FARM NOTES. = Demorvaic falda, Bellefonte, Pa., December 17, 1920. sm—— —— “THRE KINGS OF ORIENT. We three Kings of Orient are, Bearing gifts we traverse far Field and fountain, moore and moun- tain, Following yonder star. O Star of Wonder, Star of Might, Star with royal beauty bright, Westward leading, still proceeding, Lead us to the perfect light! Born a Babe on Bethlehem’s plain, Gold we bring to crown Him again King forever, ceasing never Over us all to reign. O Star of Wonder! Frankincense to offer have I, Incense owns a Deity nigh! Prayer and praising, all men raising, Worship Him, God on High! O Star of Wonder! Myrrh is mine, its bitter perfume Breathes a life of gathering gloom, Sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying, Sealed in the stone-cold tomb. O Star of Wonder! THE NEIGHBOR. A Tale of Old Days. Now it happened on a blue-and-sil- ver morning in the spring of the year, that Saint Peter—who, at that mo- ment was not a great gold majestical Saint at all, but a very bluff, energet- ic young Apostle, with red hair, they say, and all that goes with it—went striding down the long, stony beach road that leads to Joppa, huddled by the sea. As he swung on, he hummed softly to himself, for he was in a ra- diantly happy humor. He was going down from Lydda, where he had preached and labored many days, to carry on the message which Christ had laid upon his mouth to speak. He was about his Master’s business, therefore he was gloriously content. Word of his coming had flown be- fore him. Not strange, that; for with him there came, always, to every town, however poor and mean, the very sunlight of healing. Today, as he neared the ancient ruined walls, he saw, waiting for him, three men, grave fathers of the village. Their stogy- bodies drooped; their faces were weary and set. The shadows in their eyes brought a shadow of ques- tion to his face. Swiftly he saluted them. Intent, he heard their news: “Sir, we have come to tell you of our neighbor, Dorcas. She is dead.” She whose door stood always open, whose hands were always eager to serve. Sir, will you not go to her house, and pray your God, that He will give her back to us?” “Dorcas!” Peter's bronzed face grew tense. A moment, he consider- ‘ed, then turned to the waiting group. . “Soon I will go to her house. Now, if it please you, Fathers, I will walk alone.” Humbly they stood aside to let him pass. ir anxious eyes followed him as he strode away. . Peter had need to be alone. Yes, he knew Dorcas, through true and lovely report. Her gentle charities were known to all men. But Peter . wondered. Dorcas had won to full- ness of years. All those years, she - had loved, had served, and labored. She must be tired. Very tired. And her own folk, her heart’s beloved, were long since gone away, beyond “her wistful ken. Was it quite fair for him to bid Dorcas live again? Hadn't she earned her rest? . Of a sudden, Peter’s brow relaxed. He allowed himself a small shamed chuckle. Certainly he was taking himself rather seriously! Who was he, to decide this thing? Dorcas’s be- ing lay in another Hand. ‘Yet, ““Whatsoever ye shall ask of the Father in my Name—” - Would he be doing wisely, would he be justified, in asking for the gift of Dorcas’s life? So he went musing on, down the narrow stone-paved streets. Present- ly a small boy happened along, and tagged bashfully at his heels. small, skinny, freckled boy, with three front teeth missing, and one stubbed toe tied up ostentatiously in a bit of rag, and a goatskin tunic, and a shy little friendly grin. And Peter, who had been a small boy very recently, gave the youngster a friendly punch, and said: ~~ “Want to show me the way to the house of Dorcas, sonny?” Instantly the brown face sobered. The boy dropped his grass whistle, and slid a small tightening hand into Peter’s own. “Pll take you right to her house.” : “Did you know her?” “J guess I did know Dorcas.” The ~small face quivered. The clear little voice choked, wavered, then spoke ‘bravely on: “I guess I'll never forget her... My own folks died when the great plague came up from Judea, three vears ago. 1 was five years old, then, and my brother was three, and _.my baby sister was just learning to toddle. ~All the people were afraid to come near us because they were scar- ed of . the plague. All but Dorcas. She wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t never scared of anything. She came straight to our house, the day my father and mother fell sick, and she nursed them till they died, and she dug the grave ‘with her own hands. I helped dig, some. But