DA - CRS CY
Bellefonte, Pa., September 12, 1919.
LAND OF BEGINNING AGAIN.
I wish there were some wonderful place
Called the Land of Beginnmg Again,
‘Where all our mistakes and all our heart-
aches,
And all our poor selfish grief,
Might be dropped like a shabby old coat
at the door,
And never be put on again.
I wish we might come on it all unawares,
Tike a hunter who finds a lost trail;
And I wish that the one whom our blun-
ders had done
The greatest injustice of all,
Could be at the gates like a friend who
still waits
For the comrade he’s gladdest to hail.
‘We would find all the things we'd intend-
ed to do,
But forgot and remembered too late—
Small promises broken, little praises un-
spoken,
And all the thousands and one
Little duties neglected that could have
been perfected—
Then life would have been a beautiful
token.
It wouldn’t be possible not to be kind,
In the Land of Beginning Again,
And the ones we'd misjudged and the ones
we had grudged
Their moments of victory there,
Would find in the grasp of our
handclasp
More than penitent lips could explain.
loving
Tor what had been hardest we'd know had
been best,
And what had seemed
gain;
Tor there isn’t a sting that would
take wing,
When we've faced it and laughed it away—
And I think that the laughter is the most
we are after
In the Land of Beginning Again.
So I wish that there were some wonderful
place
Called the Land of Beginning Again,
Where all our mistakes and all our heart-
aches,
cag, all our poor selfish grief,
at tiropped like a shabby old coat
loss would be
not
And never put’o. , gain.
—~Selected.
——————
ABIJAH MARSIZEC «oOME.- iP.
PANCE.”
As Abijah Marsh gazed at the an-
cient horse, he grinned with irritating
self-satisfaction. Abijah was always
disagreeable; he was pompously sure
of himself and never made mistakes.
Mr. Ballin realized that the specta-
cle was incongruous and under wrink-
led brows quizzically eyed old Kit,
standing beside the black, shiny mo-
tor truck. Old Kit’s limbs were bald
and rheumatic; she trembled when
she stood; she wheezed when she
walked. Mr. Ballin was angry with
himself, he was angry with Old Kit,
and, above all, he was angry with Ab-
ijah Marsh, who had stopped on his
way to Keene to comment on the an-
cient nag. With an inauspicious
frown Mr. Ballin watched Old Kit set-
tle on her haunches, double her knees
under her, and slowly, deliberately lie
down in the road in front of the barn.
Mr. Ballin’s disgust overran the
bounds of speech, but Abijah Marsh
leaned back and roared with laughter
until his own great handsome bay
stallion pawed the ground impatient-
ly.
Nineteen years ago Wildman
Brewster, Mr. Ballin’s stout and el-
derly son-in-law had bought a mare;
during all those nineteen years Wild-
man Brewster had never ceased to
brag of his purchase. With sundry
winks and much amusement, it was
whispered that Old Kit, already en-
tered upon the last of life, had been
foisted off upon the guileless Wild-
man as a colt of promise. Certain it
is that, one after another, every
known infirmity of a horse had set-
tled upon that senile nag. Yet Wild-
man Brewster cherished the beast
with a love that was blindness per-
sonified and, adding injury to insult,
housed her in the stable of his fath-
er-in-law.
So many years before that the
event was more legend than fact,
men said Old Kit had traveled from
Swanzey Pond to Keene, without ar-
tificial stimulus other than a well-di-
rected alder switch, in the astonish-
ing time of forty-five minutes. Mr.
Ballin looked at the bony beast lying
in the road and felt that his faith in
that greatest feat of Old Kit’s depart-
ed youth was wavering.
. “Whoa!” Abijah Marsh yelled, pull-
ing on the reins until the great stal-
lion threw up his head and arched his
shining neck in fierce impatience.
“What do ye call it?” Abijah asked,
leering at the sommnolent Kit, whose
blind eyes were closed in sleep.
Mr. Ballin was ashamed of being
caught in so embarrassing a situa-
tion; he was indignant with Abijah
Marsh for commenting on it. He
glanced past the barn at Bear’s Den
Mountain and scratched the back of
his neck. It was incumbent on him to
make some remark, however hypocrit-
lo); in defense of the despised ani-
mal.
“Wal,” he remarked reflectively,
“she used to travel some, now I tell
ye. Keene in forty-five minutes is a
hyperin’.”
