Bemorri apo,
Bellefonte, Pa., March 24, 1922.
MARTHA SPEAKS.
(By Request.)
(In reply to “Mary Speaks.”)
Mary’s house is gray and dusty.
(Mary’s plump and fair).
All unchecked the sunbeams chase the
Cobwebs everywhere.
Mary’s in the orchard, trusting
Some one else will do the dusting.
I would like to sit with Mary,
By the leaping brook,
But she left the baby with me,
And, with sunny look,
Murmured: “Since you're working, dear,
I will just leave Johnny here.”
How I wish my tired husband
Could run out and play,
But he’ll have to rake and hoe and
Plant, for yesterday
Mary’s husband’s chickens’ scratches
Left our onion bed in patches.
Mary’s husband’s in the meadow,
Neath the singing trees.
Mary’s husband’s cow is resting
On our radishes.
So they're all as snug as can be—
Mary, husband, cow and baby.
In this world of many women
Always there will be
Marys, who wil let the Marthas
Work unstintingly,
Knowing they are safe in trusting.
Some one’s got to do the dusting!
—Vilda Sauvage Owens.
CONTRABAND.
When John Norcross stepped from
the door of his tent to begin the prep-
aration of his supper his attention was
attracted by a thin column of smoke
rising apparently from the distant
beach.
“Must be a launch ashore in that
cove,” he concluded after studying the
smoke for a moment.
Norcross had ridden south from
Monterey for a week’s trout fishing.
His camp was pitched in the wildest
region of the California coast. South
of the Bay of Monterey for a hundred
miles extends a district devoid of
trails, wagon roads, and inhabitants.
None but occasional hunters, or fish-
ermen, travel the broken coastline.
The region’s innumerable coves and
inlets, however, offer shelter and
cruising grounds to the fishing fleet
from the ports to the north and south.
The bulk of this fleet consists of Chi-
nese-manned launches, outfitted with
divers and air-pumps, engaged in
gathering abalones from the shoals.
It occurred to Norcross that a sup-
per of abalone would be a welcome
variation in a fare of bacon and trout.
The launch in the cove would no doubt
have plenty of shell-fish. The cove
was not more than a mile distant; the
day was still young. Without further
thought he dropped his ax and set out
through the chaparrel toward the sea.
From no point on the plateau was
the cove itself visible. It lay shelter-
ed at the foot of a perpendicular cliff
forming the seaward boundary of the
plain. The descent to the cove from
the edge of the plateau, a distance of
a hundred feet, was possible only by
the way of a ravine.
Norcross had traveled scarcely half
the mile between his camp and the
cove, when, much to his astonishment
he discovered that the smoke did not
rise from the beach below the bluff.
It came instead from the bottom of an
arroyo at a point all of a quarter of a
mile inland from the edge of the bluff.
“Who in the world can be camping
down there?” he asked himself. His
suspicions were aroused. Nearing the
arroyo, he fell upon his hands and
knees, and crept through the brush
to the brink. Pushing aside a man-
zanita bush, he peered down.
Thirty feet below him sprawled a
dozen Chinamen about a kettle of
steaming rice. Norcross understood
at a glance. He had stumbled upon
the hiding place of a band of illegally-
landed Chinese.
It is a common story along the Cal-
ifornia Coast that a traffic in coolies
exists between the Mexican ports and
the California China-towns. The Chi-
nese fishermen, it is said, run an “un-
derground railroad.” It operates
thus: Coolies are landed from Mexi-
co in out-of-the-way places along the
coast, and smuggled by their Ameri-
canized countrymen, as opportunities
afford, into the interior cities. The
region of Monterey Bay is the center
of the traffic. Norcross thought of
these tales as he studied the group.
Three of the Chinamen were plainly
Americanized. They wore the west-
ern dress from the soles of their
American-made boots to the tassels of
the knitted fishermen’s caps on their
queueless heads. The rest of the gang
appeared more foreign. Their heel-
less slippers and loose jackets were
not made in the United States. All
were unconcernedly plying their chop-
sticks, smoking and chattering.
