== —
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..