Abijah Marsh laughed loud and
long. “I’m kind of s’prised Wildman
will let you keep the critter, seein’
she’s as valuable as all that. You
ain’t racin’ her, be you?”
Old Kit flapped her ears contempt-
uously, but Mr. Bullin flushed. “Wal,
I kinder mistrust she ain’t in shape
fer a race jes’ now, but I vum, Bijah
Marsh, she might s’prise you one of
these days. She ain’t what you'd call
handsome to look at, but she ain’t a
stay-at-home, not by a jugful.”
“Ho, ho, ho!” bellowed Abijah.
“Whoa, durn you! Now, here, Bill,
here’s a hoss!”
“Purty good, purty good,” the old
man admitted grudgingly. “But when
Kit was in her prime there wouldn’t
hev been no comparison. I’m tellin’
you that right now—"
The big bay horse curvetted rest-
lessly. :
“Whoa!” cried Abijah. Then a sly
grin crept over his calculating fea-
tures.
“If that Old Kit of Wildman
uv
Brewster's can get to Keene inside of
three hours, Ill—I'll—” The stallion
suddenly darted forward in a swirling
cloud of dust. Abijah pulled up the
reins; then, giving the horse his head,
he leaned from his rubber-tired bug-
gy and shrieked in a voice that shook
with laughter,
swap hosses, by gosh!” :
He was gone. From the pines be-
yond the bend, above which rose a
cloud of white dust, there came loud,
discordant laughter. :
Mr. Ballin looked at Kit, whose
placid unconsciousness of badinage
and insult increased rather than as-
suaged his anger.
“You good for nothin’, no-count, de-
crepit bunch of crow’s meat!” he cried.
“You relict of the flood, you wall-eyed
victim of distemper and the glanders,
you! If Wildman Brewster had the
pride of a meechin’ turkey hen, he’d
shoot you and bury you so deep that
there wouldn’t no one remember there
ever was such a good-for-nothing, dis-
reputable—"
Silence came so suddenly and so un-
expectedly that Kit turned her sight-
less eyes in the old man’s direction
with mute interest and curiosity. Mr.
Ballin was staring at the truck. Slow-
ly, as the sunlight creeps out of the
woods and over to the dark meadows,
a smile crept over Mr. Ballin’s face.
ed toa grin. He leaned forward and
slapped his leg with glee. 5
«1 yum!” he gasped. “I'd like for
to give Bijah Marsh his come-uppance
so I would.”
Mr. Ballin stumped across the road
ward sat. The old man’s face had be-
| come very sober, and there was not a |
twinkle in his eye when he asked sol-
emnly, “Edward did you hear what
es?”
Edward grunted. :
“Edward,” said Mr. Ballin, “I kind-
er thought we might take Bijah up
about swappin’ hosses. That's a pur-
ty good bay he’s drivin’.” :
“What?” demanded Edward in a
manner that indicated doubts of his
father’s sanity. “Swap Old Kit!
Good gracious. Old Kit couldn’t walk
to Keene in three days!”
“Edward,” said Mr. Ballin, as so-
ber as a judge, “Old Kit don’t have to
walk to Keene—all she’s got to do is
get there.” With his hand cupped
round his mouth Mr. Ballin whispered
five startling words. :
- Edward Ballin looked at his father,
he looked at the truck, he looked at
Qld Kit, lying peacefully in the dry
i ~f tho jeers and
sneers of Abijah Marsh; comprenen-
sion dawned on his face. As for Old
Kit, she flicked her ears impatiently
and dreamed.
+ Sarah Ballin, happening to look out
of the window, saw so strange a spec-
der; her eyes opened wider and wider.
Her aged father, with twinkling
eyes and shaking shoulders, crept up
behind Old Kit and in the gruffest,
most savage voice possible said, “Her-
r-r-r-rup!” It was an exact imitation
of Wildman Brewster. At the sound
of what she was deluded into believ-
ing was her master’s voice, Old Kit
scrambled to her feet.
The old man led Kit up into th
barn and over to the south door, used
for loading grain, where the sill was
about four feet from the ground. Old
Kit slowly reposed her bony length on
the floor and with closed eyes lay mo-
tionless and unconcerned. Edward
Ballin heaped the truck with hay,
piled Old Kit’s harness on the seat,
cranked the motor, and backed the
truck beneath her.