The surprised youth ran his eyes up
and down the arroyo. It showed ev-
idence of having been used by more
than one party. The sandy floor was
strewn with a litter of bottles, boxes
and cans. At its lower end, under the
overhanging of the sandstone wall,
opened the low mouth of a cave. His
curiosity at a high pitch, Norcross
leaned farther out over the edge of
the arroyo, in order better to exam-
ine the cave.
Then something happened. The
loose soil, at the edge of the arroyo,
gave way. He tried to throw himself
back but failed. Enveloped in a tiny
avalanche of sand, he slid, rolled and
bumped head foremost down the bank
into the midst of the coolies.
A bomb dropped from the sky
could not have startled them more.
With wild, Oriental yells of fright,
they sprang to their feet and scatter-
ed up and down the arroyo, overturn-
ing kettles and pans in their haste.
The three in the fHetmens costume,
alone held their ground.
The intruder lay quiet. The breath
had been knocked from his lungs; his
eyes, ears and mouth were filled with
sand. After a moment he attempted
to rise. Then, as if his move had been
| his ankles and wrists.
a signal, the three fishermen sprang
forward yelling, and fell upon him.
Norcross fought, twisted, squirmed,
striking wildly with his fist and foot,
bringing to bear all the strength of
his twenty years. But the odds were
too greatly against him. The Chinese
were powerful men; they bore him to
the sand, and flung him upon his back.
Two of them held his limbs, while the
third brought a stout cord, and bound
In less than a
minute the trick was done. The cool-
ies, jabbering and chattering, now
gathered about him.
“What you want? What fo’ you
come this place?” demanded one of
the three, who seemed to be the lead-
er, and whose face was hideous with
small-pox pits. :
“Just happened in to pay you a vis-
it! You sabbe visit?” replied Nor-
cross a deal more lightly than his real
feelings warranted.
The Chinaman of the scars turned
to his gang, and chattered shrilly. At
the moment, the bank above, unstable
from the fall, again gave way. The
coolies scattered a second time. Plain-
ly they feared an attack. Their fright
would have been ludicrous to the cap-
tive had his plight been less serious.
In a moment, no more strangers un-
ceremoniously appearing, the coolies
gathered courage again. . The leader
gave an order to the two in boots and
knit caps. They climbed from the ar-
royo and disappeared. At another
command three Orientals came for-
ward; picked up the captive by the
shoulders and heels, carried him down
the arroyo and into the cave. A doz-
en feet inside the entrance they dump-
ed him on the sand and retired.
When the shuffle of their sandals
had died away Norcross made an ef-
fort to collect his thoughts. He was
somewhat dazed from his fall, and its
subsequent ‘happenings. He could
scarcely realize the situation.
One thought comforted him. He
was sure that whatever his captors’
ultimate intentions were, they would
leave him alone for the present. He
felt certain that the coolies believed
him to be one of a posse that had dis-
covered their hiding place. Two of
them had left the arroyo to reconnoi-
ter. They had put him out of the way
of giving an alarm. But when they
learned the truth, when they discov-
ered that he, alone, had stumbled up-
on their secret—well, he hardly dared
to think of what might then happen.
He knew the Chinese character well
enough to feel sure the smugglers
would hesitate at nothing where their
secrets were concerned. E ;
He struggled at the cords that
bound his wrists until they cut into
his flesh. Giving over this folly when
he found that he could not release
| himself, he set about exploring his
prison.
In the faint stream of daylight from
the entrance the cave appeared to be
a narrow, straight-walled tunnel. The
roof, as nearly as he could tell, was
ten feet above the sandy floor. The
tunnel seemed to run back into the
bluff in the direction of the sea.
In a few trials the captive discover-
ed that g could crawl after the fash-
ion by digging his hands into the sand
ahead and then by dragging his body
up to them. Rolling close to the near-
est wall he worked awkwardly back
into the darkness.
