Brworrlic {ada
. Bellefonte, Pa., August 20, 1920.
HOE OUT TO THE END OF YOUR
ROW.
In this world of affairs, if success you
would win,
Be your life-toil the speedy or slow;
One motto you need, though a mere com-
monplace,
But charged with the pep and vim of the
race,
“Hoe out to the end of your row!”
Things done by halves have a sham, shod-
dy look,
And the faults of the shiftless man
show;
Advice may be cheap, but his instant,
great need
Is this maxim to which he should
give heed:
“Hoe out to the end of your row!”
ever
If the bee’s in your bonnet, and Congress
your aim,
Though in honor like Rose or a
*Lowe;
Don’t think that the voters are just stand-
ing pat;
Get busy and find out just where you are
at—
“Hoe out to the end of your row!”
If you are a farmer and live on a hill,
Where you want finest products to
grow;
Don’t think that the soil will do a fine
stunt,
The hens, cows and pigs do their best, if
You won't,
“Hoe out to the end of your row!”
The teachers who think that their knowl-
edge and skill
Are sufficient their pupils to show
The way highest honors and place to at-
tain,
Must practice this trite old precept and
plain:
“Hoe out to the end of your row!”
No class is exempt from the challenge so
true;
And the thing to put pep in your go,
Is the purpose that finds the song of its
soul,
This Excelsior
goal:
“Hoe out to the end of your row!”
cry, as it strives for its
Then if summits
ends achieve,
Within Time's limits below;
Rouse to action and make—as the right
thing to do—
This motto your creed
through:
“Hoe out to the end of your row!”
*Candidate in Third Massachusetts dis-
trict.
you'd reach and high
and practice it
—By 1. P. Patol, D. D.
i
THE LITTLE GIRL NEXT DOOR.
Brownie Anderson stopped in his
four step plunge down the front
stairs to adjust his tie in the mirror
on the landing, and heard, not for the
first time in his life, his family ar-
raigning for him. “He's a young
fool,” came his father’s voice, follow-
ed by the crackling of newspaper;
“if he would come home at nights and
not traipse all over the country with
some silly girl—"
“The boy has to take the girl home
when he takes her to a party, John,”
came his mother’s voice next. (Good
old scout, Mother!)
“I know that, but why the —”
Brownie could picture his mother’s re-
proving hand. “Why doesn’t he pick
someone nearer home?” (Humph! As
if where a girl lived mattered, when
you cared for her.) “Where was he
last night, anyway?”
“Out at Hainesville with Myra
Reed,” piped in Andy's falsetto.
Andy was just waiting to break into
long trousers. “And he didn’t catch
the last car in, I know it.” (Last
time Andy got any of Myra Reed’s
fudge, the little sandsnipe!)
There was a silence. Brownie
could imagine the looks exchanged be-
tween his father and mother. He
hesitated long enough to assume an
air of complete nonchalance, and
sauntered whistling into the dining-
room.
“Mornin’ everybody!”
His greeting was met with a sus-
picious silence. He watched his
mother bustle back and forth with
his breakfast without comment, an-
swered Andy’s question idly, and
sighed with relief when his father
left the table.
“Irving,” his mother began when
the front door slammed on his fath-
er’s heels—Irving was his dress name,
so you can’t exactly blame him for
wearing his nickname whenever pos-
sible— “Irving you must try to get
in earlier at nights. You father’s
very cross about it. He heard about
your falling asleep at the bank yes-
terday. Who was the girl last
night?”
“Myra Reed. Mother, she’s a peach
and she can’t help it if she lives so
far away,”
“But, Irving, your girls always live
far away.”
“My bad luck; I pick ’em that way.
What else did father say?”
“He threatens to take you away
from the bank, and send you down
to Uncle Bill’s.”
