Fa Bellefonte, Pa., January 24, 1919. The Winning of a D. C.M. By Sergeant Arthur Guy Empey Author of “Over the Top,” “First Call,” Etc. O0-0-0 Mr. Empey’s Experi- ences During HisSeven- teen Months in theFirst Line Trenches of the British Army in France , by The McClure News] (Copyright, 1917 by Tho Me 0 ul paper Our gun’s crew, as was its wont, was sitting on the straw in the corner of our billet, far from the rest of the sec- tion. The previous night we had been relieved from the fire trench, and were “resting” in rest billets. Our “day's rest” had been occupied in digging a bombing trench, this trench to be used for the purpose of breaking in would be bombers. Hungry Foxcroft was slicing away at a huge loaf of bread, while on his knee he was balancing a piece of “is- sue” cheese. His jack-knife was pretty, dull and the bread was hard; so every, now and then he would pause in his cutting operation to take a large bite from the cheese. Curly Wallace whispered to me: “Three bob to a tanner, Yank, that he eats the cheese before he finishes slic- ing that ‘rooty.’” I whispered back: “Nothing doing, Curly, you are Scotch, and did you ever see a Scots- man bet on anything unless it was a sure winner?” He answered in an undertone: “Well, let’s make it a pack of fags. How about it, Yank?” I acquiesced. (Curly won the fags.) Sailor Bill was sitting next to Curly, and had our mascot, Jim—a sorry-look- ing mut—between his knees, and was picking hard pieces of mud from its paws. Jim was wagging his stump of Jim Was Wagging His Stump of a Tail and Watching Intently. a tail and was intently watching Hun- gry’s operation on the bread. Every time Hungry reached for the cheese Jim would follow the movement with his eyes, and his tail would wag faster. Hungry, noting this look, bit off a small piece of the cheese and flipped it in Jim’s direction. Jim deftly caught it in his mouth and then the fun be- gan. Our mascot hated cheese. It was fun to see him spit it out and sneeze. Ikey Honney reached over, took the candle, and started searching in his pack, amidst a chorus of growls from us at his rudeness in thus depriving us of light. I was watching him closely and suspected what was coming. Sure enough, out came that harmonica and I knew it was up to me to start the ball of conversation rolling before he began playing, because, after he had once started, nothing short of a Ger- man “£ve-nine” shellburst would stop him. £1 slyly kicked Sailor %:.., who immediately got wise, and tien I broke the ice with: “Sailor, I heard you say this after- noon, while we were building that traverse, that it was your opinion that darn few medals were really won; that it was more or less an accident. Now, Just because your D. C. M. came up with th. -~ations, and, as you say, it was wis! 2d on you, there is ro reason in my mind to class every winner of a medal as being ‘accidentally lucky.’ ” This medal business was a sore point with Sailor Bill, and he came right back at me with: “Well, if any of you lubbers can tell me where a D. C. M. truly came aboard 1 in a shipshape manner—that is, up the after gangplank—then I will strike my colors and lay up on a lee shore for drydock.” Ikey Honney had just taken a long, indrawn breath, and his cheeks were puffed out like a balloon, preparatory to blowing it into the harmonica, which he had at his lips, but paused, and, re- moving the musical instrument of tor- ture. he exploded: “Blime me, I know of a bloke who won a D. C. M, and it wasn’t acci- dental or lucky, either. I was right out in front with him. Blime me, I sure had the wind up, but with French it was ‘business as usual’ He just carried on.” We all chirped in, “Come on, Ikey, let’s have the story.” “1 will if you'll just let me play this one tune first,” answered Ikey. He started in and was accompanied | by a dismal, moaning howl from Jim. Ikey had been playing about a minute, when the orderly sergeant poked his | head in the door of the billet, saying: | “The captain says to stop that infer nal noise.” Highly insulted, IXey stopped, with; “Some people ’ave no idea of mu sic.” We agreed with him, Somewhat mollified, he started: Corporal French is the same bloke | who just returned from Blighty and joined the Third section yesterday.” (Author's Note—The incident here re- lated is a true happening. Corporal French won the D. C. M. in the manner described by Honney. I will not attempt to give it in the cockney dialect.) “We were holding a part of the line up Fromelles way, and were about two hundred yards from the Germans. This sure was a ‘hot’ section of the line. We were against the Prussians, and it was a case, at night, of keeping your ears and eyes open. No Man's land was full of their patrols and ours, and many fights took place between them. “One night we would send over a trench-raiding party and the next night over would come Fritz. “There was a certain part of our trench nicknamed De:ath alley, and the company which held it was sure to click it hard in casualties. In five nights ‘in’ I clicked for three recon-: noitering patrols. i cer “John French—he was a lance cor-: poral then—was in charge of our sec-' tion. This