Democratic watchman. (Bellefonte, Pa.) 1855-1940, July 24, 1925, Image 2

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

    ee cm
ool, in the outskirts of Chicago,
ving at the home of a truck farmer,
Copyright >
Doubleday, Pag "a Co.
the Truck Farmers’ association val-
? (Continued from last week.) . ued her opinion. Her life was full,
! pleasant, prolific.
BR rm “So Big” |
DeJong) in his infancy. And his |
er, Belina DeJong, daughter of
eon Peake, gambler and gentleman |
Chapter XIV
Paula had a scheme for interesting
rtune. Her life, to young woman- | a; in bond buying. It was a good
in Chicago in 1888, has been un-
qokVenticntl Somewha peainy, hut scheme. She suggested it so that Dirk
Bere oY tpel. amughier of | thought he bad thought of it. Dirk
» Hempel, butcher. Simeon is
ed in a quarrel that is not his own,
Selina, nineteen years old and
Lacticany dectitute, becomes a school-
was head now of the bond department
in the Great Lakes Trust company’s
magnificent new white building on
Michigan boulevard north.
Its white towers gleamed pink in
the lake mists. Dirk said it was a
terrible building, badly proportioned,
and that it looked like a vast vanilla
sundae. His new private domain was
niore like a splendid bookless iibrary
then a business office. It was finished
in rich dull walnut and there were
great upholstered chairs, soft rugs.
shaded lights. Special attention was
paid to women clients. There was a
eT A EE tar rocm for their convenience fitted with
who is insensible to the widow's at- | 10W restful chairs and couches, lamps,
er For a community orogiable” | writing desks, in mauve and rose.
CHAPTER J1—S8Selina secures & posi-
gion as teacher at the High Prairie
s Pool. In Roelf, twelve years
, son of Klaas, Belina perceives a
Rares spirit, a lover of beauty, like
CHAPTER II1.—The monotonous life
a country school-teacher at that
e, is Selina’s, brightened somewhat
‘the companionship ot the sensitive,
artistic boy Roelf.
CHAPTER IV.—Selina hears gossip
cerning the affection of the “Widow
Fasricnver * rich and good-looking,
#line prepares a lundl, hasket, dainty, Paula bad selected the furnishings for
this room. Ten years earlier it would
have been considered absurd in a suite
of business offices. Now it was a
routine part of the equipment.
Dirk’s private office was almost as
ature farmer, difficult of aceess as that of the na-
neglected. tlon’s executive. Cards, telephones,
CHAPTER S =—propinaunty, in their | office boys, secretaries stood between
tions of ‘teacher’ and “pupil,” an > ¥ ;
lina's loneliness in her unoonenial fhe, Caller and Dirk DeJong, head of
rroundings, lead to mutual affection. | the bond-department. You asked for
Forvus De ig wins Selina’s consent
e his wife.
CHAPTER VI1—Selina becomes Mrs.
eJong, a ‘farmer's wife,” with all the
rdships unavoidable at that time.
irk is born. Selina (of Vermont
stock, businesslike and shrewd) han
plans for building up the farm, which
re ridiculed by her husband. Maartje
ool, Klaas’ wife, dies, and after the
requisite decent interval Klaas marries
he “Widow Paarlenberg.” The boy
oelf, sixteen years old now, leaves
is home, to make his way to France
t not of ample proportions, which is
uctioned,” according to custom. The
smallness of the lunch box excites deri-
fon, and in a sense of fun the bidding
psoomes spirited, DeJong finally secur-
ng it for $10, a ridiculously high price.
Over their lunch basket, which Selina
i DeJong share together, the school-
her arranges to instruct the good-
whose education has
him, uttering his name in the ear of
the six-foot statuesque detective who,
in the guise of usher, stood in the
center of the marble rotunda eyeing
each visitor with a coldly appraising
gaze. This one padded softly ahead
of you on rubber heels, only to give
you over to the care of a gloritied
office boy who tock your name You
and study, his ambition being to be- waited. He returned. You w:ited.
ome a sculptor. Presently there appeared a young
CHAPTER VIL—Dirk is eight years i ivi '8. h
old when his father dies. Selina, faced woman with inquiring eyebrows . 3 e
with the necessity of making a living conversed with you. She vanished
for her boy and herself. rises to the | You waited. Sbe reappeared. You
of vegetables to the Chicego mar- i Were ushered into Dirk DeJong’s large
and luxurious inner office. And there
formality fled.
