ee —————
= Bellefonte, Pa., May 21, 1926.
OE ——
: AMERICA.
“On April 29, 1917, for the first
time in history the Stars and Stripes
flew side by side with the Union Jack
from the same mast on the Victoria
Tower of the Houses of Parliament”
in London.
She stood beside the stile, .
With a fascinating smile,
And she heard her mother calling o’er the
sea;
But the sun was in her eyes
As she faced the Eastern skies, ‘
And she thought it might be best to bide
a-wee.
She was more than passing fair,
With the sea breeze in her hair,
And the truant tresses sparkling with the
_ foam;
But she could not come away
In that negligent array,
And leave her things through-other in
her home.
She Heard men speak of fear,
And the troubled, burning tear
Sank down and hid its sorrow in the sod;
But the distant mother knew
That her heart was brave and true,
And the daughter felt her mother under-
stood.
So with maidenly address,
She caught each wayward trees, °
And her mimble fingers decked them in
their place;
And upon her pearly feet,
She drew her sandals neat,
‘While the blush of pride came moyinting
to her face.
Then the robe she loved the best,
She bound about her breast,
And the spangled banner glistened in the
light;
And she stood up tall and fair,
To take a daughter's share
In the struggle of her mother for the
right.
Oh, how holy was that hour
When she rose in all her power,
And her answer pealed like music o'er the
main ;
‘When Britannia saw her come
To the dear old island home,
And the hands that long were sundered
met again.
But what tongue can tell the bliss
Of that silent, sacred kiss,
Or the magic of that wondrous welcome
back ;
‘When across the waters wild,
Came the mother’s splendid child,
And the Stars and Stripes embraced the
Union Jack.
May the memory of that day,
Not for ever pass away,
But may those banners blend in consbrt
sweet ;
Till we hear the last great. call
Of the mother of us all,
And lay them down together at her feet.
—W. 8. Pakenham—Walsh, M. A., —Vicar
of Sulgrave. :
Read at the meeting of the Daughters
of the American Revolution held at the
homé of Miss Humes in this place.
THE THREE L’S.
(Concluded from last week.)
“Suppose he had married them?
And grown tired of them? Would
you have him live with them just the
same? Can’t you see that that is the
damnable thing about marriage?
That it becomes ignoble, almost in-
decent—when love has gone?” He
tried to speak but she gave him no
chance. “Yuo speak as if he wronged
_ those other girls. What makes you
think so? They knew his views. He
has always been perfectly sincere.”
“Because that suited his little
game. Why shouldn’t he play it that
way? Honestly, the best I can say
for him, Ann, is that he must be mad
about you. He wants you bad enough
to marry you, which is a pretty good
example of what marriage stands for.
A man should be willing to stake
something, instead of nothing, as Van
Fleck has in the past.”
“Next,” she suggested, “you’ll he
ringing in that ancient phrase about
the sanctity of marriage. What is
marriage but a conventional effort to
harness a natural force 7”
“Well,” he retorted, “what is the
history of man’s progress upward
from the cave save the harnessing of
natural forces?”
She was tired. She could not an- | Th
swer that offhand. So she ignored it.
“Van Fleck wants you,” Bob went
on. “How much do you want him?
As a woman, not as an experimenter,
working out a fine spun theory, that
is.
“Are you asking me if I am in love
with him?” she asked scornfully.
“In effect, yes. I hesitated to use
the word lest you fall upon me tooth
and nail.”
“Oh, love!” answered Ann.
any psychologist what love is. Hell
tell you fast enough and leave pre-
cious little romance to it!”
“Just as any entomologist will tell
me what the firefly is,” he conceded,
“but the beauty and the romance of
the firefly will still remain.”
They both, for a second, watched
the starlike course of the firefly that
had suggested his simile. Then Ann
shrugged her shoulders.
“And it will remain, too, an ignis
fatus, pursued by children and adults
with child minds,” she said. “But
why concentrate all this third-degree
on me? What do you yourself know
about love 7”
Ever so briefly he hesitated. Then,
“Oh, IT have occasionally felt an ac-
celeration of the pulse accompanied
by certain hallucinations that I sup-
pose one might call love,” he admitted
ghtly.
“I suspected as much,” she com-
mented. “Love being a matter of in-
troduction, plus a certain amount of
propinquity, it was inevitable that
you should.” She hesitated an in-
stant before she added, “And she is
charming, of course—even Je
n,
ve
rash _snap-shots, I have
show her otherwise.”