The floor of the cave sloped gradu-
ally downwards. Now and again its
smooth surface was broken by a short
pitch of worn rock, ending in a hol-
low basin, half filled with gravel. The
walls of the tunnel were for the most
part, smooth and even. Occasionally,
however, he crawled by a jutting point
or deep fissure.
It flashed into his mind before he
had gone many yards, that this cave
was nothing more nor less than a sub-
terranean stream-bed. This being so
—he thrilled at the thought—the
drain must have an outlet. He deter-
mined to find it.
Suddenly be became conscious of a
change in the tunnel. The wall had
bent abruptly away from him; the
place had a feeling of spaciousness. A
faint current of air fanned his cheek,
bringing to his nostrils the character-
istic odor of things Oriental, that in-
describable smell which attaches it-
self to the Chinese dwellings. His
next move brought his hands in con-
tact with a wooden chest, heavy, sol-
id, and the size of a carpenter’s tool
chest.
A moment’s fumbling over the box
discovered to him a heavy padlock
and a lid reinforced with narrow, iron
straps. The broken end of one strap
had sprung out from the lid.
The feel of the metal gave birth to
an idea. He bent the iron to an up-
right position, placed his wrists over
the broken end and began sawing the
cords across the dull edge.
It was slow work, but in a minute
or two the cord frayed and parted. He
unwrapped the ends with his teeth;
his hands were free. Remembering a
bunch of matches in an inside shirt
pocket, he struck a light. 1
The tiny flame disclosed a high-
ceilinged vault, about the size of an
ordinary two-stcry house. Along one
wall ran a row of wooden bunks, near-
by them, a low table, littered with
cooking utensils, and close to the ta-
ble a kerosene stove. Scattered about
the floor were odds and ends of ship's
stores, pieces of bamboo matting,
scraps of sailcloth, and ends of rope.
“Regular Chinese boarding house!”
exclaimed the explorer. “No wonder
the place smells queer!”
He struck a second match and held
the flame to the cord about his ankles.
A third and fourth match finished the
job. He untwisted the charred ends
and stood upon his feet.
He felt confident of escaping now.
Should he find no other way out, he
determined to slip back to the arroyo
and watch his opportunity to dash out,
and past the coolies.
First, however, the cave was to be
explored. Several matches enabled
him to examine the vault closely. It
had not been occupied for some time.
Evidently the smugglers used it in bad
weather only, or at times when they
feared discovery.
Norcross peered about the table and
shelves for a candle or lantern, but
neither was to be found. He was
about to turn away when a gleam of
metal caught his gaze. From beneath
‘glers held both ends of the tunnel!
‘Norcross shrank back into the fissure.
a sheet of dirty matting upon one of
the bunks he hauled forth a two-foot
bamboo pipe, fitted at one end with an |
ivory mouthpiece, and at the other |
with a brass knob the size of a door
handle. Through the centre of the |
knob ran a small hole.
“Wouldn't make a bad weapon in a!
him. Then a tiny patch of daylight
in the roof, a hundred feet to his
right, solved the puzzle. The tunnel
had turned sharply, almost at right
angles.
Thrilled with the glimpse of day- ! Bent on playing a prank, he wound his
| light he hastened forward again, and . little trunk about one of the chain
“An opium pipe!” he exclaimed, a moment later stood at the foot of a i traces and pulled back with all his |
weighing the heavy knob in his hand. great pile of debris that completely strength. |
blocked the tunnel. In the roof near
1
!
that attracted the Frenchman’s atten-
tion was hauling, in her chain harness, |
huge tree trunks from the bank of the |
river. She had a heavy load, a fact
that her off-spring did not realize.
Conscious of the suddenly increas- !
scuffle, either,” he added. He slipped | the top of the pile—the result of a ed weight, the mother suddenly stop- |
the pipe into his pocket and set about :
encircling the vault.
landslide—was a small
aperture ped and looked around. She saw the
{ through which the light streamed. As youngster back there, and shook her !
Half way round, a puff of air ex- he hastily scrambled up the pile to head solemnly, but paying no further
tinguished his match. But before the the hole, the voices of the pursuing heed to his teasing, bent again to her
light vanished it disclosed a strip of Chinese came down the tunnel to his . work. Meanwhile, however, the little
matting hanging against the rock. |
He groped for the matting and pulled |
it aside. ]
damp, struck his face; the faint, dis-
tant voice of the sea rang in his ears. !
The matting had been hung to cov-
er a narrow passage-way. He step-
ped through the crevice and was in the
tunnel again, a continuation of the
subterranean channel by which he had
entered the vault.
The passage still sloped downwards,
but the floor was no longer smooth
and even. It was broken into little
hillocks of gravel, and treacherous
pot-holes. Keeping one outstretched
hand lightly against the wall, Nor-
cross hastened forward, stumbling
now and again in the darkness. His
few remaining matches he thought
best to save for emergencies.
His sense of direction told him that
he was traveling toward the ocean and
with each step the faint murmur of
the breakers seemed to grow louder.
Somewhere, not far distant, he felt
confident the ancient stream-bed open-
ed upon the sea. As nearly as he
could tell he had come almost a quar-
ter of a mile from the arroyo. The
end of the passage should thus bring
him out somewhere near the foot of
the bluff in the cove. ’
From far down the tunnel came a
gleam of light. The opening! He
wanted to shout. Then his confidence
gave way to doubt. The gleam was
not daylight. It was too yellow for
that. Moreover it seemed to be mov-
ing. He tried to tell himself differ-
ently, but in his heart he knew that
some one carrying a lantern was ap-
proaching.
He peered down the tunnel, his
nerves on edge. A faint sound of voic-
es came to his ears. In a moment he
distinguished the sing-song cadences
of Chinese tongues. The sound car-
ried up to him as through a speaking
trumpet. His hopes sank. The smug-
But his despair did not last. It oe-
curred to him to retreat to the vault,
‘and to hide in some of the nooks and
crannies. Then he thought of the
coolies in the arroyo. Time was press-
ing. They might discover his escape
and raise the alarm at any moment.
He remembered that a few yards
back he had fumbled over a deep per-
pendicular fissure running from the
floor to a point higher than his head.
It was just the place. He would hide
in the fissure until the approaching
coolies went by. He felt his way
back to it.
The crevice was large enough and
to spare. When he had backed within
it, its edges projected several inches
beyond his shoulders. He felt that he
‘had a fair chance of escaping discov-
ery.
He had scarcely settled himself be-
fore the shadows thrown by the ap-
proaching light flickered and waver-
ed upon the opposite wall. He felt
his chance of escape grew when from
the voices he became certain but two
men were approaching. He was confi-
dent that even should they discover
him that he should get by them. He
would not be captured again. He took
the pipe from his pocket and held it
in position.
The tunnel grew brighter. Indeed,
it seemed to be growing fearfully
bright. He began to regret that he
had not followed his first impulse of
retreating to the vault. Discovery be- |
gan to seem inevitable.
But it was too late now to move. |
The sound of footsteps in the sand
was very close. A lank, stoopshoul- !
dered Chinaman, his eyes upon the
ground, shuffled by.
Norcross almost gasped. The fel-
low was one of the three that had
overpowered him in the arroyo—one
of the pair who had left immediately |
afterwards to reconnoiter. They were
returning through the tunnel! Here
was proof, indeed, that the cave had
an outlet.
The second Chinaman carrying the
lantern, was but a few feet away.
It was now or never. The next instant
the fellow shuffled into sight. When
directly opposite the fissure he glanc-
ed up. He saw the youth. It would
have been impossible for him not to.
Instantly he stopped and raised his
lantern. For a moment the two star-
ed into each other’s eyes. Then with
a loud yell the Oriental reached a
hand to his pocket. In the same in-
stant Norcross swung the heavy pipe,
smashing the up-raised lantern into
showers of glass, and flooding the tun-
nel with darkness.
It was well for him that the blow
went home. Almost simultaneously
with it a gun flashed. The powder
stung his cheek and the report rang
deafeningly in his ears, but the bullet
flattened itself out on the rock behind
him.
Norcross did not wait for a second
shot. Springing forward in the dark-
ness he knocked the Oriental back-
wards against the opposite wall and
dashed down the passage.
Scarcely had the echo of the shot
and the yell of the coolie died away
before, to the ears of the fleeing youth,
there came a far-away clamor from
the tunnel behind. The Chinese in the
arroyo had at last discovered his es-
cape. They were coming in full cry.
He hastened his speed. There was
no time now to feel his way. He stum-
bled time and again, but this risk had
to be taken. He knew that unless he
discovered the outlet within a very
few minutes his chance of ever escap-
ing would be very small.
The tunnel seemed endless. Was
there no end to it? He knew that he
could not possibly be far from the out-
let. All at once his path was blocked.
He had bumped heavily into a wall of
rock. A wild fear that he had stum-
bled into a blind alley-way came over
ears.
He drew himself through the open- | loosened the ring that fastened the
ledge at the head of a short gulch
running down to the beach. Fifty
feet below him a gasoline schooner
lay at anchor in the cove, its deck pil-
ed high with abolene shells. Beyond
the cove lay the open sea, flooded in
the colors of sunset.
He looked at the schooner a mo-
ment; then picked his way down to
the beach. His feet were barely on the
sand when, with loud yells of disap-
pointment and rage, the Orientals
poured out of the hole to the ledge
above like a swarm of angry bees.
A rifle cracked; the bullet spattered
in the sand near his feet. He broke
into a run for the shelter of the rocks
south of the cove. A half dozen bul-
lets struck about him before he was
out of range. The Chinese gave up.
It was getting dark. They made no
attempt to hunt him out of the rocks.
Several hours later he tramped
down the beach, ascended to the pla-
teau and circled back to his camp in
the moonlight. By sun-up he was in
the saddle and bound out to the near-
est telephone.
Three days later a posse of United
States marshals raided the cave and
the cove, but secured nothing more
than incriminating evidence for their
trouble. The Chinese had flown, and
they never came back.
Norcross treasures as a souvenir of
his adventure a bamboo opium-pipe,
which hangs above the fireplace in his
den.—The Boys’ Magazine.
THE AUTO-LOCOMOTIVE.
The auto-locomotive has arived. It
A current of air, cool and | ing and found himself upon a narrow i traces to
|
i
|
! application of alkalis and this is es-
| pecially true of the lighter colored
‘ing near the Mexican border and in
is the invention of John F. Kehrman,
of Bonne Terre, Mo., and is designed
for travel on railroad tracks.
It may be built for the purpose, or
an ordinary touring car can be made
. to serve, with suitable constructional
modifications. Inside, it is arranged
as a business car or sleeping car. It
may take the place of steam locomo-
tives on branch lines of steam rail-
roads, or may be used fer tours of in-
spection.
The machine is driven by the rear
wheels, the power of the engine being
transmitted to the rear axle by the or-
dinary drive shaft.
At the front is a cowcatcher, and
mounted upon and above the latter is
a screen of wire net in a rectangular
frame to keep grasshoppers and other
insects from striking the radiator and
obstructing the passage of air. Above
the front wheels is a sand-box, pro-
vided with a pipe for discharging sand
when there shall be occasion. The
forward end of the auto-locomotive is
carried by a four-wheeled truck whose
wheels are attached to a separate
frame which is pivotally connected to
the frame of the car.
further south.
This arrange- |
ment enables the machine to travel at |
high speed around sharp curves, much |," qdish yellow hue, while the other
i trees are green, thus making a decid-
in the same way as a wagon can turn
corners without danger of upsetting.
An air-pump, driven by an engine
crank-shaft, operates airbrakes, blows
the whistle and works the sanding
mechanism. Power and foot brakes
, can be applied to all the wheels when
an emergency calls for a quick stop.
The inventor claims that his auto-
locomotive, fitted with a high-power
automobile engine, will run easily and
safely at a speed of seventy-five miles
‘an hour.
—— a
DISEASE FREE SEED POTATOES.
For the third consecutive year the
“show them how” class of Pennsylva-
nia farmers have demonstrated that
there is absolute truth in the use of
“potato mentality” with regard to the
use of disease-free seed for bumper
potato crop production. Figures of
comparative potato yields for good
seed over the ordinary home grown
varieties, on 289 good seed demon-
strations in 55 counties, were an-
nounced by Professor E. L. Nixon, ex-
tention plant disease specialist at The
Pennsylvania State College school of
agriculture. They represent last
fall’s harvest records and are of un-
usual merit.
The good seed demonstrations show-
ed an increase of 45.6 per cent. in
yield over check growths of ordinary
seed, which is almost double the per
cent. increase of the preceding two
years. This is attributed to the ex-
tremely dry weather of last summer
when the plants from disease-free
seed showed ability to withstand the
heat. The average increase per acre
was 69.6 bushels, which at the rate of
a dollar a bushel would give quite a
little profit to the grower planting at
the rate of 15 bushels to the acre. The
average acre yield for ordinary seed
was 152.6 bushels, and that for dis-
ease-free seed 222.2 bushels.
Pennsylvania farmers have come to
believe in Professor Nixon’s “potato
mentality” practice so thoroughly that
over 100,000 bushels of disease-free
seed have been bought for planting in
practically every county in the State.
Last year 48,000 bushels were bought
and planted, potatoes that the college
men or county agents had inspected
and approved before shipment. Thous-
ands of farmers will adopt this prac-
tice of planting the very best seed ob-
tainable during the coming spring.
Teaching a Baby Elephant Manners.
Elephants are surprisingly like hu-
man beings in the way they discipline
their young. In proof, there may be
cited an amusing incident witnessed
by a Frenchman in an extensive lum-
ber yard in Burma, where elephants
are used to handle the heavy loads.
While the adult elephants were
faithfully at work, the youngsters
played about the yard. The elephant lor office, or shop.
i higs and are from 10 to 25 feet in cir-
rascal with his mischievous trunk had :
the load.—Ex.
MAHOGANY TREES.
The mahogany tree is something of |
a recluse—at least, it has a solitary
habit of life—and likes to stand rear-
ing its head above its lesser neighbors, !
smaller trees and dense undergrowth |
of tropic forests. There is no such |
thing as a forest of mahogany. It is!
not found in groves or clumps, or lit- |
tle group of settlements within the’
woods. In the region where it is found
at its best there will be, perhaps only
one or two trees te the acre. |
Two broad classifications are gen- |
erally used for this wood in commerce
—Spanish mahogany and Honduras |
mahogany. From the Island of San- i
to Domingo comes the Spanish wood, |
richly colored, solid and heavy. It is |
famous for these points and the rich |
wavy figuring brought out under pol- |
ishing, as well as for the high polish |
which it will take. Cuban mahogany !
is also classed as Spanish, although |
the wood is slightly inferior. It is sol-
id to the touch and is distinguished by |
the tiny chalk-like white specks in the
pores. |
Honduras mahogany is lighter,
lacking the figuring and the curl of
the Spanish wood and is open of grain
and rather uniform in color. Little
black specks or lines in the grain of
the wood mark this variety. Its col-
or is often artificially deepened by the |
Honduras mahogany. The trees grow-
the northern part of the country, are
more dense and solid than those found
The mahogany tree, as a matter of
fact, reaches its maximum dimensions
in Mexico. In the upland Provinces
it furnishes a timber which is firm,
solid and richly figured.
The work of the mahogany lumber-
ing outfit is thus described by John J.
Birch:
“The personnel of a mahogany lum-
bering outfit is the same in many re-
spects as a lumber camp in any Amer-
ican forest, save for minor details. '
Belize, in British Honduras, is the
chief exporting city for mahogany,
and for that reason most of the out-
fits are made up from there.
“The methods used in harvesting
are exceedingly primitive, inefficient '
and relatively expensive. The cutting
begins in the Mid-summer, which is
the rainy season. The tree hunter, or
the one whose duty it is to locate the
tree, is by far the most important man |
in the outfit. His first move is to pick |
out some elevated point and climb the :
highest tree and from there locate the |
mahogany. |
“At this season of the year the
leaves of the mahogany have turned |
ed contrast, visible for a long distance.
After having carefully noted his bear-
ings, he proceeds to locate the trees.
This is by no means an easy task, for
in most places the underbrush is so
dense that it is necessary to chop one’s
way through.
“The trees are large and spreading,
with pinnate, shiny leaves. They
range anywhere from 50 to 100 feet
cumference at the base, depending on
their age. It is the custom to build
a platform, some 8 or 10 feet high,
around the largest of the trees, for the
reason that the trunks are greatly en-
larged at the ground, but by so doing
a great deal of the most valuable wood
is lost, for it is here that the most
beautiful graining and toughest tim-
ber is found.
“In felling great care is taken so
that the logs will not split or break.
The trees are then cut into convenient
lengths to be handled and squared, so
that they can be more easily stowed
away in ships.
“By the time the dry season has be-
gun, and while a part of the gang are
engaged in cutting, others are at work
preparing roads and bridges to ena-
ble the logs to be transported. The
trucks used for hauling are two-
wheeled affairs, constructed on the
spot, save for the axles and hubs,
which are brought in by the lumber-
men,
“Oxen are used to haul these im-
provised wagons. The work is done
mostly at night, by the aid of pine
torches, for the reason that it is cool-
er at that time. The logs are collect-
ed on the banks of the rivers and left
there until June, when they are cut
loose and allowed to float down
stream.
“When they have arrived at their
destination, each owner collects his
logs, which are marked by certain
marks on the ends. They are then
prepared for export by cutting off any
battered ends or split portions. The
natives tie them together and raft
them to the ships, where they are
placed on board. This is a dangerous
operation, for in rough weather many
of the rafts are broken up and tim-
bers carried out to sea. ;
“The vogue of mahogany, highly
prized as it is for cabinet making and
for furniture, is of English origin. A
carpenter on Sir Walter Raleigh’s
ship is credited with having noted
first the possibilities of the wood, be-
ing attracted by its hardness and du-
rability as well as its beautiful color
and grain.—Bulletin of the American
Forestry Association. :
ns ————— AS ————
——Dark days are possible in every
month of the year, particularly in this
climate. But they are always endur-
able when cheerfulness rules in home,
~ 7
FARM NOTES.
—The farmers who are suffering
most from the present financial con-
ditions are those who have over-spe-
cialized. The farmers who had some
hogs, dairy cows and poultry weather-
ed the storm in pretty good shape.
| Those who had a moderate distribu-
tion and diversification of crops suf-
fered the least. Diversification of
crops and livestock is what is needed.
It is always good to have some side-
lines to take up the slack. The ideal
farm is one on which are grown a
good variety of crops in regular ro-
tation, and on which is found a good
balanced assortment of livestock.
{ Work out a system.
- —Many farmers are more prosper-
ous than they realize. There are very
tew of them in as unsatisfactory con-
dition for crops this year as the bus-
iness men of the country believe.
—Most farmers have more to eat,
more feed, better shelter, larger num-
ber of marketable products, than they
give themselves credit for having. The
tarm is more profitable than we be-
lieve; it affords a better home than we
appreciate; it offers better opportu-
nities for comfortable living than we
make use of.
—Ground feeds are more economic-
al as a rule for cows. They eat grain
very greedily and do not generally
masticate it properly. Thus much of
it passes out of the stomach undigest-
ed. This is especially noticeable in
feeding corn and oats.
—A shovelful of wood ashes scat-
tered around each currant bush and a
handful on the crown, will serve two
purposes—fertilize and prevent insects
and disease.
—The clover or alfalfa plant is the
cheapest and most effective subsoiling
plow. It runs deeper than a steel
plow, is self-propelling, and in pass-
ing leaves more fertility than it takes.
—The claim that too much manure
will burn up the crop is only partly
true. It may if it is a very dry sea-
son and the manure is not worked
well into the soil. But there is little
likelihood of injury from a heavy ap-
plication, if worked in right. Far
more corn has been lost through too
little than through too much manure.
—Good onions may be raised in any
soil that has successfully produced po-
tatoes, corn or any vegetable crop.
The muck lands, such as will be found
throughout Pennsylvania, will give a
better yield of onions, and with less
labor than any other soil. But before
such lands are fit they must be thor-
oughly subdued to get clear of weeds.
If kept clear of weeds it is a good
plan to grow onions annually upon
the same ground, as it would then be-
| come firmer, and the firmer it becomes
the better the crop will be, unless the
ground should be allowed to bake.
Onions grown after celery are, as a
rule, very successful, as the ground
‘ will be free from weeds and there will
be less labor in caring for the crop.
If the ground was plowed in the fall
and leveled down, it can be worked
and sown earlier in the spring. There
will be a week or two difference in
getting in the crop if the plowing has
been left to the spring. Onions should
be sown as soon as the frost is out of
the ground.
—The best complete fertilizer
should be used, one that is about one
to two of nitrogen, seven to eight of
acid and eight to ten of potash. This
should be varied in quantity accord-
ing to the needs of the soil. A full
crop cannot be expected when only a
small amount of fertilizer is used.
From one to one and a half tons per
acre is a good rule.
Wood ashes are excellent in most
soils, but generally they are not suf-
ficient to produce the best crop.
The fertilizer must be evenly dis-
tribuved over the ground or the onions
will be spotted. Hand-sowing of the
fertilizer is not always satisfactory.
From 500 to 800 bushels of onions
may be grown on a rich, well-drained
loam soil, but heavy clays, hillsides
and stony land should be avoided. The
attempt to grow onions on weedy or
run-down land should never be made.
Cultivation should begin immediate-
ly as the young plants appear. A
wheel hoe is very good for this pur-
pose, as it loosens the soil on both
sides of the row and throws it slightly
away from the plants. Follow by
hand-weeding, and, when necessary,
thin out. The plants should be about
three inches apart in the row, unless
the soil is rich, when they will permit
crowding. If the soil should not be
sufficiently fertile, more fertilizer
should be added to mature the crop
rather than to thin, unless the plants
should be altogether too close.
Whenever the weeds appear
throughout the growing season, the
crop should be hoed. Cultivation
should be given every other week un-
til the bulbs begin to form, when it
may be lessened.
The stalks become weak just above
the bulbs and topple over on the
ground as maturity approaches. As
soon as the majority of the tops have
died down the crop may be culled, not-
withstanding that some of the tops
remain green and standing.
When harvesting, throw two or
more rows together and allow to re-
main on the ground for a week or
more to cure. It is best not to twist
or cut off the tops until ready to store
the onions, although it may be done
any time before marketing.
—A lot of hard labor will be saved
if the garden plot is so arranged that
a horse and plow may be admitted.
Objection is made by some to using
the horse in the garden, but if the
rows are planted far enough apart to
permit proper cultivation, and the
proper tools used, the horse will do
better work and at less expense.
Good, sharp tools must be used.
Deep plowing, cutting narrow furrows
and cultivating with a good instru-
ment drawn by a steady horse is far
easier and better to keep the ground
stirred and the weeds down than by
walking up and down the rows, chop-
ping, in the broiling sun.
—In 1919, Pennsylvania produced
7,184,096 quarts of strawberries and
851,606 quarts of blackberries and
dewberries.