Dirk was glad to see you; quietly,
interestedly glad to see you. AS you
stated your business he listened atten-
tively, as was his charming way. The
volume of business done with women
fod ot 4 and, with Dirk, takes a truck-
A woman selling in the market
place is an innovation frowned upon.
CHAPTER VIIL.—As a disposer of
the vegetables from her truck Selina is
a flat failure, buyers being shy of
dealing with her. To a commission
dealer she sells part of her stock. On
the way home she peddles from door
to door, with indifferent success. A
Joliceman demands her license. She
s none, gud qurin Lhe enening ajrese clients by the Great Lakes Trust com-
on Selina's rlhood chum, Julie ; z
Hompe, now Tie Arnold, recognizes | PADy Was enormous. Dirk was con
or, servative, helpful—and he always got
the business. He talked little. He
was amazingly effective.
Ladies in the modish black of re-
cent bereavement made quite a somber
procession to his door. His suggestions
(often originating with Paula) made
the Great Lakes Trust company’s dis-
creet advertising rich in results. Neat
little pamphlets written for women on
the subjects of saving, investments.
“You are not dealing with a soulless
corporation,” said these brochures.
“May we serve you? You need more
than friends. Before acting, you
should have your judgment vindicated
by an organization of investment spe-
clalists. You may have relatives and
friends, some of whom would gladly
advise you on investments. But per-
haps you rightly feel that the less they
know about your financial affairs, the
better. To handle trusts, and to care
for the securities of widows and or-
phans, is our business.”
It was startling to note how this
sort of thing mounted into millions.
“Women are becoming more and
more used to the handling of money,”
Paula said, shrewdly. “Pretty soon
their patronage is going to be as valu-
able as that of men. The average
woman doesn’t know about bonds—
about bond buying. They think they're
something mysterious and risky. Trey
ought to be educated up to it. Didn't
you say something, Dirk, about classes
in finance for women?”
“But would the women come?”
“0f course they'd come. Women
will accept any invitation that’s en-
graved on heavy cream paper.”
The Great Lakes Trust had a branch
in Cleveland now, and one in New
York, on Fifth avenue. The drive to
interest women in bond buying and
to instruct them in finance was io take
on almost national proportions. There
was to be newspaper and magazine ad-
vertising. :
The Talks for Women on the Subject
of Finance were held every two weeks
in the crystal room of the Blackstone
and were a great success. Paula was
tight. Much of old Aug Hempel's
shrewdness and business foresight had
jescended to her. The women came
—widows with money to invest; busi-
tess women who had thriftily saved
\ portion of their salaries; moneyed
vomen who wanted to manage their
ywn property, or who resented a hus-
CHAPTER IX.—August Hempel, risen
to prommence and wealth in the busi-
ess world, arranges to assist Selina
n making the farm something more ot
a peving proposition. Selina grate-
fully accepts his help, for Dirk's sake.
CHAPTER X.—Selina achieves the
success with the farm which she knew
was possible, her financial troubles
ending. At eighteen Dirk enters Mid-
west university.
CHAPTER XI.—Dirk goes to Cornell
university, intending to make architec-
ture his life work, and on graduation
enters the office of a firm of Chicago
architects. Paula Arnold, daughter of
Julie, enters his life. He would marry
her, but she has a craving for wealth
and takes Theodore Storm, millionaire,
for her husband. The World war begins.
CHAPTER XIIL—Paula, despite her
marriage and motherhood, continues
interested in Dirk, their friendship be-
inning to cause gossip. She urges
irk to give up the profession of archi-
tecture and enter business for the
Srontey financial reward possible. Dirk
esitates, feeling his mother would not
approve of the change.
CHAPTER XIIL—Dirk enlists in the
army, going to the officers’ training
camp at Fort Sheridan. He gets to
France finally, but sees no actual fight-
ing. Selina is vaguely dissatisfied with
Dirk's progress, the tension increasing
when he tells her he has decided to
ive up architecture for business. Se-
fina's success with the farm is now
ronounced. Paula's fondness for Dirk
egins to approach infatuation.