“Ask | fi
’
-—
He gave her a swift glance. “To
whom are you referring?”
“Cynthia Lee—she’s the girl in the
case, isn’t she? You've been rush-
ing her quite a lot lately, I know. Of
course if you're not announcing the
engagement as yet——"
“We aren't—as yet,” he assured
her. ”In fact, I haven't as yet asked
her to marry me. You see, I've a
hunch she’d turn me down.”
“Faint heart never won fair lady,”
Ann reminded him. :
“Cynthia is more than fair. She’s
a darned good sport and a regular
girl. What makes you think I have
a chance with her?”
“I don’t know anything about that,
only that she certainly doesn’t seem
averse to your society. Every time
a news photographer takes a snap-
shot of her you seem to be some-
where about.”
“I do remember, now that you men-
tion the fact, that we have been
snapped together several times. Are
you advising me to marry her?”
“Absolutely. She’s just the type
of girl you should marry. Young
enough to be amenable to suggestion,
ever so well-bred and always exquis-
itely groomed. She'll see to it that
your home is absolutely correct in
every detail, that you know precisely
the people you should know and
that your chidren go to the right
schools.” ;
“My head is spinning!” he protest-
ed. “I’ve got a home and children
now—how many, may I ask?”
_ “Three or four—whatever is the
eminently correct number, She’ll be
photographed with them, making a
charming picture.”
“Past-present and future revealed,”
he suggested. “Have you gone in for
astrology, Ann, or have you just dis-
covered you have a gift for forecast-
in mm
“I shouldn't say it required much
of a gift. It’s as plain as the nose
on your face.” \
“Which is very plain, but rather
shows character. I think!”
“Character! You haven't the char-
acter of a jellyfish!”
They are silent again while the
June night rushed at them. Ann had
speeded up again. .
“Well,” remarked Bob, “I'll speak
to Cynthia about this, although I
confess it seems hard on her. A
husband with no more character than
a jellyfish——"
“It’s all she deserves!”
Ann.
“Oh, I say,” he protested, “I may
be as dust under your feet, but Cyn-
thia is—the sort of girl any man
would be préud to marry. There—
there is something I wish I could tell
you about her. It would make you
realize how wonderful she is and why
1 feel as I do about her. She really
IS?
“I'll take it all for granted,” Ann
cut in quickly. “I’ve heard lovers’
rhapsodies before! They all have
the same ring, somehow.”
He stared at her, puzzled. He nev-
er expected quarter from Ann, but
he had always found her fair.
snapped
sounded—well, what he usually char-
acterized as “feminine.” :
“We can’t all be Van Flecks,” he
reminded her, never dreaming that
that was what Ann usually character-
ized as “masculine.”
“Naturally!” flashed Ann. “That
is a gift.”
“And it’s such a pity,” he remark-
ed satirically. “Still—imagine say-
ing to a girl like Cynthia; I have a
purely transient emotion for you
which the silly old world would call
love, but which you and I realize is
nothing but a brief flare-up of pure
animalism. We both of us know that
marriage is a silly convention and we,
despise it. Let us, therefore, hire a
room in the Village and—"”
There he had the grace to chdck
himself, suddenly and thoroughly
ashamed.
“Go on!” said Ann, through her
teeth. “Don’t stop on my account,
please!”
" “I shouldn’t have said so much,” he
apologized. “I'm sorry, Ann.”
“Oh, I'm not a sweet young thing
like Cynthia!” she reminded him.
“She represents something subtly
precisus—an ideal. I don’t, natural-
ly. That’s so, isn’t it?”
‘Ever so briefly he hesitated. Then,
“Yes,” he assured her.
“You think any man in his right
senses would rather marry Cynthia
than me?”
“I do!” he replied with sudden
vehemence.
Ann, for a moment, said nothing.
en:
“Just because—just because——"
she began and there her voice broke.
The roadster veered sharply. .
“Ann!” he cried and reached for
the wheel. ; -
The next instant they hit a tele-
graph pole. Bob felt as if he were
picked up by a giant hand and flung
bodily for a great distance. He was
terribly shaken, dazed and close to
nausea, yet he managed to get to his
eet.
“Ann!” he shouted, a great horror
upon him. “Ann!”