she nailed the coffins all herself. Then she took us home with her.” She burned: ‘our “clothes, -and she bought us a goat, so’s ‘we could have milk to drink, and she gave me my puppy,” he made a‘brief proud gesture toward the small excited yel- low dog, who was disputing the right of way with a haughty gander. “And she put our beds right ’side by her bed s0’s when we have bad dreams, we can crawl in with her—" He stopped, jerked his hand from Peter’s big grip, jammed one little fist into his eyes, and fl . Peter looked y shape. His wise young eyes question- ed. Then he glanced: ahead. ° At the-door of a-fine stone house stood a very young woman, a tiny ba- by asleep in her arms. Her gaze was ed. after ‘the little flying fixed on Peter. As he came near, he saw that her beautiful dark eyes were swollen with tears, and that her face was strained and bewildered, like the face of a grieved child. She came down quickly to meet him. “Sir,” her wide eyes searched his face, “are you the man who heals the sick 7” “Not I can heal. But Him that sent me,” replied Peter. “Then—" she halted, clasped her baby tighter to her breast. “Then— Oh, sir, she is dead! And how can I manage without her?” “You talk of Dorcas?” : The young creature flinched, as if the sound of that dear name had been a blow. : “Of whom else? Oh, sir, have mer- cy! Give her back to us!” «But there are many good women in this town, my child. Plenty of hands to spin and weave and cook.” “Good women, yes. But none like Dorcas. Hark! When I was but a ti- ny thing, I was stolen by a desert car- avan, stolen for the rich pearls that my seafaring father had brought me from Tyre, and strung around my lit- tle neck. Twelve long years, I was their captive. They were a roving people, that desert crew. were not the ways of Israel. They caved only for the chase, the meat, the wine. Two years gone, while the caravan rested at an oasis, three horsemen from the coast rode up, and halted for the night. One was Na- thaniel, my Nathaniel,” a soft little sparkle lighted her young grief. “He saw me, and he loved me. By star- light, he stole me from the black tent where I lay with the chief’s old sister. and put me on his horse, and carried me away, down to the sea. Here, in Joppa, he put on me his mother’s ring of gold and took me before the priest, and wedded me. In all Joppa, there is no husband so grand as mine.” That sparkle was a deep shining, now. “Nor on all this coast is a wife so en- vied as am L.” “There speaks the truly happy woman,” observed Peter. A wicked little twinkle woke in his own eye. «Yet at first I was not happy.” She sighed. “For I was so stupid! Stupid as a child, untaught in all the duties of a home. My husband was always tender, always patient. But I floun- dered and boggled, ever. It did seem as if I could never learn. “But one day a woman came to my door. A fair, tall woman, with gray laughing eyes, and black hair in great silky braids, and a dress of linen, white as the driven snow, and a cloak of crimson wool, and a basket of wov- en reeds on her arm. «I’m Dorcas, your neighbor,’ she said. ‘I am come, my little girl to bring you this basket of my oaten cakes and to ask if I may see the beautiful house your husband has built for you, his desert bride.’ “¢It is a beautiful house; but it is not kept in beauty,’ I told her. And, sir, I was ashamed to let her in. And she saw my shame, and laughed at it, and kissed me. “But it will be all beauty, when these little hands learn their trade,’ she said. Then she took off her fine cloakyand set to teaching me, so sweetly that I could not take offense, | so swiftly that my learning was a ‘marvel. In six days, I could place such bread and roasted meat upon our table! Why, my husband praised me till I cried with joy. Then she taught me to sew, to weave, to spin. She showed me how to salt down fish and meat, to dry my corn, to make all manner of savory dainties. All her hoarded wisdom, she gave to me as with my own mother’s hands. When my baby came, she stayed by me the long night through. Then daily she bathed and dressed my little son; she taught me all his little needs. And he grows and thrives, and when he wakes, he laughs the whole day long.” She bent adoringly to the rosy sleep- ing face on her breast. “Well,” said Peter, a bit dryly, “it strikes me Dorcas has done a good deal for you. Surely you would not ask more of her?” “Mcre?” The girl turned, flashing protest. “But, sir, I know so little! I have done my best to learn. But, each year, as my baby grows older, 1 must do more and more for him. And —if it is written that my husband A |shall still prosper—each year will bring new duties for me. Now, who but Dorcas knows all these things? In all Joppa, who . but Dorcas is so wise? Who “so patient? Who so motherly, that—that she will tell me where I fail in my greatest desire— my own man’s pleasure? Who, in all this city, would do that for me?” “Who, indeed?” thought Peter. | Aloud, he spoke: “Peace to you, my child. Tomorrow I will speak with you again.” Uncertain, yet comforted, the girl turned away. Peter heard her heavy door close, softly. He did not look back. He was looking, instead, at a man who now approached him. An old, old man, in worn but clean gar- ments, with warped veiny hands that clutched his staff, and a dazed, scared, angry old face. “Good day to you, my friend.” The old man shuffled close, peered up into Peter’s face. “Are you the man who goes about and cures the sick, and makes the blind to see?” wd Lom “My Master does these things. I am His servant.” ne} “Guess you're the one I'm looking for.” The angry, frightened old face twitched. “It’s about Dorcas. They tell me she’s dead, then what am I to do? Hey? Tell me that.” “Dorcas was your friend?” “Friend? Why she’s everything! She’s all I've got to live by. If she's dead, I can’t live any longer. won't!” The old hand clutched talon- wise on Peter's arm, The old voice cracked, rang high. “For I've lived too long as tis. I can’t earn my salt no longer. My hands are too shaky to handle a boat, and my back gave out, years gone. I couldn’t heave a net of fish ashore to save my life. My own boat—she went ashore off the north reefs, ten years back. And the other fishermen won't hire me to go eut, for they say I'm too slow. Too old, they mean.” He halted, his sul- Their ways Everybody’s tired of me. Everybody but Dorcas. And now she’s dead.” «What did Dorcas do for you?” «Do for me? Do for me? Why, she let me come sit by her fire. Every day, mind you. Cold nights, she'd fix me a pallet, right by the warm hearth, and make me stay all night. She washed my clothes, and mended them. She even took off her best sheepskins, and made me a great coat, so’s I'd never go cold again. She cooked wheaten porridge for me, with dates in, like my own wife used to do. She got the fishermen to hire me to mend their nets. So I don’t have to sit idle all day long, no more. When I sat at her table, she’d make over me like I was some fine company. She never snapped nor snarled like my own girls did, when I spilled my food. Not she! She always pretended she was glad to seeme, =..." A gust of pitiful weak fury shook him. “It ain’t just. It ain’t fair! Iwon’t go on livin’, without her!” Suddenly he cowered back, like a poor old beaten dog. The dreadful tears of an old man stained his cheeks. “1 won’t! I can’t!” “No. I don’t see how you can do without her. And still—” Peter laid one firm hand on that old shaking arm. His touch brought strange quieting. The old man gulp- ed back his tears, straightened his bent shoulders, hobbled pluckiiy away. Peter went on, down the long hill. At the foot he saw a white rim of beach, the blue eternal glory of the sea. He went past a group of low mud huts, then set himself briskly up the beach, toward the broad substantial dwelling that he knew was Dorcas’s home. As he neared it, from behind a screening hedge came a young girl. She had waited to intercept him; that told itself in her quick ctep, her scur- rying descent. “Please, sir, wait!” She raced up to him, light as thistledown. Her flaxen hair was flying in the wind, her blue eyes shone with eagerness. “Please, sir.” She bobbed a quaint childish obeisance, “I want to teil Ol “Well, my daughter?” plumbed deep; her pretty, shallow face, her broidered gown, the lJamb’s wool shoes on her tiny feet, the mix- ture of panic and arrogance in her whole little palpitating butterfly body. Butterfly; that was her word. A very small flustered butterfly, but with not one gleam of soft iridescence yet brushed from its wings. Under his look, the girl’s young ar- rogance wavered, then stiffened, de- terminedly. “Well 2” “W-why, I wanted to ask you about Dorcas. You're a very wise man. | heard the elders say so. Can you— will you bring her back?” “Why do you ask that?” “Because she— Well, you see, my mother died when I was very little. My father died too. He was Philip, the silk merchant, and he left i.c my house.” She pointed down the beach to a wide, comfortable homestead shielded by gray olive trees. “My aunt lives with me. She’s cross and fretty, and she doesn’t want me to have any girl friends, nor