" Bellefonte, Pa., August 6, 1926.
EE ——————————————
THE DREAM SHIP.
ee en.
When all the world is fast asleep,
Along the midnight skies—
As though it were a wandering cloud—
The ghostly Dream-Ship flies.
An angel stands at the Dream-Ship’s helm,
An angel stands at the prow,
And an angel stands at the Dream-Ships
side
With rue wreath on her brow.
The other angels, silver-crowned,
Pilot and helmsman are,
But the angel with the wreath of rue
Tosseth the dreams afar.
The dreams they fall on rich and poor,
They fall on young and old;
And some are dreams of poverty
‘And some are dreams of gold.
And some are dreams that thrill with joy,
And some that melt to tears;
Some are dreams of the dawn of love,
And some of the old, dead years.
On rich and poor alike they fall,
Alike on young and old,
Bringing to slumbering earth their joys
And sorrows manifold.
The friendless youth in them shall do
The deeds of mighty men,
And drooping age shall feel the grace
Of buoyant youth again.
The king shall be a beggarman,
The pauper be a king—
In that revenge of recompense
The Dream-Ship dreams to bring.
So ever downward float the dreams
That are for you and me,
And there is never mortal man
Can solve that mystery.
But ever onward in its course
Along the haunted skies—
As though it were a cloud astray—
The ghostly Dream-Ship flies.
Two angels with their silver crowns
Pilot and helmsman are,
And an angel with a wreath of rue
Tosseth the dreams afar.
—Eugene Field in the Ladies’ Home Jour-
nal.
CHARM.
The young Prosecuting Attorney
released all the power of his elo-
quence in summing vp the case. It
had been his first for the State and
he had reveled in the drama of it. To
the scholarly and convincing vigor of
his arguments he was adding a youth-
ful sincerity of manner and in his
enthusiasm at pointing out the high
lights of the case he was sweeping
the jurymen along on the tide of his
opinions. Even the old judge, used
as he was to the outbursts of oratory
from the more youthful of the law-
yers who tried their cases before him,
felt the magnificence of that final
plea.
“Gentlemen of the jury, you have
heard the evidence in thiscase. You
have witnessed the crpss-examination
of the defenddnt and have marked his
reluctance to commit himself to any
definite statement. You have noted
his stubborn refusal to testify openly
and frankly. That, it is easy to un-
derstand. A guilty man is. loath to
combine truth and testimony!
“But you have noticed much more,
gentlemen. You have undoubtedly
marked the type of this man. You
have seen him as a most degenerate
character. His face, weak and vic-
ious, is the mirror of his soul! Look-
ing more deeply still into his charac-
ter, you have been given the proof
that crime is not abhorrent to him;
that respect of the law is not includ-
ed in his experience. The defendant
—sometimes known as ‘Irish Burke’
and again as ‘Red Burke’—is, by his
own confession, one of that evil group,
the gangsters. Red Burke has been
a gangster of the lower New York
circle during the entire period of the
police department’s knowledge of him.
Implicated in various crimes—a crook |
—a dodger—he has heretofore used
his wits to such advantage that he
has been able to escape the net of the
law. He hopes to escape now by the
lack of the final, absolute proof that
he has committed this deed. Yet I
claim, gentlemen, that a man’s past
is absolute proof of what may be ex-
pected of his present! A clean past
begets a clean present. A crime-
stained past darkens, with the blood
of a brutal crime, a foul present!
The defendant is a living example of
the quotation that ‘whatsoever a man
soweth, that shall he reap.’ As he
shall debauch his character, so shall
his character develop into the tool for
crime and lawlessness.
repeat, heard the testimony of the de-
fendant. You have also heard the
straightforward, direct testimony of
the only witness that the State has
brought forward, the testimony of a
woman of excellant repute among her
fellow neighbors. What, in God’s
name, is there left for you to do but
to pronounce this man guilty as
charged and to recommend that he be
given the full penalty of the law!”
The young Prosecuting Attorney
stopped for a moment, directing his
eyes toward the slender, slight figure
that sat the prisoners’ dock.