Uncle Bill’s feed store! Christmas,
what a blow! Uncle Bill was one of
the few older people that Brownie did
not call friend; and this was more
because of Uncle Bill’s store as an
ultimate scene of Brownie’s endeavors
than for anything personal. Older
people liked Brownie Anderson. They
liked him for his deferention ways,
for his good nature, for the humorous
twinkle in his brown eyes, and for
his readiness to listen to anything,
from politics to pickle recipes. ;
The nicest thing about Brownie,
though, was that he did not realize
all this. He would have told you that
he was “too darn good-natured, that’s
all,’ when his popularity was mention-
ed. Hostesses always bracketed at
least two girls opposite Brownie’s
name on their party. lists. He called
the interurban conductors by their
first names, and wore out an “owl-line”
time-table once a month. Fate had
so entangled him with damsels from
a distance that on hearing of a new
girl he was known to say, “Tell me
where she lives! The farther they
live the better I seem to like them!”
Which was true, but sad.
“Yes, Irving,” his mother was say-
ing (to come back to the conversa-
tion), “you will have to stop these
parties if you want to please your
father and me. Try and find some
girl nearer home. Which reminds me,
Coralie Adams, is back.”
“Coralie Adams? Who's she?”
“Irving, don’t be foolish. You know
Coralie Adams, next door.”
“Well, where’s she been?”
“Why, you act as if you had never
heard of her, and you’ve played with
her for years. Don’t you remember
her Mother Goose party ?”
Brownie nodded reluctantly. “I'd
sort of forgotten her, there have been
so many girls since Coralie.”
“Yes,” sighed his mother, “there
have. But why don’t you call on her
this evening? She’ll be lonely with
just her father.”
So Brownie did call, partly to please
his mother, and partly because he
had called off a date with Myra and
had nothing else to do, and partly out
of curiosity to see what Coralie would
oe like. Memories of the girl next
door had been coming back to him
all day, of pigtails that never stayed
braided, of stolen holidays together,
of her anger when he bragged about
her as “his girl.” She had been a
good sport then. |
He found her very different, almost
a stranger, a wistful, dainty bit of a
thing with eyes that reflected her
emotions like a mirror. Still a good
sport, though, for when he asked her
if she wouldn’t like to run down-
town to the movies, she was ready in
a minute. No fussing, like the other
girls, for half an hour. He liked the
pretty way she demurred about stop-
ping for sundaes, and the way she
said, “Same as you, Brownie,” when
he ordered an “extra chocolate nut
marshmallow split.”
Brownie turned into bed that night
at ten-thirty with a comfortable feel-
ing not entirely of a disagreeable
duty done. >
He got into the habit that fall of
dropping over after dinner for a
short chat in the Adam’s cozy living
room. Some of Coralie’s shyness
wore off. She could retail him bits
of gossip, could always tell him where
he had been last night, began to fix
her hair like the other girls, and
Brownie guessed that she was finding
a place in the younger set of the
town. Somehow, though, he could
not bring himself to ask her to the
parties to which he was still being
invited. Coralie was made for fire-
sides and summer rambles rather than
jazz and joy rides.
One night, however, the thought oc-
curred to him that it wasn’t fair to
take her hospitality without asking
her somewhere. Coralie was kneel-
ing by the fire roasting an apple on
a long pointed stick. The light play-
ed with her hair and threw a pink
glow on her arms, from which her
loose sleeves had fallen back. Brown-
ie caught himself wondering how she
would look in a real evening dress.
“Say, Coralie, have you got an ev-
ening dress?” he asked idly.
“No; why?” she countered, as she
turned an expectant face toward him.
“Well, if you could rig up some-
thing I might take you to an affair
or two this winter, and we might run
down to Springfield some night to a
good show, what d’you say?”
What did she say? Nothing. But
the look of gratitude she turned on
him spoke volumes.
The next day when Brownie waved
to the figure in the Adams bay win-
dow as he passed—he had grown into
this habit of late—she held up some-
thing blue and shiny to him, and that
night he watched the metamorphosis,
magical it seemed to his absorbed
eyes, of a real evening dress from
four yards of sky-blue satin. - He was
so interested in whether the tiny puff-
ed sleeves should be silk or lace that
he broke an engagement with Myra
Reed, and was promptly cut by that
veung lady the next day on High
street.
