==
Belefonte, Pa., May 30, 1924.
EE ——————————————————————C
THE MAN WITH A SMILE.
Denis A. McCarthy.
The man who fares forth with a smile on
his face
Is sure of a welcome in every throng.
His smile is his passport. It gives him a
place
In hearts that have suffered,
that are strong.
His smile is his countersign.
shows :
No feeling unfriendly inhabits his breast;
His smile is the white flag of peace which
in souls
With it he
he knows
Will win him at last what is truest and
best.
The man who fares forth with a word on
his lips i
Of kindness, of comfort, of helpful in-
tent—
That man will bring sunshine no cloud
may eclipse;
That man will give gladness with sad-
ness unblent.
And people will watch for his coming, and
reach
The right hand of friendship.
of the strife.
‘We hail the high hope of the comrade
whose speech
Gives strength to our souls in the trench-
For, sick
es of life.
The man who fares forth among men with
the light
Of Christ and His Word in his spirit
and face—
That man will be looked for in many a
dark night,
His presence be longed for in many a
sad place.
Alas, there be those to whom life is a road
Which, burdened with care, they must
walk mile by mile.
Thank God for the man who can lighten
their load!
Thank God for the fine friendly
with a smile!
man
>
IN EVERY PORT.
They met the day the Fleet came
into port, at a tea-fight of the most
inocuous. :
Somebody—which of the three grim
Fates it matters rather less than not
at all—said blithely: “Margot, dear
—one minute! Here's a nice new
man, Mr. Nicolls!”
Margot turned, lifted her lazy lash-
es, Jim Nicolls made her a bow, and
the thing was done.
She liked him at once, for the hu-
morous glint in his keen, dark eyes,
for the whiteness of his teeth, for the
unusual quality of his voice—some-
thing between velvet and steel—and
for the tinge of bronze in his close-
cropped hair. He liked her for no
reason at all—as men mostly did just
at first—beyond the undeniable rose-
and-amber loveliness of her small,
calm self. He was in uniform,
course, a fine, slim figure of a man,
even in a room full of uniforms. She
wore a Frenchy lace frock and a big
hat with a rose on the brim. By way
of further detail she balanced an emp-
ty teacup, he a full one. ;
“Let me get you some tea,” said he,
“and some of those cucumber sand-
wiches. They're good!”
“I loathe tea,” said she. “Take this
cup away and put it down somewhere,
that’s ail I ask.”
“Will you be here when I come
back?”
She smiled up at him coolly. “If
nobody comes along that I like bet-
ter.”
“Then, doggone it, I stay!” said
Nicolls unexpectedly. “And we’ll let
the little cup just sit on the book-
case.”
“Until Rosie Morrison sees il’s
made a ring on her cherished mahog-
“Qh, lord!” he groaned and removed
it at once.
Margot melted to a smile. “I'll
wait,” she assured him. “Go put it
on the table, yonder.”
He did and came back through the
crowd empty handed, having left his
own, as well.
“Let’s go sit on the veranda,” he
suggested, “and listen to the music
boys. I like this Hiwaiian music, don’t
ou?”
“No, I don’t,” said Margot. “It’s
too sweet—all sentimental whines and
whimperings—out of time.”
The found an unoccupied corner
and preempted it.. She leaned back
against a flat black-and-gold cushion
and regarded him disinterestedly out
of long, hazel eyes, black-lashed and
level-browed. Her mouth, while
frankly owing something of its rose-
red vividness to art, was not the least
alluring feature of her small, cool
face.
with a maddening suggestion of se-
cret amusement. While she sat there
with Nicolls, one man or another cast
questioning glances in her direction
which she evaded with a delicately ob-
vious indifference.
“You got in just this morning, didn’t
you?” she asked suddenly.
He nodded. “Why?”
“By tomorrow night, you’ll be well
started,” said Margot. “Every Jack
will have his Jill, and we’ll all be off
on an orgy of parties—and emotions.”
“You've lived here long?”
“No—but I’ve known the Navy all
oF life. I’ve seen it in action before
is.”
