Bellefonte, Pa., November 24, 1922,
oe ——.— ——————————————————
THANKSGIVING MEMORIES.
Above the old brown homestead
The autumn skies are gray;
A few white snowflakes flutter
Through the leafless boughs today:
But in the wide warm kitchen
‘What hopes and memories wake,
While Deborah stones the raisins,
And Prudence stirs the cake!
The high-backed kitchen rocker
Sways gently to and fro,
As sweet Aunt Prue sits dreaming
Of Thanksgivings long ago
When she, a brown-eyed Prudence,
And Deborah, shy and dear,
Helped pluck the turkey gobbler,
And roll the pie crust here.
Then, just as now, the snow clouds
Above the hill were gray,
And the wind sang in the chimney
Just as it sings today;
But the whole wide house was fragrant
And the guest room, snug and warm
Beamed a welcome for the gathering
Of the home folks at the farm.
The snow of forty winters
Have fallen on the sod
Since the shy, sweet little sister
Went home to be with God.
And today another Deborah
(Loved better for her sake)
Stones raisins at the fireside,
While Prudence stirs the cake.
The high-backed chair sways slower
As the whirling snowflakes fall,
And old Aunt Prue sits gazing
At the firelight on the wall;
And she thinks that up in heaven
All the Father’s house is fair
For the gathering of the home folks
And the great Thanksgiving there.
—Exchange.
MAID MARIAN’S THANKSGIVING.
By Meta E. B. Thorne.
Judge Maitland sat in an easy chair
drawn up before the glowing fire in
his beautiful library, and grumbled
and groaned. Rheumatic gout occa-
sioned the groaning; it may in part
have accounted for the grumbling. He
was, however, of an irritable, over-
bearing temper, not modified by ten
years of lonely and undisputed sov-
ereignty in his elegant home since the
death of his wife, a gracious, serene-
souled woman, seeming almost more
than human, who won from her en-
tire circle of acquaintance a love bor-
dering on adoration, and to whom even
this proud, unyielding nature seemed
to rejoice in humbly devoting itself.
The effort it had cost to write the
letter he had just dispatched made it-
self manifest in mutterings even more
crabbed than usual.
‘Norman is so headstrong, so no-
tional! A home missionary, indeed!
All against my wish, he knows. ‘His
people need him,’ so I have no claim,
of course. I wouldn’t have thought it
of Edith, though. None of her family
think of any one first, except them-
selves. The little maid is three years
old today, and I have never seen her.
There was always some excuse, but
the truth is, I suppose, that the silly
boy just emptied his pockets for his
people, so never could come home and
bring his family. But now I've sent
the money there won’t be that excuse,
so I shall know, if they don’t come, it
is because they don’t want to see a
cranky old man. If my Marian had
but stayed with me! Ah, this rheu-
matism!”
One looking into that silent, somber
room just then might have beheld a
pitiful sight—a gray head bowed on a
tremulous hand, from under whose
shelter dropped slow, painful tears,
the sad, heart-wringing tears of an
aged man. By and by, in softer tones,
the muttering went on: “Is she like
my Marian, I wonder? Bless her
heart, I hope she is, I hope she is!”
Fortunately for the peace of mind
of Miss Eunice Maitland, who presid-
ed over her brother's household, and,
indeed, for all within his influence, a
speedy reply came from his son to the
effect that, although he himself could
not at that time be spared from his
people—there was typhoid fever in
the village, but this he did not write—
his wife and child would be glad to
come, if his father would accept that
in lieu of his own visit.
“Humph, didn’t he know that it was
the child I was yearning for? If she
is like my Marian—God grant she be!”
The weary travelers arrived too late
to afford the longing eyes of the
grandfather more than a brief look in-
to the baby face framed in its wreath
of soft golden hair, a moment’s pres-
sure of clinging arms about his neck,
of rosy lips to his cheek, and the mu-
sic of a sweet voice in his ear: “Me
loves you, gampa. You glad me
come?”