was before I went to ma- | chine gunners’ school and transferred | to this outfit. This French certainly | was an artist when it came to scout- ing in No Man’s land. He knew every | inch of the ground out in front, and | was like a cat—he could see in the] dark. “On the night that he won his D. C. M. he had been out in front with a pa- | trol for two hours, and had just re-| turned to the fire trench. A sentry down on the right of Death alley re- ported a suspicious noise out in front, and our captain gave orders for an- other patrol to go out and investi- gate. “Corporal Hawkins was next on the list for the job, but, blime me, he sure had the wind up, and was shaking and trembling like a dish of jelly. “A new leftenant, Newall by name, had just come out from Blighty, and a pretty fine officer, too. Now, don’t you chaps think because this chap was killed that I say he was a good offi- cer, because, dead or alive, you would have to go a bloomin’ long way to get another man like Newall. But this: young leftenant was all eagerness to, get out in front. Yon see, it was his first time over the top. He noticed that Hawkins was shaky, and so did French. Trench went up to the offi- cer and said: “‘Sir, Corporal Hawkins has been : feeling queer for the last couple of days, and I would deem it a favor if 1 could go in his place. “Now, don’t think that Hawkins was | a coward, because i:> was not, for the best of us are liable te get the ‘shakes’ | at times. You know, Hawkins was killed at La Bassee a couple of months . ago—XKkilled while going over the top. i “There were seven in this patrol— ! Leftenant Newall, Corporal French, my- self and four more trom B company. | “About sixty yards from Fritz's | trench an old ditch—must have been | the bed of a creek, but at that time was dry—ran parallel with the Ger- | man barbed wire. Lining the edge of | this ditch was a scrubby sort of hedge which made a fine hiding place for a patrol. Why Fritz had not sent out a working party and done away with this screen was a mystery to us. “French leading, followed by Leften- ant Newall, myself third, and the rest trailing behind, we crawled through a sap under our barbed wire leading out to a listening post in No Man’s land. We each had three bombs. Newall carried a revolver—one of those Yankee Colts—and his cane. Blime me, I believe that officer slept with that cane. He never went without it. The rest of us were armed with bombs and rifles, bayonets fixed. We had pre- viously blackened our bayonets so they would not shine in the glare of a star shell. “Reaching the listening post French told us to wait about five minutes ur til he returned from a little scout’ trip of his own. When he lef with every nerve tense, listened for his coming back. We could almost hear each other’s hearts pumping, but not a sound around the listening post. Sud- ly a voice, about six feet on my right whispered, ‘All right. the way is clear; follow rar and carry on. “My L.ood froze in my veins. It was uncanny the way French ap- proached us without being heard. “Then, with backs bending low, out of the listening post we went, in the direction of the ditch in front of the German barbed wire. We reached the scrubby hedge and lay down, about six feet apart, to listen. French and the officer were on the right of our line. About twenty minutes had elapsed when suddenly, directly in front of the German wire we could see dark, shad- owy forms rise from the ground and move along the wire. Silhouetted against the skyline these forms looked like huge giants, and took on horrible shapes. My heart almost stopped beat- ing. I counted s'xty-two in all, as the ; last form faded into the blackness on my left. “A whisper came to my ears: “‘Don’t move or make a sound, a strong German raiding party is going across.” It was French’s voice. I did not hear him approach me, nor leave. Yank, he must have got his training with the Indians on your great plains | of America! | “I could hear a slight scraping noise on my right and left. Pretty soon the : whole reconnoitering patrol was ly- | ing in a circle, head" in. French had, | in his noiseless way, given orders for | them to close in on me, and await in- structions. “Leftenant Newall’s voice, in a very low whisper, came to us: “‘Boys, the men in our trenches have received orders not to fire on ace count of our reconnoitering patrol be- ing out in front. A strong German raiding party has just circled our left, and is making for our trench. It's up! to us to send word back. We can’t all go, because we might make too much noise and warn the German par- | ty, so it’s up to one of us to carry the news back to the trench that the raid- ' ing party is on its way. With this information if will be quite casy for our boys to wipe them out. But its up to the rest of us to stick out here, | and if we go west we have done our duty in a noble cause. French, you had better take the news back, because you are too valuable a man to sacrifice.’ “French, under his breath, swered : “ ‘Sir, I've been out since Mons, and this is the first time that I've ever been insulted by an officer. If this patrol is going to click it, 'm going to click it too. If we come out of this you can try me for disobedience of or- ders, but here I stick, and Tll be damned if I go in, officer or no offi- “Newall, in a voice husky with ema- tion, answered: ¢“ ‘French, it's men like you that make it possible for “our Little Island” to withstand the world. You are a true Briton, and I’m proud of you. “I was hoping that he would detail me to go back, but he didn’t. Hender- son was picked for the job. When Henderson left Newall shooir hands all around. I felt queer and Icnely. “You see, fellows, it was this way: Henderson was to tell the men in the trench that we had returned and that it was all right for them to turn loose on the raiding party with their rifle and machine gunfire, without us click- ing their fire. Leftenant Newall sure was a lad, not ’arf he weren't. “That next twenty minutes of wait- ing was hell. Then, from out of the blackness, over toward our trench, rang that old familiar ‘’Alt, who goes there?” We hugged the ground. We knew what was coming. Then, a vol- ley from our trench, and four ‘type- writers’ (machine guns) turned loose. Bullets cracked right over our heads. One hit the ground about a foot from me, ricocheted, and went moaning and sighing over the German lines. “Lefrenant Newall sobbed under his breath: “‘God, we're in direct line of our own fire. The trench-raiding party must have circled us.’ “Cur boys in our trench sure were doing themselves proud. The bullets "were cracking and biting the ground all around us. “In between our trench and our party, curses rang out in German as the Boches clicked the fire from the English trench. Star shells were shooting into the air and dropping in No Man’s land. It was a great but terrible sight which met our eyes. Fritz’s raiding party was supe being wiped out. “Ten or fifteen dark forms, the rem- nants of the German raiding party, dashed past us fn the direction of the German trench. We hugged the ground. It was our only chance. We knew that it would only be a few seconds before Fritz turned loose. If we had legged it for our trench we would have been wiped out by our own fire. You see, our boys thought we were safely in. “Then, up went Fritz’s star lights, turning night into day, and hell cut loose. twigs from the hedge over our heads. “Suddenly the fellow on my left, MacCauley by name, emitted a muf- fled groan, and started kicking the ground; then silence. He had gone west. A bullet through the napper, I suppose. There were now five of us left. “Suddenly Leftenant Newall, in a faint, choking voice, exclaimed: “ ‘They've got me, French; through the lung,’ and then fainter— ‘you're in command. His voice died away. Pretty soon he started moaning loudly. The Germans Holding His Dying Officer's Head. must have heard these moans, because they immediately turned their fire on us. French called to me: “‘Honney, come here, my lad, our officer has clicked it.’ . “I crawled over to him. He was sitting oa the ground with the leften- an- Their bullets were snipping it’s | See that—' | told him to get low or he would click it. He answered: “Since when does a bloomin’ lance | corporal take orders from a bloody pri- : vate? You tell the rest of the boys, if ' they’ve not as yet gone west, to leg it back to our trench at the double and ' get a stretcher, and you go with them. This 1ad of ours has got to get medical i attention, and damned quick, too, if we ' want to stop this bleeding! “Just then a German star shell land- i ed about ten feet from us, and in its white, ghostly light I could see French sitting like a bloomin’ statue, his hands covered with blood, trying to make a tourniquet out of a bandage and his bayonet. “T told the rest to get in and get the stretcher, They needed no second urging, and soon French was left there alone, sitting on the ground, holding his dying officer’s head in his lap. A | icture, Il it. He s 3 Corporal | pretty picture, I eall it. He sure was a man, was French—with the bullets i cracking overhead and kicking up the dirt around him.” Just then Happy butted in with: “Were you one of the men who went in for the stretcher?’ Ikey answered: “None of your d— business. If you blokes want to hear this story through, don’t interrupt.” Happy vouchsafed no answer, “About ten minutes after the fellows left for the stretcher, French got a bul- let through the left arm.” . Sailer Bill interrupted here: “How do you know it was ten min- utes?” Izey blushed and answered: “French told me when he got back to the trench. You see, he carried the officer back through that fire, be- cause the stretcher bearers took too long in coming out.” I asked Ikey how Corporal French, being wounded himself, could carry Leftenant Newall in, because I knew Leftenant Newall to be a six-footer and no lightweight. You see, he had at one time been in command of my platoon at the training depot in Eng- fand. Ikey answered: “Well, you blokes give me the proper pip, and you can all bloomin’ well go to h-——,” and he shut up like a clam. Hungry Foxcroft got up and silently | withdrew froma our circle. In about ten minutes he returned, followed by a tall, fair-haired corporal who wore a little