Nicolls admitted with a grin. “We
work fast.” :
She returned with a look and inflec-
tion delightfully at variance with the
words: “Yes—I’ll say you do!”
“Have to. Ten days ashore and ten
months at sea.”
“Expert in guns and girls,” she
drawled. “Aren’t you?”
“Wouldn’t be modest for me to say
so,” he objected.
“One sees,” said Margot pleasant-
ly, “that modesty is your favorite
flower.”
“I and the violet, it’s a fact. What's
that they’re playing now?”
She told him with her first touch of
earnest: “That’s Na Lei o Hawaii—
the Wreath of Hawaii. Isn’t it won-
derful? You know, to me, that song
is the soul of these Islands. It’s so
sweet that if I loved the place—”
“You don’t love it?”
“] was born in Mobile,
I’ve lived there all my life.
Alabama.
of |
She smiled infrequently and
Do you!
suppose Mobile is adequate prepara-
tion for Honolulu?”
“But you said you'd known the Na-
”
“In New Orleans, mostly—and I’ve
visited different Yards—League Is-
land, Newport—all that! One or two
girls I knew at home married Navy
men.”
“Who, for instance?”
“Well, there was Lenore Greene—
she married Dick Cummings. He was
in New Orleans, one year, for Carni-
val, on the Castine.” : :
“Dicky Cummings!” cried Nicolls
happily. “I remember that young-
ster. Who else?”
“Then there was Rosalie Miller—
married Commander Erskine last win-
ter.”
“I was on the Memphis with Ersk-
ine—time she went aground. He's a
good scout. Never met his wife.”
“Do you know Neil Patterson?”
Margot’s eyes reflected an answering
warmth. “Or Benny Cochran? He
was Annapolis—let me see!”
“Nineteen-eleven—my class.”
She threw him a delighted glance.
“Really? Were you friends?”
“Thick as thieves.” ;
“I almost married Benny once—in
Philadelphia.”
“What happened ?” : |
Margot’s smile held an awakening
mockery, subtly more intimate, but
mockery still. “Oh. somebody else
came by.”
“You see why we have to work fast,
eh 7” said Nicolls mournfully. “Dash-
ed civilians always beating our time!”
“You have a hard life,” said Margot
sweetly and patted his spotless white
sleeve with the tip of one languid fin-
ger.
“You haven't told me what you're
doing so far from home,” said Nicolls
suddenly. “And by the way, is there
anybody you’d rather talk to at this
party than me? Because I'm about
to dig in.” -
“Oh-h, I'd just as lief talk to you,”
she conceded; “you’re new. Why—I
came down here about a month ago to
visit Rosie Morrison—and I don’t
seem able to get away. Nice place,
isn’t £27
it’s all
“If you like the tropics,
right, I suppose.”
“You don’t like them? By the way,
what is your name? And what are
you? Nobody mentioned the details.”
“Name’s Jim Nicolls—funny, what
a fool it makes you feel to tell your
own name, isn’t it? Yours is Mar-
got? I never knew a girl named
Margot before.”
“I’ve known thousands of men nam-
ed Jim. My other name is Castle-
man.”
He told her cheerfully, “We won’t
need it after today.”
She began to laugh. “If you only
knew how familiar this sounds. It’s
like getting home again. You didn’t
say what you were?”
“Lieutenant-Commander, by the
grace of God—and Josephus.”
“Where are you from, Buddy?”
“Qld Virginia.”
“Oh, this is too perfect!”
Margot.
Just here, Rosie Morrison came by
with a naval aviator on one hand, a
rear-admiral on the other. “Having
a gopgl time, Honey ?—Don’t you vamp
that child, Jimmy!”
Nicolls got to his feet with a for-
bidding scowl, and the intruders drift-
ed on.
Rosie called back over her shoul-
der: “He’s a home-breaker, my lamb!
Best in the Fleet.”
“As I haven’t a home,” said Margot,
suppressing a yawn, “that doesn’t in-
trigue me in the least. Where did
you know Rosie, Mr. Nicolls?”