Twenty-four hours after the epi-
sode, Brownie’s crowd knew all about
it, and that he had apoligized to Myra
over the ’phone, and that she had
said, “Why don’t you take the girl
next door? She’s so handy!” to his
conciliatory invitation. Twelve hours
after this the story reached Coralie,
and that night when Brownie dropped
in there was a hurt look in her eyes
and all the eagerness had gone from
her. She sewed quietly while Brown-
ie expatiated on the advantage of the
home basketball team over the
Springfield five, biting off her threads
with a quiet viciousness that passed
unnoticed by her caller.
“There, it’s done!” she said at last,
snapping off her thread from the last
hook. “I’m not so sure I like it, eith-
er.”
“It’s a beauty, Coralie,” assured
Brownie earnestly. “Just in time
for the Thanksgiving dance out at the
Country Club. Gee, I'm anxious to
see you in it! Go try it on!”
“Thank you, Brownie, but I don’t
think I want to go,” came in thin but
decided tones to Brownie’s astonished
ears.
“Come now, I'm not that bad a
dancer. I can’t shimmy and all that,
because—well, I haven’t been going
around with the crowd much lately
and I’ve sort of lost out. But I can
do a good plain trot.”
“It isn’t that.”
Well, what’s the trouble?” Some-
thing in the pink of her cheeks and
the downcast eyes as she smoothed
the blue satin on her lap must have
given him an inkling. “Say, who's
been talking?”
“Well, isn’t it true?”
“It is not. Just because I used to
fall for those Janes who knew I was
easy, doesn’t say I can’t care for a
girl next door. Coralie, you don’t
really believe that, do you?”
“Well, it must be true. Andy told
me long ago how your father fussed
about your being out late, just about
the time you started coming here, too;
but I didn’t think much about it until
this morning.” : ;
“Pll brain Andy,” said Brownie,
striding across the room. Then he
stopped suddenly and tried to tilt
Coralie’s face upward by the tip of
her determined little chin. “Come on
Coralie, don’t be nasty. Honest, I
never in all my life wanted a girl to
go anywhere as much as I want you.”
Coralie raised her gray eyes, full of
the reflections of the blue satin. She
caught the “you're the only girl in
the world” look in Brownie’s eyes,
but bit her lips and shook her head as
Brownie, I wish I could believe you,
but I'm afraid I can’t. I thought you
i i elf something. “No, | alie, if I come up three times a week |
jf Iefusing her 2 "| will you believe that—that I mean—
| that it wasn’t just because you lived |
were sorry for me at first, and then I | so handy?”
thought that maybe you really enjoy-
And because Coralie was almost a
ed coming; but now I know, it was | woman and very, very happy, she just
—only because I was convenient.”
i
buried her head deeper into Brown-
There was no patch of light from , ie’s wet coat sleeve. Then they shut
Coralie’s window to wink its good | the door, and left the lamp in the
night to Brownie that night. His | rain and went in to open the oblong
first resolves of ‘he would show her”
dwindled into weary wondering of how
he could make her believe in him.
His first intention of asking another
girl to the dance was discarded in
favor of not going at all. Maybe that
would convince her. But before he
had a chance to make this supreme
sacrifice, Fate stepped in and sent
him to the city for an intense course
in accounting. His early hours had
. . |
begin fo show in his: worl Ot he 1 3-4-50 will check bitter rot of apples
lin southern Pennsylvania.
bank. Maybe back of his application
were dim, half-acknowledged dreams
of a fireside of his own, with some-
one opposite sewing on pretty blue
things all the time. At any rate he
had been selected by the president as
a “likely young rascal,” worth holding
on to. It was opportunity with a
capital O. He went scurrying over to
Adam’s so full of the news that he
had forgotten the quarrel which was
keeping him away. Coralie was “not
at home,” though he would have
sworn that he saw. her through the
bay window curtains.
forgiven him, he believed.