Many of the older men knew her,
shook hands with her, chatted a mo-
ment friendlily. William Talcott, a
little more dried up, more wrinkled,
his sparse hair quite gray now, still
leaned up against the side of his door-
way in his shirt sleeves and his neat
pepper-and-salt pants and vest, cigar,
unlighted, in his mouth, the heavy gold
watch chain spanning his middle.
“Well, you certainly made good, Mrs.
DeJong. Remember the day you come
here with your first load?”
Oh, yes. She remembered.
“That boy of yours has made his
mark, too, I see. Doing grand, ain't
he? Wa-al, great satisfaction having a
son turn out well like that. Yes,
girree! Why, look at my da’ter
Life at High Prairie had its savor,
too. Frequently you saw strange vis-
ftors there for a week or ten days at
a time—boys and girls whose city pallor
gave way to a rich tan; tired-looking
women with sagging figures who drank
Selina’s cream and ate her abundant
vegetables and tender chickens as
though they expected these viands to
be momentarily snatched from them.
Selina picked these up in odd corners
of the city. Dirk protested against
this, too. Selina was 'a member of the | )and’s interference. Some came out
High Prairie school board now. She | if curiosity. Others for lack of any-
was on the Good Roads committee and | hing better to do. Others to gaze
Y pought-out remarks.
mn the well-known banker or lawyer
yr business man who was scheduled
o address the meeting. Dirk spoke
hree or four times during the winter
nd was markedly a favorite. The
romen, in smart crepe gowns and tail-
red sults and small chic hats, twit-
ered and murmured about him, even
vhile they sensibly digested his well-
He looked very
\andsome, clean-cut, and distinguished
here on the platform in his admirably
ailored clothes, a small white flower
n his buttonhole. He talked easily,
jearly, fluently; answered the ques-
jons put to him afterward with just
he right mixture of thoughtful hesi-
ation and confidence.
It was decided that for the national
dvertising there must be an illustra-
don that would catch the eye of wom-
m, and interest them. The person to
jo it, Dirk thought, was this Dallas
O'Mara whose queer hen-track signa-
ure you saw scrawled on half the ad-
vertising illustrations that caught your
pye. Paula had not been enthusiastic
about this idea.
“M-m-m, she’s very good,” Paula had
said, guardedly, “but aren't there
others who are better?’
“She!” Dirk had exclaimed. “Is it a
woman? 1 didn’t know. That namie
aight be anything.”
“Qh, yes, she’s a woman. “She's suid
to be very—very attractive.”
Dirk sent for Dallas O'Mara.
replied, suggesting an appointment two
weeks from that date.
not to wait, consulted other commer-
cial artists, looked at their work,
heard their plans outiined, and wus
satisfied with none of them. The time
was short. Ten days had passed. He
had his secretary call Dallas O'Mara
on the telephone. Could she come
down to see him tbat day at eleven?
her studio.
Could she come to his office at four-
thirty, then?
Yes, but wouldn't it be better it ne
could see something of the various
types of drawings—oils, or black-and-
white. or crayons. She was working
mostly in crayons now.
All this relayed by his secretary at
the telephone to Dirk at his desk. The
jammed his cigarette end viciously into
a tray, blew a final infuriated wraith
of smoke, and picked up the telephone
connection on hig own desk. “One of
those d—d temperamental near-artists
trying to be grand,” he muttered. his
hand over the mouthpiece. “Here, Miss
Rawlings—1’l1 talk to her. Switch her
“Hello, Miss—uh—O'Mara. This is
Mr. DeJong talking. I much prefer
Mhat you come to my office and talk to
me.” (Ne mare of this nonsense).
Her voice:
it. I thought the other would save us
both some time. I'll be there at four-
“Yery well. Four-thirty,” said Dirk,
crisply. Jerked the receiver onto the
An admirable voice.
hair and a bundle of drawings under
their arm.