Then father and son clambered up
beside the aged horse, laid ropes
Kit’s rib-marked side. They took
hold of the ropes, braced their feet
against the sill of the barn and pulled
mightily. Slowly Old Kit began to
move. Inch by inch she was dragged
across the dusty floor. Straight out
in the air stuck her four bony legs.
She neither kicked nor squirmed as,
dragged by the ropes, she slid irre-
sistibly off the threshold and with a
grunt of complete satisfaction landed
kerthump! on the soft bed of hay in
the truck. Swiftly the old buggy was
tied on behind, and the automobile
whirled away in a billowy cloud of
dust.
At an inauspicious moment Mr.
Ballin’s son-in-law had decided that
that very afternoon was an opportune
time for a trip to Richmond. Accord-
ingly, soon after dinner, he had ar-
rayed himself . in a venerable black
suit, edged with the rusty green of
antiquity, put on his gray head his
best gray cap, and started in sweaty
discomfort on the two-mile walk to
his father-in-law’s. The weary road
round the pond ruffled his temper; the
hot sun wrung sticky drops of perspi-
ration from his shiny red brow; long
before he had completed half his jour-
ney he was thoroughly out of sorts
and looking forward with gloomy sat-
isfaction to a soothing, peaceful ride
behind Old Kit.
When he came to the bend in the
road by the lower end of the pond, he
pulled out a bandanna handkerchief
to mop his forehead. Startled by the
loud “blat” of an automobile horn, he
leaped with sprawling arms and legs
into the bushes beside the road. It
was a close shave, and Wildman was
angry. In his petulance he gazed
vindictively after the passing vehicle;
his eyes opened in incredulous horror.
For thirty seconds he stared after
the fleeting car; then he caught his
breath, pulled off his black coat and,
regardless of the atrocious color
scheme of red suspenders on a yellow-
and-green shirt, lumbered down the
road through the dust toward his
father-in-law’s house. Wildman’s gri-
my face and draggled linen threw in-
to strong relief his trim rubber collar.
His breathing was loud and painful
when in the last stage of exhaustion
he burst in on the bewildered Sarah.
. Mr. Ballin had recognized his son-
in-law as they passed him, but it had
been no time for vain recrimination.
His voice was raised to a fighting
pitch as he pulled out his great silver
watch. “I vum!” he gasped. “Bijah’s
got near a half-hour start on wus.
Now, Eddy, lad, go to it and beat him
out!”
Up on the road outside Middletown,
Abijah Marsh was rattling away to-
ward Keene at a spanking trot. If he
Whought of Old Kit at all his contempt
was blended with pity.
Over the outlet of the pend and
round Charlie Marsh’s farm Edward
Ballin’s machine chugged slowly. It
“Ill swap hosses— ;
his eyes twinkled, his mouth broaden- |
and up to the shed where his son Ed- |
Bijah Marsh said ’bout swappin’ hoss- !
tacle that her brows arched in won- |
along the floor and pulled them under
A A
was hard going in the sand; old man
Ballin chewed his whiskers in fitful !
impatience; but Old Kit, flat on her
back, with her four feet curled com-
fortably in the hay, closed her eyes |
and, soothed by the gentle motion, fell :
fast asleep.
Fifteen minutes v
{ Marsh was gently rattling up to
Swanzey Factory, the wheels of Ed-
| of the state road. Abijah Marsh was
i almost in sight of the church spires of
Keene, and Wildman Brewster's Old
| Kit was still seven miles away.
i Edward Ballin pushed a lever, and
| the machine leaped ahead on the hard,
"level road. West Swanzey loomed up
"in the distance. Four minutes later
| it was at hand. Opposite Hannah’s
| store the wheels of the car struck a
| “thank-you-ma’am.” Old man Ballin
i yelled aloud; Old Kit woke from her
| sleep, snorted and waggled her feet.
| Men ran into the road and stared.
. West Swanzey was left behind but
| the seat of the buggy had fallen by
| the wayside and was the centre of an
i excited group of amateur detectives.
| The machine skidded round a bend;
i Old Kit wheezed and gulped; Mr. Bal-
| lin yelled like a maniac; Edward lean-
{ ed over the wheel with the light of
| grim determination in his eye. Out of
a farm-house tore a yapping collie.