Spring was laggard, even in the | to start that field of alfalfa.
small town to which Brownie return- | to 20 pounds of inoculated seed per |
He had ! acre.
ed one night in early April.
i
She had not!
box and talk it all over in the fire-
light.
FARM CALENDER
Sprays.—Red mites are causing se-
vere damage to apple orchards in
southern counties. Control them and
the second brood codling moth at the
same time with lime-sulphur and lead
arsenate.
Immediate application of Bordeaux
Repeat in
3 or 4 weeks unless weather condi-
tions make an outbreak improbable.
Cool weather and frequent rains
make an epidemic of late blight of
potatoes very probable. Keep vines
thoroughly covered with 4-4-50 Bor-
deaux, spraying every 10 to 14 days
until vines are dead.
Poultry.—Begin to cull the flock at
once. Every molting hen should be
eliminated. Early molting hens are
poor layers. It pays to cull regular-
y.
Farm Crops.—Now is a good time
Have field well drained, ferti-
added about a hundred new financial | lized and limed.
words to his vocabulary and a newer
cut to his suits. There was a straigh-
ter line to his mouth, too, and his
eyes were sober, too sober for two
and twenty. As he drew near the
Adams house, he found the windows
blinking at him through the misty
darkness of the April night. The
wheezing of a new jazz record jarred
on his ears as he neared the gate.
This was why Coralie had not an-
swered his letters. She was doing this
sort of thing now every night, and: surviving the August heat.
going to dances in her blue dress with
other fellows. He did not see the
figure at the gate until he almost up-
set her.
“Coralie,” he gasped, backing off
apologies.
“Humph!” was his answer. “Think
nobody else can live next door to you,
Brownie Anderson, but Coralie Ad-
ams?”
“Myra! But you don’t live here?”
“I most certainly do. Hope you
don’t mind!”
“But Coralie—where did she go?”
“Oh, her father bought a farm way
up in Cooper County somewhere. If
I were Coralie I'd die up there alone.
Won’t you come in?”
“Thanks, no!” he stumbled on fol-
lowed by Myra’s “Come over later!”
He received his family’s surprised
greetings listlessly, not even waxing
enthusiastic over Andy’s long trous-
ers, worn with an imitation of the
slouch Brownie had left in the city.
“Why didn’t someone tell me Cor-
alie Adams had moved away?” he ex-
ploded finally.
answered his mother, with a curious
glance at his serious face. “Don’t
you want some cake and preserves,
Brownie?” she added, and smiled to |
see the little-boy look come into his
eyes again.
Andy was the richer next day by
two gorgeous striped neckties just a
little worn, and a red sweater with
only one tear in the elbow. In ex-
change he divulged detailed informa-
tion concerning Coralie’s whereabouts.
“I went up to Adam’s once in the fall
for Mother and you take the trolley
out to the Junction. Then you have
to wait about forty minutes for the
Springfield train and tell the conduc-
tor to signal them to stop at Cobb’s
Crossing. Then maybe you'll get the
wagon, or maybe you'll have to hoof
it over the hill and down in the val-
ley about a mile and a half off the
main road is their farm. Gee, it’s
some trip! I left here about three
o'clock and I didn’t get home until
nine, and I only stayed long enough to
eat half a cream pie Coralie gave me.”
“How did she look?” queried
Brownie with magnificent unconcern.
“Oh, bout the same I guess. Say,
Irv, she asked me if it was true about
you going around with her last year
because she lived so near.”
“I suppose you teld her it was, like
you did the first time you queered
things,” answered Brownie, with a
ferocity that startled Andy.
“Oh no, I didn’t. I said it might
have been true once or twice, but that
I guessed you'd turned down a good
many party bids and things to go
over and sit with her evenings.”
“What did Coralie say?”
“Nothin’; only she gave me nuther
piece of pie, and some doughnuts to
eat on my way home.”