strip of gold braid on the left sleeve of his tunic, denoting that he had been once wounded, and also wore a little blue and red ribbon on the left | breast of his tunic, the field insignia of the Distinguished Conduct medal. Hungry, in triumph, brought him into our circle and handed him a fag, which he lighted in the flame from the : candle on the mess tin, and then Hun- gry introduced him to us: “Boys, I want you to meet Corporal French.” He shook hands with all the boys. Ikey got red and was trying to ease | out of the candle light, when Sailor Bill grabbed him by the tunic and held him. Then Hungry Foxcroft carried on: “French, I'm goiug to ask you a mighty personal question, and I know you’ll answer it. How in h— did you, hit in the left arm, bring Leftenant Newall back from that reconnoitering patrol?” French grew a little red, and an- swered : “Well, you see, boys, it was this way. Honney and I stuck out there with him, and, taking the slings from our rifles, Honney made a sort of rope which he put around my shoulder and under the arm of the leftenant, and Honney, getting the leftenant by the legs, we managed to get him into the ‘ trench. You know, I got a D. C. M. out of the affair, because I was the cor- poral in charge. Damned unfair, I call it, because they only handed Hon- | ney the Military medal, but if the true facts were known he was the bloke ! who deserved, not a D. C. M., but a V. : C. (Victoria Cross).” We all turned in Honney’s direction. | Bill, in his interest, had released his | hold on Honney’s tunic and Honney | had disappeared. Happy asked French if the leftenant i had died in No Man's land. French, with tears in his eyes, an- | swered : “No, but the poor lad went west | after we got him to the first-aid dress- ing station, and next day we buried him in the little cemetery at Fromel- les. He sure done his bit, all right, blime me, and here I am, bloomin’ well swankin’ with a ribbon on my chest.” A dead silence fell on the crowd. Each one of us was admiring the mod- esty of those two real men, French and Honney. But such is the way in the English army—the man who wins the medal al- ways says that the other fellow de- served it. And Germany is still wondering why they cannot smash through the Eng- lish lines. War on Sneezers Waged in Camden. War on the spitter and sneezer as a precaution against another outbreak of influenza is under way in Camden. Under the auspices of the Associated Charities, the motion-picture theatres will be used to educate the people against the danger of the practice. The Four-Minute Men of the country have agreed to offer their services in the campaign. Dr. H. H. Davies, president of the Board of Health, has issued warnings to the people to exercise care lest another epidemic visit the city. Camden is now ready to meet any emergency which may arise. A di- rectory of nurses, both professional and volunteer, has been compiled. Paraphernalia and furnishings used at the Emergency hospital in Battery B Armory have been stored away and ant’s head resting in his lap, and was getting out his first-aid packet. I will be kept for any future emergen- Cy. FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN. | | 50 | DAILY THOUGHT. Merciful Father, I will not complain, ‘I know that sunshine follows the rain. i —Joaquin Miller. How to Make and Use a Fireless | Cooker.—A fireless cooker needs not to be expensive, for one made at home at a cost of a few cents is every bit as good as one bought. The one describ- ed is French and very simple. The directions were given in LaNature by Dr. L. de Plonchy, who says they are the result of many years of exper- ience. Get a box—any old box will do, so long as it is large enough for the pot it is to hold, with plenty of space all around it. A roughly cubical or round box is best. This may be of wood or cardboard, though, of course, the stronger the material the more durable it will be. The box must have a cover or lid, which can be attach- ed with hinges, either of metal or of leather or cloth, and fastened down with a hasp or a loop of leather fit- ting over a nail. In the bottom of the box pack tight- | ly sawdust, ashes, straw, paper or old rags to a depth of about three inches. Now take the pot, which may be of | earthenware, metal or enamel, with a ' cover, but without a handle, and place . it upon a piece of flannel cloth, felt or | other non-conducting material—a ! piece of an old woolen skirt, a down | quilt or a felt table cover will serve as : . well as anything. ; around the sides and fold its corners { and edges down inside the pot. To | hold them thus put on the lid. The pot is now ready to be placed i in the box, just in the middle, on top Draw the stuff up! | of the layer of stuffing in the bottom. : All around the pot pack more stuffing { of the same kind, pressing it down | tightly and leaving no air spaces, un- i til an inch or so above the rim of the | pot, and then making it slope upward i toward the edges of the box, so as to | leave a funnel-like opening down to | the pot. Remove the lid from the pot t i of the cloth from inside it to cover ! of the box. ' pot, tack the cloth down all