== — Bellefonte, Pa., August 27, 1926. RA Ii. IT WILL ALL COME OUT RIGHT. Whatever is a cruel wrong, Whatever is unjust, The honest years that speed along Will trample in the dust; In restless youth I railed at fate With all my puny might, But now I know if I but wait, It all will come out right. Though Vice may don the Judges gown And play the censor’s part, And Fact be cowed by Falsehood’s frown And nature ruled by art; Though labor toils through blinding tears And idle Wealth is might, I know the honest, earnest years ~ Will bring it out all right. Though poor and loveless creeds may pass For pure religion’s gold; Though ignorance may rule the mass While truth meets glances cold— I know a law complete, sublime, Controls us with its might, And in God’s own appointed time It all will come out right. —XElla Wheeler Wilcox . REALITY. Just as quietly and mysteriously as Helen Tennant had disappeared from the great Flemish oak settle two years ago, she reappeared now on that same settle. Except indeed that the cushions be- hind her back were rose-colored now instead of blue, and that the filmy white frock of two years ago was faintly antedated and rusty-looking, the scene itself was set exactly as be- fore—a lovely pastel-tinted room with French windows opening widely to- ward the garden and the sea; great bowls of ping phlox on the mantel- piece; two men and two women play- ing bridge at a marvelous teakwood table inlaid with mother-of-pearl— and that vague, filmy, fifth figure in one corner of the settle, No one had specially noted two years ago either the manner or the measure of her going, so quiet it had been, so perfectly casual, so seeming- ly unportentious: just four people glancing idly up to note that where there had been some one, there sud- denly was no one. : But now—four people glancing idly up to note that where there had been no one, there suddenly was some one. Ah! That was quite a different mat- ter. A gasp! A scream! Four peo- ple jumping wildly to their feet, and Torrey Bradence, of all people, Torrey Bradence, the cool, the calm, the per- fectly conditioned, toppling over ig- nominiously in a crumpled heap on the floor! Yet considering the fact that Tor- rey Bradence had been engaged to Helen Tennant when she disappeared, and was now engaged instead to the pale and pastel-tinted girl and part- ner, sitting opposite him at the bridge table, what else in the world was there for Torrey Bradence to do except to acknowledge with thanks the single merciful moment of oblivion which Fate was kind enough to accord him? “Merciful heavens,” said the appa- rition, perfectly casually, “haven’t you people finished that game yet?” Pretty Lois Wharton, bending fren- ziedly over her lover’s prostrate form, lifted a stricken face to the question. “Loosen his collar,” suggested the apparition casually. “Torrey always fas a lad who liked his collar loosen- ed—if your fingers weren’t too cold!” Smiling a little as she said it, the girl came out of the shadow of the settle and stood before them, reassur- ingly corporeal, indisputably alive. Wainright, with his hand already on | the telephone instrument—Alice Wainright with her hand clutching at her husband’s shoulder—stayed their purpose instinctively at the look in Helen Tennant’s eyes. “What in the world were you plan- ning to do?” she demanded. “Telephone your step-father,” stam- mered Wainright. He was her cousin and spoke with authority. “Cut it!” said Helen Tennant. “I’ll do my own ‘risin from the dead,’ thank you!” Her nostrils, faintly dilating, picked up some sudden scent, appar- ently, that pleased her utterly. “Do I smell coffee?” she questioned, and started for the dining-room. Gibbering like an imbecile, Lois Wharton jumped up and ran to pour it for her. : Still gasping with astonishment and shock, Wainright and his wife went stumbling after them. Perching herself nonchalantly on the arm of a chair, Helen Tennant took the proffered cup and bent her lips with palpable satisfaction. “Oh,” she said, “cocoa may be a frivolity and tea little more than a subterfuge, but coffee is certainly one of the realities!” “ ‘Realities?’ ” gasped a pice from the hall. Vaguely framed in the door- way, clutching desperately at door- jamb, loomed Bradence’s towering fig- ure. Yearningly, Lois Wharton reached a succoring hand to him, and drew it sharply back again with a purely ner- vous titter of self-consciousness. “Don’t mind me,” said Helen Ten- nant, and drained her steaming cup. “Where—where in the world have you been, Helen?” demanded Bra- dence. “Away,” glowed Helen. Thus viv- idly might she have boasted, France, Spain—some far, strange country of the Orient. “Away!” “But your d-dress?” stammered Alice Wainright. Almost furtively as she stammered, she took a crush- ed, filmy fold of the fabric in her hands and twittered it through her fingers. “Yes, isn’t it a fright?” deprecated Helen Tennant. “And I thought, you know, I looked rather nice, till I saw you and Lois. “Oh, no, no, not that!” babbled Al- ice Wainright. “But—but it’s dry!” “Did you think it would be wet?” frowned Helen. She looked just a lit- tle bit surprised. - “And your hair?” babbled Alice. “F-forty f-fathoms deep, forty— f-fathoms deep, forty—f-fathoms—" Impulsively Wainright clapped his hand across his wife’s mouth. “You see—we thought you had been drowned, Helen,” he explained labor- iously. ! “Your family were distracted,” gasped Bradence. “Your friends—” “Perfectly sure it wasn’t that th hoped I'd been drowned?” giggle Helen Tennant quite frankly. “Helen!” protested Bradence. “Helen!” protested Lois. Wide-eyed and serene, Helen Ten- nant bent forward suddenly to scan Their problem of course was appall- ing, and its solving, it would seem, being mental as well as physical, lay rather between woman and woman, than between man and woman. Al- most tenderly, she reached her hand toward the woman. “Don’t worry so, Lois!”’ she implor- ed her. “I am nothing to Torrey any more, nor he to me, ever, ever any more!” “Helen!” gasped Lois. “Helen!” gasped Bradence. “Another cup of coffee, please,” de- manded Helen with frank greediness. Eagerly they plied her with anoth- er. “It’s you who need it most, Harry,” she murmured gravely over Wain- right’s shaking hand. “But—but, Helen ?”” protested Alice. The girl on the arm of the chair stopped swinging her heels suddenly, and looked at her companions. A rather curious interlaying of estab- lished health and transient delicacy lay over her face, pallor masking sun- burn, as it were—all the lovely, rud- dy-brown tints of summer and sea glowing like an unquenchable fire un- der the pallor. “Silly duds!” she said. “You think I'm crazy, don’t you? But you also thought I was drowned, please re- member; and it turned out quite defi- nitely that I wasn’t!” “Helen! Where have you been?” persisted Wainright stubbornly. Im- pulsively, as he asked, he reached in- to his breast pocket for a miniature line-a-day book and began to rumple through the pages. “Yes! By Jove!” he cried out triumphantly, “it is just exactly two years ago tonight that you went away! This is the second anniversary!” Once again the girl on the arm of the chair looked just a little bit sur- prised. “Why, of course, it’s just two years ago tonight that I went away!” she said. “The second anniversary; I would have come back for the first one,” she added suddenly, with a faint flicker of amusement, “except that— You see, I happened to be extraotrdi- narily busy with something else!” Like the mirth of a child hex laugh rang out suddenly. “You were sitting there,” pointed Yejmgnt, “in the corner of the set- tle. “No,” corrected Helen Tennant, perfectly gravely, “it was in the oth- er corner!” : “I—I wore a dark blue dress,” bab- bS) Atiee Wainright. **Wery dark blue,” acquiesced Hel- en. “I had just knocked over a vase of roses,” stammered Bradence. “A bowl of reses,” corrected Helen. “It was my deal,” faltered Lois. “Your deal,” conceded Helen. It was then, for the first time, that all the shock and ghostliness of the amazing incident seemed to drop away from everybody like a clammy i cloak, leaving only the facile, warm- blooded undergarment of old friend- i ship, or at least of old association, { waiting to wrap itself in all tender- ness and mercifulness around such stark or naked facts as had best be kept from the world. At any cost, at | any price, they had all decided, as if iby a single intutition, this eerie girl { before them must not be startled, af- i frighted, driven back upon herself, i until the truth itself were told, and, being told, was ready to be acted upon. | “But Helen dear, how did you go?” implored Alice Wainright. Her arms | were ’round the girl as she asked it. i “Through the ceiling ? | floor? Out the window?” | “Through the French window,” ; smiled Helen Tennant. Hcwever na- i ked the truth might prove, it at least : stalked unashamed apparently. “Toward the garden, or toward the sea?” insisted Wainright. “Through the French windows, to- ward the sea,” said Helen Tennant. “Yes, but, Helen—" protested Bra- dence. A little frown showed sudden- ly on his forehead. “Yes, but, Helen, I sat directly facing the French win- dows that open toward the sea. You couldn’t possibly have slipped that way without my seeing you.” Absolutely without guile, yet with a certain half-humorous sort of shrewd- Sess, the girl turned and looked at im. “You seem to forget, Torrey,” she said, “that on that night, as