The quiet of the night remained un-
broken. He stumbled forward toward
the shattered car. He believed im-
plicitly he would find Ann there,
crushed to death against the steer-
ing-wheel. So strong was his fear
that, when he all but stumbled over
Ann, flung free of the car too, he
stood for an instant blinking uncom-
prehendingly. Then swiftly, he drop-
ped to his aching knees.
“Ann!” he pleaded desperately.
€“ ANpe——
She was not dead. As his hand
reached instinctively rather than con-
sciously for her heart she whimpered
and opened her eyes.
“Something,” she said very clear-
ly, “got in —my—eyes-—and—-"
There her voice trailed off and it
seemed to him that her breathing
stopped.
The old mill stream, flowing cease-
lessly, slapped against the idle pad-
dles of the wheel. Above it the two
old cronies sat, feet to the rail, smok-
ing their pipes in silence. ;
Bi y & clock struck twelve.
Anti’s father stirred.
“If we ‘are going fishing tomorrow
Fup
Now.
need a doctor yourself, Bob.
she sounded anythifig but that. She [Sure you haven't any broken boneg 18
I suppose we’d better go to bed,” he :
remarked. “Can’t sit up all night
nowadays, the way we used to. I:
wonder where our young folks are.”
“Talking their heads off about
things they know nothing about,” |
grunted the other. “And agreeing
that some crazy idea they have will ’
change the world overnight.”
“They are probably talking their!
heads off,” amended Ann’s father,’
“but I doubt if they are agreeing on
anything. They never have yet.” |!
“They’re fools!” |
“No—just young,” corrected Ann's
father. i
They were silent, while the lights
of a car moving slowly along the state
road drew their eyes. |
“Sounds like Jed Sears’ old truck,”
remarked Ann's father. “He's up,
la » y
Then the search-lights flashed |
across them.
“What’s he coming here for?” de- |
manded Bob’s father.
“Can’t imagine—guess I'll go and
see,” :
He rose leisurely. He reached the
house just as the truck stopped in |
front of it. He saw Jed step down!
from it and two other shadowy figures
emerge from the driver's seat. ;
“We'd better get her father up,” he
heard Jed say.
Ann’s father stepped swiftly out
of the shadow. ‘“What’s happened?”
he demanded sharply .
One of the men, a disheveled, dis-
traught figure, turned toward him.
With a fresh sense of shock Ann’s
father realized that it was Bob.
“Ann’s hurt—badly, I'm afraid,”
babbled Bob. “We were driving and
—the car hit a telegraph-pole. We—
I phoned for the doctor——”
They placed Ann, blood-smeared
and broken-looking, in what, through
all his life, her father had referred
to as the “tending-room.” So his
father and his grandfather had call-
ed it; the little bedroom off the front
hall where the Minots, old and young,
had been placed during injury or sick-
ness.
A country doc-
“Hot
The doctor came.
tor, specialist in everything.
water!” he commanded.
Ann’s father, speeding to get it,
collided with Bob in the hall outside.
“Will—will she live?” picaded Bob,
his face a tortured mask.
Ann’s father hardly saw, barely
heard him. He did not answer and
Bob shrank back against the wall.
He was still there when Ann’s father
returned with the hot water; he had
not moved when, an hour later, Ann’s
father again emerged from the tend-
ing-room, accompanied this time by
the doctor.
“Was that Ann's voice?” Bob asked
breathlessly.
Now that his own sense of strain
had slackened, Ann’s father realized
what Bob had been through this last
hour, and he felt swift compassion.
“Yes,” he said. :
“She’ll—she’ll live?” broke in Bob.
" Ann’s father nodded. “You look as
if you
“I don’t know—don’t care,”
assured him violently. “As long as
—as Ann is all right.” His voice fail-
ed him and his face wroked convul-
sively.
“Good Lord!” gasped the older man
incredulously. “Do—do you mean
you feel that way about Ann?” Bob
nodded. “Have you ever mentioned
the fact to Ann?”
Bob shook his head. “I couldn’t.
She’d laugh at me. I never had a
chance with her anyway.”
“Just what happened tonight?” de-
manded Ann’s father.
“Why, we’d been talking. About
Van Fleck. He wants to marry Ann.”
“And you quarreled—over that?”
suggested Ann’s father quickly.