Glad? Ah, who shall say how
glad? And what is this she is say-
ing?
“Me bwing Fanksgiving you house,
gampa.” At that very moment it
was entering the old man’s heart.
On the morrow the little one from
the first attached herself to her grand-
father, and soon had him entangled in
a maze of bewildered delight. She
would not leave his side, although,
child-like she wanted to explore the
house. He had, fortunately, recover-
ed from his rheumatism sufficiently to
hobble about, and even succeeded in
climbing the garret stairs. What a
veritable elfland to the imaginative
child, who danced about in glee, peep-
ing into every shadowy corner and in-
to every quaint old chest.
“Whose coat, gampa?” she asked,
pointing to a row of cast-off garments
hanging along the rafters.
“0, they were mine, but they're old
now.”
Regarding them with her head on
one side and the wise look of a judi-
cial robin, she remarked, “Papa give
his coat to poor mans.”
Knowing that though shabby there |
was still much wear in the garments,
the judge felt conscience-stricken.
‘What in vis, gampa ?” indicating a
large cedar chest.
The old man paused for a moment,
trying to swallow a lump in his throat,
ftly said, “Your grandmoth- theirselves,” which reminded the list-
ln 2 2 i ener of the statement he had some-
“Gammuvver up in heaven, has boo- | Vhete read, that the poor are the tru-
- wesses now,” she commented. ly generous.
Soh Ive to poor 'womans.” | ¥ The little maid stood by the side of
What an ague-like chill seized the | the good woman, whose care of the
aged frame at the suggestion! Could babe she eagerly watched, and, look-
he do it? Yet was it not exactly what ] |
his Marian would have wished ? {again the oft-repeated question:
When they had returned to the li- | “You have Fanksgiving you house 2
brary little Marian, with laden arms,| “Ivvry day o’ me life, darlint, bliss
came to her grandfather's side. | the Lord!”
“My birfday yesserday, gampa.” ! “You give
«I ast week, my pet, you were three folks?” :
years old.” “Sure, an’ I thry, me darlint.” The
“Me fee years old yesserday las 'golden head nodded sagely. There
week. Mamma give me vis doll for | was a perfect understanding between
my birfday. Aunt Eunice give me vis | the simple-minded woman and the in-
pickserbook, and you give me vis : nocent child, and a strong though
pwitty muff and my new hood and my | quickly-formed bond of sympathy, for
cloak.” Ei stood within that beautiful land
|
Fanksgiving ovver
“Well, dear, don’t you like them?” |into which none can enter “except
“Me like vem all vewy much, gam- | they become as little children.”
“Me like Fanksgiving! Gampa,
my cheek on it, ‘most make more Fanksgiving for ovver
hear it sing like my kitty at home,” | folks.” ;
and she nestled her face against the | “We must go and make Thanksgiv-
long silvery fur. Then she said again: | ing for mamma and Aunt Eunice now.
“Me fank you, gampa, for muff. Me | But hereafter you shall help grandpa
pa. Me like my muff bestest of all, |
gampa. Me ay
ing up into that honest face, she asked
WOMEN GROWING UNSHAPELY.
By L. A. Miller.
I realize that I will be obliged to
tread gently, when I attempt to give
the frozen facts pertaining to this top-
ic. You may criticise the style of a
| woman’s dress, her general appear-
i ance, and even her eyes and nose with-
| out fear of any serious consequences,
i but when you begin to make remarks
| about her shape your head is in dan-
t ger.
erably off in the matter of shape,
‘leads her to the very rational conclu-
; sion that you are either making fun of
t her, or trying to flatter. This offends
| her. To say that she is too thin, too
! fat, or too tall, or too short may be
the exact truth, yet it offends her also.
{ No matter which side you may take
: you are sure to offend.
The part of discretion would be to
say nothing about her shape at all,
but tell her that she is generally love-
ly and is envied by half the women in
the community.