The boy—he was, after all, hardly
more than that—returned the gaze
sullenly. There was no bravado in
his attitude, only a weighing sense of
futility. He was as good as convicted
and he knew it. He’d got the better
of the police too many times not to
have incurred their lasting hatred;
and now when they had something on
him, they would get him. Besides, he
Sk care. What did anything mat-
Tr
With triumphant look and lifted
head, the young Prosecuting Attorney
turned once more to the men in the
jury box. His voice had lost its
stringent quality and was now
weighted with sorrow:
“Gentlemen, this is a case that lies
close to the heart of the nation! It
is a case that lies. close to the heart
of every father and mother of young
girls! It is a case that commands the
attention of every decent, God-fear-
ing citizen of our country! With
RE ——
You have, I
fearful eyes the mothers of America
are watching you, gentlemen of the
jury! They are watching you and
wondering if ydu will do .your part
to safeguard from the clutches of
similar degenerates the tender in-
nocence of their little daughters!
“This is a bitter example of the
danger thrown in the paths of the
lovely young girlhood of Americal
Are we to do nothing to free our coun-
try from this menace? . Gentlemen,
hear me! This man—a shiftless,
worthless hanger about the streets—
the companion of the lowest; this man
who has assumed none of the respons-
ibilities of life; this man who lives,
it would seem, by the shady manipu-
lation of his wits; this man was seen
talking to the deceased not five min-
utes before her lifeless young body
was stretched, cold and broken, at his
feet. He was seen talking to her at
the very steps of the humble home
that sheltered her.”
The voice of the young attorney
softened to pathos.
“The defendant has made the state-
ment that he knew the deceased—
that he had brought her home from
a walk. This fact I, for one, ques-
tion. Poor though she may have been,
without the sheltering care of a moth-
er, a girl thrown early upon her own
resources, yet the deceased was a gen-
tle and refined girl. She was a girl
who would hardly have chosen a man
| of the defendant’s type for a compan-
jon. But I repeat—"his voice rang
out now in stern denunciation—“I re-
peat, gentlemen, that the defendant
was seen in close conversation with
the deceased not two minutes before
the crime was committed! This has
been the unrefuted testimony of Mrs.
Margaret Murphy, the woman who
lives in the adjoining house and who
was the sole eye-witness to this con-
versation. Mrs. Murphy was called
away from the window during this
conversation. When, drawn by some
strange premonition of evil, she rush-
ed back to the front of her room, her
horrified eyes were met with the sight
of the dead girllying at the feet of
the defendant! And as Mrs. Murphy
looked in horror at the sight that met
her eyes, the defendant dropped to
his knees at the side of his victim,
seemingly fascinated by the crime
that he had committed. This, gentle-
men, is the case of the state!”
Again the Prosecuting Attorney
he had said might penetrate the some-
what simple minds of certain of the
jurymen. Throughout the courtroom
looks of hatred were cast at the fig-
ure in the prisoners’ dock. Yet one—
a woman dressed quietly in black—
leaned forward and bent her search-
ing gaze, not on the prisoner, but on
the faces of the jurymen. What she
saw there made her shudder.
She had hardly believed that they
could be so swayed, these men. But
she realized the extent to which the
sullen attitude of the prisoner had in-
fluenced them.
The young attorney was speaking
again—his voice still hushed and mov-
ed with feeling.
“The deceased was but a girl. A
girl who was known among her
friends for her charm and her beauty.
She was so innocent of any sin. She
was but a girl. She died from the
blow that crushed in the back of her
head. A tragic, violent death! The
instrument was never found. But I
claim, gentlemen, I claim that the lost
instrument of death was held in the
two hands of the defendant! I claim,
gentlemen, murder in the first degree
for this man! I claim no lenience for
the brute that gave none! I claim—"
It was at that moment that the
woman who had been sitting quietly
at the back of the courtroom rose and
with but 2a moment’s hesitation start-
ed to walk up the center aisle.
She was slender, of medium height,
and well past middle age. She would
have been called old, no doubt, save
for something about her that seemed
like the fragrance of youth. Her gen-
tle face was lined and the soft hair
that showed beneath the close-fitting
toque that she wore was silvery white.
She was dressed in black—dressed
neatly and unobstrusively. Yet as
she walked up that aisle she caught
and held every eye within that dingy
courtroom. 4 :
People looked at her—and turned
to look again. The Prosecuting At-
torney stopped in the middle of a sen-
tence and looked, helpless to go on
with his address. The old judge fixed
his piercing eyes upon her, while
steadily and slowly she walked up
that narrow center aisle—this little,
gentle, elderly woman.
Walked? Ah, no! That were far
too commonplace a description of it.