The female of forty with straggling
hair and a bundle of drawings under
her arm was announced at four-thirty
to the dot. Dirk let her wait five
minutes in the outer office, being still a
little annoyed. At four-thirty-five there
entered his private office a‘ tall slim
girl in a smart little broadtail jacket,
fur-trimmed skirt, and a black hat at
ence so daring and so simple that even
a man must recognize its French na-
tivity. She carried mo portfolio of
drawings under her arms.
Through the man’s mind flashed a
series of unbusinesslike thoughts such
as:. “Gosh! . .. . Eyes. .
That's way I like to see girl dress.
Tired looking. No, guess
it's her eyes—sort of fatigued. .
Pretty. . . . No, she isn’t. . .yes
she. . . . .” Aloud he said, “This
is very kind of you, Miss O'Mara.”
Then he thought that sounded pompous
and said, curtly, “Sit down.”
Miss O'Mara sat down. Miss O'Mara
looked at him with her tired deep blue
eyes. Miss O'Mara said pothing. She
regarded him pleasantly, quietly, com-
posedly. He waited for her to say that
usually she did not come to business
offices; that she had only twenty
minutes to give him; that the day was
warm, or cold; his office handsome;
the view over the river magnificent.
Miss O’Mara sald nothing, pleasantly.
So Dirk began to talk, rather hur-
Now, this was a new experience for
Dirk DeJong. Usually women spoke
to him first and fluently. Quiet women
waxed voluble under his silence; vol-
uble women chattered. Paula always
spoke a hundred words to his one.
But here was a woman more silent
than he; not sullenly silent, nor heav-
ily silent, but quietly, composedly, rest-
fully silent.
want, Miss O'Mara.” He told her.
When he had finished she probably
would burst out with three or four
plans. The others had done that.
When he had finished she said, “I'll
think about it for a couple of days
while I'm working on something else.
I always do. I'm doing a soap picture
now. I can begin work on yours
“But I'd like to see it—that is, I'd
like to have an idea of what you're
planning to do wiih it.” Did she think
he was going to let her go ahead with-
out consulting his judgment!
“Oh, it will be all right. But drop
{nto the studio if you lke. It will
take me about a week, I suppose. I'm
over on Ontario in that old studio
building. You'll know it by the way
gidewalk.” She smiled a slow wide
“Ve. -~o A —— Ap apr
“I'll tell you the sort of thing we
most of thre bricks have fallen out of
the building and are scattered over the
She !
Dirk decided
No: she worked until four daiiy at .
could come to her studio where be
“Certainly, if you prefer
Her voice was leisurely, low,
hook. That was the way to handle ‘em. |
These females of forty with straggling @ ©'¢ >
‘ thirty-six.
RE ——— — ——— —
smile. Her teeth were good but her
mouth was too big, he thought. Nice
big warm kind of smile, though. He
found himself smiling, too, sociably.
Then he became businesslike again.
Very businesslike.
“How much do you—what is your—
what would you expect to get for a
drawing such as that?”
“Fifteen hundred dollars,” said Miss
“Nonsense.” He looked at her then.
Perhaps that had been humor. But she
was not smiling. “You mean fifteen
hundred for a single drawing?”
“For that sort of thing, yes.”
“I'm afraid we can’t pay that, Miss
Miss O’Mara stood up. “That is my
price.” She was not at all embar-
rassed. He realized that he had never
seen such effortless composure. It was
he who was fumbling with the objects
on his flat-topped desk—a pen, a sheet
of paper, a blotter. “Good-by, Mr.—
DeJong.” She held out a friendly
hand. He took it. Her hair was gold
—dull gold, nat bright—and coiled in
a single great knot at the back of her
head, low. He took her hand. The
tired eyes looked up at him.
“Well, if that’s your price, Miss
O'Mara. I wasn’t prepared to pay any
such—but of course 1 suppose you top-
notchers do get crazy prices for your |
work.” ; ;
“Not any crazier than the prices you
top-notchers get.”
“Still, fifteen hundred dollars is quite
a lot of money.”
“1 think so, too. But then, I'll ai-
ways think anything over nine dollars
is quite a lot of money. You see, I
used to get twenty-five cents apiece for
sketching hats for Gage’s.”
She was undeniably attractive. “And
now you've arrived. You're success-
Heavens, no!