Fair woman has heard too much of |
To praise a lady who is consid- :
ing generations, because our women
are such slaves to fashion that they
| will dare disease and untimely death
‘ for themselves and misery for their
posterity in order to keep in favor
{ with the fickle, heartless goddess.
' They have been talked to, written to
{and preached to about the fate that:
i awaits them, but it seems to have
- done no good. Now the men are be-
! ginning to talk about the increase in’
‘the number of scrawney necks, and
i prematurely old faces.
That which leads to imperfect phys-
"ical development, whether it be exces-
| sive brain work, bodily exercise, or
. want of proper nourishment, is sure
i to produce nervousness. This is due
i to imperfect development, and is the
| bane of modern life. As a people we
| are growing more and more nervous
| every day. Many attribute it to smok-
ling, to drinking alcoholic stimulants
‘and fast living. Nervousness is un-f
doubtedly at the bottom of our dissi-
| pation, and if it is not stopped dissi-
pation will be the end of us. There
| is little use of crying halt to those who |
have already joined in the chase, but’
kiss you, too.”
“Well, little maid, come up here and
kiss me,” and he gathered her up in
his arms, and felt again on his cheek |
her sweet warm lips. Then she nes-
tled down in his arms, still cuddling
close her precious doll and muff, giv-
ing now to one, now to the other, an
affectionate pat. “O you sweet, pwes-
cious baby doll! O you darling, cun-
ning little kitty muff!”
Then came another thought. “To-
mowow Fanksgiving, gampa. You
have Fanksgiving you house?”
“Yes, indeed.”
“What for, gampa ?”
“For you, darling, most of all.”
“Who you give Fanksgiving, gam- |
a?”
“Give Thanksgiving, Maid Marian?
Give it to the Lord, of course.”
“No, no, gampa. Can't give it to ve
Lord. Mus give it to ovver folks.”
“Aren’t * you a little crank, Mai-
diee?”
“Man say papa cwank. Me cwank,
too.”
“Ho, ho! I guess the man was
right. If your papa wasn’t a crank
he’d have come home for Thanksgiv-
ing with you and your mamma.”
“Papa couldn’t come. He mus give
Fanksgiving to ovver folks.”
“Papa thinks too much of ‘ovver’
folks. He might think a little of me.”
“Papa love you. Evwy night he
pway, ‘God bwess my dear faver.””
What could Judge Maitland say
after that?
Thanksgiving morning when Miss
Eunice and her niece were ready for
church, Marian refused to go “wivout
gampa,” and “gampa” assured them
all that he was really well enough to
go, and sent them along while he don-
ned boots and great coat.
The pride on the face of Judge
Maitland was quite pardonable as he
kept pace with the steps of his tiny
grand-daughter, one little hand clasp-
ed in his, the other hidden in the silver
fur of her new muff.
“Me going Fanksgiving wiv gam-
pa,” she kept repeating in happy
tones. Though very cold it was clear,
and the distance was but short. With-
in a stone’s throw of the church Mai-
die snatched her hand from her grand-
father’s and, rushing up to a girl per-
haps double her age, shivering on the
edge of the pavement, she cried:
“Little girl, little girl, is you hands
vewy cold? Vis will keep vem warm.”
And she thrust into the red, rough
hands her treasured muff. “You have
Fanksgiving you house ?” she went on,
heedless of the expostulations of her
grandfather. Then, as the poor child,
holding out the muff to Judge Mait-
land, shook her head in bewilderment,
she pushed it away with all her tiny
strength, and burst into tears, crying:
“Gamfaver, gamfaver, don’t take ve
muff! Poor little girl’s hands so cold.
See, me have mittens,” and she held
up her small hands. “Give poor girl
Fanksgiving, gamfaver.”
“I will leave you with mamma at
the church and go with this poor girl,
if you will keep the muff; she shall
have something more suitable.”
“Me go too, gampa, me go too; give
poor little girl Fanksgiving.”