In beauty she moved. Her steps were
like the pulsing rhythm of music. In
utter surpassing grace, she moved.
{ And from her there went forth those
| waves of magnetism that surrounded
her like a cloud of magic; a magnet-
ism that was like a remembrance of
her forgotten youth and that would
surround her when she was still old-
er, still more remotely removed from
life than she was at this moment.
The Prosecuting Attorney was
young, yet he felt the charm of this
woman and was baffled by it. The
! audience, made up for the mosh part
of sensation-seekers, felt this charm
and was baffled by an inability to
grasp it. But the judge was far past
youth and he had lived a life exceed-
ingly full in his day. He had gone
far and seen much. Yet he knew,
watching this woman, that his mem-
ory could give back to him but one
other woman who had walked as did
this woman in black.
She had reached the railing now
and opening the little gate with a del-
\icate, fragile hand she passed through
it and on to the very desk of the
judge. i
The Prosecuting Attorney began in-
coherent . protest, but the judge lift-
ed his hand for silence, And then,
after a moment, the woman spoke.
At the sound of her voice the judge
started. That voice! Golden and
mellow, rich and vibrant! There could
be no two such voices in all the world!
“T hope you will pardon my—intru-
gion. But, you see, the prisoner is
not guilty! I knew it—so I had to
speak.”
The Prosecuting Attorney sprang
paused, that the full impact of what
torney for the defense, a young law-
yer appointed by the court who up
to this time had conducted his case
= matter of routine, started to
s
to the judge :
“I do not wish to be cross-examined.
I wish only to tell the truth—as I
know it. I beg of you—that privi- |
”
lege
the spell of her voice he turned and
gave an order to the clerk of the
court. Another moment and the wo-
man in black had given her name,
| Miss Clara Ainslee, and was taking
oath. | Then, fixing her with his keen
eyes, the judge addressed her: “Now
will you tell the jury your story,
madam ?” :
The woman in black started to
speak and the spell of her words
grew and deepened. There were
many in that courtroom who, like the
old judge, were drawn by that voice
to some intangible memory of another
woman who had spoken with just such
a golden voice; men of a waning gen-
eration who now recalled another wo-
man who had once so swayed them by
her charm. And there were others
—of a younger race, like the Prose-
cuting . Attorney—who held no such
vivid memories but who realized that
never in their lives had they heard
such music from the human voice.
“You see, I did not realize that the
boy—the prisoner, as you call him—
would be such a poor witness for him-
self. I live a quiet retired life.
did not wish to change my way of
living by the publicity of making any |
statement. But he has been so
tongue-tied, this boy, and so cruelly
frightened that he has almost con-
victed himself. He is not degenerate.
He is not even a man. He is but a
boy—a frightened, sorrowing boy.
Because he loved his little sweetheart
—you call her the deceased, but her
name was Molly—he loved Molly and
he has lost her. It is really all that
he can remember.”
She held out her hands in a little,
impulsive gesture and it was as if she
laid the heart of pity in the hands of
the men who sat in the jury box.
“Perhaps he had taken her for a
walk. I do not know. I only know
that he brought her back home. It
was dusk. The lights were just com-
ing on and they looked like dim moons
in the gray twilight. The boy and
Molly looked up at them. The beauty
of it made them breathless. But these
two waifs of the city had no words:
with which to paint the wonder of
what they saw. They could only turn
to each other and reach out hand to
hand. They stood there—Molly and
her boy—Molly feeling a bit wistful,
as a girl does when she feels she is
close to womanhood. And the twi-
light fell, and the dusk deepened, and
they knew that they must part for a
little while.” -
Again the golden voice stopped and
the woman sighed. And in her sigh
those people watching her, listening
to her, felt the pathos of youth and
love and dreams.
“To part even for an hour is hard
for the very young—when their hearts
are quick and full with love. Again
and again Molly turned to go, but
every time that she tried to leave her
boy she would run back to him again
—to whisper something to him—
something that always made the boy
look back to her adoringly, a wor-
shiping, a funny little smile on his
thin lips. - But at last—at last—"
Into the woman’s voice there crept
such a depth of tragedy and pain that
the hearts of those listening to her
contracted. ‘Their throats were stiff
with fear; fear to the boy and the
girl who had been standing in the
city twilight.