“Who gets more money than you au
for a drawing?”
“Nobody, I suppose.”
“Well, then?”
“Well, then, in another minute 1"!
be telling you the gtory of my life.”
She smiled again her slow wide
smile; turned to leave. Dirk decided
that while most women's mouths were
merely features this girl's was a decor
She was gone. Miss Ethelinoa
Quinn et al., in the outer office, ar-
vraised the costume of Miss Dallas
"Mara from her made-to-order foot-
gear to her made-in-France millinery
and achieved a lightning mental! re
construction of thelr own costumes.
Dirk DeJong In the inner office real-
ized that he had ordered a fifteen-hun-
dred-dollar drawing, sight unseen, and
that Paula was going to ask questions
about it. :
“Make a note, Miss Rawlings, to
call Miss O’Mara’s studio on Thurs
In the next few days he learned that
a surprising lot of people knew a sur-
“Hello!” Said Dallas O'Mara. “This
is 1t. Do You Think You're Going
to Like 1t?”
will you dump some of those things.
This is Mrs. Storm, Mr. DeJong—Gii-
da Hernan.” Her secretary, Dirk later
The place was disorderly, comfort-
eble, shabby. A battered grand piano
stood in one corner. A great sky-
light formed half the ceiling and
sloped down at the north end of the
room. A man and a girl sat talking
earnestly on the couch in another cor-
ner. A swarthy foreign-looking chap,
vaguely familiar to Dirk, was playing
softly at the piano. The telephone
rang. Miss Hanan took the message,
transmitted it to Dallas O'Mara, re-
celved the answer, repeated it.
Perched atop tlie stool, one Sslip-
pered foot screwed in a rung, Dallas
worked concentratedly, calmly, earn-
estly. There was something splendid,
something impressive, something mag-
nificent about her absorption, her in-
difference to appearance, her tnaware-
ness of outsiders, her concentration
on the work before her. Her nose was
shiny. Dirk hadn't seen a giri with a
shiny nose in yeare.
“How can you work wi:k all this
crowd around?”
“Oh.” gald Dallas In that deep, rest-
ful, leisurely voice of hers, “there are
always between twenty and thirty”—
. she slapped a quick scarlet line on the
prisingly good deal about this Dallas |
O'Mara. She hailed from
hence the name. She was twenty-
eight — twenty-five — thirty-two —
She was beautiful. She
was ugly. She was an orphan.
She had worked her way through art
school. She had no sense of the
value of money. Two years ago she
had achieved sudden success with her
drawings. Her ambition was to work
in oils.
Texas. to Jike the picture?’
She toiled like a galley-slave; !
played like a child; had twenty beaux
and no lover; her friends, men and
women, were legion and wandered in
and out of her studio as though it
were a public thoroughfare. She sup-
ported an assortment of unlucky broth-
ers and spineless sisters in Texas and
points West. x
Dirk had meade the appointment
with her for Thursday at shree. Paula
said she’d go with him, and went. She
dressed for Dallas O'Mara and the re-
| sult was undeniably enchanting. Dal-
las sometimes did a crayon portrait,
or even attempted ore in oils. It was
considered something of an achieve-
ment to be asked to pose for her.
Paula’s hat had been chosen in defer-
ence to hat, hair and profile, and her
pearls with an eye to all four. The
whole defied competition on the part
of Miss Dallas O'Mara.
Miss Dallas O'Mara, in her studio,
was perched on a high stool before an
easel with a targe tray of assorted
crayons at her side. She looked a sight
and didn’t care at all. She .greeted
Dirk and Paula with a cheerful
friendliness and went right on work-
ing. A model, very smartly gowned,
was sitting for her.
“Hello!” said Dallas O'Mara. “This
#8 it. Do you think you're going to
like it?”