And so it came to pass, that in spite
of his protests, the judge’s lame feet
and the tiny ones of his small grand-
daughter, by devious street car routes,
and having stopped by the way for
various purchases, at length ascend-
ed the steps of the wretched tenement
where, in a miserable room, bare of
every comfort, lay a seemingly dying
mother and her famishing babe.
Never had the eyes of Judge Maitland
looked upon such misery, for the rea-
son that he had always withheld him-
self from such scenes.
A kind but poverty-stricken neigh-
bor was doing all that was possible
without resources, and now, with
brightening eyes, seized the basket of
supplies that an errand boy carried at
the behest of the visitor, and from a
can of beef extract very quickly con-
cocted a bowl of soup.
“Praise the good Lord!” she ex-
claimed. “Sure, it’s just starvin’ the
puir crayter is,” and, lifting the head
of the sick woman, she held to her lips
the reviving draught.
“Sure, an’ she’d sune be well, an she
had enough to ate,” the good women
remarked, and the judge, with keen
self-reproach at his past indifference
to the needs of others, determined that
this family, at least, should suffer no
lack while he had abundance. Some-
what awkwardly he managed to sup-
ply the little girl with a bowl of bread
and milk, and turned to. see little Mar-
ian, with tears streaming down her
cheeks, and the expression of a pity-
ing angel, bending over the pallid,
emaciated babe.
“Niver moind him, darlint. He’ll be
all right whin Biddy O’Hara do be
afther fadin’ him,” and she held to his
blue lips some of the warmed milk,
and delightedly watched him drink the
nourishing food with the avidity of one
on the borders of starvation.
“Have some of the soup yourself,
Mrs. O’Hara,” urged Judge Maitland.
“Indade, yer honner, it’s not nadin’
it I be. The good Lord gives me
strength to be arnin’ my own livin’,
praise be to His name! But I has me
hilpless ould mither to kape, and thank
the blissed Lord for that, or Id be do-
in’ more for thim that can’t do for
{try to make every day a Thanksgiv-
ing for somebody.”
Yes, led by a little child, Judge
Maitland was entering into that king-
‘dom the spirit of whose King is love
and service, for riis whole life was
lived for “ovver folks.”
And that beautiful mantle of “char-
ity which is love,” which “his Mar-
ian” had worn, the secret of her lovely
! life and character, was it not descend-
{ing upon her namesake? And yet
i might not its broad folds enwrap also
{ him to whom her memory was so pre-
| cious ?
Poynette, Wis.
{ WHERE THE TURKEYS COME
FROM.
The great bulk of the turkey crop
of general consumption on the Atlan-
tic seaboard is produced in the States
of Ohio, Indiana, Kentucky, Michi-
gan and Iowa.
of Missouri, Kansas, Tennessee, Ar-
kansas and Minnesota also contribute
shares, but to a smaller extent. This
supply is termed “western,” a portion
of which is “dry picked,” while the re-
mainder is scalded to enable the ready
removal of the feathers. The latter
presents the better appearance before
cooking, but the former is plumped up
and becomes attractively smooth and
of unbroken skin surface under the in-
‘aration for the table.
fancy turkeys and other poultry are
dressed “dry picked.”
There are several sources of pro-
duction of ultra superior turkeys, for
each of which it is claimed that it
holds the palm of excellence. As the
reputation for luxurious living in this
country began in the south, it will be
well to commence with a description
flesh and flavor which are imparted by
their exclusively rice diet, and their
ed with that of other
also attributed to the character o._
feeding.
There are certain epicures who ®ill
partake of no other turkeys while
“Maryland rice feds” are procurable.
The next in order is what is designat-
ed as “Philadelphia,” and this em-
braces turkeys, chickens, fowls, geese
and ducks. Pennsylvania has been oc-
cupied by a thrifty class of German
immigrants, who early provided good
poultry, especially in Bucks county of
this State, which furnished the sup-
ply of the citizens of Philadelphia.
the excellent poultry with which they
were served, substituted for “Bucks
county” “Philadelphia,” and so it has
become the term for all varieties of
Pennsylvania poultry sent out of the
State. :
Northward progression of the de-
scription of famous poultry next halts
at Rhode Island. There the poulter-
ers have selected the largest of the
cultivated strains, which attain the
weight of twenty-five to thirty pounds
the first year and fifty pounds and up-
ward the second year. Massachusetts
has its claim to the production of high
class poultry also on file, and to tur-
keys it adds geese, of which in New
York, where all qualities and stand-
ards are passed upon and determined,
the excellence is conceded.