“No—not exactly. Ann ragged me
about another girl and we got rather
hot over that. I said something I
shouldn’t have. I said—"
“Go on! What did you say?”
“I said that any man in his right
senses would rather marry Cynthia
than—than Ann. She goaded me in-
to it and then—then Ann got some-
thing in her eye and we smashed into
the pole.” :
“And then Ann got something in
her eye,” repeated Ann’s father re-
flectively. He pondered that briefly.
Then with a slow, wise smile, he
placed his hand on Bob’s shoulder.
“Ann is pretty badly shaken up,” he
said, “but she isn’t ready to die by
a long shot. We left her looking in
a mirror, more anxious about a cut
over her eye than the possibility of
internal injuries that Doc Emerson
here was worrying about. She want-
ed to be sure that wouldn’t leave a
scar.”
His smile broadened as he thrust
Bob toward the door of the tending-
room.
“You go right in,” he suggested,
“and tell her what you told me.
About the way you feel about her.”
“Me—tell Ann that—mow?” bab-
bled Bob bewilderedly.
“I have a notion,” said Ann’s fath-
er, “that that would be just what Doc
Emerson would order. Right, Doc-
tor? In you go, Bob!”
And in Bob went.
Ann’s father turned to Doc Emer-
son. “I just remembered I left Billy
down at the mill,” he said. “He must
be wondering what is happening, I'll
go tell him.”
But Billy wasn’t wondering about
anything. He was asleep in his chair,
snoring lustily.
“Er—humph!” he murmured, as
Ann’s father gripped his shoulder.
“Guess I was most asleep. What's
happened 7”
Ann’s father smiled. “I should
say,” he answered slowly, “that the
most important thing is still happen-
ing. Our young folks are growing up,
Billy.”
“Growing up?”
“They don’t realize it—but they are.
They can’t escape it now, Billy. It’s
the law of life. They're going to be
married, I suspect—ever notice how
these young radicals become conserva-
tives as soon as they set up house-
kee 3 ”
nol ed—Bob and Ann? I don’t
understand—where did: you get that
idea?” .
“They’re getting it now,” exclaim- |
ed Ann’s father.
Then, in a more orderly fashion, he
told his old crony all that Bob had
told him.
“And when he said they'd quarrel-
ed over another girl, and Ann got
something in her eyes, I suspected
right off that it was nothing but old-
fashioned feminine tears, so that
she couldn’t see where she was head-
ed and didn’t much care, Billy,” he
concluded. “And so, though I'm not
the right build for Cupid, I played the
part.” :
“You really believe marriage will
change them?” demanded Billy skep-
tically.
“The trouble with you, Billy,” an-
nounced Ann’s father, “is that you
live too close to the city. I've lived
here all my life, close to nature.”
It was nearing two, but Ann’s fath-
er reached once more for his pipe.
“You can learn a lot about human ;
i nature around a farm,” he went on.
“Take those hens of mine. A little
. while ago they were chicks, running
wild and being roundly scolded by
their elders,
scolding chicks. It’s nature for the
young to have to live and learn—you
can’t tell them anything, Billy.
They've got to find out for themselves
—but they do find out.
3 “Pm not worrying about Ann. Or
0 ”
They'll have their little problems
and it will take up their energy to
solve them. They'll come to realize
that the world wasn’t changed in a
minute, either.”
“I hope so!” said Bob’s father fer-
vently.
“No doubt about it. We were put
down here, Billy, to live, to learn and
to love. That’s what seems to be the
general scheme—what I call nature’s
three L’s. You can’t beat nature—-
she’s out to create always. And now
that they’ve come to her third ‘L’
she’ll whip our young people into
line.” He rose, stretched and added:
“Time we were abed. But you'd bet-
ter come with me and tow Bob home.
I suspect he doesn’t know whether
he’s going or coming.”
And that was true. Thrust into the
“tending-room,” Bob had stood stock-
still while his eyes, bewildered and be-
seeching, had sought Ann. It was
she who had spoken first.
“You get out!” she had commanded,
with all her spirit. “I—I won't have
you see me this way.”
Instead Bob had moved blindly to-
ward her to drop on his knees beside
her bed.
“Oh, Ann—Ann!” he had cried with
all his heart in his voice.
What happened immediately there-
after might have been considered as
conclusive.
and bandaged, was taking nothing for
granted. So:
“You were all wrong about Cyn-
thia,” Bob was assuring her now.