“At last she turned—Ilittle Molly—
and this time she didn’t run back to
him. She tossed her pretty head and
then peered back at him through her
curls. She felt his adoring look upon
her and she ran with a gay little
laugh up those steep, narrow steps.
She thought she would run in through
the door without looking back at him
again. She wanted to tease him—to
flirt with him a bit, as does every girl
with youth in her heart. And so she
kept resolute eyes turned away from
him. Her tiny high-heeled slippers
went tap, tap up the steps. Foolish
little slippers they were. So French
of line. So high of heel. What if
they did come from some bargain
basement? They were beautiful slip-
pers to little Molly.
“But the boy left standing at the
foot of the steps felt a sudden wave
of longing. It overwhelmed his heart
and crept into his eager, upturned
face. With all the passion of youth
in his voice, he called something to
the girl who was running up the
steps.
“He called to her, gentlemen; call-
ed to Molly of the roguish curls and
the dainty, foolish slippers. And
Molly heard! She didn’t want to look
back. She was still determined to
flirt a bit with this eager boy of hers.
But his voice called to her heart. It
was warm and pulsing and filled with
romance. And so she turned—swift-
ly, impulsively. Little Molly, with
her eyes dancing back and her tiny
hands flung out to him—turned to the
call of his voice. And as she turned,
those foolish heels of her French slip-
pers turned beneath her. There was
a sharp cry, a sickening plunge—a
dull thud—and Molly—Molly who had
been so young and gay, lay at the feet
of her boy!”
There were no dry eyes in the
courtroom when she had stopped
speaking. She had whipped her au-
dience into drama and tragedy and
sorrow—this woman in black. She
had caught them in the cup of her
two white hands. She had held them
by the magic of her yoice.
There was no question in anyone’s
mind as to the truth of what she had
said. She had imprinted it upon their
memories—the pitiful story of Molly
and her boy. It was only the young
District: Attorney, suddenly mindful
of the turn taken by the proceedings,
who turned at last to her. He re-
membered that this woman had ex-
pressed the desire not to be cross-ex-
amined, and this" suggested the
thought to him that perhaps, by this
forward at the same time that the: at- +
But the woman turned again dam
The judge nodded. And still under
I many feet above the street!
very means, he might be able to break
down her testimony.
Abruptly he flung his first question
at her.
“This— this is your version, ma-
. I 8
i She shook her head, her eyes meet-
ing his steadily. “It is the truth.”
“May I ask hoW you know that?”
“I saw it.” og
“You saw it? You were a wiiness
to what happened? Where were you
at the time?”
She sighed. She could feel slipping |
from her that peace and solitude that
had been hers during the past dozen
‘years. IT saw everything from the
window in the upper part of Mrs.
Murphy’s house. I have two large
rooms there. These rooms look down
on the street. Do you understand?
i “And you knew the deceased? And
the prisoner?”
“] knew Molly. And I knew her
boy. 1 watched them many, many,
many evenings.”
“You live in these rooms at Mrs.
Murphy’s ?”
, “I have rooms there.”
| “You live there?”
| She sighed again at his insistence.
“1 work there.”
| “Work?”
| 3
| “Yes. I have a laboratory there. I
do a little experimenting.”
{ The Prosecuting Attorney did some
"quick thinking. “You say you saw
{all this? And that some words the
prisoner said caused the deceased to
(turn and fall? You say you heard
these words—yet you were in a room
How do
‘ you account for that, madam?”
The woman looked at him quietly.
“I know what was said, because I
heard it—with my eyes. Yes,” nod-
ding at his incredulity, “I am deaf—
quite, quite deaf. But I can read your
lips as readily as you can hear my
! words. I did not need to hear, as you
out to Molly. As he stood looking
up at her, with the street lights fall-
ing on his face, I saw the words! If
you wish to corroborate these facts
of my condition and my ability to read
;anoher person’s lips, you may go to
Mrs. Murphy. She will tell you that
I am very quiet—and very deaf. She
will show you the rooms where I—
work. And you will see that, as I
hnve explained. I am but a person
following a little hobby.”
“It is still unusual that, if this is all
true, you did not come forward with
your evidence earlier in the trial,” ex-
claimed the Prosecuting Attorney.
“Have you any explanation for that
fact?”