“Down in Pensacola—but believe
me, Miss Castleman, she does me a
terrible injustice.”
“I haven’t a doubt of it. At least I
haven’t now. If you continue to use
those melting tones on me and those
awfully personal glances, I may turn
skeptical.”
“You're staying here?” he demand-
ed suddenly.
Margot nodded without a word.
“I'm asked to dinner, tonight.”
“How nice!”
“That means I see you again.”
“It would seem so.”
_ “Oh, well, then,” said Nicolls with a
sigh of relief, “we don’t have to wor-
ry. Fate's with us!”
It was extraordinary how much of
that ridiculous conversation Margot
could remember—rather, could not
help remembering—as she dressed for
dinner that night. She had been
vaguely indifferent to the coming of
the Fleet, sophisticatedly amused by
the frank flutter in Honolulan dove-
cotes, but this man, Nicolls, was more
than a good-looking philanderer in
uniform. He had known Cummings;
he had known Erskine; he had been at
Annapolis with Benny Cochran. He
was a link between Margot and a de-
liciously careless past. He belonged.
Oh, well! No reason to suppose the
future would be any less delicious
than the past had been.
“Things are really breaking very
nicely,” said Margot to herself, stifling
a sigh, and got out an extravagant
fantasy in blue violet tulle, which had
cost her more than she liked to think
of and which she had by no means in-
tended to waste on a mere dinner-
party.
He did not sit next her as it hap-
pened, but he came to her directly
afterward with an intention not to be
ignored, took her plumy violet fan out
of her unresisting fingers, and deftly
steered her away from the rest of the
party to a wide marble bench on the
terrace overlooking the sea, washed
by the incredible radiance of a moon
not quite at the full.
“It’s been a long time,” he murmur-
ed, as he sat down beside her.
Margot broke into an appreciative
chuckle. “I could have given you your
cue,” she answered. “Really, you are
ust perfect. You have what Rosie
orrison would call a beautiful
line!’ ”?
“And what would you call it?” he
demanded with irresistible good-hu-
mor.
“Why, I'd call it very soothing,”
said Margot gently. “It seems to
come so naturally to you.”
“You don’t think I'm sincere?”
“Qh, more than sincere—you’re ab-
solutely convincing!”
“You're laughing at me, Margot,”
he told her with exquisite reproach.
“I think,” she said thoughtfully,
sighed
“that might have been better a bit:
further on—a bit subtler, perhaps.
Still, it doesn’t really matter. You
would have got to it tonight in any
case. Does one call you Jim, now?”
“1’d love to hear you say it.”
Margot said it with pleasant dis-
tinctness, adding kindly: “I’ve known
lots of Jims. Do I say it right? I
should. I’ve had some practice on it.”
He admitted regretfully, “I can tell
that you have.” Then he opened and
shut her fan and laid it back in her
lap. “Why wouldn't they let you sit
next me at dinner?”
“Qh, did you want to? I fancy Ro-
sie thought she had done beautifully
by you, giving you that lovely Miss
Alleyn. Besides—” :
“Besides—you were otherwise occu-
pied, weren't you?”
Margot said, smiling a little: “That
was young Carruth on my right. He's
a nice child—from one of the subma-
rines.” :
“And that was Mr. Garrett on your
left. How nice a child is he?”
“Why what do you know about Mr.
Garrett?”
“Not very much, Margot. Only what
Miss Alleyn confided to me.”
“Which was?”
“That you are most likely going to
marry him—and that he was a pine-
apple planter—which implied great
wealth.”
“I see,” said Margot. “Miss Alleyn
was very confidential indeed, wasn’t
she?”
“Is it true?”
“You amuse me, rather.” She lift-
ed delicate eyebrows at the moon.
“No chance for me at all?”
“How much chance did you want?”
“What's the good of my telling you
now?” said Nicolls gloomily. “I
thought this afternoon—"
“Yes? What did you think this
afternoon ?”