Tuesday, the day of Brownie’s re-
turn, to Saturday’s half holiday was
a long time to wait; but at last in a
dreary April rain he started forth
with a suspiciously oblong package
not very well hidden in his newspaper.
His brown shoes with their holiday
shine were unrecognizable after he
tramped through lanes almost ankle
deep in spring mud. His hat, bought
for the occasion, drooped in a limp
scalloped brim. He did not look the
romeo he felt in his heart.
Coralie herself opened the door, a
slight fear widening her eyes above
the lamp she shaded with her hand
as she saw the slouching figure with-
out. Then the figure stepped inside,
took the lamp from her hands and
deposited it on the wet doorstep,
where it sputtered and went out. A
pair of wet arms gathered Coralie
into a close embrace and a husky
voice murmured:
“Coralie, little
Brownie!”
And though Brownie had never so
much as held her little finger before
in his life, Coralie laid her head quite
naturally on his shoulder and said,
as she must have said over and over
sweetheart, it’s
in day dreams, “Brownie, it’s so good.
to have you here.”
“I'm coming up every Saturday and
Sunday, and if I save up my lunch
hour through the week I think I can
get off early on Wednesdays too.”
“But wouldn’t you rather I lived
next door?” There was just a hint
of mischief in Coralie’s voice.
“The next place you live, young
lady, is going to be right in the same
house, and it’s going to be ours. Cor-
Orchard.--If plums and peaches need
thinning, and it has not been done,
it is best to do so at once.
Canning.—Fruits and berries will
keep whether canned with or without
sugar, if the product is completely
sterilized, and the jars perfectly seal-
ed. 2 Proceed exactly as when syrup is
used.
Hogs that breathe with difficulty
should be culled out and sold at this
time; there is little chance of their |
Four Waterfalls Could Turn
World’s Wheels.
the
The electrical engineer who is able |
to insure the transmission of elec-
tricity for hundreds, possible thous-
ands, of miles without losing the force
of the power has a fortune waiting
for him.
Why ?
it possible for us to cease worrying
about the possible or probable exhaus-
tion of our coal (it has been calculat-
ed that fuel will be exhausted within
one hundred years if the present rate
of increase of consumption continues)
and alow us to harness and use the
waterfalls. There are four waterfalls
alone that can supply far more than
enough power to turn all the wheels
in the world. These are the Victoria
Falls, of the Zambezi; our own Niag-
ara; the La Guayra Falls, of the
Parana River; the Iguassu Falls, of
the Iguassu River, both of the latter
| being close to the frontier of Brazil
“We thought you knew it, of course,” | and Paraguay.
The total horse power derived from
burning coal and oil, direct and indi-
rect, is not more than 30,000,000.
The Victoria Falls alone is capable
of furnishing 35,000,000 horse power.
The difficulty in the way of utiliz-
ing the giant falls is that most of
them are miles from the points to
which power would have to be carried.
When we can carry that power we
will cease to use coal to generate pow-
er.
eee epee eee.
Groundhogs Disappearing.
Hunters of groundhogs have not
been able to find much game and
it is an unusual tiling when the
hunter returns with a single spec-
imen. As the farms are being work-
ed closer year after year the home of
the groundhog is being destroyed and
it now looks as if there will be a final
extinction. Several years back it
was comparatively easy to choot scv-
eral groundhogs on one trip.
The prejudice against eating the
groundhogs has saved the animal for
a long time, but soon there will have
to be a closed season. It furnishes a
delicate dish if properly prepared,
even better than rabbit, but its rat
tail makes it impossible to attempt to
eat by the average gunner. Many
who gun for them do so for the sport
alone, giving away all they shoot.
To shoot a groundhog requires pa-
tient waiting, watching for them at
the entrance of their burrow. The
animal is wary and has a sharp sight,
and before emerging from the hole
looks all around to see if the coast is
clear. The hunter must shoot quick,
=s it retreats quickly, generally see-
ing the hunter as soon as he sees it.