Wondering faces stared from many
windows. Trees swept past, all in a
blur of speeding landscape. Great
pines reached out their branches over-
head and clutched at the whirlwind
racers; fence rails glided back on the |
narrowing road in an unbroken line of |
| gray. Dimly the two men realized
| that strange sounds were proceeding
from behind them. The old man turn-
| ed and uttered a startled shout.
At every jounce of the speeding car
Old Kit was tossed six inches from
the bed of the truck, only to recline
! again on the soft hay. Kit was dumb
now; but her blind eyes expressed un-
| utterable disgust, and her feet wag-
| gled feebly on.
| Miles away William Brewster, clad
in black trousers, red suspenders and
la vivid yellow-and-green shirt, was
| tearing his hair. On a far-off road,
| Abijah Marsh, with a sardonic smile,
| was driving by the Hampshire Pot-
. tery. Round the bend shot Edward
| Ballin’s machine, and ahead through
i the rifts between the trees appeared
| the roofs of Keene. There was no
time for delay.
Old man Ballin rose and climbed
| perilously over the back of the seat.
| “Ge to her, by cracky!” he shouted.
| “1’11 sit on Old Kit and keep her from
{ bouncin’.”
i At that unlucky instant a great
| touring car surged round a bend in
{ the road. The Ballin machine swerv-
ied to avoid collision. The old man
| tumbled almost over the edge of the
| truck and, with one wild clutch for
safety, caught Old Kit by the neck
| and hung grimly on. Down the last
long mile they went, past the white-
washed fences, the old windmill, the
schoolhouse and the bridge.
| Clinging fast to the bony neck of
| the aged horse, Mr. Ballin bellowed at
, the top of his voice, “Faster! Faster!”
| His long brown duster flapped behind
‘him in the wind; his eyes were blur-
red by the speed of his progress. The
e | car shot round the corner into Main
| Street, up over the railway tracks to
i the square, whirled round the little
park, and stopped in the shadow of
{ the big white church.
! To say that a crowd gathered in
| Keene Square would be to exagger-
"ate; but every living soul in sight of
| that unheralded arrival came to gaze
i at the portentious phenomenon that
| had appeared among them. In aston-
| ishment and delight four aged men
| with long white beards recognized
i the central figure of the free show as
their friend and contemporary, Mr.
Ballin. The assembly cheered lustily
and pressed closer. A dozen men
stood by to help unload the truck.
They caught hold of Old Kit, pulled,
hauled and heaved, but they made no
| impression on that remarkable brute.
Old Kit, having grown accustomed
to the unusual sensation of lying at
rest in an automobile truck, was quite
content to remain as she was and
make up her lost sleep. The hay was
soft and comfortable. She grunted,
gurgled and slept.
The men looked at Mr. Ballin and
grinned. Mr. Ballin looked at his
watch; already it was time for Abi-
jah Marsh to appear.
“Get hold, everybody,” Mr. Ballin
commanded, “and when I say pull,
pull like the dickens. We've got to
get her off.”
In vain did the ancient nag resist
the dire necessity of standing again
on her own four feet. Mr. Ballin took
her by the head, Mr. Edward Ballin
took her by the tail; Joe Grogan seix-
ed her right forefoot, and Peter Hard-
ing got a good grip on her left fore-
foot. Nine men laid hands on Old
Kit’s anatomy, and three more pulled
on a rope. Old Kit came out of that
truck, squirming, turned half in the
air like a cat and landed on her feet.
Far down the road a big bay horse
was trotting briskly under the elms,
but no one knew and no one cared. In
a trice Old Kit was hitched to the re-
mains of the buggy and the truck was
run off on a side street. While one
man was splicing a broken shaft, and
another was trying to straighten a
twisted axle, word of what it was all
about spread among the spectators,
and the onlookers turned their faces
toward a rubber-tired buggy that was
approaching far down under the arch-
ing elms.