tonight, it was Lois Wharton who was sitting opposite you, and already, even then, her little head was beginning to block horizon.” “Yes, but, Helen, why did you go?” interrupted Alice Wainright, just a bit hectically. “I went because I was tired,” said Helen Tennant, quite simply. “Tired 7” gasped Wainright. “Tired? You?” “But you said you liked your work 80 much,” fluttered Lois Wharton. “Just those few hours every morn- ing at the library?” puzzled Alice Wainright; “and you certainly didn’t need to do even that unless you really wanted to. Surely, your step-father Jith his great income and his posi- ion—" Very slowly, very softly, Helen Tennant’s hand went creeping up to her forehead, brushed a bright strand of hair away from her eyes. “It—it was play that I was tired of,” she said. “Play?” stammered Bradence. “Games!” said Helen Tennant. “Tennis, golf, baseball, archery, the | whole gamut. Tired of house parties, out various larger things from your | the two dismayed faces before her. | | | Through the Sp Nhs tired of dancing, tired of flirting and fooling, tired, I mean, of always and forever being expected to prance, when the only thing in the world I wanted to do was just to plod, plod, plod, and thén rest.” “<Plod?’” shuddered Lois. “Yes, but, Helen dear,” protested Alica, “everybody plays—everybody in our world, that is!” “Yes, that’s just what I say,” smil- ©d Helen Tennant. “The root of the whole matter. It was everybody that I was tired of.” “Not—not tired of Torrey ?” gasped Lois. “Yes.” “Not tired of Lois?” protested Tor- esr “Not—Alice ?” “Not Harry?” “Yes! Yes!” : Before the absolute consternation of the faces before her, the girl on the arm of the chair burst out laughing, and hushed herself to gravity again with an expression of shock almost as | great as their own. “Torrey,” she asked quite abruptly, “just how old was I when you and I! were first engaged?” “Twenty-four,” said Bradence, with a faint flicker of uneasiness. “And we were engaged how long?” questioned the girl. “Three years?” | “Three years, six months and five days,” said Bradence. “It sounds like a tombstone!” stam- | mered Lois Wharton. “It pretty near was!” admitted Hel- : en Tennant. “There were so many play-debts always that were trying to | bury love alive! Debts for polo ponies and speed boats, debts for golf clubs and tennis trophies, debts for poker ! losings and bridge whist prizes! Un- less Torrey should be unfortunate enough to lose either his legs or his | arms, or come to a wheel chair by! some milder way, it didn’t look, some- | times, as if we ever—ever—”’ “Helen!” protested Bradence. “Why, even your step-father—” re “It was my step-father that I was going to speak of next,” chuckled Hel- en Tennant. A little bit mischievous- ly almost, she cocked her head on one side and looked at her erstwhile lov- er. “Tell me frankly, Torrey,” she said. “If anybody had ever really asked you just who my step-father was, you would have said, of course, that he—" “Held absolutely the golf champion. ship of the State, and on his sixtieth birthday, too!” attested Bradence without an instant’s hesitation. “It would never have occurred to you, that is—"” murmured Helen Ten- nant,” to quote his banking record first, or his economic service during the war?” i “Oh well, of course—” admitted | Bradence. “And my two step-brothers—” per- | sisted the girl. : : “Oh well, of course,” interposed | Wainright chuckingly, “your two step- | brothers are polo!” “And Alice here with her tennis | championship,” persisted the girl, “and Lois with her bridge, and you, Harry, you, Harry—?” With the faintest possible gesture of bewilder- | ment, she brushed one hand across hér eyes. “Let me see—Harry,” she ques- ! tioned, “just what is it that you do | when youre not trap-shooting? Bonds, is it? Or automobiles? 1 for- get—you never said much about it.” “Spices,” said Wainright, just a bit dryly. “0-h!” said Helen Tennant. She sighed a little—looked a tiny bit per- plexed. A rather wistful little smile flashed suddenly across both sigh and perplexity. “After all,” she argued, “it isn’t, you know, as if I were quite . an absolute sport-dud myself. I play- ed la’ crosse with my brothers when almost no other girl was playing it, and I ran the hundred yards in twelve and two-fifths my last year in college. I could run it now,” she quickened, with a palpable flash of pride; “only it would have to be to a fire, or some- thing like that,” she admitted in all honesty. A quite unexplainable shiver struck suddenly across her shoulders. The poignant shadow of reminiscence darkened unmistakably in her eyes. “Three years, six months and five days.” After all, “three years, six months and five days” were “three years, six