When he did not answer at once,
she drew her big, soft fan across his
linked hands with a ripple of laugh-
ter. “I’ll tell, if you will,” she said.
“Come on, be a sport! Put your cards
on the table. Shall I put mine there
first? Very well, then. You're dis-
appointed because you thought that
you had found—don’t look so startled!
—nothing deeply serious—only some-
body to play with for the next ten
days. It’s more fun if you concen-
trate on one, isn’t it now? And you
had—just possibly—decided on me.”
“I knew the moment I saw you.”
“Of course,” she cooed. “So did I
know! You felt it. So did I. What-
ever it is that draws the needle to the
pole—with slight magnetic variations.
I frowned at every man who looked at
me while I was sitting out there, near
the music-boys, with you. Didn’t you
notice? We found each other at once,
you and 1.”
“Look here!” said Nicolls abruptly
—there was even then a hidden note
of laughter in his lowered tones. “You
are making fun of me, aren’t you? I
haven’t said a thing I didn’t mean.”
“Neither have I. I even mean a few
things I haven't yet said.”
“What the dickens do you mean—
about finding each other? That was
what I meant. But if you're engaged
to your pineapple planter—"
“I'm not engaged to any one—just
at the moment.”
“Not going to be?”
“Ah, that’s different!
knows 7”
“You mean you understand that I
was ready to fall in love with you—
and you don’t mind ?”
“I rather like it,” said Margot
dreamily. “I'd trust you to climb out
again, without a scar, the night before
you sail.”
“Oh, good lord!” said Nicolls. He
bit his lip and laughed. “See here!”
he began suddenly. “I never knew a
girl like you before. Do you really
want to lay the cards on the table, as
you call it?”
“J think it might be—educational,”
she told him quaintly.
“Well, then—I did take a terrible
fancy to you the instant I laid eyes
on you today.”
“But you’ve taken fancies before ?”
“Well—yes.”
“Of course! So have I. Who
hasn’t? Also—you’ll likely take fan-
cies again. So will I. And that’s
that!”
He took her hand, and she allowed
him to do so without a struggle, even
cuddled her fingers inside his with a
gesture unexpectedly soft.
“Let me say it!” she offered. “It
always hurts a man so to have to tell
the truth to a woman.”
“It’s a darned dangerous proceed-
ing,” admitted Nicolls whimsically.
“With most of them,” said Margot,
“but like all the rest, I am different.”
She stared out across the drowsily
droning sea and laughed to herself.
“It’s like this, then, Jim—I am saying
Jim already, you see! You have just
ten short days to play around in this
utterly heavenly, ridiculous, sea-bat-
tered, moon-ridden place, and play-
ing’s no fun alone. You want a girl
to play with you. Only you don’t
want her to play so hard that she’ll
try to hold you when you're ready to
go. You want a romance but not a
reality—a reaction but not a perma-
nent change. All this is outside your
regular life as much as that moon is
outside Rosie’s windows. Fancy try-
ing to take the moon into the house
and put it down on the table with
your hat and stick! When your ten
days is up and the Fleet shoves off,
all you want is a beautiful good-by
and a few tears on your nice white
shoulder—carefully avoiding the
shoulder-strap, because the dashed
things tarnish. Then you'll have a
memory, but not a menage—no?”
“You little devil!” said Nicolls ten-
defly: He grinned in spite of him-
S
elf.
“Old stuff—very,” sighed Margot,
“but it always goes down. One likes
it, Jim. I feel bubbles rising in my
soul when you call me that—as a
great many other women must have
felt ’em—you know ?”
He countered suddenly. “What
about you, now? You've told me off
nicely—I admit it—but what about
you?”
“Oh, even a girl occasionally likes
an adventure, that’s only an adven-
ture.” :
“Mostly they don't,” said Nicolls
ruefully. “Mostly they like an adven-
ture to be an advantage in the end.”
“Poor lamb! Did they all want to
marry him?”