“Oh,” said Dirk. “Is that it?” It
was merely the beginning of a draw-
Ing of the smartly gowned model. “Oh,
that’s it, is it?” Fifteen hundred dol-
ars! :
“I hope you didn’t think it was going
to be a picture of a woman buying
bonds.” She went on working. She
had on a fad®ad all-enveloping smock,
over which French ink, rubber cement,
pencil marks, crayon dust and wash
were so impartially distributed that
the whole blended and mixed in a rich
mellow haze like the Chicago at-
mosphere itself. The collar of a white
silk blouse, not especially «clean,
showed above this. On her feet were
goft kid bedroom slippers, scuffed,
with pompons on them. Her dull gold
hair was carelessly rolled into that
great loose knot at the back. Across
one cheek was a swipe of black.
“Well,” thought Dirk, “she looks a
Dallas O'Mara waved a friendly
hand toward some chairs on which
were piled hats, odd garments, bris-
tol board and (on the broad arm of
one) a piece of yellow cake. “Sit
down.” She called to the girl who
bad opened the door to them: “Gilda,
board, rubbed it out at once—'thcu-
sand people in and out of here every
bour, just about. 1 like it.”
“Gosh!” he thought, “she’s—1 doz’
“Shall we go?’ said Paula.
He had forgotten all about
“Yes. Yes, I'm ready if you are.”
Outside, “Do you think you're going
Paula asked.
They stepped into her car.
“Attractive, isn’t she?”
“Think so?”
So he was going to be on his guard,
was he! Paula threw in the cluteh
viciously, jerked the lever into second
speed. “Her neck was dirty.”
“Crayon dust,” said Dirk.
“Not necessarily,” replied Paula.
Dirk turned sideways to look at her
It was as though he saw her for the
first time. She looked brittle, hard,
artificial—small, somehow. Not ii
physique but in personality.
The picture was finished and deliv-
ered within ten days. In that time
Dirk went twice to the studio in On-
tario street. Dallas did not seem t¢
mind. Neither did she appear particu-
larly interested. She was working
hard both times. Once she looked as
he had seen her on his first visit. The
second time she had on a fresh crisp
smock of faded yellow that was glorl-
ous with her hair; and high-heeled
beige kid slippers, very smart. She
was like a little girl who has just been
freshly scrubbed and dressed in a
clean pinafore, Dirk thought.
He thought & good deal about Dal-
las O'Mara. He found himself talking
about her in what he assumed to be a
careless, offhand manner. He liked
to talk about her. He told his mother
of her. He could let himself go with
Selina, and he must have taken ad-
vantage of this for she looked at him
intently and said: “I'd like to meet her.
I've never met a girl like that.”
“I'll ask her if she'll let me bring
you up to the studio some time when
you're in town.”
(Continued next week.)
Opal Diggers Work Hard
for Small Remuneration
Of all the rough “outback” joos in
Australia, digging for opal is about
the worst. Coober Pedy lies in the
heart of the Stewart range, 170 miles
frem the nearest station on the East-
West railway, and its whole popula-
tion of between 70 and 80 diggers
lives underground in burrows scratched
out of the hillside. A tin shanty, in
which the diggers keep their tools, is
the only sign of life showing above
Every morning the diggers come oul
of their holes and set out for the opal |
fields, to cut patiently through the
rock in the hope of finding the bean
siful black diamonds lying
letween them they have dug many
tho: sands of dollars’ worth of opa! in
the lust four years, though they have
worked only a small area of a field
said to be 40 miles long. In normal
times opal is worth about $15 an
ounce, but now that there is practical
ly no demand for the gems the diggers
have opal, but no money,
beneath: -
—Pennsylvania’s flow of maple sap
this spring has been estimated as be-
ing worth $512,500.
—Seed bare places on the lawn.
Constant seeding keeps the grass
thick and the weeds thin.
—Keep ahead of the weeds and they
will never grow up to be troublesome
pests. Clean cultivation means few-
er undesirable plants in the fields and
gardens in the following years.
—One farmer today produces as
much as four or five farmers did thir-
ty years ago, say farm economists.
More and better machinery, with im-
proved cultural practices makes pro-
duction more efficient.
—One hundred and twenty-eight
“boarder” cows were forced out of
Pennsylvania cow testing associations
in April, the monthly report of the
dairy extension service of The Penn-
sylvania State College shows.