Large size, tenderness of fiesh, pal-
atableness of flavor, are all included,
and, though Rhode Island, Philadel-
phia and Maryland each and all insist
that their geese cannot be excelled,
the city epicures decide for Boston's
claim by their insistence for that sup-
ply to the limit of its extent.
HOW COAL WAS FORMED.
What may be said to be the strang-
est period through which our earth
has passed is the one that was respon-
sible for the formation of coal. The
planet is described as having been at
that time flat and smooth as to sur-
face and peculiar as to vegetation.
The continents were just beginning to
rise above the ocean and the land had
not yet arisen froin the swamps, and
the atmosphere was thick with fog. In
this state of affairs there sprouted
and flourished the plants which were
later to furnish the world with coal.
These plants grow as big as our
largest trees, taking deep root in the
morass and flourishing like the lush
grasses in moist meadow land and de-
veloped into the strange shapes now
found in tropic vegetation. The for-
est looked, the sicentists assure us,
like dense growths of weeds, rushes,
and enormous ferns. Some of them
grew in the shape of cacti, having
spines all over them. This kind of
vegetation was very rich in carbon,
which is derived from the warm,
moist atmosphere. Then the millions
of years rolled by, the forests of gi-
ant weeds were buried by deposits of
earthy material, and the chemical
change took place which slowly chang-
ed them into coal. This process ceas-
ed with the carboniferous age, so that
!wheon the present supply of coal is
dug out of the ground there will be no
more.
——The “Watchman” gives all the
news while it is news.
fluence of the heat needed in its prep- |
All choice or |
of the rice fattened birds of Maryland. :
They are distinguished for delicacy of |
skin is remarkably white, as compar- !
poultry, which is
Visitors to that city, attracted by |
_ this sort of talk, one of the results of
which is that she has grown, and is
' growing, very unshapely. No one can
deny the fact that there is more un-
shapelinéss among women of today
than of twenty years ago, and it will
be more apparent still when the young
lady of the period turns her fortieth
corner in life.
There are proportionately more fat
women now than in the preceding gen-
eration, and fewer stout ones, while
the decrease in buxomness is particu-
larly noticeable. We have been, and
are proud of the shapeliness of our
, women, but the indications are that
| we have less to be proud of in the fu-
| ture than in the past. The tendencies
rare to the extremes—too fat, and too
| thin— with the greater number in the
I latter class. It must be born in mind
i that a slender, petite form is not nec-
essarily thin, nor a plump, rotund
form necessarly fat. If the slender-
sity of muscle and tone of nerve, it
is in good form; or if the rotundity or
stoutness can be attributed to large
bone, volume of muscle and adipoise
i matter properly distributed through-
standard. Scrawniness is a less vol-
ume of muscular tissue and adipoise
matter than the size and shape of the
make the body symmetrical. In such
cases the sharp angles of the frame
‘are shown prominently, the skin either
clinging to the bones or hanging loose-
appearance. The fatness which
most uncouth and disagreeable is that
which gives an individual a stuffed
appearance, and destroys all the lines
of beauty. It is different from the
plumpness, or even stoutness, which
emphasizes these lines and makes the
figure more attractive to such as ad-
mire strength and weight.
In these the adipoise substance is
. deposited around and between the bun-
dles of muscles in relative quantities,
thus increasing the size of the various
parts without destroying or material-
i ly changing their respective forms. |
The fatness that destroys shape is'
. where the adipoise matter is deposit-
"ed in layers between the skin and the
| muscles. It gives the limbs a stuffed
| appearance, is soft, and flabby, and en-
i tirely superfluous. Instead of adding
| strength or vitality to the body, it
i consumes both.