“Do I sound as big a fool as all
that?” he protested. “You know what
Who
I mean. Girls may play at romantic
stuff, but as a matter of fact it’s a
business with most of ’em. "It’s got to
Their whole future hangs on it.’
be.
It may mean a comfortable, easy,
pretty life, or it may mean a sordid
mess with one foot in the divorce
court. You can’t really expect ’em to
take philandering lightly, and more
than you could expect a book-keeper
to take up double-entry for a pastime.
“I can see you know your subject,”
said Margot.
“I’ve given some time to it,” said
Nicolls. He put out one hand and
touched the satin softness of her cheek
with an audacious finger. “D’y’ know
—you’ve got something I've read
about in a million books and never saw
before. I can’t keep my eyes off it.
I always supposed it was poetic li-
cense, didn’t exist—but you’ve got
it.
“What on earth are you talking
about?”
He told her gravely: “You've got a
crooked smile; it goes up in one cor-
ner. Makes you look as if you didn’t
believe a word I was saying to you,
but your eyes look as if you’d like to.
That’s a terrible combination! Must
have made a lot of trouble for you—
people wanting to kiss you and com-
fort you and all that. It affects even
me.
Margot laughed delightfully. She
took his marauding finger between her
own finger and thumb and laid it back
carefully upon his knee. “I can see,”
she said, “that life is going to be
worth living for the next ten days,
but if you don’t mind, we’ll draw up
the specifications first. Shall we?
Now, we both want a romantic adven-
ture—nothing else. Is that agreed?
When Nicolls hesitated, she made
an impatient gesture of denial.
“You don’t want to get married, do
you?”
“No,” he said frankly. “I'm head
over ears in debt. Doing my darndest
to get out. Any girl’d be a fool—"
“Well—and I wouldn’t marry a Na-
vy man if he were the last in the
world. I haven’t the patience, or the
unselfishness, or the constancy needed
for that especial job. You see?”
“Are you going to marry the pine-
apple man?”
She looked at him, clear-eyed: “I
think perhaps I shall, if he asks me."
He's rather a person. I like him tre-
mendously. And I like the thought of
living down here. He’d never let me
worry about money or any other ma-
terial thing again. He'd be beautiful-
ly gentle to the woman he married.”
“You think that matters so much?”
asked Nicolls curiously.
“I think it matters more than al-
most anything else in the world. Gen-
tleness, in a man, goes clean to a wom-
an’s heart, because she knows
wasn’t born that way.” She waved
her fan to and fro in the moonlight
with a kind of pensive delicacy, then
hid her crooked smile suddenly behind
it. “We are being brutally frank with
each other, aren’t we? Do you wish
to retreat? Shall I take you in and
hand you over to Miss Alleyn? Or—
do you like me, Jim?”
“I like you,” said Nicolls instantly.
“I like you too darned well already!”
“Because,” she told him musingly,
“I'm the same kind of girl you are
man—am I not? And here we are,
flung down on the edge of a perilous
sea, under a farouche white moon,
with ten whole days to play in. And
the cards on the table, as I said be-
fore, so nobody loses anything at all.” !
“Playing for love, in other words,” |
said Nicolls blithely.
“I do like you!” said Margot.
stroked his cheek with her fan.
She
“Oh, you’ll do better than that, be-
fore the ten days are up,” he assured
her vigorously. Then he caught fan
and hand and opened the small, cool
palm and kissed it hard. “You're a
wonderful sport!” he said.
And said no more, for the moment
at least, because across the terrace
and down to the white marble seat by
the sea came Mr. Garrett, walking
swiftly in the moonlight, with pur
pose in every line of him. :
Mr. Garrett was not a tall man, as
Nicolls was, but he carried his blond
head well, and he had somewhat the |
air of being accustomed to service.
Princeton lay behind him, and St.
Paul’s with an enviable record in ath-
letics, and a record respectable, if not
quite so enviable, in more academic |
When the war broke, he had |
matters.
gone over, sanely and efficiently, as an
officer in the Engineers, after a month
or so in training camp.