“Yes.” For a moment the eyes of
the woman looked away, as if into
turned with something almost like re-
luctance to the present. :
“Once I held in my hands a very
great gift. A gift that I won after
much seeking and that I treasured
very greatly.
made many people—my friends. It
stayed with me through many mag-
ical years. And then—at last—the
years crept down upon me. That I
did not heed. But when the sounds
of the world became dimmer and still
more dim, I knew that I would soon
have to give up what had been mine.
self and live the last years of my life
in a privacy I had never known be-
fore. It was because I wanted to keep
that privacy that I did not speak soon-
er. ”
“Thank you.” The voice of the
young Prosecuting Attorney gave an
indication of the unwillingness of his
mind to relinquish to this woman’s
testimony the victory he had held
within his hands. “One other thing—
would you mind repeating this re-
markable thing that the prisoner said
to the deceased?”
The woman lifted her face and it
was transfigured with the light that
flooded it. As she spoke, beauty like
a bright song was in her words.
“What did Molly’s boy say, to make
her turn to him? Only this—” her
voice rang out, a sublime welding of.
passion and love—* ‘Molly! Molly!
My love! ”
The boy who stood in the prisoners’
dock turned a transformed face to the
woman. The judge wiped from his
-old cheeks tears of which he was un-
ashamed. He knew then what he had
felt all along. He had seen her many
times, you see, in the years gone by.
He had known her at the peak of her
fame, when age and deafness were
things far removed from the splendor
of her path. He had seen her in her
triumph, with a nation at her feet.
And with the whole world he had
mourned her when she had suddenly
dropped from sight.
The pity of it smote him. For
while she might call herself Clara
Ainslee, the judge remembered her
under another, a greater name; and
he knew that there, in his dreary
courtroom, he had been listening
again to the most marvelous voice of
a century and had witnessed for the
last time the art of the greatest ac-
tress of all times. Nor was he alone
in the discovery of her secret. A
glance at the press table told the
judge that the morrow’s papers would
carry a story that would be heralded
from coast to coast. %
She had saved the boy, the woman
in black. But as she walked from the
courtroom she knew that once again
she was the property of the public.
There had been no other way. She
had realized, as she had walked up
that aisle, that were she to save Mol-
1y’s boy her identity would no longer
be hers. But she smiled a bit wist-
fully to wonder what they would have
thought if she had told them, in truth,
what the boy had cried out to Molly
as she ran up those steep, narrow
steps; what magic cry it had been
that had swung her around to meet
the eyes of her boy; those two words
that had meant far more to little Mol-
ly than all the impassioned words that
the rest of the world might hold—
“Aw, kid!”—By Vivien Bretherton.
Eggs in Shad Roe.
The bureau of fisheries says that
in the average shad roe there are
from 80,000 to 40,000 eggs.—Ex.
would hear, the words the boy cried
some far distant past, and then re-
It was a gift that:
I did not want sympathy—nor regrets |
—but only that I might go off by my-
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
: DAILY THOUGHT.
Sometimes I think, I realy think,
| That fairies live in trees
That Brownies come from Brownie-Land
| And ride on Bumble Bees!
| Sometimes 1 think, I really think,
That fairy tales are true,
I don't believe in ugly things,
, Like Witches, though‘-do you?
_—Mary Livingstone Frank, in St. Nicholas
Fasting parties are the latest Lon-
don fashion in food when you find on
your invitation cards questions as to
the diet you like best or the diet your
beauty doctor prescribes for you, and
, What you wish to do after you have
eaten it. Most of the guests at such
entertainments take advantage of the
beauty parlor with all its latest equip-
' ments, even to face-lifting apparatus,
which is at their disposal, after which
they are supposed to go home early
and awake in the morning refreshed
and able to face their social duties
secure in the knowledge that at the
| fasting party of the night before they
had been given a fresh lease on good
looks.
REMINDERS FOR AUGUST.
August is a comparatively leisure
, time, and therefore is a good time to
stock up with dusters, dish-towels,
i lettuce and soup-cloths, and to make
over, repair or dispose of worn house
linens. It pays, in a house-hold where
pennies must be counted, to rapidly
convert worn wide sheets into narrow
ones by tearing out the worn part and
| seaming the selvages together, to
i make the best parts of worn narrow
sheets into blanket-cases, narrow pil-
low-cases, and glass-towels, to make
. the legs of worn madras pajamas in-
to dish-towels, and backs of outing
shirts into work aprons. Use the
longest machine stitch, do not baste
and work rapidly.
| Now is a good time to buy napkins.