Mr. Ballin was one of the most pop-
ular men in the Ashuelot Valley; Ab-
ijah Marsh was perhaps the most un-
popular, for he had spitefully jabbed
with a sharp tongue at least half the
citizens of Keene and every man in
Swanzey. As the big bay horse came
trotting across the railway tracks, a
universal grin spread through the as-
Semilk: It was a contagious grin; it
gained complete control of Joe Gro-
gan’s usually solemn face, it twitched
up the corners of Peter Harding's
drooping mouth, it wrenched sharply
at Edward Ballin’s keen eyes and firm
lips; it even attached itself to the
glum countenance of Abijah Marsh,
who, when he saw so many smiling
faces turned toward him, smiled a
rather unwilling greeting and, pulling
on the right rein, turned his bay to
the other side of the road in order to
investigate. Of all the men there
present Mr. Ballin, Sr., was alone as
sober as the proverbial judge. The
crowd opened respectfully before Ab-
ijah Marsh, He clucked to his bay
stallion and raised his head the better
ward Ballin’s car gripped the firm bed |
to see what was going on.
Abijah Marsh’s face turned red and ;
white in quick succession. He looked |
first at Old Kit, then he looked at Mr, !
Ballin, then he looked at Old Kit
again.
Kit, drew out a large blue-bordered |
handkerchief and mopped his shiny
brow. He climbed slowly from the
buggy, hauled a big silver watch from |
his pocket and examined it. For a!
minute and a half there was absolute !
silence in Keene Square; then some :
one snickered. i for upon her depends the success or |
“Wal, Bijah,” said Mr. Ballin in a:
gentle voice, “looks like it’s a purty
good day for a hoss trade. Now, Old |
Kit is some hoss, let me tell ye, and |
when it comes to traveling, you
Kit, who had been for some mo-|
ments swaying back and forth in ap- |
parent indecision, made up her mind. |
She settled back on her haunches, |
doubled her forelegs, and, lying down |
in harness on the main street of |
Keene, closed her eyes in blissful |
sleep. i
Before anyone had time to laugh or
cheer, Mr. Ballin, with twinkling
eyes, leaned over the dasher and cried, |
“Her-r-r-r-rup!” in the gruffest pos-
sible imitation of Wildman Brewster.
With a startled flop of her ears Old
Kit lurched to her feet, swayed unde-
cidedly for half a minute, then, recol-
lecting that supper was nine miles
away, swung herself forward and pro-
ceeded slowly on the homeward road.
Mr. Ballin’s heart was heavy, for
he realized that Wildman Brewster
was waiting vengefully at the jour-
ney’s end, and he knew that he must
face his son-in-law alone, for Edward
was already whirring away to Jaffrey.
But behind him he heard the cheers
of a delighted populace; he thought of
that wild ride with a reminiscent grin,
and when Old Kit actually broke into
a trot he settled back on the one re-
maining seat in placid contentment.—
By Charles Boardman Hawes, in The
Youth’s Companion.
OF INTEREST TO AUTOMOBIL-
ISTS.
The average automobilist can learn!
many things about values from the
taxi owner. The average owner usu- |
ally drives one car, and gets the ex- |
perience that comes from operating ,
that single machine. But the taxi
owner has a string af cars in his serv- |
ice, and is in a position to find out by !
actual test the exact merits of various |
types of automobile equipment. i
In addition to having more cars, the
taxi man is able to study the type of
service given by cars and equipment
under the most strenuous conditions,
The gruelling, racking treatment that
falls to the lot of the taxicab in a big
city makes it possible to make a prop-
er estimate of the value of each item
of equipment.
The modern taxi company runs on
efficiency lines and keeps cost and
service sheets that tell him just what |
he gets for his money. i
The United States Tire Co. is in re- |
ceipt of the following letter from S. |
H. Miskend, president of the Blue!
Taxi Co., one of the big taxi firms in
Brooklyn, N. Y.: ‘
“You will probably be interested in the |
records we have recently compiled on two ,
hundred United States tires, 34x434 chains |
and 36x4% chains, that we purchased al
year ago this month.
“We find upon investigation that al-
though they were used on heavy white
taxi cabs in all kinds of weather and un-
der the usual taxi-cab conditions, we
have not had one single adjustment.
Every one of these tires gave satisfaction.
“Feeling that a manufacturer would be
interested in a record of their goods, we
are advising you of these facts with the
idea that you may at some time want to
refer some one to us in the same line of
business who contemplated buying tires,
and you can rest assured that we would
recommend them very highly.”
These tires are sold exclusively by
Paul McGarvey, Bellefonte; Hubler
Bros., State College; J. H. Baney,
Howard, and J. Harris Clark, Blanch-
ard.
Science Makes a Jump.
“Do you eat anything just before
going to bed?” said the physician to
the neurotic subject who could not
sleep.