He had not been decorated, neither
had he been wounded, but he had been
in a number of tight places which
might have justly resulted in wounds
or decoration—or both.
His people had always had money,
so that he did not attach undue im-
portance to that root of all evil, but
wore the evidence of it as he wore his
clothes, as a matter of course, mere-
ly. He had nice eyes and a clean
smile. Also he had intended for some
time to marry Margot, but had not
quite got around to telling her so.
Her crooked smile put him off. He
was afraid she might be making fun
of him. It did not occur to him that
she might sometimes be making fun
of herself. He had seen her go out
into the moonlight with Nicolls, and
he had the civilian’s justifiable distrust
of a uniform where the female heart
is concerned. Hence, after a decent
interval, he followed them.
Nicolls saw him coming and bit an
explosive word in two, releasing Mar-
got’s hand. She waved her fan in the
moonlight and waited. A little green
vine that trailed along the low stone
wall, bearing clusters of small golden-
brown flowers, gave off an outra-
geously powerful fragrance, till then
unnoticed.
“What's that that smells so good?”
asked Nicolls politely.
« ‘Grandmother, why are your teeth
so sharp ?’—*‘The better to eat yo. my
dear!” ” murmured Margot obscurely.
Nicolls laughed.
Garrett, coming up to them, observ-
ed: “Hope I'm not interrupting,
we're going down to the Moana to
dance. Rosie asked me to tell you,
Miss Castleman.”
“Lovely!” said Margot.
She walked back to the house be-
tween the two men. Once Nicolls
cauguht her hand, hanging at her
side, and crushed it audaciously.
(Concluded next week.)
he ,
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
DAILY THOUGHT.
A man’s ideas are often quite independ-
ent of his line of conduct; a woman’s gen-
erally are a reflex of them.—A Stoddard
Walker.
The quiet colors and soft shades and
blendings, says the New York Times,
are the smart things for summer,
brown in all of its tints being the last
whisper in style. There is all the
family of brown in all its moods and
tenses— tete de negre, Havana, nut-
brown, wood-brown, beige, cocoa,
champagne, in soft kid trimmed with
glace kid, lizard skin or any one of the
many novel leathers in a deeper or
contrasting shade. These are far bet-
ter style than the combinations that
mark abrupt contrasts, for the shoe
designer has succeeded in convincing
his patrons that uniformity and har-
monious blending are more compli-
mentary to the size and shape of the
foot than the treatment which makes
sharp outlines.
The very open, much cut-out pat-
terns are passe and fewer straps are
seen, all of the new shapes giving a
more slender appearance to the foot.
Though brown is having such a smart
vogue, gray is coming into promi-
nence, and some of the finest and
dressiest shows are shown in Orien-
tal gray. It is particularly good with
the summer colors in gowns. The
most charming styles in hosiery are
imported to wear with brown in all its
shades, and now come gray sheer lus-
trous silk hose. For, as has been re-
peatedly emphasized, it is settled that
shoes and stockings must match.
The most outstanding feature of a
' fashion show held in New York was
' the marked introduction of shorter
skirts. Whispers have come from
Paris for some time that the skirts
were creeping up toward the knee,
and the gowns exhibited gave evidence
that they have really done so. Ten
inches from the floor is now the pre-
scribed length, although some are still
seen at eight as a concession to the
conservative. The summer season al-
ways appears to bring with it more
conservatism, and, as usual, the
sleeves are not extreme or absent.
They are cut anywhere between the
elbow and the shoulder and are in-
conspicuously simple. Shorter skirts
‘ seem to mean fuller ones. They are
either pleated to give fullness or are
boldly gathered.
| The dressier models and evening
‘frocks are decidedly bouffant. One
charming model of two shades of rose
| silk net had excessively flounced
| depths and at the sides the net fell to
i the floor several inches. The bodice
, was plain and the net served as its
own decoration.
There is also a tendency to accen-
tuate the waistline. This is plain in
the bouffant evening things, but is al-
so seen in the street and afternoon
frocks, which are brought in at the
natural waistline by a variety of de-
vices. One smart street frock of blue
serge, really a coat dress over an un-
derdress of white satin, developed the
waistline by means of a small girdle |
which was brought across the, front of
the dress. The back remained plain.