any pretty clothes, nor good times. But I have good times, just the same,” her little head flung high, “for Dorcas gives them to me. Dorcas lets us girls come to her house every week, and spend the whole day. We play games, and she takes us to the far beach to go swimming, and we carry our sup- pers to the woods, and have more fun! Rainy days, she teaches us to embroi- der, and to weave lace, and make fan- ¢y patterns on our loom! She never picks on us, because we want pretty things! Not Dorcas. She always un- derstands. But—but—" “Well 7” “But Dorcas is dead.” The little slim creature shrank against the hedge. “Now nobody will want us girls around. Nobody will care what we do. And I—my aunt says I'm a froward good-for-naught. Well, what of it? What’s the use? Nobody tru- ly cares.” “Dorcas will care.” ‘The girl swayed, stared up at him. Her face paled. “She’s dead. She can’t know.” - “Didn’t Dorcas always know? And always understand ?” . A minute, she looked back at him, defiant. Then all her poor little inso- lence melted out of her. Sobbing, she flung one arm across her face, and ran away. : Peter went on. On, up the sunny path, up the worn steps to Dorcas’s ouse, Within the’ wide-open door crouch- ed the mourning women, in a wide dusk ring.” Rank on rank; veiled fac- es, r swaying bodies, low sad voices chanting their ; grief. Very quietly Pete. slipped into a by-path, and went around to the rear of the house. There he found a rough outside stair. He climbed it, entered a loft filled with fleeces of new-washed wool, and sacks of dried corn, and fragrant, crumbling herbs. Dorcas’s spinning-wheel stood in a corner. Her great silent loom filled one wall. Stepping softly, Peter went on, into the upper chamber where Dorcas lay. He sat down on a low stool, and looked into the tired, tranquil face of her who slept. Under the window, the voices of those who mourned rose and fell, eddied, drifted, 2 murmuring tide. He did not hear them. He was thinking. At last he bent to that sweet dead face, and spoke: “I know you're pretty tired, Dorcas. I{I know you’d like to rest. Rest—a long while. But you see, Dorcas, you were a good neighbor. And the world will always have plenty of saints and martyrs and hermits, and all that. But it will always go hungry for good neighbors. There are never enough to go around. There never have been enough women to bring up the moth- erless babies,:and teach the little, be- wildered, clumsy wives, and guide the poor, silly, flutter-budgets, and com- fort the tired-out old folks. No, there never will “ be. So,~ while'I~ hate to len. piteous old mouth working.’ “Yes, I've lived too long. My friends are all gone. Folks is - girl and tired of ma Myr avn rhildwna~ i von’d hetter cone back.” Than ha nalts gilent, hv that white" and lant ohana. And through tha* Peter’s cool, judging eyes read her, break your rest, Dorcas, I think— even. They pushed me out long ago. | hushed upper chamber there poured the lifting golden wind of Life.—By Katharine Holland Brown, in The Woman’s Home Companion. ANCIENT AND MODERN LIGHT Users of Electricity Today Read With a Smile of the “Link Boy” of Old England. A couple of centuries ago permanent street lights in the large cities of the world were almost unknown. In old England “link boys,” carrying torches. were hired by gentlemen to light the way for them when they went out in the evening in London. When lamp- posts were placed in the city streets the link boys’ occupation was gone. With progress of time lanterns light ed by candles or by oil were succeeded by gas or by electric lights. Every city of the civilized world normally has its principal streets lighted at night, and the link boy today is as su- perfluous as the sedan chair. In a similar way the famous caves of the world. such as the Mammoth cave of Kentucky and Luray cavern in Virginia were formerly lighted by candles carried by guides who con- ducted travelers. But today practical ly all these subterranean places that are visited by sightseers are equipped with electric lights. and instead of car rying a bag of candles the guide mere ly turns on or off a series of electric switches as he conducts a party through the cave. Railroad tunnels were formerly un- iighted. except'nz the lights in the trains that passed through them, but today tunnels, as well as stations, are lighted by electricity.