months and five days!” As plainly as if it had screamed aloud, ; the unspoken thought dyed her cheeks in precipitous crimson. Just a little bit distractedly she turned to the cur- tained window, back to the warm, yel- low candle light again, waved her hand with an almost tender gesture toward the lovely, pastel-tinted draw- ing-room beyond. “Why, when Torrey and I made our first visit here,” she cried, “that first summer of our engagement, I thought I should go mad with joy just at the ! prospect. I had never been engaged before, and I had never seen the ses | before!” With a funny little gesture of mock ferocity, she turned suddenly and shook her fist at Alice Wainright. “You little liar!” she said; “you swore | it would be primitive. A sort of | Beach of Eden, if not a garden; you swore we’d have to do all our own work; drag firewood from the beach, ' and claw the crabby rocks and clam- my sands and gritty lichens with ach- ing fingers for every succulent morsel of food that we might hope to attain. But when we got here, it turned out | to be a little palace, instead, with | more servaants than there were guests, and great hampers of foods and drinks arriving from the city on every train! “And just as soon as everybody had said, ‘Oh, isn’t the sea wonderful,’ they all dashed off instead to a terri- ble papier-mache amusement park and rode flying-horses and roller- coasters and all sorts of jumping jim- cracks, through the most horrible crowds and smells! And just as soon as they got home again, and had washed it all off in the nice clean] ocean, and eaten a great, fat, lazy dinner, and rushed out op the salt- sprayed terrace just long enough to exclaim, ‘Oh, isn’t the sea wonder- ful?’ they all dashed back into the house again, and played bridge till al- ‘sloppy sweetness. Jy most morning! weren’t .playing bridge or. riding rol- ler-coasters, they were tearing round the country in high-speed cars, trying And when they | FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN. DAILY THOUGHT. s Happy is the man who reverences all FARM NOTES. | —Cultivate and clean up ground where vegetables have matured. De- to find some new ball game or summer women because he first learned to worship caying vegetables and plants are like~ theatre to go to! And—” “0-h!1? “so that’s when you first began sit- ting in the corner of the old Flemish oak settle evenings, was it?” “I played bridge, a little,” insiste Helen Tennant. you remember, but, of course, I never played very well.” “No, certainly,” conceded Wain- right, with the most reassuring blunt- ness, “you never played bridge very well.” “So you rummaged around a bit,” persisted Helen Tennant, without the slightest hint of either giving or tak- ing offense, “and found Lois to make up your game. Good old Lois,” she attested heartily, with the most amaz- ing smile, cast suddenly direct into the astonished Lois’s blinking eyes. | “Lois surely was a godsend to us all!” she said. “Oh, if I only thought you really felt so,” stammered Lois. “But I do,” insisted Helen Tennant. Deprecatingly, with a significant little smile, Alice Wainright reached out suddenly and touched her on the hand. “Poor Helen!” she said. “But I wasn’t ‘poor’ at all,” insisted Helen Tennant. She even chuckled a little as she said it. “I liked the sea, you know; it was so awfully busy day and night doing things that really seemed important. Raking beaches I mean, and pounding sands. Nursing tired sea gulls on its teeming breast; breeding great fishes for the food marts of the world; putting poor lost sailors to rest; churning storm and rainbow from the same blue caldron; sweeping great treasure-laden ships from one bustling, tarry-scented port ‘to another. ‘great old high-backed settle through | the long summer evenings, I liked sitting on the staring out into that busy sea!” A faint flush reddened suddenly un- der the lovely brown tint of her skin. “That is, I liked it very much the first summer,” she confessed quite frankly. “The relief of not having to play anything, the relief of—” The faint flush deepened. “It wasn’t till about the middle of the second sum- mer, our second visit, you know, that I first began to notice that there was just a little bit of loneliness laying round loose somewhere.” With a vaguely deprecatory sort of regret at having to say anything that might hurt anybody’s feelings, her eyes turned half speculatively to scan Tor- rey Broden’s face. “Maybe,” she ad- mitted, “maybe, really, if I hadn’t been engaged it wouldn’t have been quite as lonely. But to be engaged and lonely both—well, that was puz- zling.” “Oh, I say,” winced Bradence, “I had no idea!” Rather sportingly he tried to laugh a little. “Oh pshaw,” he said, “Oh pshaw, one can’t