1 Odd half-dozens are often fougd in
: the bargain pile. It is a good plan
| to always buy the same stock pattern
and never have different left-overs.
» Watch also for sales of lingerie and
| stock up here. Cotton dress-goods are
| spectacularly marked down.
{| Don’t forget the woolens. Those
1 golf hose, sweaters, coats and so
forth in use during the summer and
kept hanging in closets should be
should be shaken out once a week and
hung out to air at regular intervals.
Any particularly valuable home-stor-
ed furs or woolens should be inspected
once or twice during the summer—-
oftener if any traces of mofhs are
found. Use moth-balls likerally.
| Blanket-cases for the cleaned winter
: blankets, bags made from worn sheets
for suits and overcoats, smaller cases
i or bags for woolen hose and sweaters
all help.
I find that rugs, in a house closed
for the summer, are safer if left on
the floor than if rolled up. Shake
some of the dry moth-flakes freely
‘over them. Keep the doors shut on
| the street side of the house and thus
keep much of the oily, dirty street
dust from entering. Dust is a dif-
ficult and alarming proposition in
these days of motoring. A damp or
oil-treated’ duster, washed frequently,
and the invaluable dry mop is the
most efficient answer.
In the country use the hose as free-
{ly as the law allows in rinsing off
' piazzas, the outside of windows and
! so forth frequently. This is a good
| and usually coveted job for a child. | I
| A little head-work in regard to using adjust for a smaller-looser bundle,
' the hose, excluding the sun and admit-
ting air to the fullest extent, closing
: the blinds during the heat of the day
and opening them wide at evening
temperature and consequent comfort
of your summer home.—From the De.
signer Magazine for July.
The very early season melons are
from Florida and Georgia, not so good
in flavor. Late summer ushers in the
Delaware, Maryland and ‘Jersey mel-
ons. May to October gives us a long
season for musk-mellons with July
rich in its height of the season offer-
ings.
There is almost as much argument
about the serving of muskmellon as
there is about what is a good blend
of coffee. There is a distinct school
of food cranks which classes this mel-
on as poison along with rhubarb and
a few other standbys on which 90 per
cent. of the old American human stoi
was raised. This school we dismiss
with a wave of the left hand. No
more. But there is a more danger-
ous element in the faddist who would
mask or change and desecrate the del-
icate flavor with ice cream or other
stuffings. A melon is by the grace of
God a melon, and it is not meant to
serve as a sundae holder for a ball
of ice cream or a mixture of ill assort-
ed fruits, miscalled a fruit salad. As
a melon it needs no embellishment
other than your favorite seasonings—
salt or sugar, according to the palate
—and it goes without any further flag
waving from us, that it must be cold,
after long hours of chilling on the
ice.
Chill it before it is cut, then scoop
out the seeds and web and serve. Put
no ice in it to melt and form a watery
soup, awkward to handle and unappe-
tizing to observe. Or cut the melon
into cubes or balls and serve it so as
a component of a chilled fruit cup,
not dressed, with horrors of horrors,
a sweet sauce. Or mix with chilled
alligator pears, cucumbers and crisp
green endive or escarolle for a superb
vegetable salad, subtly dressed with
a highly spiced French dressing. It
must be very cold to be appetizing,
or the melon and pear are cloying.
IF YOU LIKE BERRIES.
RUBY SAUCE.
Boil one-half cup of water and one
cup of sugar five minutes. Add one
cup of strawberry juice and boil five
minutes. 5 :
BLACKBERRY SLUMP.
Use one quart of ripe blackberries
or huckleberries and add enough sug-
ar to sweeten. Place in a deep enam-
eled saucepot and heat. When the
fruit is steaming, cover it with batter
made from a standard shortcake re-
cipe. Steam twenty minutes.
—Subsecribe for the “Watchman.’
will make an appreciable difference in !
FARM NOTES.
—Get a start with pure breds now.
They may cost a little more, but
they’re worth it, and then some.
_ —Milk utensils should never be left
in the sun until after they are care-
fully cleaned and dried. The use of
cotton disc strainers will save time
and labor and insure cleaner milk.
—If the fruifng canes have not
been cut from the raspberry and
blackberry bushes they should be tak-
en out and burned, since they fre-
quently form a source of disease for
the new canes.