At this time of the year the animal
is living on the fat of the land, sleep-
ing as long as twenty-four hours after
a full meal and accumulating fat for
the long winter months of all sleep
and no food.
Knew His Business.
The inhabitants of a certain small
village in the South were given a post-
office. Their pride in the acquisition
was at first unbounded. Then com-
plaints began to come in that letters
were not being properly sent off. The
department at Washington then or-
dered an inspector to go down and in-
vestigate these complaints.
The postmaster was also the grocer.
“What becomes of the letters posted
here?” demanded the inspector of
him. “The people say they are not
sent off.”
“Of course they ain’t!” was the
startling response, as the postmaster-
grocer pointed to a large and nearly
empty mail sack hanging in a corner.
“I ain’t sent it off because it ain’t
anywheres near full yet!”—Harper’s
Magazine.
Marriage Licenses.
Harry W. Raymond and Mary F.
Dunlap, both of Bellefonte.
Ellsworth Roosevelt Hosterman and
Susan Mable Benner, both of Wood-
ward.
Charles R. Thompson and Catherine
W. Holt, both of Howard.
Luther C. Kline, of Philipsburg, and
Jennie Miller, of Houtzdale.
Sow 15 |
Because he will have made
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN
DAILY THOUGHT.
{ The soul that realizes its identity with
| the Infinite and Eternal Intelligence of
| the Universe has gained absolute freedom
cand boundless power.
For the porch, the living rooms,
| erable purposes in summer time plenty
{ of pretty cushions are required.
{ Women who like to make their
homes as attractive as possible and
girls who like canoeing are now bus-
lily engaged making summer cushions.
These few hints may be of value to
them:
Java kapok floss—next to down,
which is hardly ever used nowadays,
being so expensive and hard to pro-
cure—is about the best pillow filling
available. But it’s rather costly. it
will be found much more satisfactory
if it’s cut into small squares and
thoroughly heated in the oven. It
should be placed in a baking pan and
watched to prevent scorching. The
little cotton cubes swell to twice their
size and are fluffy as down.
01d silks if shredded very fine make
excellent pillow “stuffings,” as they're
scft and fluffy and cool and “comfy.”
Pillows or cushions for the porch
swing may be made from old blank-
ets or quilts—folded to the required
size and covered attractively.
Pillows for the porch or cance may
have their slipcovers put on.
(makes them rainproof—and the slip-
covers can be very easily washed if |
| they're caught out in a shower.
| ‘he stores are full of gay cretonnes
| for pillow coverings, crashes and
| other fabrics. An exceptionally large
i roomy pillow can be made
| points are brought together as in the
| four points of an envelope. A hem
(two inches wide around the edges
' makes the cushion seem much bigger
i than it really is and helps the slip-
i cover to fit the pillow more snugly.
{If the porch needs a fundamental
{ “fixing up” such as a new floor or |
{new pillars, these suggestions should |
| be interesting:
squares, or a floor of any of the so-
called “tile” floorings, which are easy
on the feet and very durable, would
be a paying proposition. It’s much
easier to clean, very attractive, and
if properly laid will last virtually
forever.
New pillars in square effect, with
heavy square box railing to harmon-
ize, permit the placing of flower box-
es on the railings in summer time and
flat removable tops can readily be
well lined and allow for proper drain-
age.
A shelf placed inside the porch rail-
ing about a foot from the floor and a
foot wide makes a great hit with the
men as a footrest—and is mighty
handy for books, needlework, maga-
zines, newspapers, ete. A shelf plac-
ed along the house wall or railing at
| convenient height is very useful for
holding flower pots, books, etc.
If you like to have a reading light
on the porch, your handy man can
arrange to drop a one-bulb electric
cord at the place desired and you can
easily make a pretty shade for it from
cretonne or some fabric to harmonize
with your porch cushions. Instead of
purchasing the wire holder for the
shade you can cut a piece of cardboard
in round shape, large enough to hold
the shade, and remove enough from
the middle of it to allow it to pass
over the top of the electric bulb.