“She was secretly engaged to a friend
of mine. He hadn’t a nickel to his
name and so she had promised to wait
for him. He was killed”—Bob shud-
dered and his fingers Sighiened over
Ann’s—“in an automobile accident.
She likes to be with me: because we
both knew him so well and I sort of
keep other men off.”
“But you said she was an ideal—
and that any man in his right senses
would rather marry her than me,”
Ann reminded him.
“But that was because I was so
crazy about you,” he explained with
rare logic. “You treated me so rot-
ten that I didn’t want to love you and
yet I couldn’t help myself. Can’t you
see why I felt I couldnt be in my
right senses?”
Apparently Ann could. Anyway
her eyes met his.
They were both mute for a moment.
And then, with a breathless precipi-
tancy, that exquisite enchanment that
so magically panopiles nature’s third
L engulfed them.—From the Cosmo-
politan,
Another Great Driver for the Altoona
Races.
Harry Hartz whose name flashed
before thousands of race followers as
he finished in first place position at
the recent inaugural of the Atlantic
City bowl, is an entry in the coming
June 12th event at Altoona.
Financial settlement of prize awards
gave Hartz $12,000.00 for his share,
and credited his name with 600
championship points. He now stands
second to Peter DePaolo, the 1925
national champion, in present rating,
with a total of 1060 points earned
thus far this season. DePaolo leads
the entire roster of professional driv-
ers with a total of 1180 points in spite
of his recent defeat by Hartz.
Hartz, who thrilled the eastern
shore spectators, hung up new worlds
open records for 100 and 300 mile dis-
tances, while his last minute speed
duels with DePaolo and McDonogh
proved to be the outstanding feature
of the race. ;
For the coming June 12th, 250-mile
national classic at Altoona, Hartz
will pilot his newly purchased racing
chariot, the latest creation from the
Miller racing motor factory, of Holly-
wood, California. He will celebrate
Jus thirtieth birthday while at Al-
o0ona.
Silver Fox Skins Higher.
Chinchilla Russian sable, and sil-
ver fox, were sold at the resumption
of the eleventh annual spring fur auec-
tion in New York on Monday. The
Silver fox collectio:, one of the larg-
est ever offered at a local sale, at-
tracted most attention. Half and
three-quarter silver pelts sold best,
with the lower grade skins bringing
good prices generally. ' Silver skins
were unchanged in comparison with
the winter sale, but all other grades
advanced 10 per cent. The finest
skins brought these one-quarter sil-
ver, $230; slightly silver, $95; prices
Silver, $325, one-half silver, $260; and
black $77.50. ;
Russian sable prices showed no
change from the winter averages.
Best Kamchatka sable brought $77.
Top for chinchilla, which was not of
good quality, was $15. ond
Now theyre hens, :
But Ann, though bruised |
‘and at home.
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
Daily Thought.
“Blues’ are the soggy calms that come
to make our spirits mope.
And steal the breeze of promise from th
shining sails of hope. ’
Nixon Waterman.
The vernal urge for housecleaning
has resulted in something of a do-
mestic cataclysm ever since the first
Mrs. Caveman swept her family
brusquely aside and shooed the dog,
whimpering, out on the mountainside
while she polished the stalagmites
and dusted down the stalactites. Her
husband and children knew that this
period of strenuous activity would
soon be over and that they could again
live comfortably for another eleven
months, but while the cleaning sea-
son was on the family Kept itself
abroad and walked about with down-
cast eyes.
Since the advent of vacuum clean-
‘ ers this annual household eruption has
for the greater part given way to
gpieter methods of cleaning. No
longer is spring announced by a
general disgorgement of all the house
furnishings into the back yard for a
! beating and sweeping that reduces all
the family as well as the furnishings
themselves into a pulpy mass. The
' house may now be more thoroughly
! and more easily cleaned than ever be-
fore, and the housekeeper who util-
izes the vacuum cleaner and its at-
| tachments makes short work of fresh-
| ening her rugs, wall hangings, win-
. dow draperies, wood-work, books, bed-
ding and cushions, not once a year but
iat frequent intervals.