make love —all the time!” “N-0,” admitted Helen. They both flushed a little. “But truly, you know, you’d hardly believe it,” rallied the girl almost in-- stantly, “but at first it was Torrey that I thought was the lonely one. Oh, how perfectly dreadful, I used to think, for a great, strapping, splendid, sport-loving fellow like Torrey to be engaged to a girl who doesn’t care to play games. Then, all of a sudden, it came over me one day, wasn’t it just a little sad for a girl who didn’t care to play games to be engaged to a great, strapping, splendid, sport-lov- ing fellow like Torrey?” “Oh, I say,” protested Bradence. “And yet,” persisted Helen Ten- nant, “in several ways that second summer didn’t prove half as dull as the first one. I'd begun to find my own way around a bit. Harry here was good enough to let me catalogue smiled Alice Wainright; | his mother.—Richter. Beautiful all-wool blankets are a { luxury in these days, but a very desir- “At the very first, I really tried very | hard to play bridge with you a little; his old college books and papers—and . all of you in a way had gotten sort of reconciled, as it were, to going off without me to ride your roller-coast- ers and scream your jolly heads off at ball games. And, somehow or other, there seemed to be a little more work lying round loose to do. Not real | work, of course, with so many servants in the house, but more driftwood to drag and clams to dig and lichens to paw over. to want the driftwood or the clams or the lichens—you understand,” she ad- ded with a little chuckle; “but at least they felt real in your hands while you were dragging and digging and claw- ing them. Reality! That’s what I seemed to be starving for all the time. | mouth. instead of just | Bone and roughage ‘What is reality ?’ I kept asking. ‘Where is reality?’ I kept searching.” The laughing eyes faltered a little, looked up, looked down. Her eager voice eased itself almost to a mono- tone. (Concluded next week.) Glands for Tetany. Two physicians of Florence have performed an operation which * bol- sters up the falling hope that gland grafting had put a new weapon in the hands of the medical profession for subduing hitherto unconquerable dis- ease. Drs. Cesare Frugoni and Vittorio Scimone have announced, says Sci- ence Magazine, the results of treating a case of tetany, a chronic disease re- sembling lockjaw, with a graft of hu- man parathyroid, one of the small glands placed around the better known thyroid in the neck. The tech- nique followed was that of Dr. Serge Voronoff, one of the original experi- menters in transferring glands from apes to humans. The results were almost instantane- ous, according to the authors. The patient, released from the terrific pain suffered during six or seven long at- tacks every day, picked up amazing- ly. Tests made some time later still showed a slight parathyroid deficien- cy, but the ingrafted piece was still firmly attached under the skin five months after the operation.—New York World. ; | And the most beautiful face in the No one seemed specially ! : able one. q | ering, unless it is a down puff, will No other type of bed-cov- give the same degree of warmth with- out weight as will fluffy all-wool blan- kets. It is the nature of the wool fi- ber to be very elastic; therefore in the weaving and spinning of wool each fiber springs back from its neighbor, causing a tiny air-chamber to be formed between fibers. It is these ti- ny chambers of still air which makes the blanket or any other wool material comparatively light in weight and warm. If these little chambers of still air are forced out of a blanket, as when a blanket mats or packs down in laundering, then the blankets will feel heavy and will have lost warmth. In selecting a blanket, therefore, choose one that feels rather spongy, slightly wiry, light in weight and has a deep fuzz or napped surface. Look care- fully to see that a heavy nap does not cover weakly constructed cloth. Pull the blanket between the hands; if the foundation yarns have a tendency to separate, the blanket will not give sat- isfactory wear, as too many fibers have been pulled up from the founda- tion yarns to make the nap. It is a question whether the com- mercial all-wool (ninety-eight per cent. wool) blankets are as satisfac- tory as those in which there is about twenty per cent. cotton. In the first place the yarns of a blanket seem to be somewhat strengthened with a small percentage of cotton added, and secondly, a very small percentage of cotton assists in keeping the wool fibers from matting when laundered. Blankets are usually sold double, but they are much more easily han- dled if cut apart and bound. The most satisfactory blanket binding is a fine quality