—Boston Com- mercial Bulletin. SHOW NAMED FOR A VALLEY Quite a Few of Those Who Use the Word “Vaudeville” Are Ignorant of Its Origin, The Fairest Lady turned to her es cort at the varieiy show the other night during the intermission and asked him where the word ‘“vaude- ville” came from anyway. “Movies” is simple, she said. Any- one can trace the origin of the word coined by Young America and now generally used. The British “cinema” applied to cinematograph pictures is also easily traced. It wasn't until next day that the es- cort, who had pretended not to hear the Fairest Lady's question about vaudeville, got a chance to look it up. Then he found that the word came trom the French “Val de Vire’—a val ley in Normandy where originated many humorous and satirical drinking songs that became popular all over France—known by the name of the place of their origin. Eventually the word became corrupted to ‘“vaude- ville” and was applied to a certain kind of popular song. was limited to such songs until the end of the Eighteenth century, when it began to refer also to an entertain ment that included singing and dia- iogue as well as dancing and variety acting. Failure Is the Final Test. Real winners in life never show the white feather. They are like the drum- mer boy in our Civil war, who, when his regiment was being mowed down still kept pushing ahead, beating an advance. When ordered to beat a re- treat, the boy replied that Le ind . tist who discovers the secret of the i familiar firefly or lightning bug. No never learned how—he had only been taught to beat an advance. The finest type of manhood is never overwhelmed or entirely dismayed no matter what comes. If a man of this kind loses property, if his ambition is Its application I Sark | i | as a daughter of the despised “bour- | thwarted and his plans demolished his i spirit remains undaunted, his courage. his resistance and his self-confidence ! Bre Shliminites. and he on oan | strength or rather feebleness of the again. Many a man has bep ale firefly this light is believed to be the his failures, because he used them as a stepping stone for his advance. Failure is the final test of persist- ence and an iron will; it either crushes a life or solidifies it.—Orison Swett Marden in the New Success Magazine. Quaint New Eng!and Expressions. LONG LOST ROMAN CARVNG Story cof the Rediscovery of a ent Treasure, Now in: Crigich fuseum. A remarkably beautiful specimen cf Roman sepulehral carving has just heen added to the DBritish muscu through the generosity of Ernest Dix- on. The story of the rediscovery of this treasure is romantic. Mr. Dixon sequired it from a contractor in Lon- don, in whose yard it had been lying for some fifty years. He placed bis purchase so as to form the ceniral feature of a rock garden in Puiney but afterward struck by its unusual beauty. brought it to the notice of the British museum authorities, who hlen- tified it as a genuine and long Yost antique, says the Boston Transcript The sculpture is a marble relief, over five feet long by nearly two feet wide. It shows three draped busts set in 8 deeply recessed panel. It was a mon- uinent to Lucius Ampudius Philomu- sus, and the busts depict himself. his wife and his daughter. The relic! is not a part of a sarcophagus, but is a stab built originally into the wall «. a tomb. Its date is probably between B.:C..25 and. A. D. 25. The sculpture is first mentioned by ti »nehini of Verona. who was copyinz oan inseriptions between 1706 «nid 1715. It bad Feen excavated probably ahert 1700, near the Porta Capena 201 was taken to the Villa Casali Neen and noted on more than one 2e- ecasien during the eighteenth centuvy, the last copyist to mention it was George Zoega, who was established at Lteme between 1784 and 1809. After this the relief became lost to (he world. It was perhaps shipped home hy some traveling Englishman, who placed it in his louse or garden in the St. John's wood region, and thence it found its way to the contrac- tor’'s yard from which it has now been rescued. FAVORED CLASS IN RUSSIA Only Actresses Are Permitted by Government to Wear Shoes and Finery. There is only one favored clas¥ in Russia today, according to a Parls correspondent. Strangely enough, this class is composed entirely of women. They are the theatrical stars and beauties. They alone are permitted the wearing of rich garments and the possession of jewels. The Russians have always been passionate lovers of the theater, and, even under the present rezime they treat their stage favorites as so many reigning queens. Incidentally, the actresses are the only women in Russia today who are permitted to wear shoes during warm weather. The peasant women of Ras- sia always went barefoot during the summer months. Hence Russians ve- gard hare feet as