for this is to keep the
pigeons under control and use the
young birds, except the few needed to
eep up the flock, as fast as ready for
t By establishing the flock
of pigeons in an accessible place,
giving them a little feed occasionally
in their loft, and keeping them shut
in and feeding them when they could
damage new-seeded ground, a farm
flock of pigeons can be made to con-
tribute substantially to the meat sup-
ply, and still be prevented from doing
' any serious damage.
i
|
; where the gardeners encourage oys- |
: ters to make pearls.
an area of about fifty square miles,
and the water varies in depth from
five to fifteen fathoms. The pearl
farmer selects spots where the oys-
ter spawn is plentiful, and plants
. small rocks and stones. As soon as
: they are covered with oyster spat he
| places them in special beds, where
{ they lie undisturbed until the third
ear.
It is said that an oyster will not
produce a pearl unless a foreign sub-
| stance irritates it. As soon as it feels
i the irritation, it proceeds to cover the
: troublesome object with nacre, layer
| upon layer, until, after a few years,
. it has made a pearl. When the oys-
‘ters are large enough the pearl far-
| mer takes them from their beds and,
i carefully opening them, introduces
| into their bodies a tiny speck of some
| foreign substance. After that he re-
| places them in the sea. At the end of
{ from three to five years the oyster has
| coated the foreign substance with
nacre and has made a pearl.
Take Care of the Nickels.
“Careful saving and a careful
spending invariably promote success,”
says Marshall Field. “It is not what
a man earns, but what he saves, that
makes him rich. John Jacob Astor
once said that the saving of his first
$1,000 cost him the hardest struggle.
As a rule, people do not know how to
save. The average young man of to-
day when he begins to earn is ineclin-
ed to habits of extravagance. He gets
the idea that he must indulge in hab-
its corresponding to some other young
man, without regard to what he
earns; and he imagines he cannot be
manly without. The 5, 10 or 15 cents
a day he squanders, while apparently
a trifle, would if saved in a few years
amount to thousands of dollars and
go far toward establishing the foun-
dation of his future career. Too few
realize that in order to acquire dol-
lars one must take care of the nick-
els. The young man should begin to
save the moment he begins to earn,
be the saving ever so little, and if he
does so the habit will be of incalcula-
ble benefit to him in after life.”—
prank Carpenter, in the Record-Her-
1 ald.
——They are all good enough, but
the “Watchman?” is always the best.
The farm has!
!
—To make use of a valuable food
which has been very much neglected,
the Federal Dairy Division is urging
dealers to consider seriously the ad-
visability of putting out skim milk on
their regular milk routes. Consum-
ers can help the movement by asking
for this product.
In the past many dealers have been
opposed to the sale of skim milk on
the routes, fearing that it would cur-
tail the consumption of whole milk.
It is believed, however, that many
people, if they had an opportunity,
would use skim milk for cooking and
drinking, in addition to their custom-
ary quantity of whole milk. Skim
milk sold in this way should be pas-
teurized and handled as carefully as
market milk. It should also be label-
ed conspicuously to comply with lo-
cal requirements, so that the consum-
er may be fully informed as to its
true character.
Skim milk contains all the food ele-
ments of whole milk except the fat.
It has a little more protein than
whole milk, but because of the defi-
ciency in fat, does not supply so much
.energy. When 4 per cent. whole milk
—an average butterfat content of
market milk—sells at 12 cents a
quart, skim milk is worth 12.4 cents
a quart as a source of protein. In en-
ergy value, skim milk is worth 6.83
cents a quart when 4 per cent. whole
milk is selling for 12 cents.
—The land can be made to produce
more by adding plant food directly to
the soil; or, by tilling the soil in such
a manner that it will yield larger
crops with the plant food already in
it. Soils fail because the plant food
is not available. If the soil has suffi-
cient plant food for large crops and
yet does not produce, something is
lacking. It may be lack of moisture,
or temperature, or vegetable matter,
or tillage. Lack of tillage is apt to
make the soil hard aua break up clod-
dy; it may cause the soil to bake, run
together and thus evaporate excessive
moisture, and the plants suffer dur-
ing a short drought. Shallow break-
ing and unsatisfactory harrowing or
discing may fail to make a reservoir
of the soil for the storage of winter-
rains and snows, leaving the summer
and spring drought to deplete the
moisture supply. Where there is in-
sufficient plant food one or more of
the essential plant foods—nitrogen,
phosphate or potassium—must be ap-
plied in the manure or fertilizer.
Even then ample tillage will be re-.
quired to get the soil in a state of
good cultivation in order to secure
the benefits of these plant foods.
7