The waistline effect was achieved in a
beautiful white chiffon evening gown
which had diamantes running perpen-
dicularly from the waist over the hips.
The large bertha was also trimmed
with diamantes.
!{ Interesting new sports clothes of
bright color and smart design were
shown in great numbers. A yellow
outfit came in for much favor and
there was also a smart black and
white checked coat with a white sports
i coat. One exhibition was devoted to
| the adaptation of the picturesque de-
| signs of 1830. One in shell pink, with
' the wide, full skirt and the old-fash-
i joned bertha, was fetching with the
| picture hat of lace trimmed with shell
ping ribbon.
Every room has its individual as-
pect, even as we ourselves have, and
it depends upon our ability to deco-
rate our rooms becomingly, making
the most of this point or that, as to
whether or not they are beautiful.
Especially is this so of the bedroom.
Here for years we accustomed our-
selves to a humdrum collection of
objects that rarely varied except in
detail—bureau, dressing table and
chiffonier, if the room were fully fur-
nished, small table, rocker, straight
chair and bed counterpaned in snowy
white. Frequently the rug was a
Brussels, and the window curtains
were colorless and sheer, hung against
walls invariably papered in a sweet
baby stripe with a floral border.
For years on end we were accus-
| tomed to such a bedroom, differing
! only slightly from all the other bed-
rooms of the world, thus appeasing
convention while yielding a certain
comfort, but there surely was not a
single Mngt given to originality or
a very real beauty. Later, as one un-
usual note after another crept into the
bedroom world, we realized, first a ti-
ny bit at a time, then with a ven-
geance, that bedrooms might be as
decorative as we pleased, and as
unique.
We tried painted furniture and
found it charming; we grew to fancy
colorful curtains of cretonne; our
walls became misty and alluring and
against them we placed notes of bril-
liant color and accents of bold design;
we began to delight in quaint repro-
ductions of old furniture; we demand-
ed wooden beds or slip-covered our
erstwhile brass ones, we affected silk-
shaded lamps and those of us who
were fortunate hearth owners lighted
cosy fires. But in the midst of all this
charm even the most hardy failed to
find a substitute for the white bed-
spread. The counterpane that subtly
partakes of the room’s color scheme
crept hesitatingly at first into the bed-
room world; its use seemed more than
reasonable, but would it be criticized
as freakish or daring? People were
so accustomed to speckless and snowy
bedspreads; their recovery from pil-
low shams had only just recently be-
gun; and quilts of down or wool were
still cornered comfortably near the
footboard. However, there could be
little doubt of the success of the dain-
ty bed cove ing of cretonne, flounced
quaintly to the floor to match the Co-
lonial wing nearby.
Si.
FARM NOTES.
—The asparagus beetle will soon be
‘at work. Dust the asparagus with
| two per cent. home-made nicotine dust
or with one of the commercial dusts
, of that strength.
' —The home garden soil needs plant
food before the planting starts. Use
. manure turned under and acid phos-
phate applied broadcast and raked or
cultivated at the rate of one pound to
fifty square feet, or 800 pounds per
acre.
i —When the cows are turned out on
pasture this month, continue to give
them a small amount of grain. If you
have good cows, they will pay for this
| feed later in the season by a larger
milk flow when the pasture gets short
and dry.
| —When about two-thirds of the
{ shucks have dropped, it is time to
' spray the peach trees with nicotine to
control the oriental peach moth. In
most sections of the State, this week
is the opportune time to spray for
this pest.
—Figures compiled at State Col-
lege show that the use of disease-free
potato seed has increased the yield by
one-third or more. Its use cheapens
the cost of production and makes bet-
ter profits possible. The county
agent can tell where seed of this kind
can be secured.