—Perennials which are planted now
for next year’s borders must receive
sufficient moisture to germinate the
seeds. If it is not possible to plant
after a soaking rain, the soil should
be thoroughly saturated.
—Lambs should be docked when
they are seven to fourteen days of
age. Some use docking pincers which
are heated to blue heat and the tail is
seared off. The argument in favor of
this method of docking is that there
is no loss of blood.
—Of the emergency hays, millet
and sudan grass may be sowed any
time now until the middle of August,
say State College farm crops special-
ists. While not as good as alfalfa,
clover and soybeans, these hays are
better than none at all. The feeding
Yale is about equal to that of timo-
ye.
—Hens that lay a maximum num-
ber of eggs must necessarily consume
a large amount of a good, balanced
ration. To keep feed continually in
the digestive system, the hen must
eat frequently. Keeping the hens
close to the feed hopper will make
them eat more. More eggs for a long-
er period will result. :
—This is an excellent time to look at
the forest trees that were planted last
spring, say forest extension men at’
the Pennsylvania State College. The
height growth on the evergreens is
completed, except for a few speeies,
and the trees that are in a healthy
condition should pull through the sea-
son.
It is not possible to make a rough
estimate of the number of trees that
have died. The safest method is to
count the dead trees in certain rows,
such as the first and second, the elev-
enth and twelfth, the twenty-first and
twenty-second, or any other rows
agreed upon in advance. After ob-
taining the count, fill out an applica-
tion for trees for next spring’s ship-
Rent to replace those which have
—Farm machinery specialists of
the Pennsylvania State College an-
nounce the following suggestions to
Centre county farmers for the opera-
tion of the binder.
The binder platform should be run
nearly level-tilted forward only when
the grain cannot be reached otherwise.
The careful handling of the reel
and butt adjuster makes a good job.
Size of bundles is regulated by the
position of trip arm; use adjusting
holes or notches.
Tightness of bundles is regulated
by the tension of the trip spring.
Do not try to adjust knotter until
you know what is wrong. Look at
the last band and see where it failed.
If the elevators are square the can-
vas need not be tight enough to tear
and slats will not be ripped off.
If machine chokes down or stalls
set trip arm and loosen tension on
compressor spring.
—Dry cows and heifers on pasture
should have special attention during
the remainder of the pasturing sea-
son, say dairy specialists at the Penn-
sylvania State College. The feed in
: most pastures becomes exceedingly
short during late summer and unless
some supplemental feeding is done
the cattle are sure to suffer in ways
that are costly to the owners.
The dry season for cows is the time
of preparation for the next lactation
or milking period. During this dry
period the cow should be very liber-
ally fed in order that she may store
in her body a supply of the minerals
and other nutrients so necessary in
large milk production. Green corn
or other soiling crops should be fed
in the pasture daily or the dry cows
brought in with the herd and given
hay and grain.
The growing heifer needs similar
attention. She is a cow in the mak-
ing and should be kept in a thrifty,
vigorous growing condition. Larger
animals, earlier maturity and greater
milking ability will result.
—Many thousands of chicks were
lost last year to Pennsylvania farm-
ers and poultry-men through a di-
sease called coccidiosis. It is most
severe between the ages of two and
ten weeks, and is caused by a minute
parasite which destroys the lining of
the intestines. Trouble is most com-
mon among hatched chicks, those fed
little milk, and those reared on an old
range. :
When affected the chicks show loss
of appetite, droopy wings, disordered
feathers, weakness and slightly dark-
ened combs. They void a demi-fluid
dropping usually white but may have
a brownish tinge.
Give the birds all the sour milk they
can drink. Use only a crumbly wet
mash, eliminating the scratch grain
entirely. Isolate all badly infected
birds, disinfect the houses daily, and
move to clean ground. If the latter
is impossible, lime the old yards heav-
ily and cultivate them.
Leading poultrymen in Centre coun-
ty cull their laying flock every month.
All birds that show a dried, shriveled
comb, dry, yellow beak and any signs
of moulting should be culled. Birds
with these characteristics are poor
producers. Culling the poor layers
gives the laying birds more room at
the feed hoppers and more room to
perch at night. Cull early and mar-
ket the non-producers before the poul-
try market is glutted and the price
is at ita lowest ebb. There is a sav-
ing in feed bills and the poultryman
runs no chances of losing marketable
birds by death or accident. Hens that
stop laying before September, under
average conditions, are usually poor
layers.