—Of the 305 litters in the 1925 ton
litter race, 192 are pure bred; 98 are
sired by pure bred boars, and 15 are
miscellaneous. Watch the perecntage
of each that make the ton litter. Good
Ploed tells. Listen to its story this
—When pastures begin to get short
do not fail to give the cows supple-
mentary feed. Hay, green feed, or
grain may be used. An important
thing in profitable milk production is
liberal feeding at all seasons of the
—More than three hundred litters
have been enrolled and nominated for
the 1925 Ton Litter club. Results ob-
tained last year show that producing
2 ton of pork with one litter in 180
days is an economical means of filling
the pork barrel. This year it will be
no different.
—Cow testers are much in demand
for Keystone associations. A course
of training for men to fill the vacan-
cies which come in July, August and
September will be given at The Penn-
sylvania State College, July 20 to 25.
Practical instruction fits the young
man for actual testing work.
—Thirty-seven associations tested
11,944 cows. The Carbon-Lehigh as-
sociation led with 503 cows tested.
The Westmoreland association and the
Cumberland group were tied for first
in the number of cows producing 40
pounds of butterfat or more with 81
each, and the Lycoming association
led the groups with 236 cows giving
over a thousand pounds of milk. There
were 1463 cows producing more than
forty pounds of milk and 2292 giving
over a half ton of milk.
—Beekeepers Jhroughout Pennsyl-
vania are cautioned to be on the watch
for the development of American foul-
brood in their hives. A close watch
should be kept for dead brood from
now until the first of September. The
diease attacks larvae causing a brown-
ish decay to take place. It is a men-
ace in all parts of the State.
Control measures include removal
of the bees from the infested hive,
swarming them into a new hive. In-
fection remains in the honey, so the
bees must build new combs, Burn or
bury the old combs.
—Requests for information on how
to register a farm name in order to
prevent any other farm owner in the
State from using the same name are
frequently received by the Depart-
ment of Agriculture.
The procedure is as follows: Write
to the Secretary of the Common-
wealth, Harrisburg, for the applica-
tion blank used in registering trade-
marks and trade-names. In this ap-
plication, the farmer certifies as to the
farm owner, location of residence, the
products sold from the faim, the
trade-mark or farm name will be used.
Two copies of the farm letterhead
or other medium carrying the farm
name must be sent with the applica-
tion. The fee for registration is $5.00.
Fear that not enough farmers
in the wheat growing counties of the
State are giving serious attention to
the control of the angoumois grain
moth is expressed by H. E. Hodgkiss,
extension entomologist at The Penn-
sylvania State College. :
The weather conditions of last year
were unfavorable to the development
of the moth and not so much damage
was done. But reverse conditions ex-
ist this summer and damage that may
run into several millions of dollars can
be expected, unless growers in the af-
fected sections take heed of the situa-
tion at once.
“Thresh early,” is the warning from
State College. Threshing in the field
before August 1 is recommended, and
the job should be done before Sep-
tember 1, by all means, say special-
ists. He adds:
“The moth is working now in barns
where the spring clean-up was neg-
lected. This means a re-infestation of
the grain in the bins and if the weath-
er influences have increased the breed-
ing of the moth in the field, we musi
be fearful of an outbreak in Septem:
ber or early in August.” #
—The wild gooseberry and all its
currant relatives have been found to
spread the blister rust disease of
white pine. This European pest came
over to this country fifteen or sixteen
years ago and has spread so widely
over the white pine range that it could
not be suppressed. The fungus can-
not pass from one pine to another but
must come from nearby gooseberries
on which it lives during the summer
as an orange or reddish rust on the
leaves. There ‘is no doubt that t e
rust parasite is as unwelcome to tie
gooseberry as it is to the white pine
tree or to the forest owners, but its
guilt in tiis matter cannot be over-
looked and wherever white pines are
' growing it must be viewed with alarm.
When it comes to a choice ‘between
saving the white pine or the humble
wild gooseberry the latter should be
made the goat every time, states W.
A. McCubbin, bureau of plant indus-
try, Pennsylvania Department of Ag-
riculture. The blister rust disease has
yet but a scanty foothold in northern
Pennsylvania but is creeping down
gradually from New York and the
New England States. Everybody can
help to stop it from becoming a men-
ace to our future pine forests by de-
stroying wild gooseberries whenever
and wherever found.