Among the characteristics of this
: sort of fatness is coldness and elas-
| Saity of the skin.
lost its tone, and instead of contract-
ing and preserving the contours of the
: body, it hangs in folds and forms
i creases. It is held by some that the
i loss of tone in the skin is the prime
| cause of excessive deposits of fat be-
| tween it and the muscles.
is true to a certain extent is shown by
| the fact that if a fat, puffy limb is
i comes smaller, and may finally be re-
| duced to its normal size.
ting corsets, and frequently succeed
in forcing the fat to some other part
of the body as long as the corset is
kept on.
There are different causes for both
fatness and thinness, but until quite
recently there has been no special, or
even earnest, effort made by medical
scientists to determine them. Within
a recent period, however, considerable
attention has been given to the mat-
ter, and at present it is one of the top-
ics of the day. So far, only the ap-
proximate causes are given, and these
differ widely and essentially. It is
not a very difficult matter to reduce
surplus fat if it is gone about in the
proper way. Drugs will not do it, al-
though they are great aids at times.
Neither can it be done in a day, nor
without some sacrifice on the part of
the sufferer. This is the rub. They
do not like the idea of being limited
to a non-fat producing diet, nor of
being compelled to walk and exercise
briskly instead of remaining quiet or
riding leisurely from place to place.
The tendency of young girls to thin-
ness is more alarming than a tendency
to stoutness would be, because it
shows a lack of vitality, or, at least,
an unequal distribution of it. A visit
to our schools where girls are requir-
ed to study hard, will convince any
one that scrawniness rather than
plumpness is in order.
Not only is thinness of flesh notice-
able, but also lack of color in the skin,
sunken eyes, weary expression and
elasticity of step. Hard study has
consumed the vitality which should
have gone to perfect the physical de-
velopment. Impairment of indiges-
tion, imperfect development of vital
organs and lack of such exercise as
tends to add quality to bone and mus-
cle, are here combined and cannot fail
to produce an imperfect body, if they
do not make shipwreck of both body
and mind.
It is clearly the fault of our educa-
tion, habits of life and fashions in
d.ess that our women are growing un-
shapely in form. These may be so
regulated that the mischief will stop
with the next generation, but there is
little hope for the present.
Indeed there is little hope for com-
The adjacent States "SS is due to smallness of bone, den-
out the body, the form will still be
bony structure, or frame, requires to
ly, giving the entire body an unsightly |
1S ;
It seems to have!
That this '
{ kept bandaged for some time it be-'
Ladies often try to reduce the size
of their waists by means of tight-fit-
there is no harm in calling attention
to the dangers which lie ahead of
those just entering upon the active
scenes of life. When women lose their
beauty of form they become less at-
tractive to men. They may possess
the virtues of angels, yet they are not
as lovable, as if they were shapely.
Call it sensuousness, characterize it as
want of taste, or what you will, the
fact remains.
What is to be done about it? That
is further on. Here are the facts, and
it is for you to figure out the remedy.
If a mother can find out the causes
which have led to her ills, she ought
certainly be able to learn how to
avoid them in raising and training her
daughters. Will she do it?
Judging from the disposition shown
by a great many, the average mother
will not. But what is the use of ar-
guing with a woman? She will have
the last word, which in her estimation,
clearly entitles her to the belt.
"THE DOLLAR BILL HANDSHAKE.
By Margaret H. Barnett.
An item in a recent issue of a news-
paper, a party organ in one of the
counties of the State, says, in part:
| “It is alleged that several persons
who have been given the ‘glad hand’
‘recently by this candidate, found a
one dollar bill, in the palm of their |
hand, after the shake, and on Satur-
day night, after the carnival at
two one dollar bills were found on the
sidewalk, after he had passed, these
two evidently having been dropped,
‘not having been noticed by the per-
| sons into whose hands they were put,
lor else the individuals were so dis-
'gusted at such an attempt at petty
bribery, that they threw the money
awa
new. For years it has been a favor-
ite method of influencing voters. It
has been reported that a candidate
changed a considerable sum of money
into dollar bills, at a bank in a town
in which he expected to make a can-
vass. Sometimes, it is, said, the sup-
ply of dollar bills becomes exhausted,
at some of the banks, during a polit-
ical campaign.
