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