!
i Among the many cleaners recently
i tested and approved in the Institute
must be included an improved model
of a previously tested cleaner. This
new model is compact and smaller and
{ weighs only eleven and a half pounds,
but it is so constructed that there is
no sacrifice of power with the cutting
down of size. It is a suction cleaner
i but has a stationary brush that may
| be attached to the nozzle for certain
‘kinds of work. The six attachments
| —in addition to the nozzle brush—
"are simple in design, easily operated
and efficient in their accomplishment
of work. This is neither the lowest
nor highest priced vacuum machine
| among our tested makes, but it falls
into the great class of in betweens.
Another house cleaning device is a
waxer-polisher which has been on the
market for some time, but which we
have just added to our list of tested
| products. A waxing machine that
does the work of caring for the floors
i
i
- with almost human precision and care
“has been given a thorough trial in the
i Institute the last few. weeks.
This device, which is non-electrical,
consists of two simple iron castings,
{ two rubber-tired wheels, two combi-
‘nation waxing pads and polishing
i brushes and a handle. The waxin
pads are oscillated back and forth by
cranks on the wheel shaft as the de-
viee is pushed forward. A thick lay-
cer of floor wax is spread over the
, waxing pads and then, covered with
I'a piece of gauze held in place by
"spring clips. When the - machine is
moved across the floor the waxing
! pads are pushed back and forth, leav-'
ing an even trail of wax on the floor
| surface. A short time is allowed for
: the wax to dry and then the machine
lis turned upside down and the brushes
finish the task of polishing the floor.
i It is of light weight, easily handled,
particularly suited to the small house-
hold, where an - electrical floor ma-
i chine is impossible because of cost.
- This waxing machine is rated high-
ly for the excellence of its design and
: operation; there is practically nothing
about it to wear out, break or get out
of adjustment.
A larger, heavier, electrically driv-
en floor machine which will find a
greater use in clubs and larger estab-
lishments than in small households
has just been tested in our laboratory
It is probably a non-
essential in the household equipment
of the apartment house family, but
in institutions where the floor clean-
ing work entails the hiring of con-
siderable labor, or where a man or
woman must care for several hard-
wood floors, as in a large country
house and suburban houses, this ma-
chine will soon pay for its cost, as it
“enables one man to do ten times as
much work as can be done by hand.”
The Institute did not prove the ve-
racity of the above quoted statement
about the ten men, for reporters are
loath to stoop to floor polishing, but
we did give the machine a thorough
test. According to our engineer it is
soundly constructed, of simple mech-
anism and should last indefinitely. A
one-fourth horsepower motor on top
of the machine housing rotates the
cleaning brush or polisher, the weight
of the machine resting on the rotat-
ing brush. The direction of the ma-
chine is controlled by tilting the han-
dle slightly, up or down. Rubber-
tired wheels which swing up out of
the way when the machine is in use
are located at the back of the ma-
chine and are lowered into place when
the machine is to be moved from one
room to another.
There are eight different brushes
and pads which may be attached, one
at a time. Each one is especially
adapted to do a certain kind of scrub-
bing, waxing, polishing or buffing of
floor surfaces. Linoleum covered
floors, tiles, ceramic floors or hard-
wood floors may be completely taken
care of with this machine and with
but very little human exertion.
Cleaning appliances that cost but
little and give unlimited service are
well-made mops and dusters of the
dustless type. A group made by a
pany has been newly tested in our
laboratories. They are made of good
grade yarn and are treated with a
preparation to absorb the dust rath-
er than scatter it about. These may
be washed without damage to the
fabric. A long handled duster for
not too frequent use during all the
seasons does much to abolish the more
drastic aspects of spring cleaning.
This group of such dusters and mops
went through our spring cleaning
tests with the waxers and floor ma-
chines.
for water to get under the floor at
certain well-known oil and wax com--
FARM NOTES.
—A revision of the Japanese beetle
quarantine regulations by the Secre-
tary of Agriculture includes minor
Shanges which became effective: May
The only change which involves ad-
ditional restrictions is a provision
giving the Federal Department of
Agriculture authority to require in
the transporting of farm products,
nursery and ornamental stock, sand,
soil, earth, peat, compost, and man~
ure, out of or through the regulated
area, protection from possible beetle
infestation. The protection must be
in a manner approved by a United
States inspector. To the definition of”
nursery and ornamental stock is ad-
ded the phrase “or portions of plants:
for ornamental use.” Other changes
are mostly verbal.