“Qh, no, doctor!” the patient re-
plied.
“Well,” said the physician, “just
keep a glass of milk and some bis-
cuits beside you, and make a light
meal the last thing at night.”
“But, doctor,” replied the sick one,
“you told me on no account to eat
anything before retiring!”
“Pooh, pooh!” said the doctor.
“That was three months ago! Science
has made enormous strides since
then!”
Child Welfare.
Organized recreation is a new idea
in eomparison with the idea of health.
The child of elementary school age
should spend at least two or three
hours a day in play. Thirty minutes
a day is the minimum time that
should be spent in play during the
school day. In Camp Sherman it
was discovered that 75 per cent. of
the men did not know how to play.
Two hours a day were spent in organ-
ized play as a part of their training.
—School Life.
All Need Treatment.
The blood, the nerves and the liver—
there are cases in which they all need
treatment at the same time, the blood be-
ing impure and deficient in iron, the nerves
weak and unsteady, and the liver torpid
and sluggish. In these cases such a com-
bination of medicines as Hood’s Sarsapa-
rilla, the great blood purifier, Peptiron, a
real iron blood and nerve tonic, and
Hood’s Pills, the gentle yet thorough ca-
thartic, is of signal service.
The many effective and highly approv-
ed ingredients of these three successful
medicines cannot all be included in one
medicine because of incompatibility, but
they are practically combined by taking
the medicine in conjunction,—Hood’s Sar-
saparilla before eating, Peptiron after eat-
ing, and Hood's Pills as needed. It was a |
happy thought of Mr. Hood's to suggest
that they be so combined in the treatment
of such cases as are referred to here,
which nowadays seem to become much
more common.
———For high ciass job work come
to the “Watchman” office.
i els.
bright colors, lighten up the sombre
serges and other woolens.
: stance, a dream of a little school frock '
+ bluebirds in flight.
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
DAILY THOUGHT.
If we were charged so much a head for
sunsets, or if God sent round a drum be-
work we should make about their beauty.
—Robert Louis Stevenson.
School bells are ringing all over the
land, and little folks must give up
their joyous vacation days and get
down to real work. Mother, too, must
take this school business seriously,
failure of the school wardrobe. Just
at first, for a couple of weeks, the
summer cotton clothes will do perfect-
ly well, but as soon as cool breezes
: ] YOU | start to blow there must be ready for
should jeest see her go; it’s wuth it.” | young adventurers in knowledge |
a top-coat, a new hat and some new
school frock.
If simplicity characterizes the little
one’s clothes at all, it most certainly
should for the schoolroom. Frills and
furbelows are entirely out of place
{ here, no matter if mother does occa-
sionally lapse into them for the danc-
ing class or the afternoon party. Lots
of children wear cotton all the year
round, and the new school frocks in
this direction show a decided leaning
toward dark chambrays and linens. |
There does seem to be an unusual
amount of wool, particularly serge,
suggested for school dresses this year,
the laundry problem, perhaps, ex-
plaining this preference. Wool chal-
lis and cashmere are favorite mater-
ials for the school frock, as they are
lighter weight than serge, and,
though they can be washed, do not
need frequent trips to the tub.
School children styles fall into prac-
tically two classes, the younger
styles, which hold good up to about
12 years, and then the flapper styles,
which clothe the girl of awkward age.
Jumper dresses are always good for
the tittle girls, also Russian blouses
and simple little one piece belted mod-
Lots of wool embroidery, in
in-
For
of blue serge for a 10-year-old shows
. horizontal pin tucks in the skirt and
vertical tucks in the waist, and wool
embroidery of tan on the waist. The
black patent leather belt has tan iIn-
serts to match the embroidery.
For the same age—in fact, good
for almost any child of the primary
or grammar grades—is a delightful
frock of a box-pleated blue serge skirt
and a slip-on tunic of light-weight
Scotch plaid wool, neck and pockets
all blanket-stitched with a dark blue
silk. There is a blue silk collar, and
the sleeves are faced with the silk.
Right here could be worked out a
combination suit and frock idea that
is popular for the schoolgirl, for un-
der the slip-on tunic could be worn a
simple tucked gimpue of wash silk or
batiste, and the tunic could be remov-
ed in the classroom, serving as a coat
to and from school.