You'll find it holds the shade very
securely—and, of course, at no cost.
If you plan to inclose your porch
this fall, give thought to using case-
ment windows. They do not need to
be removed in the summertime—just
opening them wide allows sufficient
air and they-re mighty handy when a
sudden shower or a chilly day comes
along.
The back porch can conceal its un-
sightly garbage pail, hose and kin-
dred appliances in an attractive box
seat, which the man of the house can
easily make.
Toasting is the most common meth-
od for making stale or partly stale
bread attractive, but it is by no means
the only one. If partly stale bread
is put into a very hot oven for a few
minutes it grows softer, probably be-
cause the heat tends to drive the
water from the crust back into the
crumb, food specialists of the United
States Department of Agriculture
say. Such warmed-over bread is
not as soft and springy as fresh, but
most persons find it very appetizing.
A good plan, therefore, when bread
has lost its freshness, is to cut off
what will be needed at a meal and
place the slices in a hot oven for a
few minutes just before serving. In
this way bread can be used on the
table which would ordinarly be con-
sidered too stale.
“Twice-baked,” bread which is cut
bread placed in the warming-oven or
in a pan on the back of the stove and
allowed to dry out slowly until it is
slightly brown and crisp throughout,
offers still another way of making
stale bread attractive. If desired,
this twice-baked bread may be crush-
ed with a rolling-pin and used like
the ready-to-eat breakfast cereals. In
some localities this dish has long been
known under the name of rusks.
The little fried cubes of bread called
croutons, which are served with soup,
may be made of odds and ends of
bread. To save time, bread simply
broken into small pieces may be fried
either in deep fat or in a pan (sau-
teed) and used for the same purpose.
Sometimes bread crumbs fried in a
pan are used as a seasoning or sauce
for meat. French cooks frequently
put pieces of stale bread in soups just
long enough before serving for them
to soften; the well-known one, “crust
in the pot” (croute au pot) is simply
in thin soup with bread in it.
There are many ways of using stale
bread in cooking. Almost every good
cookbook gives directions for prepar-
ing soft and dry crumbs for use in
scalloped dishes, bread puddings, ete.
The soft parts of the bread may be
used in place of flour or cornstarch
for thickening soups, sauces, gravies,
stewed tomatoes (either fresh or can-
ned), etc. Bakers often use stale
bread and dried, finely ground cake
i for picnics, for boating—for innum- |
be first covered with oilcloth—then
This |
from a!
i square yard of material if the four |
| A cement floor marked off in ‘tile”
FARM NOTES
—Reports
i grass hoppers have been received dur-
ing the past two weeks by agricultur-
ists at the Pennsylvania State College
especially from the southern and
| western parts of the State. The col-
lege recommends a poison bait for
: their control, made as follows:
Make a liquid of two quarts of
cheap molasses, six oranges or lem-
{ons (rind, pulp and juice) and three
‘and one half gallons of water. Make
‘a dry mixture of twenty pounds of
| bran with one pound of paris green
| or white arsenic. Combine the two
| mixtures, working until a fairly moist
| mass results, but not too wet. Scat-
!ter in grass land in the cool of the
| evening. This amount will do for
three acres.
| —Almost any green crop can be
made into silage successfully. Much
| care, however, must be taken to ex-
i pel the air from such hollow-stemmed
| Plants as the small cereal grains
‘by cutting fine and packing firmly,
Other crops, of which legumes are ex-
‘amples, are deficient in the ferment-
(able consituents needed for palatable
; silage. On the other hand, a few
1
the saccharine sor-
i
| crops, such as
| ghums, have so much sugar that un-
| less cut at:a more mature stage they
{have a tendency to produce sour si-
| lage.
| In most parts of the United States
more food material can be obtained
from an acre of corn as silage than
from an acre of any other crop that
can be grown. Corn is more easily
harvested and put into the silo than
| crops like rye, clover, cowpeas, or al-
falfa, and when cut for silage the
maximum quantity of nutrients is
preserved. Experiments have shown
that corn, when siloed, lost 15.6 per
cent of the dry matter, against 23.8
per cent when cut for fodder and
cured in the field. Moreover there is
less waste in feeding silage than in
| feeding fodder, since good silage
| properly fed is all consumed.