the distinguishing of the woman of the people. Any woman who affects to wear shoes in Russia nowadays, unless she be a favorite of the footlights, is regarded zeoisie.” She is considered a fair target for insult and persecution. Ev- en the wives of soviet dignitaries, such as Trotzky and Lenin, have been obliged to bow to popular sentiment. They may be seen any day in Moscow tripping through the streets barefoot. The Firefly’s Light. Fame and fortune await the scien- one has been able to tell how the little insect produces the flashes of light we see twinkling about on dark nights. Careful scientific tests have proven, however, that this light is producad with about one four-hundredths part of the energy which is expended in the flame of a candle. Considering the most efficient form of illumination to- i day. If this method could be under- stood and put to work it is calculated | that the energy exerted by a boy in driving a bicycle would be sufficient _ to run a powerful dynamo or light miles of street lamps. There are many quaint expressions | ' world depends upon the discovery of peculiar to New England, some of which are heard only in Rhode Isalnd or in places where their use has been perpetuated by former residents of this locality. . . “Won't you take-off your things?” is a common invitation te the caller in this state, though in some parts of the country it would be When a housewife changes her abode. ing on a journey. she “things” mm a grip. In the south county it frequently rains “pitchforks” and sometimes weats and dogs.” The miost intensive expressions of the native, however. are that it-is “raining like all Sam Hin” or like “all possessed.’ —Doston Globe.” packs her — en an 3 Dm Edible Oysters in Solid Rock. Edible oysters that live with their shells imbedded in solid rock, like the fossil of some extinct creatures, have been discovered in Coos bay, Oregon. The fact that they are fairly abundant makes these strange mollusks no less i curiosity, and the university of the state is now engaged in a study of their origin. and mode of life. Ee- cause they are considered an excep tionally delicious food, the investiga- tors are also examining into the possi- bility of their propagzation for the mar- ket. ceil : jf i then Beh yp JL ha eave ven “SOT, » can wot it in the The light of the firefly is practically heatiess and it is believed among scientists that the fgture of the lighting industry cf the heatless light.—Boys’ Life. A la Carte. After a trip from Gary to Michigan City over the roughest road I have ever seen, 1 felt the need of a zood + dinner. : unusual. | I didn’t sce any place to eat, and 8 Ie new: y sto she moves her “things,” and when go- called out to 2 Shay. Who ol near on the curbing, “Hey, there, do you know where I can get some good food?” “Sure,” he said, “follow me.” So saying, he hopped on to his bi cycle and we followed. Where? To a hot dog wagon! Fitting Revenge. Wood—1 understand some ore stole your automobile? Park—You are right. “That's pretty low down, isn't 212” - «Yes. There's just one thing I wish.” “What's that?” «I hope the thief keeps it as long as I did and he'll go flat broke — Youngstown Telegram. Lcve or Money. “I intend to marry for love,” said the girl with the dreamy eyes. “you are wise, ‘my dear,” replied her dearest friend. = “Men with more ove often so hard ‘te- please.” —Livestock on the farms of the State is valued at $190,863,653.00. —DMore than half of the plant food contained in manure is wasted by careless and inefficient handling. —The value of the commercial grape crop in Erie county, Pennsylva- nia, last year was estimated at $3,- 000,000.00. —It appears that 27 per cent. of the farmers in Pennsylvania are using gas engines, and 57 per cent. of the farm homes have telephones installed. —It is estimated that close to two million cords of wood were used by the farmers of the State during the Past year, with a value of $6,867,000.