This same combination idea makes
a perfectly charming costume for the
flapper. Blue serge makes most of it,
the skirt which snaps on to a white
crepe de chine blouse at the hip line,
and the coat which is cut Russian
blouse style, buttons high at the neck
‘and is belted with white kid. The |
| blouse part of the underdress is belt-
ed with the crepe de chine and is em-
broidered in blue floss to relate it to
the skirt, while the suit is similarly
embroidered in white with strands of
angora wool. To wear with this chic
little costume comes a blue felt hat
with white angora or rather brushed
woll band and tailored bow.
For real little folks there are some
lovely knitted costumes being featur-
ed for fall. When sister or junior
starts off to kindergarten, or to a real
first grade, he or she can slip on over
the cotton frock or suit a knitted coat
of white wool in a fancy stitch, and
collared, cuffed and belted with a
more solid knitting of the same wool,
or in contrasting color. There is a
knitted tam to match for sister, or a
little tight-fitting Brownie cap for
brother with a big wool pompom on
top. In blue and tan these are partic-
ularly fetching. Brother, by the way,
is a bit more difficult to dress for
school than sister. Wash materials
make the most of his suits, though
little button-on trousers of serge are
often used.
If you can embroider to an exqui-
site degree you may ornament with
handwork your evening frock this
winter. The shops have some beauti-
ful silks by the yard, decorated with
hand-embroidered birds in natural
sizes and natural colors—one, a dee
cream satin, is embroidered wit
A frock of this
material will have to be made along
more or less set lines; but if you em-
broider it yourself you can plan the
material for any lines you wish and
then embroider the birds wherever
you think they will look best. Use a
loose solid stitch, first having your
material stamped by a good art nee-
dlework shop. Fancy, too, an after-
noon frock of brown crepe meteor em-
broidered in golden pheasants!
What would you think my dears, of
a house carpeted with your husband’s
shirts? Carpeted artistically, too! I
know of a charming Colonial house
covered with rag rugs, some braided
and some crocheted, and they're all
made from a man’s old shirts, which
his wife dyed the desired colors and
then braided. As the rugs are all cot-
ton and the dyes a good quality, they
wash beautifully. :
Equally fascinating to small folk is
a wee frock having two front patch
pockets and yellow ducks embroider-
ed upon it so that their heads seem to
be peeping from behind the pockets,
and one can see their feet extending
below the pockets. Sort of a hide and
seek arrangement. The frock itself is
most effective in unbleached muslin.
Land army girls are pretty busy
helping harvest the peach crop in
Maryland, Pennsylvania and New
York. The way the women have help-
ed gather the fruit crops has convinc-
ed even the most skeptical farmer of
their ability. The farmers say that
the women workers are swifter and
handle the fruit with greater skill and
less injury to the crop than the men
did. It has been almost impossible to
' supply the number of land army girls
' wanted for orchard work. ;
oe Te re "1
FARM NOTES.
|
| —Pennsylvania has about 7,500,000
i acres of timberland, one-eighth of
| which is owned by the State. The to-
He gasped, felt his throat, ' fore the hawthorn came in flower, what a | tal value of the State’s timber is
' looked at Mr. Ballin, looked at Old
later, when Abijah |
| $19,000,000.
| —Not many years ago sweet clover
‘was a weed; now it is a valuable for-
age plant, and instead of trying to get
rid of it, many farmers are sowing
sweet clover seed in the fields and
i cutting the crop for hay.
—In dairying large production and
| profit go hand in hand. Breeding fur-
. nishes the most economical way to ob-
| tain large producing cows. The pure-
! bred bull, with generations of high-
| producing ancestors back of him,
| must be used for breeding, and only
| the best heifers from the best cows
i should be chosen to be the dams of the
i next generation.
| —Experiments at the Missouri Sta-
| tion proved that clover was the most
i profitable single forage crop for pork
' production. Next to clover, rape and
| oats produced the largest number of
| pounds of pork per acre. The Station
| found that under existing conditions
. the cost of producing pork may be
| greatly reduced by making a larger
| use of forage crops.
—It is of the utmost importance
that the cow be treated kindly, as the
glands which secrete the milk are
controlled completely by the mind. It
is impossible for her to hold up her
milk, but the glands refuse to respond
if for any reason the animal is dis-
tressed by fright or abuse. This is
but another bit of proof that it is not’
always the cow that makes the dairy,
and a good piece of advice is: First
get your dairyman, then select your
COWS.