of sateen, though many pre- fer binding blankets, especially when new, with satin ribbon. Regular mo- hair blanket binding may be purchas- ed at a notion counter. It is easy to use and makes a satisfactory, dura- ble finish. | Woolen blankets should be long enough and wide enough to tuck in a i number of inches. : should be folded so that one piece is { longer than the other, thus allowing a ; generous length of at least one thick- ness about the shoulders. If blankets are folded in this way, it is economic- al of laundering and more sanitary to place a little washable cotton case about twelve or fourteen inches deep over the end of the blanket which will come next to the face. This case then takes up the soil and the blanket is protected. Sheets which are long enough to turn back over the blanket will save it greatly. Frequent airing i of blankets and allowing the wind to : blow through them will keep blankets fluffy.—The Delineator. In a kitchenette, where space is as valuable as corner lots in a boom town, this three-in-one arrangement will be most welcome, Of courge, there is a gas stove in yeur kitchen- ette, and it will probably be the flat- top kind with a lower oven. You will ‘board will just fit on top of the four burners. On the under side of the board tack a piece of zine or tin large enough to cover it. Then attach the board by hinges to the wall back of the gas stove, so that it will fall flat like a lid on top of the stove. A wood- en peg catch on the wall may be used to hold the board upright, or a string loop on the board and a nail on the wall will answer. You will find the improvised table of use in baking time, even when the oven is going, between meals or when washing dishes. The zinc lining will allow the board to be let down even before the stove has cooled and will act as a protection when the board is raised. The mouth is the most expressive feature in the face. It is also the one which we have the most power to change. No matter how plain she may be, thetic in the best sense, rarely has a homely mouth. world, to start with, may be marred , by a mouth that expresses discontent, or hardness or peevishness. | We all know this in a general way, but few of us deliberately look into the mirror, to observe, with a cold and impersonal gaze the state of our own A can of borax should be in every bath room and the pipes should have a daily flushing with hot water in which borax has been dissolved. Do not use sand soap for cleaning a porcelain tub or washstand. mar the surface and make it look like ground glass. Then if the porcelain becomes stained you cannot make it | white again. Use ammonia in the wa- ter, but if dirt or grease requires an extra cleanser dampen the scrub cloth with kerosene and later wash the tub with warm water. If the tub is en- ameled scour with a cloth made of a salt bag which has been thoroughly with a clean cloth. For this purpose save bags in which the kitchen salt comes. Soft Cocoa Gingerbread.—Cream to- gether one scant cupful of shortening with one cupful of sugar and add one cupful of dark molasses, three table- spoonfuls of powdered cocoa, one tea- spoonful of baking soda, dissolved in one cupful of rich buttermilk, half a tablespoonful of ground ginger, half a teaspoonful of ground cloves, one teaspoonful of ground cinnamon and about four and a half cupfuls of sifted flour. Beat the batter until it is full of bubbles and add half a pound of seeded raisins, lightly dusted with flour. Bake in a shallow tin, well baked. An Egg Test.—To test eggs drop in are fresh. A double blanket find that a regulation size pastry’ It will, moistened with turpentine and polish | greased and cut in squares when dish of cold water; if they sink they ly to increase disease and insect dam- i age next season. —The older a hog gets the more it . costs to put a pound of meat on it. —Frequent delivery of cream is ad- | visable. Cream held for long periods j of time will not make first quality butter and does not bring quality prices. In real cold weather cream may be delivered only twice a week but in warm weather it should be de- livered three times a week or more if possible. It is essential that the pro- duct be kept in a clean place and in clean cans. —There is difficulty in getting good horses for farm work and this is a ' serious handicap. Even with the in- creasing use of farm tractors there is a steady demand for good farm horses "and on many small farms the owners ' depend entirely upon the horse-power available. Because of the iow price of horses for several years past most farmers have given up raising coits. This is a mistake. Every farmer should try to raise all the horses need- ed on his farm. —~Cabbages that are likely to burst can