On one occasion, when a candidate
shook hands with a voter, a friend,
who was standing near, saw a bill flut-
ter down to the ground. The friend
related the incident as a joke, merely
as a joke. The transfer had not been
skillfully made, that was all.
Voters talk very freely of the dol-
lar bill handshake, sometimes giving
names of candidates who have indulg-
ed in this pleasant practice.
Admiring party organs sometimes
“say of a candidate, “His heart goes
i out with his handshake.” But the ru-
mor persists that frequently the dol-
lar bill goes along.
i A dollar bill is a little thing.
Its
value is trifling. But the dollar bill
handshake stands for a thing which is
not a trifle. It stands for a practice
which gives us public officials who
must perjure themselves when they
‘take the oath of office. The hand
which passes a dollar bill to an elector
with a handshake, cannot, without
guilt, be held up to swear that money
has not been used, directly or indirect-
ly, to secure a noination or an elec-
tion.
The candidate’s dollar represents a
| practice which may give us law-mak-
{ ers who are also law breakers. It rep-
| resents a practice which may give us
| judges who are themselves criminals
{ when they pronounce sentence on their
i fellow men,
A dollar bill is a little thing. Its
| purchasing power is very small. Yet
| it is considered great enough to pur-
i chase a vote. The casting of a vote is
i the performance of one of the most
important duties of American citizen-
ship, the exercise of one of the high-
est privileges. Are we to conclude
that American citizenship is a very
cheap commodity ?
Certain questions suggest them-
selves:
Do dollar votes secure us a high
grade of public officials?
Is it because of dollar votes that we
have officials who are so very careless
of the dollars of the people?
Is it because of dollar votes that the
State treasury is depleted, so that the
State cannot support the public
schools ?
Should not any self-respecting voter
regard it as an insult to be offered a
dollar for his vote?
Should not such an offer be a rea-
son for voting for another candidate
than the one who made it?
The founders of this Republic fought
through many years of hardship
and privation, for the right of self-
government. It seems to be very
lightly esteemed, in these latter days,
judging from the part which the dol-
lar plays in elections.
Perhaps these reflections are just
the foolish notions of new voters, who
have an exaggerated idea of the im-
portance of the right of suffrage, be-
cause it has been so recently granted
them.
Let some more experienced voter
give them some information on the
subject.
P——
—Get your job work done here.
y.
The dollar bill handshake is not
FARM NOTES.
—It is a good idea to make a survey
of the damage caused in the orchard
by scab and other diseases, and in-
sect pests, so that control measures
can be planned for next spring.
—Sort out the extra sappy and rot-
ten ears of corn when cribbing by
making a partition in the wagon box
for soft corn. Separating the corn in
this way greatly increases its keeping
quality.
—How about your supply of high
protein concentrates for winter feed ?
It will pay to get in touch with one of
your neighbors and order a car load
of cottonseed meal, linseed meal, or
peanut meal through your local feed
| dealer.
—Start apple tree pruning early
and if you wish to avoid damage to
the trees by mice and rabbits allow.
The rodents prefer to eat the young
' tender bark of the twigs and damage
+ to the trees is often prevented.
—The spots on catalpa leaves are
due either to the fungus disease or to
a small insect mining between the up-
per and lower leaf surfaces. The gath-
ering and burning of all catalpa leaves
as they fall to prevent a recurrence of
the disease another year, is recom-
mended.
——The rust of hollyhocks is car-
ried over winter by the old diseased
leaves, say the plant disease special-
ists of the Bureau of Plant Industry.