—Vetch as a cover crop and soil en-
richer for sweet corn increased the-
yield $200 per acre, or about double it,
according to reports from New Jer-
sey growers. The experiment was.
conducted on a 90-acre farm. The
county agent reported that part of
one field where vetch had been plow=
ed under produced twice as much
sweet corn as a field where it had not
been used. The difference between
the yields where the vetch had been
grown and plowed under and the field
which had not been” planted to this
cover crop was striking.
“Since sweet corn will make a gross
return from $200 to $400 per acre,”
says the county agent’s report, “it is
conservative to say that by doubling
their yield these growers increased
their income by $200 per acre.”
—Cutting down the high and costly
death rate among infant live stock is:
one of the farm problems of which:
the farmer must apply the solution
himself. The causes of early deaths
in live stock fall into three general
classes:
1. Conditions little influenced by
treatment: Malformation, extreme:
feebleness or extreme prematurity,
certain accidents during birth.
2. Conditions capable of consider-
able reduction, chiefly through proper
hygiene sanitary isolation, and medi-
cal treatment: Tuberculosis, acute
respiratory diseases, certain acute
contagious diseases, some forms of
animal parasitism.
38. Conditions capable of a very
great reduction through proper feed-
ing, care, and sanitation: Acute id
trointestinal diseases, goiter troubles,
prematurity (if not extreme,) many
forms of animal parasitism. ;
—Sanitary floors are a first require-
ment to a cleanly dairy. Non-absorb-
ent material and without crevices
where dirt ana filth can lodge is
recommended. It should be easily
washed and disinfected.
In building a dairy barn floor, all
rubbish and refuse within the enclo~
g | sure should be removed and the floor
area graded to the required level, al-
lowing, of course, for the thickness of
the floor. The soil should be thor-
oughly compacted. If it is possible
an;
time, this possibility should be op
duced by using a fill of clean gravel,
cinders or crushed stone and provid-
ing suitable drainage. The gravel or
cinder sub-base, if used, must be
thoroughly compacted and consolidat-
ed by tamping or rolling.
Forms for defining floor slabs, al-
leyways or other areas to be concret-
ed should be of smooth lumber, rigid-
ly braced in line and carefully set to
proper grade, The manger curb is
usually placed first. It should be not
less than four inches thick and is
usually made about six inches high
on the stall side. Uprights support-
ing stanchions are of several types.
Some are attached to anchors which
are set in the curb and others are em-
bedded in the concrete. Feed and
litter alleys are usually placed after
the curb, then the stall platform and
manger are placed.
The length of stall platform, that
is, the distance from manger curb
to gutter, will depend upon the breed
of cattle kept. For Jerseys or Guern-
seys the average length is about four
feet eight inches; for Holsteins about
five feet is necessary. The platform
should be pitched about one inch from
the curb toward the gutter.
The surface of the manger should
be finished smooth, with corners care-
fully rounded to make cleaning out
easy and to provide a comfortable
surface for the animals to eat from.
Litter and feed alleys should be fin-
ished with a wood float to secure an
even but gritty surface, thus provid-
ing secure footing for the animals.
In dairying it is entirely possible to
get nothing for something. This is
the conclusion of the New Jersey
State dairy specialist after reviewing
records of dairy herds in the Mercer
County Cow-Testing association. It
was found that though some cows had
unsatiable appetites and good appear-
ance they were nig y in their
milk output, whereas other cows eat-
ing but little more would give four
and one-half times as much milk.
Three cows ate $79 worth of feed
apiece in one year and returned their
owners 3,292 pounds of milk each.
Two other cows each ate $168 worth
of feed and gave their owners 14,817
pounds of milk each. Thus, for 2.1
times as much feed the good cows
gave four and one-half times as much
milk.
By calculating further, the special-
ist found that it cost the owners of
the poor cows $2.40 in feed for each
100 pounds of milk, against $1.13 for
an equal amount of milk from the
good cows. When labor, housing and
haulage expenses were added, it was
found that the cost of producing 100
pounds of milk with the poor cows
was greater than prevailing sale
prices. Hence, these low-yielding ani-
mals were eating up the profits made
on the high-producers. :
This is a clear case, concludes the
state specialist, of wasting feed, labor
and barn space on worthless cows, or
of getting nothing for something.
——Harold Lloyd, in his latest
picture, “For Heaven's Sake” at
Moose theatre this Friday and Sat-
urday. a 21-1t