be saved by partly removing them. from the soil. Bursting is usually caused by over-development, due to excessive moisture. Go through the: patch when the cabbages are about mature, and note those which are apt to burst if the heads became much. larger. Pull the roots of such heads: partly out of the soil, the idea being: to break off some roots, leaving mere- ly enough to sustain life. Growth is. checked in this way, as there will not be much moisture carried up from the: roots to the center of the head. A. great deal of damage can be prevent- ed by this trick. The home garden is: easily watched for this purpose. —One cannot enjoy the full flavor of sweet corn unless it is cooked with- in a few hours of the time it is pulled from the stalk. This is because corn dries out quickly, due to the evapora- tion of the sap from the end where the stalk is broken. This evaporation can be prevented, and the full flavor of the corn preserv- ed for several days by sealing the: ends of the stalks with paraffine wax. A few market growers de this. The: . operation is quite simple. The par- affine is kept in liquid farm over a. i small alcohol flame; the butts of the. ears are cut square with a sharp { knife, then dipped in the wax, which: dries almost instantly. A pound of wax will seal hundreds of ears, so that. the work is not expensive. In some: , sections growers have built up a rep- utation for sealed corn. Increasing the yield of a crop, by means of soil preparation, fertilizing: and cultivation, lowers the labor charges enormously. Costs of plow- ing, harrowing, manuring, planting, spraying and so forth are the same: | whether the crop is large or ‘small. Obviously, when these costs, are spread. over a bountiful yield, the:cost : per bushel or other unit of measure is sub- stantially lessened. In short, it does: not pay to garden indifferently. It must be done thoroughly or it will prove unprofitable. —Pigs self-fed a balanced grain ra- tion while running on blue grass pas-- ture developed weak bones in a feed-- ing test at the Ohio experiment sta- tion. This is contrary to popular sup- position, for it is known that green growing grass and forage crops in. most cases analyze rather high in minerals. The ration used in the experiment was balanced from corn, wheat mid- dlings, linseed meal and salt. This mixture was low in lime and other minerals. After pigs in dry lot were fed this mixture for 166 days their thigh bones showed a breaking strength of only 356 pounds. The bones of pigs on pasture for the same time and receiving the same ra- tion showed more than double the- breaking strength, or 728 pounds. However, the greater strength was due primarily to the larger size of the bones of the pigs, as they grew much faster on pasture than those in the dry lot. A third lot of pigs, even though fed the same ration in'the dry lot, but. with 2 per cent. of ground limestone added, made splendid growth and de- veloped wonderfully strong bones. The breaking strength was 1,122 pounds, 215 per cent. greater than that of pigs under identical conditions: and feed but without limestone. Judged by appearances, the skeletal’ , frame of the pasture pigs was strong: ‘enough to meet ordinary conditions, but when the pigs were slaughtered and suspended from gambrel sticks, the thigh bones of three of the sev- en pasture pigs: snapped under the: weight of their carcasses. | The abundant strength of bone is | produced by balancing the ration with feeds high in minerals, such as tank- age or fish meal, or by adding miner- als as in lot 3 in this test. A mineral mixture which has given good results: , at the Ohio experiment station is two» parts limestone, two parts bone meal, “and one part salt. —Dry feeding is superior to slop feeding in getting hogs ready for market, according to J. M. Fargo, of the animal husbandiy department at the Wisconsin College of Agriculture. “Hand feeding has proved to be less | efficient and economical than the self’ feeder,” declares Fargo. “Since self’ feeders cannot be used with wet feed, dry feeds are the best for this pur- pose,” he points out. To illustrate the value of dry feed- ing over wet, he gives data from six different experiment stations, where 17 feeding trials with 314 pigs were: carried on. Results showed that nine pounds less corn were required for: each one hundred pounds gain with dry feeding; as contrasted to wet feed’ hand fed. Sik-tenths pounds more: feed were eaten per hog each day un- der the system of dry feeding, be- cause, as shown by Fargo, the pigs ate during the night and at frequent times during the day, with the result that the-dry fed hogs showed a: high- er average: daily gain..
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