Much to prevent the disease another
year can be done they say by gather-
ing and destroying by burning dur-
ing the fall of all diseased leaves.
—Peony blight can be overcome to
a great extent by gathering and burn-
ing each fall all peony foliage. All
dead leaves, stalks and stubble must
be removed clear down to the live
roots. Never use fresh manure about
the plants. Use only well rotted com-
posts and commercial fertilizers.
| —Present indications are that lambs
i will command a good price during the
, winter and spring. The best returns
‘from a flock of breeding ewes can be
: secured only when they are properly
ifed during the winter. The ewes
i should not be ollowed to get in a run-
. down condition at any time during the
winter.
—When culling the flock or select-
, ing breeders, do not be deceived by the
i hen with abdominal dropsy. She will
have a full abdomen, but it will feel
very much like a hot-water bag, and
when opened will be found to contain
yellow colored water. A hen of this
type is invariably an internal layer,
and is absolutely worthless.
—The horse-chestnut trees have had
brown foliage for one-half the sum-
mer, part of this injury was due to
i sunburn, but much of it was due to a
| disease known as leaf blotch. It is
| suggested that all horse-chestunt
i leaves be gathered and destroyed so as
to remove as much as possible the re-
j currence of the disease another year.
|
i —Now that the crops have been har-
i vested remove all cabbage stumps,
melon and pumpkin vines, and other
crop stubbles by burning in order that
the diseases and insects with which
they have been infested during the
past summer may be destroyed. Crop
remnants furnish quarters for winter
hibernation of many plant pests, which
perpetuate from season to season.
—The School of Agriculture at
State College will conduct a series of
meetings and demonstrations, on sub-
jects of practical interest to farmers,
during the two and one-half days of
Farmers’ week this winter. The open-
ing meeting will take place on Monday
evening, December 18th, and the last
event, Thursday noon, December 21st.
| Programs can be obtained from your
county agent or from Prof. T. I.
Mairs, at State College.
t —The crop report recently issued
by the Bureau of Statistics, contains
the following information relating to
pasture in this State: “The unusu-
ally long drought affected all the late
maturing crops adversely but none so
severely as the pasture. The condi-
tion of the pasture on Oceober 1, for
the State at large, compared with nor-
mal was 71 per cent. The average
condition of pasture in the northern
tier counties was 85 per cent., in the
southern tier counties 66 per cent. in
the counties bordering the Delaware
river 86 per cent. and the counties
bordering on Ohio 75 per cent. From
this information it is apparent that
the drought was most severe in the
southern part of the State. The pas-
ture was so short in many places that
it was necessary for the farmers to
put their cattle and other livestock on
winter rations. This indicates that
livestock will not go into winter quar-
ters in as good condition as other re-
cent years. The condition of pasture
one year ago was 93 per cent. and two
years ago 101 per cent.”
—Farmers in southeastern Pennsyl-
vania, stung into a realization of the
danger of the Angoumois grain moth
by the heavy losses they have suffer-
ed, this year, are appealing to the
Pennsylvania Department of Agricul-
ture and their county agents in large
numbers. Representatives of the
Pennsylvania Department of Agricul-
ture have addressed more than a doz-
en meetings of farmers on control
methods.
The Bureau of Plant Industry has
sent out more than 8,000 colored post-
ers dealing with the life history of the
moth, together with control measures.
It is estimated that the loss in Penn-
sylvania from the moth this year will
amount to more than two million dol-
lars, while next year, unless the far-
mers take active steps to combat the
menace, the loss may be even greater.
Heretofore the moth has been found
only in southeastern Pennsylvania, but
this fall it has been found as far west
in the State as Mifflin county and it
is believed that it will be only a ques-
tion of a.year or two until it is pres-
ent in every wheat-growing section in
the State.
Fumigation with carbon-bisulphide
is the only method of killing the moth
that has yet been devised, although
Federal experts are hard at work in an
effort to find some other means, as
carbon-bisulphide is highly explosive
and must be handled with caution.
|