around with nails that will not split the wood. Then, and only then, take out the "pot. You will find that this has left a hole into which it fits exactly, lined i with the cloth or flannel as perfectly i as an upholsterer could have done it. Then make three or four pads or cushions of several sizes, using flan- nel, cloth or felt and filling with saw- dust, ashes or woolen rags. These are to fill up the funnel-like space above the pot, which they should do tightly when the lid of the box is closed over them. i _ The fireless cooker is now finished. , Put stew, soup, mush, vegetables, rice . or anything that is to be boiled into the pot; let it boil for a few moments; i then, without taking off the lid, re- { move the pot from the fire, put it at i once into the box, fill up with the cushions, close the lid and set it any- where for as long as you like. The i cooking will continue for several ! hours. The box must on no account : be opened after the.pot has been put into it. When it is opened the contents of the pot will be found almost as hot as ! when they went in, perfectly cooked | and ready to serve. The uses of a fireless cooker are manifold. In it water, milk, coffee, tea or chocolate can be kept hot over night; the breakfast cereal can be put in the night before; soup, vegetables, stews or fish can be put down after luncheon and left without attention until dinner time, for they cannot scorch. Even rice or milk will never scorch in a fireless cooker. In these days of high cost of living, the gas bill can be materially reduced by the intelligent use of this inexpen- sive box. . cooks with gas altogether. And of course, when summer comes it is needed more than ever. packin, a wooden partition, says: the bottom and sides of each parti- tion with four thicknesses of newspa- pers, very neatly nailed in. Over these was stretched a covering of the felting which is generally put under stair carpets, as I had no old flannel or blankets to utilize. The lid, which is loose, was also lined with newspa- pers covered with the felting. Two cushions made of the felting, to fit each partition exactly, were stuffed with newspapers torn into shreds. I could not get hay, so tore some news- papers into wide strips, the length of the paper, and rolled these into tight balls, a layer of which was pressed in- to the bottom of each partition to the depth of three inches. On this was placed in one partition a saucepan with a small handle on either side, and in the other a good-sized casse- role, both of which had well-fitting lids. Around these I packed the news- paper balls as tightly as possible, pressing them down well. When the pans were lifted out a nest was form- ed, ready for them to be slipped in and out of. “My box being ready, I thought I would start by cooking oatmeal, so one evening, at 9 o’clock, I made it in a saucepan, brought it to the boil, put the lid on firmly and popped the pan into the box, covered it with the cush- ion, put on the lid and placed some flatirons on to weight it down tightly. Next morning in great trepidation. I looked at it, and found it perfectly cooked and quite warm. It only re- quired heating for three or four min- utes on the stove, just in time for breakfast. What a comfort! “I was so much encouraged by this experiment that I went on from one thing to another, and now cook stock from bones, thick soups, meat, fish, bacon, chicken, vegetables, fruits and cereals in my invaluable fireless. In fact, two or three of these boxes are useful.” Food can be cooked for breakfast or luncheon by putting it in the box over night, or for dinner by putting it in the box in the morning. It re- the stuffing and hang over the edges : Without removing the use of good i and turn back the edges and corners : g FARM NOTES. —Ducks for Meat and Eggs.—The Pekin breed is kept almost exclusive- ly by producers of green ducks, and also on many farms where they are grown for meat. They fatten rapid- y and may be fed on rations recom= mended for chickens, but better re- sults are usually secured by feeding more green and vegetable feeds and a larger proportion of mash. _ For the general farmer who is more interested in obtaining eggs than pro- ducing meat the Indian Runner is a good breed. This duck holds the same relative position in the duck family that the Leghorn does in the chicken family. It lays a good-sized white egg considerably larger than a hen’s egg, and is declared to be a small eat- er, a good forager, and hardy. The introduction of this breed is helping to build up a trade of first class duck eggs. These eggs should be market-« ed frequently, as they depreciate in quality more rapidly than hens’ eggs. —Selection of Sheep.