- —AIll grain, hay, fruit and animal products sold from the farm carry with them a certain amount of plant food. This must be replaced or the farm deteriorates in fertility. —An increase of two per cent. in the number of sheep in the State dur- ing the past year shows an awakened interest in sheep raising which agri- cultural officials will try to increase until Pennsylvania gets back in the million sheep class. —The poultry yard should be stir- red or spaded up frequently if not in sod. This will not only tend to keep down any odors which might arise, but also allow the droppings to be ab- sorbed into the soil more readily and therefore keep the yard in better con- dition for the hens. —In the ten years since the Mon- tana National Bison Range was estab- lished the 37 buffaloes with which the herd was started have increased to 296. In addition there are on the range 125 elk (not including calves of last year), 33 antelope and 13 mule deer. It is believed that the range is large enough to support 800 bison, 400 antelope, 500 deer, and 800 elk. _—The object of a community egg circle is to secure and improve better strains of poultry; to produce more eggs of good color and size; to handle eggs more carefully in order to avoid waste; to pack a uniform grade of clean, fresh eggs, in order to be able to guarantee them and thus create a reputation; to market same more di- rectly to the consumer; to purchase supplies in a co-operative way; and to do such other things as may prove of benefit to the members and the community. —Practically the only element in crop production that the farmer has completely under his own control is the planting of good seed. It is important that farm seeds be tested before they are sown. Other- wise, a full crop can not be grown even under the most favorable weath- er conditions. Seed testing for practical results, says the United States Department of Agriculture, can be done much more easily than is generally believed. The essential preparation for mak- ing seed tests consists of providing the simple apparatus necessary and of becoming familiar with the gener- al purposes and methods of testing and the features of importance pe- culiar to tests of particular kinds of seeds. Ask the county agent, or write the Department of Agriculture i for a bulletin. | —Omne important requirement for I parcel post shipping and marketing is {a proper and satisfactory container {the United States Department of Ag- i riculture points out. Sometimes the {consumer can secure containers more readily and economically than the producer. Those with handles are much less likely to be damaged in transit ia the mails than those which are not thus supplied and which are likely to be tossed or thrown or han- dled by the string or twinc used in tying them. A bamboo basket serves the purpose very well and may be used a long time. Ordinary splint baskets made of strips of veneer may also be used, and if they can be secur- ed at a price sufficiently cheap a new one for each shipment is more eco- nomical than having them returned, unless they are sent back in lots of 10 or more under onc cover. This, of course, necessitates using them with- out a wooden handle, in which case a heavy twine should be used for a han- dle. This twine can be untied and the baskets nested, or placed in one another, for return shipment. If a basket with a wooden handle is used, care should be taken to see that it is securely nailed, not only at the rim of the hasket but farther down toward the bottom, so as to prevent undue leverage, which may break loose the nailing. — i he back and sides of the poultry house should be absolutely tight in or- der to prevent drafts which may cause colds in the flock. The front of the house should be so high that the windows or openings vill allow the sun to shine well back into the interior during the winter. Jurlap, unbleached muslin, or light- weight duck cloth may be used for curtains in the front. This cloth hould be thin enough to allow a slow circulation of air without a lraft. This is impossible if too heavy 1 grade of duck cloth is used or if the loth is ciled or painted. If the curtain is not attended to, jowever, curtain-front houses may be ess satisfactory than the open-front ype even. in northern latitudes. "A large . amount of glass in the | "ront of the house makes it warm dur- ling the day ‘but cold at night, as glass radiates heat very rapidly. Some glass, however, is helpful in providing light” when the curtains are closed. Some ventilation should be given in a poultry house even on the coldest night. It is usually best se- cured. by leaving a small window open or having muslin curtains in the front of the house. If the house is shut up tightly without any muslin curtains in the front, there is a tendency for moistute to collect in the house and condense on the rafters and other woodwork on frosty mornings. It is not necessary to ‘close:the muslin curtains in the front of the house ex- cept-in very cold or stormy: ‘weather. Hens arg protected by - nature with warm feathers and a high body. tem- erature, so that they are better able to withstand drv. eold air thaw warm
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers