Bema ld
Bellefonte, Pa., July 14, 1922.
LITTLE THINGS.
He rang in a little sooner
Than the fellows in his shop;
And he staid a little longer
When the whistle ordered “Stop.”
He worked a little harder
And he talked a little less;
He seemed but little hurried
And he showed but little stress.
And every little movement
His efficiency expressed ;
Thus his envelope grew just
A little thicker than the rest.
He saved a little money
In a hundred little ways;
He banked a little extra
When he got a little raise.
A little “working model”
Took his little “leisure” time,
He wrought each little part of it
With patience mest sublime.
New it's very little wonder
That he murmurs with a smile,
As he clips his little eoupons:
“Aren't the little things worth while?”
—Selected.
THE PRINT OF A RIGHT HAND.
To the east and south, the bunch
grass stretched in a flat expanse, pale
green, scarcely dry from the melting
© snow. Westward, a canyon opened
into the foothills. Over this stretch
of country, for years had raged a bit-
ter fight between the cattle and sheep
men. For little bunches of steers
roamed the prairies, and on the foot-
hills the flocks of the woolgrowers
grazed.
Rob Farquhar climbed to the top of
a bowlder from which he could look
into the defile. A sharp exclamation
escaped him. On the new grass be-
side the river were four large, light-
gray objects—swollen carcasses of
sheep.
“They’ve been at it again, poison-
ing our flocks!” muttered Rob. His
collie, which had followed at his heels,
now ran before him to the carcasses.
As he approached, Scotch whimpered
questioningly.
“No, old man,” his master replied,
“we don’t know who did it.” Yet
there was little doubt in Rob’s mind
that the poisoning of the sheep could
be laid at the door of some fellow who
had been employed by one of the cat-
tlemen, ostensibly as a rider, or cow-
boy, really to go about the country
doing this dirty work.
With some chemical he carried for
that purpose, he tested the water in
the trough. For the river was too
deep and swift for sheep to go there
to drink.”
“Poisoned, without a doubt!” he
concluded.
And now, stooping to examine the
soft mud beside the trough, he saw
the print of a right hand.
It was a very curious hand that had
left its mark; much smaller than that
of a man, yet somehow not like a
child’s. “A dwarf!”
The collie continued to growl.
Suddenly, startling Rob so that he
leaped to a position of safety, two fig-
ures appeared over the lip of the can-
yon.
“Shut up, Scotch!” Rob recovered
his poise with a laugh. “That’s the
son of the boss and Tom Bateman.”
Wallace Dill, the woolgrowers son,
was beside the carcasses in three
leaps, while his companion followed
more slowly. .
As Wallace turned and came toward
the trough, Rob pointed out the evi-
dence. Silently Wallace bent above
Rob could not but admire Wallace
—a tall, fine looking fellow, quick in
his decisions, a bit “cocky,” perhaps,
always sure of himself, yet always
honest. Toward Wallace’s cousin the
Bateman boy, he felt a vague dislike.
In his quick way, Wallace stood up-
right. “Well, I'm glad we know, now,
who poisoned the sheep. It’s that new
rider for the ‘B and G’ ranch. I was
certain it was he all along.”
He resumed, “Now if he doesn’t
catch on and skip the country—"
“Before you can notify the sheriff,”
finished Rob. He spoke with a purpose.
He had been reared to respect the law
—a thing they didn’t always do in the
sheep county.
“Sheriff your grandmother!” sneer-
ed Wallace.
Rob recalled the stories he had
heard of tarring and feathering men,
branding them, driving them from the
range. “I believe in respect for the
law”, he said.
“Trouble is, if the law handled this,
the sneak would get away for want of
evidence,” declared Wallace.
“It’s certainly the print of that fel-
low’s hand. It was hurt when he was
a little kid and it never grew right.
They say he can rope steers with any-
body, though—and it seems he can
poison sheep, too.”
Rob recalled the boy. He had rather
a pitiful looking face; seemed to be
trying hard to do good work. It was
a pity he had to do a thing like this.
Knowing the rage that was smoulder-
ing in the sheep range, Rob trembled
for anybody that was suspected. He
stood scanning the canyon, a wild
place where they had often seen grouse
and fool hens, and where raccoons
came down to wash their food in
places where the cliff was not too
smooth and steep.
Wallace spoke to him suddenly,
“Rob, you're off duty; send Scotch
- home and come up on the mesa with
us in the flivver. We want to put the
best ranchers to watching for that
rider. He musn’t get away.”
The flivver soon covered the dis-
tance to a colony of ranches. On the
mesa the country was wild and the
trails were sandy or rough, bad for
motors.
The sheep king’s son halted before
a cabin where herder’s dogs lay about
in the sun. Two men came from the
corral.
While one of these answered Wal-
Tace’s questions as to the mesa ranch
people, the other remained at the rear
of the flivver. Rob watched him. Rob
was quick to comprehend. Almost at
once he said to himself, and his heart
beat uneasily, “That young fellow sus-
pects us.”
The stranger was a boy, big-boned,
with a thick neck and a large nose.
Rob saw he was looking at something
that interested him, in the parcelhold-
er at the back of the car.
Four more men came quietly into
the group—two from a passing wag-
on, two from inside the house. Their
faces were all alike ugly with the an-
ger they felt against the one who had
killed their sheep.
Still Wallace talked on—and did
not guess. But Rob started at every
movement of a hand in their direction.
Suddenly the boy with the big nose
addressed Wallace: “What’s your
business here? I
these sheep poisonings?”
Wallace answered glibly: “Sure. I
was just telling the men who killed
your sheep.” He proceeded with his
story; and Rob saw one man look at
another, with an ugly expression that
showed hic teeth. Wallace was start-
ing his car. “I'll drive on—" he be-
gan. >
His shoulder was seized by a huge
hand.
“Wh—what do you mean?” Wal-
lace gasped. He looked from hard
face to hard face. “I'm a son of Wal-
lace Dill, the—"
“Always knew the big sheep men
wanted the range to themselves. So
your dad sent you to poison sheep,
eh?”
As Wallace denied and defended,
they laughed.
All the boys now stood
ground.
“Look here, I want the protection
on the
of the law,” resumed Wallace. “You
can’t keep me here.”
A guffaw answered him. “You
didn’t think so highly of the law when
you was after that cowboy.”
Wallace was silent, helpless in the
grasp of his enemies, waiting what-
ever injustice they saw fit to inflict.
Did he rcalize? Did he see, now,
what is the inescapable punishment
of wrong we do? Destroy your coun-
try’s law will you? When you need
it, there may be none to protect you.
Bad as his plight was, these thoughts
went through Rob’s mind.
At least Wallace never whined. He
just folded his arms and grinned, but
watched his captors with bright, un-
easy eyes.
No more was said to the boys. The
youth with the large nose kept his
eyes on them, ready if they made a
movement toward flight, to raise the
alarm and lay hold of them. The men
were talking together, grouped about
the wagon.
Suddenly there was a cry from one
of the herders.
An eagle from the canyon flew di-
rectly above the trail. Chickens scur-
ried to cover. There was a terrified
bleat from some ewe with a lamb. And
then—
Rob did not observe that their
guard had started on a run for the
corral. He did not notice, even, that
the attention of the men in the road
was diverted. He saw, only, that
Wallace had leaped for the car. Im-
mediately he flung himself across the
runping hoard, falling over Tom Bate-
map:
Already Wallace was starting. Al-
ready there were shouts from the en-
emy, and three men rushed toward
the car. Sometimes that self-starter
balked!
But today it worked!
grease!” muttered Wallace.
A blue smudge of gasoline, a gray-
white puff of dust, and they were off.
Triumphantly Tom Bateman waved
his hand toward the baffled enemy.
“We'll strike a cross trail two miles
up,” said Wallace. “Then we’ll make
a streak for home and safety. If we
ever had a close call—”
“Wallace,” exclaimed Bob, “there's
another flivver taking the chase.”
“Didn’t know there was a car on
the mesa,” shouted Wallace above the
noise of the car. “But I'll say I've
got the fastest little wagon.” He in-
creased the speed.
“Look out, you'll break something
or turn turtle,” warned Bob. “And
then—"
Wallace sped down the crossroad,
making for the home trail. The pur-
suing car had almost as much speed;
but with his start Wallace kept well
ahead.
A sandy stretch was reached. The
flivver took a toboggan slide that
made Rob set his teeth. But the
place was passed safely.
“See if that car is gaining,” com-
manded Wallace.
Rob had no chance to reply before
the flivver slowed—halted—stopped.
Wallace threw up his hands. “I
know what it is—the timer. And I
couldn’t fix it if I were going to be
hanged—" He stopped; his sentence
unfinished.
Rob had already left his place.
“They're not in sight, yet, around the
curve,” he said. “I saw some metal
splints in the parcel box for mending
sheep gates.” With this, he dived in-
to the hold of the car and produced
from among its packages, a strip of
metal which he proceeded to bend in-
to a spring. |
A cowboy halted on horseback, to
watch. Rob glanced up. It was the
cowboy of the “B. and G.” His right
hand controlled his heady pony, but
the other was helpless—as Wallace
had described it—withered and small.
No one spoke to him.
Tom kept whispering:
not in sight!”
The cowboy, wondering, rode on his
way.
Was it hours or days since he be-
gan to work on the timer? Rob was
sure, at least, that the pursuing car
had been halted by the sand. It
might, by good fortune, have skidded
off the trail.
Wallace exclaimed, “She’s in sight
now.”
The pursuing flivver rounded the
curve. The men aboard her were
plainly visible; the boys could hear
her engine. “ It's all up!” muttered
Wallace.
“I don’t think so.” Completing his
task, Rob leaped for the running
board. “Now whoop her up.”
A shudder passed through the fliv-
ver. She staggered like a horse with
the heaves. Then she moved. Rob
released his breath. She flew along
the trail toward home.
“Slick as
“They’re
The enemy soon abandoned the
Anything to do with.
chase. Presently, a famliar canyon
appeared, and then the prairie about
the great Dill sheep ranch, with many
Dill herders near the trail. -
Wallace let his engine cool.
«J want to ask you something,” re-
sumed Rob. “Wallace, did you notice
that ‘B and G’ rider? Which hand is
shrunken ?”
Wallace narrowed his eyes, reflect-
ed a moment and replied: “Wh—
why, the left.”
“Exactly. It was a print of a right
hand we saw by the poisoned trough
—wasn’t it?”
Wallace was thinking.
“Le’s walk over,” resumed Rob,
“and have another look at the print.”
The print proved to be, not merely
a right, but much too small to have
been left by the withered hand.
“And they might have killed him,”
reminded Rob, solemnly.
As he inspected the print, a new
theory occurred to him. He looked
carefully about among the rocks near
by and behind one of these he found
a blackish heap of fur. It proved to
be the body of an immense raccoon.
“Somebody put poison under a rock,
to get wolves for their pelts,” proceed-
ed Rob. “And the coons got the meat
and came down here as they do to
wash it. The river’s hard to get into
now. These coons must have had no
experience with poison, or they’d have :
been too clever to eat it.”
“The mystery of the other sheep
dying on the range isn’t solved yet;
maybe we'll find it’s some contageous
disease. But the coon’s
these.”
As Rob talked he locked
Tom Bateman.
“You put out the wolf poison?” he
hazarded.
Tom began to deny this for the
sheep king had forbidden the poison-
ing of wolves on the sheep range.
“I happened to see some poison
from a Cheyenne drug store in the car,
when I was looking for that metal
spring,” exclaimed Rob. “No wonder
we were held up on the mesa for kill-
ing sheep.”
“I put the stuff away under the
rocks,” Tom defended.
Wallace had stood silent, staring at
the print of the raccoon’s foot, so like
a little hand. At last he spoke:
“So long as I live, no matter what
anybidy does, I'll never again help to
set aside the law of my country.”—
The Boys’ World.
poisoned |
hard at !
YOUR FRIEND, THE TOAD.
The toad, in his homely, mud-brown
coat, has always been an object of
aversion, yet he is one of the most
useful of the lesser servants of man.
There is no truth whatever in the be-
lief that handling the toad causes
warts. There is no magic in his cold
little body to produce such an effect.
He has but one means of defense, a
milky, acrid fluid that he ejects
through his smooth skin when fright-
ened or disturbed. This fluid irritates
the mucous membrane and for that
reason a dog that attempts to bite a
toad will often show distress. But his
worst enemies, owls and hawks, ani-
mals that habitually eat the toad, are
not annoyed by the secretion.
The toad is a great eater. He con-
sumes in twenty-four hours an amount
of food equal to four times the ca-
pacity of his stomach. Of this at
least three-fifths consists of insects
that are harmful to vegetation. These
include cut-worms, army-worms,
house flies and rose-bugs.
Gardeners are gradually learning
that it is worth while to keep colonies
of toads in their gardens. English
gardeners buy them by the hundred.
The toad, however, has so strong a
homing instinct that unless he is
brought from a great distance, he will
promptly hop back home when releas-
ed. The carrier pigeon or fireside cat
are not more wedded to their home
than he. By raising toads, this diffi-
culty is overcome, for the place where
they leave the water as toads is al-
ways home to them. There are rec-
ords of toads having lived in one gar-
den for twenty or thirty years, and in
one English garden the same toad re-
sided for thirty-six years.
So, if you find a toad in your gar-
den, do not destroy or molest him. He
is not only harmless but helpful, and
if your plants could speak they might
tell you of his service to them. Look
into his jewel-like eyes, at his wide,
almost smiling mouth, and you will
forget the rest of the ugly dirt-color-
ed body, whose color is the toad’s best
protection.
When Tommy Came.
Mrs. Simpson came to call yester-
day afternoon; likewise came Tommy.
Tommy is “goin’ on four” and chock
full of energy and spirit.
His mother discussed her new dress
and Lina Hunt's baby buggy and the
price of potatoes and poultry raising
and rag rugs and the way to make
good icing before she reached he sub-
ject of Tommy. Said subject didn’t
care. He was busy uprooting my best
begonia and clawing out the contents
of the library table drawer and dis-
jointing the cat’s tail, and he didn’t
mind a little neglect.
But do you know, his mother sat
there before that alert, bright-eyed
chap and told without any apparent
regret that he was the worst child she
ever saw, that he wouldn’t mind a
word, that the only way she could con-
trol him was by whipping him. “I'm
going to give him to the rag man,” she
concluded, and young Thomas looked
up and remarked mildly, ‘“’At’s a lie,”
and went on with his job of removing
my books from the bookshelf to the
floor.
Now what else could you expect?
What sort of a citizen will Tommy
make? I don’t like to think.—Mary
Barnett in Farm Life.
— Little Maggie, who is staying
in the country, always goes out to the
chicken-house in the morning to see if
there are any eggs. The other day
she found none, except the china nest
egg. “No eggs this morning,” she an-
nounced when she came back to the
house, “only the one the chickies
measure by.”
——All the news, while it is new,
in the “Watchman.”
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
DAILY THOUGHT.
He that wrestles with us strengthens our
perves and sharpens our skill. Our antag-
onist is our helper.—Burke.
Just when it seems that the craze |
for sweaters was beginning to wane,
it broke out all over again, and every-
one is again knitting vigorously at
home and abroad. Fancy stitches are
favored and some of the newer mod-
els have the appearance of being ex-
tremely difficult to accomplish.
The very smartest wool of the mo-
ment is silk ice and iceland. These
are both of the softest, finest texture,
the silk ice having a delightful sheen.
Very brief, slip-over models in white
and a pale gray, developed in shell
stitches and elaborately purled, are
the choice of the younger set, the daz-
zling Navejo sweaters being forced
into second place.
Matrons have returned to their first
love, the tuxedo; and this is shown in
any number of white medels, to carry
out the season’s mandate for all white
in sports attire. White silk sweaters
in an inch block design are things of
shimmering beauty. White iceland is
well liked and white angora makes up
charmingly if one prefers the thicker
variety. One delightful white sweat-
er worn over a pleated white skirt of
crepe de chine was crocheted entirely
of ribbozene.
This theme of using fancy ribbons |
and braids has infinite possibilities, as
you will see at once. The finest, slen-
derest sort must ke chosen, however,
or bulkiness will result. A charming-
ly unusual model uses crchid ribbon-
zene for its pretty shell stitches, and !
develops its sleeves in a most inter- |
esting manner. These are of the ki-
mona family and where they join the
sweater proper a great deal of full-
ness is added, so that they hang near-
ly to the waistline, with a very pouch-
like effect. The side seams, below
this pouch, are joined with tiny smok-
ed pearl buttons, making certain a
trim appearance.
An exquisite model which uses the
silk ice is done in rows of lighter and
darker green, apricot and white. The
effect of the two shades of green, side
by side, in inch stripes, followed by
the apricot, which tones off into white,
is adorable. A sweater using this
soft yarn is of mottled blue with a
braided belt, and two fluffy balls at
the neck.
These little out of the ordinary
touches are a thing to be thought of
when you are planning your sweater.
To achieve the unusual is to acquire |
distinction. A model done in length-
wise stripes of two shades of blue,
with a thread of yellow at the joining,
is sleeveless except for the slender
band of perhaps three inches, which
comes over the shoulder and forms an
apology for a sleeve, as many evening
gowns do. Sleveless sweaters are well |
thought of, by the way, and there is |
no denying their freedom and com-
fort.
These are usually in high colors,
Black and |
white in combination do not occupy the |
high place which they did last season, |
tangerine being popular.
but they are still seen among the
smart sweaters. A hand-knitted one
of white in slip-over style has black
stripes around the bottom and cuffs.
These are in alternate lengths of 6
and 8 inches, and run lengthwise. A
black silk tie finishes the neck.
A dainty sweater recently seen was
of blue silk in a tone of delft.
tered over the surface at regular in-
tervals were black coin dots and a
black braided girdle completed the
whole. Dark blue silk sweaters are
frequently seen over white satin skirts
for the older women.
QOatmez]l and graham crackers are
useful in feeding children, but should
be given only at meal times. Buck-
wheat and other griddle cakes, hot
breads or fresh sweet cakes should net
be given to children until they reach
the age of 8 or 9 years. Sponge cake
two days old and plain cookies may be
fiven at the evening meal occasional-
ye.
Rouge as a routine will ruin any
complexion, and no lips, however al-
luring, can survive the daily applica-
tion of the lip stick. Dr. William
Lathrop Love, of Brooklyn, made this
statement at the convention of the
American Institute of Homeopathy.
He declared the modern flapper is a
rebellion against restraint. He said:
“The excessive use of cosmetics has
reached a proportion that constitutes
a national menace, imperiling not only
the complexions but the health of the
growing nation.
“The craze for cosmetics has reach-
ed a stage where fourteen year old
school girls, unable to purchase even
the cheapest face powders, apply clan-
destinely to their faces chalk they
have captured in their class rooms
and crushed to a semblance of pow-
der. The modern flapper is a rebel-
lion against restraint and a protest
against parental control.
“No lips, however alluring, can sur-
vive the daily application of the lip
stick, and rouge as a routine will
eventually ruin any complexion. Diet
and exercise and oxygen on the hoof
are the only necessities of a clear
complexion.
“If any of the feminine members of
our profession have been tempted by
the frailties of the frivolous and have
furnished their own complexions, then,
and then only, will I feel justified in
forgetting that they are fellow mem-
bers of the medical profession.”
Most neck lines for afternoon con-
tinue the convenient and becoming
bateau, but Worth has a new, deep
oval, which he fills in with a white
chemisette for morning or afternoon
wear, and with a bit of lace or a flat
band of the material of the gown for
evening. When sleeves are not wide,
either intrinsically or by the addition
of floating wings of lace or chiffon,
then they are suppressed altogether
for afternoon wear, but the sleeveless
models are usually hidden for outdoor
wear under a matching cape or coat.
Here and there we have along, tight
sleeve for afternoon, as in a striking
Lanvin model of black crepe, banded
with cyclamen and blue, which has a
sleeve as tight as the skin of the arm,
banded above the elbow in medieval
fashion with two colors.
Scat- |
ht
: FARM NOTES.
|
wil have a crop of 917,760 bushels of
| peaches this year, as compared with
the short crop of 265,000 bushels last
| year.
| —Thirty-eight per cent. of the far-
{ mers in Pennsylvania were operating
cream separators on June 1, 1922, This
—1It is estimated that Pennsylvania
1. 6 ————————
RICHEST AREA IN THE WORLD.
London reports of oil pools and
gushers in the Gold Coast colony of
West Africa sustain the opinion of
many geographers that this is the
. richest area in the world for its size,
is a decrease of 2 per cent. during the
| past year.
| —There were 427,200 fleeces of wool
i clipped in Pennsylvania this spring.
| They averaged 6.8 pounds each, the
| total weight of the clip being 2,895,900
| pounds, as compared with 3,003,000
! pounds last year.
{ —So many letters about ants have
| been received that the Bureau of Plant
Industry, Penngylvania Department of
| Agriculture at Harrisburg has been
| compelled to issue two circulars. One
i is for ants in houses,
| ants in lawns and putting greens.
—The corn-root web worm has
: made its presence known in the corn
| fields. Samples have been submitted
' to the Bureau of Plant Industry. No
' trouble from the insect need be exper-
| jenced, if land in which corn is to be
, grown is plowed during late summer
and allowed to lay fallow. The fe-
| males will not lay eggs on bare
| ground, they will go to some grass
i covered field.
—The number of vacant farms in
Pennsylvania has shown a decided de-
i crease during the past several years.
Two years ago the vacant farm con-
| stituted a real menace in Pennsylva-
| nia, but with the slowing down of in-
! dustry, hundreds of men who have
. suddenly found themselves without
i work, returned to the farm.
On June 1 of the present year there
‘were approximately 3,820 vacant
' farms in the State, as compared with
| 6,500 vacant farms in 1920 and 4,100
{in 1921.
| —The big or mis-shapen growth on
cabbage, cauliflower and related plants
| is due to club root, a slime mold dis-
| ease. The best way to avoid trouble
according to a bulletin from the Wash-
ington (D. C.) headquarters of the
National Geographic society.
“Columbus is believed to have done
some of his apprentice exploring
along the Gold Coast shores before he
set sail for America, and many an
emancipated slave of our southland
could find his family tree among the
natives of this British colony. The
golden age of the Gold Coast, com-
mercially considered, was in the days
of flourishing slave trade, and the oil
fields promise again to outbuy the en-
tire product of gold grains winnowed
the other for |
from the sands of the many rivers of
this region.
“When you read that three-fourths
- of the colony is covered with thick
sought employment in the cities and
| from this disease is to rotate crops.
{ Do not plant cabbage family plants on
| the same ground two years in succes-
sion. When, hewever, this cannot be
avoided as in the case of small gar-
i
| els to the acre.
| are Hollander,
Stone Mason, Large
Late Flat Dutch, Henderson's Early | jitic plants, such as the orchids which
| Summer.
—Each year there are many inqui-
| ries regarding the apparent, sudden
| death of hickory trees. In nearly
| every case these deaths are due to the
| heavy losses during the last twenty
| years.
i” A close examination of the dead or
dying trees will show many small
holes like shot holes. These are
where the adults emerged. If the bark
! is removed there will be found many
markings like engraving. These were
made by the feeding larvae.
There is no method of controlling
this other than cutting down all dead
Lor dying hicgoeies before May first.
| The timber cdn be saved but the bal-
forests you get a very inadequate idea
of what you would see could you look
upon the amazing fastnesses of Bom-
bax trees, piercing the skyline at 100
feet, with columnar trunks, free from
branches below the top quarter length.
The trees you know best are like ice-
bergs in that their bases, or root sys-
tems, are under the surface. These
foreign giants remind you of your
children’s Christmas tree, buttressed
by what look to be huge trianguiar
supports. Should you dig beneath
one of these buttresses you would find
tiny tendrils, such as those which
might nourish a sapling. In the spac-
es between these buttresses natives
sometimes pitch primitive tents.
“The impression of a forest of tel-
ephone poles is further conveyed by
great cables sagging from tree to
tree. These ‘creepers’ are popularly
known as monkey-rope, appropriate-
ly enough, since many varieties of
IOReYS are to be found in these for-
ests.
“With the exception of the horizon-
tal network of ‘monkey-rope’ these
thickets are vertical forests as truly
as New York has been called a ‘Ver-
tical City.” They furnish a mute ex-
ample of inanimate objects valorous-
ly striving for their places in the sun-
light.
“Finally, so fertile is the equator-
C J i ial soil, that nature is far from satis-
| dens, lime such land as is to be plant- | fieq with the plant life which clutters
ed in cabbage using about 150 bush- | the soil and cranes its foliage aloft to
Resistance varieties
get a speck of sunshine, but nourish-
ment is afforded a second crop of par-
. grow from the branches of the Bom-
bax trees.
“The Gold Coast colony stretches
along some 250 miles of a harborless
k . coast, and extends back for about half
| hickory bark beetle, which has caused |
| ance of the tree, the brush, branches |
| and bark must be burned. This is a!
community proposition.
| must clean up for one infested hick-
lory tree will reinfest the whole terri-
| tory.
—Wherever
sugar maples
Everybody
| cldest son of the oldest sister.
that distance to the border of Ashan-
i.
“Of the estimated population of a
million fewer than 2,000 are Euro-
peans. The most noted of the native
peoples are the Fanti, whose women
of light brown skin are pretty. Their
favorite perfume is distilled from the
excrement of snakes. Shark flesh,
sun dried, is a favorite edible. Among
them, as among many primitive fight-
ing peoples, mothers are held in high
esteem Property is inherited by the
¢ Land
is held in a communal fashion, the
possession of a gold ‘stool’ being the
badge of a chief’s authority to the
lands over which he holds sway. Areas
| are assigned to families, but they re-
| vert to the community upon the hold-
are
| grown one is almost sure to find some |
| trees marked by heavy ridges going
: obliquely part way around the trunk
ior partially encircling a large limb.
| The foliage on the tree above the af-
| fected portion dies. If this ridge is
| dug into there will be found to be a
groove or burrow as large as one’s lit-
tle finger.
maple borer. This grub requires about
eighteen months to become full grown
when it is about two inches long.
One Pennsylvania borough having
sugar maples as street trees asked a
representative of the Bureau of Plant
Industry to inspect them. He found
the trees all infested with this borer.
The only suggestion for control is to
put some carbon bisulphide on each
burrow and plug the entrance with
mud.