—The inex- perienced sheep raiser should begin with grade ewes of the best class available and a pure-bred ram. The raising of pure-bred stock and the selling of breeding rams can best be undertaken by persons experienced in sheep raising. The selection of the type and breed of sheep should be made by considering the class of pas- ture and feeds available and the gen- eral system of farming to be follow- ed, along with the peculiarities of the breeds and the conditions and kind of feeding and management for which each has been especially developed. It is highly anvantageous for all, or a majority, of the farms in a neighborhood, to keep the same breed of sheep, or at least to continue the use of rams of the same breed. After a decision has been made as to a suit- able breed, the aim should be to ob- tain ewes that are individually good and that have as many crosses as pos- sible of the breed selected. With such a foundation and the continuous pure-bred rams of the same breed, the flock will make con- tinuous improvement. In looking for ewes of desired types and breeding it will often be found impossible to get them near at home at a reasonable price. Ewes from the western ranges can be obtained directly from a stock- yard market. For the most part the range ewes are of Merino breeding. First-cross ewe lambs, and less often older stock bred on the range and sired by rams of the down or long- wool breeds, are sometimes obtaina- ble. These, or even the Merino ewes, furnish a foundation for the flock that can be quickly graded up by using rams of the breed preferred. The lambs from Merino ewes and mutton rams grow well and sell well if well cared for, but the yield is less than when ewes with some mutton blood are used. The sheep from the range are less often infested with internal parasites than are farm sheep, and in the large shipments there is opportu- nity for closer selection. Yearling or two year old ewes are preferable to older stock. Ewes with “broken mouths”—that is, those that have lost some of their teeth as a re- sult of age—ecan be purchased cheap- er than younger ones, but are not good property for inexperienced sheep raisers. In buying ewes, particularly those from the range, it is desirable, when possible, to examine the udders to see that they are free from lumps that would prevent the ewes from being milkers. It is necessary to-guard al- so against buying ewes that are use- less as breeders, because of the ends of the teats having been clipped off at shearing. Persons wholly inexperienced with sheep will do well to limit the size of the flock at the start. A beginner can acquire experience quite rapidly with eight or ten ewes. It is very Tihs 355 zood time of Year to mike : doubtful, however, whether anyone it, as the exercise will help keep one . warm. It is a necessity, too, if one: should make a start with sheep un- less the arrangement of the farm and the plan of its operation allow the keeping of as many as 80 ewes, and in most cases 60 or more will be i handled better and more economical- A Philadelphia woman lucky enough | to have some goods delivered in a: case divided in the middle by . “I lined ; quires no watching, but must be boil- ing when it goes in, and must not be | disturbed till required. Food can be kept hot for people who | are unable to be in time for meals. ly than a very small flock. The economical disadvantage of a very small flock lies in the fact that the hours of labor are practically the same for a dozen or twenty ewes as for the larger flock. The fencing to allow desirable change of pastures or to give protection against dogs is about the same in either case, so that the overhead charges per ewe are much smaller in the case of the larger flock. Furthermore, the small flock on a farm having large numbers of other animals is unlikely to receive the study and attention really needed or that would be given to one of the chief sources of the farm income. —Housing the Flock.—Equipment for raising sheep on farms need not be expensive. In mild latitudes little housing is needed, and the main need is for fencing and pastures of suffi- cient number and size to allow fre- quent changing of flocks to fresh ground to insure health. Where win- ters are longer and more severe, buildings and sheds are necessary to furnish protection from storms, though no special provisions are need- ed for warmth. Dryness, good ven- tilation, and freedom from drafts are the first requisites of buildings for sheep. Convenience in feeding and shepherding must also be held in mind in locating and planning such build- ings or sheds. Small flocks can be cared for in sections of barns having stabling or feed storage for other stock, but with a flock of, say, 100 ewes separate buildings are desirable. The inter- ior arrangement of these buildings should be such as should require a minimum of labor and the least pos- sible moving of the ewes in doing the feeding and caring for them during the lambing season. A building of this type can also be utilized for fat- tening purchased lambs to be dispos- ed of before lambing begins in the regular farm flock. A good supply of feed racks, grain troughs, etc., can be provided at small expense and will save labor and prevent waste of feed. —Although it is necessary to keep the hens confined to their yard most of the time, it is sometimes possible to let them out where they may range upon the lawn for an hour or so in the evening when some one can be at hand to watch them, or at certain sea- sons of the year to allow them to run in the garden plat.
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