—Laying hens will tend to slump
off in production next month, and the
wide-awake poultrymen will endeavor
to prevent this by forcing the flock to
greater mash consumption. Grain
should be decreased as it is fattening
and does not promote high egg pro-
duction. Some feed the mash moist
by mixing a small quantity of the reg-
ular laying mash with skim milk.
Give the hens what they will clean up
in 15 to 20 minutes.
| —Heat in summer is worse on a
chicken than the cold in winter. More
hens die by being overheatzd than by
freezing to death.
During the warm summer months,
many of the poultry houses are
“sweat boxes” rather than inviting
places for the hens to feed, lay and
roost. The mite, which is one of the
worst pests we have to deal with,
thrives beautifully in houses that are
poorly ventilated and overheated.
Openings should be provided in the
rear of the house and the front should
be opéned to let the air pass through
quite freely. Poultry houses have
been visited that were more comfort-
able inside than out on warm days due
jo proper construction and ventila-
tion.
If there is not sufficient shade where
| the young stock or hens are running
| While on range, it is advisable to
| make low sheds about two or three
| feet high and cover them with some
i old boards or anything that will keep
the sun out. The roof does not have
to be water proof. Shade can also be
obtained by letting the birds run in
corn fields or vegetation of this type.
—We so often have lovely plants
which we would like more of. Our
friends may admire some pariicuiar
| plant and privatery wish they could
duplicate it at a florist’s. It might
! just happen, as it often does, that the
| plant in question is not indigenous to
i this region, and, therefore, it would
not be easy to procure its double.
| In a case like this the owner can
propagate his own plants, in order to
have them on hand to give to his ad-
miring friends, the necessary require-
ments being but a windowsill and a
little personal exertion.
The plants from which the cuttings
are to be taken must be in vigorous
health. If they are weak or infested
by insects failure is almost sure. One
of the best ways to tell when the plant
is in the proper state for taking the
cuttings is if the part from which the
cutting is to be made snaps off on be-
ing bent. Although it will root if the
part simply bends, instead of snap-
ping clean off (as though cut with a
sharp knife), the process will be slow-
er, and it will make a weaker plant.
Cuttings of all kinds, with few excep-
tions, root freely when taken from
the young wood (bright green in col-
or and consisting of the new young
shoots which spring from the main
branches of the plant), or before it is
hardened. Hardwood cuttings (the
wood is darker in color and consists
of the trunk and main branches of the
plant) take a longer time to root than
the green wood.
The cuttings are better if made at
one-half inch above the joint, because
if taken to a node or joint the wood
often has become too hard in that
particular spot; though rooting will
take place, it is not likely to make a
plant of the same vigor.
It is by the means of cuttings that
the majority of plants are mutilated.
One of the simplest ways of rooting
them is by Peter Henderson’s “sau-
cer system.” It was also he who first
called attention to the valuable “snap-
ping test.”
One needs only a plate or saucer in
which to put builders’ sand, which is
yellow in color and coarser than sil-
ver sand, which is too fine to give the
proper drainage. The sand is put in’
to a couple of inches in depth, and the
cuttings, which are from three to four
inches in length, are inserted three-
fourths to one inch in depth, placing
them close enough together to touch
one another. The sand is then water-
ed until it becomes mudlike, after
which the saucer is placed on the win-
dowsill where itis fully exposed to
the sun, and the cuttings are not
shaded. It is essential to success that
until the cuttings become rooted, ex-
posed to the sun as they are, the sand
e kept saturated and not once allow-
ed to dry, otherwise the cuttings will
2 wilt and the whole operation will
ail.
In from three to four weels. when
the cuttings are rooted, which will
vary somewhat with the different spe-
cies of plants, they are planted in
pots two and a half inches in diame-
ter and the same in depth. The soil
used is half and half send and loam
(a good garden soil), which is sifted
to make it fine. The cuttings are then
thoroughly watered with a fine rose
(the nozzle) on the end of the water-
ing can, to give a mistlike spray.
They are kept shaded for about five
days, when they will have begun to
root and further shading will not be
necessary. With each repotting the
soil is gradually made richer and
firmer.