When corn is cut for silage the land
is cleared and left ready for another
crop sooner than when the corn is
shocked or is husked from the stand-
ling stalk. Corn can be put into the
silo at a cost not above that of shock-
ing, husking, grinding, and shredding.
_ Farmers’ Bulletin 578 on The Mak-
ing and Feeding of Silage may be had
by addressing the United States De-
partment of Agriculture, Washington,
—As profitable egg producers,
guinea hens cannot compete with or-
dinary hens, but during the latter
part of the spring and throughout
the summer they are persistent lay-
ers. The eggs are smaller than hen
eggs, weighing about 1.4 ounces each
while eggs of the common fowl aver-
age about 2 ounces each; consequent-
ly guinea eggs sell at a price some-
what lower.
There is no special market for
guinea eggs, and they are usually
graded by dealers as small hen eggs.
Owing to the natural tendency of the
guinea hen to nest in a patch of
| weeds or some other well-hidden place
| many of the eggs are not found until
| they are no longer fit for market.
The shells of guinea eggs are so thick
and often so dark that it is difficult
to test them by candling. For this
1 reason, and also because the eggs are
them. For home use, however, guin-
ea eggs can be made to take the place
of hen eggs, and many regard them
tas superior in flavor. In composi-
tion the greatest difference is that
the shell is thicker and the yolk
makes up a slightly larger proportion
of the total egg contents than in the
‘case of hen eggs, poultry specialists
of the United States Department of
Agriculture say.
—Squabs are usually killed in the
same manner as poultry—by cutting
the arteries in the back part of the
roof of the mouth and piercing the
brain; but if sent to market without
plucking they are usually killed by
pressing the thumb against the neck
where it joins the head, until it is
dislocated. In sticking, the squabs
are hung by their legs on nails or
hooks, with their wings double-lock-
ed. After they are stuck, the feath-
ers, with the exception of those on
the head, are immediately plucked
clean, using a dull knife for the pin-
feathers, and the birds are cooled
either by placing them in cold water
or by hanging them in a cool place.
If the crop contains any feed, it
should be cut open and thoroughly
washed.
Squabs should be washed, cleaned,
and graded according to size and
quality, as dark-colored and small
squabs tend to lower the price paid
for an entire shipment of mixed
squabs, market experts of the United
States Department of Agriculture
say. They are usually packed for
shipment breasts up in a good supply
of cracked ice with paraffin paper be-
tween the layer of ice and squabs.
The box or container should have
holes in it for drainage.
—The advantage of wool pooling
and cooperative selling may well be
outlined as permitting the growers to
sell their wool collectively in a large
volume, thus attracting a large num-
ber of buyers and making possible
the payment of the full value of the
wool. The larger buyers are not at-
tracted by individual clips unless they
are of considerable magnitude such
as some of those produced by the
larger ranchers in the West. Nor is
the local buyer able to pay the full
price for wools which must be pur-
chased a few fleeces at a time and
carried at his personal expense and
risk until sufficient volume has been
accumulated to permit his shipment
to some central wool market.
Volume handling such as is possible
where the entire clip of the commun-
ity is sold collectively reduces the cost
per pound of buying and handling and
will permit the purchaser wheth-
er a local wool merchant or some
outside buyer, to pay a higher price
per pound than is possible where it
is necessary to purchase the wool in
small lots. :
The Bureau of Markets, United
States Department of Agriculture, is
constantly giving assistance to coop-
erative organizations in the way of
organization practices and sellin
methods and will be glad to exten
similar service in the cooperative
in place of part of the flour in- making
fancy breads, cakes and cookies.
marketing of wool.
of great damage by
! small, dealers do not like to handle’
ay,