—Reports from the more than 800
crop reports of the Bureau of Statis-
tics of the Pennsylvania Department
of Agriculture, indicate that the crops
in this State in 1922 will far surpass
the crops of 1921. The weather of the
past two months has been entirely fa-
vorable and unless something unfor-
seen occurs, Pennsylvania farmers
will reap a bounteous harvest, both in
field and orchard.
The condition of the wheat on June
1 indicated an average yield of 19.8
bushels per acre as compared with
17.5 bushels last year. While the
frosts of early spring injured the fruit
to some extent, yet on June 1 indica-
tions pointed to a crop of more than
ten million bushels of apples in the
State.
The indications are that practically
all the farm crops this year will run
above the average for the past ten
years.
—The carelessness of a number of
manufacturers in branding fertilizers
offered for sale in Pennsylvania has
caused considerable work for the Bu-
reau of Chemistry of the Pennsylva-
nia Department of Agriculture. At
least forty brands have been found
on the market that have not been reg-
istered as provided by law.
Investigation disclosed that the fer-
tilizers sold under unregistered brands
were up to the standards of the brands
that had been registered by the man-
ufacturers. Further investigation
showed that in practically every in-
stance, the manufacturrer, through
carelessness shipped the fertilizers in-
to Pennsylvania under trade names
that had not been registered. The ~zon-
dition has been corrected.
Approximately 1,600 samples of
fertilizer secured in the spring inspec-
tion, have already been analyzed. The
analysis shows that the fertilizers are
of a higher grade than has been found
during the past several years. Many
of the fertilizers contain pronounced
amounts of muriate of potash, which
duct having been absent from most
fertilizers far more than six years.
er’s death.
“Trees, plants, animals, snakes and
insects are found in amazing variety.
Here, as in many other verdant trop-
ical regions, flowers are not nearly so
abundant. The animate curiosity of
the Gold Coast is the driver-ant, which
This is made by the larva |
or grub of beetle known as the sugar |
is exported from Germany, this pro- | fine
also constitutes its worst pest. The
driver-ants constitute the standing ar-
my of the insect world.
“A ‘crack regiment’ of driver-ants,
solemnly says the Oxford survey of
the English empire, marches in close
formation, perhaps 12 abreast, form-
ing a line some two inches wide, the
soldiers being distributed aleng the
flanks and at regular intervals
amongst the workers, on much the
same plan as that laid down for a
British column in thick country. The
force travels at the double, and gen-
erally at night, taking as straight a
line as possible and selecting all avail-
able cover, an advance party having
already prepared the way. These in-
sects construct tunnels in exposed
spots, perhaps 30 feet in length, with
a height and breadth which may be
as much as one inch, and provided
with airshafts. Every animal makes
way for them, for they will attack
anything in their path, even fire, their
system of communication enabling
them to send reinforcements to any
threatened point.” ”
——The quickest way to reach a
cemetery or insane asylum is to race
with a train for a road crossing.
op
mt
MEDICAL.
Some Good | Advice
by Bellefonte
perience.
Strengthened Ex-
Kidney disease is too dangerous to
neglect. At the first sign of back-
ache, headache, dizziness or urinary
disorders, you should give the weak-
ened kidneys prompt attention. Eat
little meat, take things easier and use
a reliable kidney tonic. There’s no
other kidney medicine so well recom-
mended as Doan’s Kidney Pills, Belle-
fonte people rely on them. Here’s one
of the many satements from Belle-
fonte people. :
Mrs. Boyd Vonada, E. Bishop St.,
says: “Some time ago my kidneys
were in weak condition. I could hard-
ly rest at night and during the day
when I was on my feet doing my
housework my back gave out and
ached so I often had to stop and rest.
1 frequently had dizzy nervous head-
aches and my kidneys acted too often.
1 used Doan’s Kidney Pills purchased
at the Mott Drug Co., and they just
suited my case. They rid me of the
backaches, headaches and dizziness.
My kidneys were regulated and I felt
”
60c, at all dealers. Foster-Milburn
Co., Mfrs., Buffalo, N. Y. 67-27