—If every farmer in the United
States who raises hogs—and approxi-
mately 75 per cent. of the six million
seven hundred thousand odd Ameri-
can farms do raise hogs—would de-
crease mortality to the extent of 1
pig to the litter, the annual increase
in the crop of young squealers would
, be 5,025,000 head.
If they were all raised and market-
ed at 250 pounds apiece, the yearly in-
| crease in pork production would be
i 1,256,250,000 pounds. According to
' the United States Department of Ag-
| riculture, experienced and careful hog
growers raise about 7 pigs out of each
litter, while the average pork produc-
er raises only 4. Thus, between far-
rowing and marketing, there is a loss
of 3 pigs a litter on the average farm.
Successful management of the fall
hog crop, as recommended by the
United States Department of Agri-
culture, involves careful feeding of
the sows previous to farrowing, com-
fortable sanitary quarters for the
dams during farrowing, careful atten-
tion not to overfeed the sows and
thus induce digestive disorders among
the young pigs, and efforts to devel-
op in the pigs a large, bony frame-
work rather than fat, Adequate
i housing which thoroughly shelters
' the porkers, young and old, against
wind, rain, sleet, and snow is essen-
. tial, and despite high prices of build-
| ing material it should be provided if
' not already available. Although feeds
i are high in price it is necessary to
i feed the sow and pigs both adequate-
: ly and well. Fortunately, the price of
| pork on the hoof is such as to render
{ the “two squares and plenty of filler
a day” a profitable investment.
Dry, well-ventilated quarters, which
have been disinfected and cleaned up
for the reception of the pig crop,
should be provided for every sow
which is to farrow. A guard rail,
made of 2 by 4 inch pieces set 4 inch-
i es from the sides of the pen and
! about 10 inches above the bed, should
be provided in order to prevent inju-
ry to the pigs. An attendant should
be accessible, particularly in cold
weather, in order to assist.the sow
if necessary, to rescue the pigs from
freezing. Before the pigs are plac-
ed with their mother the eight, black,
tusk-like teeth should be cut off with
bone forceps or wire nippers. Care
must be taken to not injure the jaw
bone. Give the sow plenty of warm
water after farrowing but do not
feed her for the first 24 hours unless
necessary, and then provide a thin
slop of bran and middlings. The sow
should be fed lightly for the next 4 or
5 days and should not be put on full
feed again until the pigs are about 10
days old. Aim to feed the sow in such
a manner that the pigs will develop
rapidly and will prosper from birth
until weaning time.
Handle the pigs so that they will
gain in weight as rapidly as possible.
The modern hog is a meat-making
machine of wonderful efficiency when
kept running smoothly and evenly
from birth to marketing. When the
pigs are about three weeks old a
creep should be arranged where they
can have access to feeds away from
the other hogs. The best feed to use
at this time is shell corn irfa self
feeder. When the pigs are about six
weeks old it is generally advisable to
place another self feeder in the inclos-
ure, in which shorts, middlings, tank-
age, or fish meal are placed. It is ad-
visable not to wean the pigs before
they are ten weeks of age or over.
When the pigs are weaned gradually
reduce the feed of the sow. This will
have a tendency to dry up the flow of
milk and the pigs will be weaned and
scarcely know it. Give them access
all the time to the self feeder contain-
ing the above feeds. If this method
is followed they will notice practical-
ly no difference at weaning time and
will never be stunted in their growth.
It is more difficult to raise pigs in
the winter than in the summer due to
the cold weather as well as to the fact
that the animals have to be kept in-
doors so much of the time. Extreme
variations in temperature are liable
to induce colds and even cause the de-
velopment of pneumonia. The care-
ful breeder should practice every pre-
caution to protect his young pig crop
against disease. He should keep
plenty of charcoal before the hogs at
all times and should provide them
with condition powders if neccessary.
A charcoal mixture of 1 bushel of
charcoal, 1 bushel of hardwood ashes,
8 pounds of salt, 4 pounds of air-slak-
ed lime, 4 pounds of sulphur, and 2
pounds of pulverized copperas makes
a fine mixture of mineral matter. The
lime, salt, and sulphur should be
mixed thoroughly, and then combined
with the charcoal and ashes. Dissolve
the coperas in 1 quart of hot water
and sprinkle the solution over the
whole mass, mixing it thoroughly.
ef