—
Beara, afar,
Bellefonte, Pa., September 24, 1926.
THE CANDIDATE.
For months before election time
The candidate is in his prime;
He comes around to shake your hand,
Admire your stock and praise your land.
He'll praise the wife and pet the kid
And otherwise for favors bid;
He'll let you know right at the start
He counts on you to do your part.
The honest voter he will praise,
And talk about the means _and ways
Of making living very cheap—
A promise he will never keep.
In many a big, high-sounding word,
He'll tell you of the things he’s heard
About the good the farmers do,
And how the world is owing you.
Then just before he starts to leave
He'll ask you if you don’t believe
That of all those in the race
He's the man to fill the place.
This much is true, the rest can go,
I've seen it often and I know;
If he’s elected, put it flat.
He'll soon foregt you after that.
J. L. C.
Millerstown, Pa., R. D. 4.
THE TEN-FRANC COUNTER.
Have you ever heard of the case of
Mme. Bertaux?
Ah, well, she was an old lady who
lived in the house of a M. Jacob in
the Rue Paradis at Monte Carlo. The
house was too large for M. Jacob, so
he let the upper part as a flat to Mme.
Bertaux, a wealthy woman, who had
kept the old Phocee, a restaurant on
the Cannebiere in Marseilles.
The lady never went out, being af-
flicted with some malady of the back
that prevented her from walking, and
also with an eczema that was most
disfiguring. She had neither the
power nor the desire to go into so-
ciety, and yet she had the inevitable
feminine craving for dress and adorn-
ment quite unimpaired.
She was very proud of her jewels,
which were, in fact, very fine, and
worth a considerable sum of money.
She was never happier than when
dressing herself in them—rings,
bracelets, brooches, earrings and so
on. When she was not wearing them,
she had the box containing them plac-
ed by her bed or couch, so that she
could touch them and see them. She
also kept in her possession a good
deal of loose cash.
All this exercised M. Jacob’s mind,
and several times he pointed out to
her the danger of keeping valuables
in such a manner.
“Oh, nobody knows,” said she,
“only Rosalie, and she is safe. Who
would bother coming to rob an old
woman like me? Besides, I could de-
fend them, if only by screeching for
help. They amuse me—which they
wouldn’t do if they were locked up
in the bank; and I don’t want to be
told my business, not even by you, M.
Jacob!”
In fact, she would have insulted
him, only that he knew her queer
ways and refused to get angry with
an old lady who was an invalid.
Well, one evening Mme. Bertaux
was found with her head battered in
and her jewels gone. Only the case
was left,
The window was open. There were
marks on a drainpipe close to the win-
dow, showing where a man had crawl-
ed up; but otherwise there were very
few traces of the murder. The room
was not disturbed, though from a
drawer in an escritoire by the door
ten louis in gold had been taken—pre-
war money which the old lady had
treasured, tied in a handkerchief. She
had in her possession a roll of notes
of the value of ten thousand francs,
but these had not been touched. There
were no fingerprints anywhere.
I was at dejeuner in the Hotel de
Paris with M. Henri that morning,
when the chief of police of Monaco
was shown in to us. He came about
a certain person who has no connec-
tion with this story, but when he had
done his business he mentioned the
murder in the Rue Paradis. You
know the police mind thinks in the
form of reports, and this good gentle-
man, once he had set his speech ma-
chine going, gave us a complete pre-
cis of the details of the business-—
everything but the exhibits, in fact.
“We arrested a young man, one
Coudoyer, lover of the servant Ros-
alie, this morning,” he finished.
“There was very little money in his
pockets, but in his box at the inn
where he is employed we found an
old-fashioned watch which belonged to
the dead woman. He said that it had
been given to him long ago by the ser-
vant Rosalie, who had it as a present
from Mme. Bertaux; but it’s all pretty
plain.”
The chief went into more details
about M. Jacob, the owner of the
house, Mme. Bertaux and so forth,
till Henri cut him short.
“Did you find any fingerprints?”
asked Henri.
“No,” said the chief.
“And this young man Coudoyer—
what is he like?”
“Oh, quite a simple person,” replied
the chief. “Just a waiter, with a good
record— the last person in the world
you’d suspect.”
“There were no fingerprints, which
shows that an expert was at work,”
said Henri; “and you have arrested
Coudoyer?” :
“On suspicion,” said the other, “and
on finding that watch in his trunk.”
“Ah,” said the Paris man. “There
were no fingerprints, yet a woman had
been murdered and furniture handled
by the murderer. Your judgment
about Coudoyer, therefore, must be
wrong. He must be no simple person,
but an expert criminal—either that,
or you have arrested the wrong man.”
“We must go by what we find,” said
he. “We searched very thoroughly
for finger marks on all surfaces pos-
sible—even to the table legs, even to
a ten-franc Casino counter lying on
the floor by the bureau. We may not
be equal in intelligence to Paris, but
we are thorough!”
“Yes, you seem to be thorough,”
said Henri, becoming sarcastic.
actually find a ten-franc Casino coun-
ter on the floor, and then you arrest
a resident of Monte Carlo, or rather,
an employe, when you know that em-
ployes are not allowed in the Casino!
Tell me,” he asked, “didn’t it hit you
at once that the ten-franc counter
must have been dropped by the mur-
derer, and no one else?”
“How do you mean?” said the oth-
er.
“This way. It wasn’t the old lady's
if your statement about her is correct,
for she never went out. It isn’t Ros-
alie’s, and it isn’t Coudoyer’s, for they
are employes, and can’t use the Cas-
ino. It isn’t M. Jacob’s, because he
is, as you said, a resident engaged in
business, and can’t use the Casino. It
evidently must have belonged to a
person who was none of these people,
who was neither Mme. Bertaux nor M.
Jacob, nor Rosalie nor Coudoyer—
some person other than any of these
pecple who are known to have used
Mme. Bertaux’s room or to have been
connected with it. It must have be-
loged to a stranger, a fifth person, and
a person, moreover, who has or had
the entry to the Casino.”
“A moment!” said the chief. “That
argument seems tempting, but sup-
pose Coudoyer had that counter in his
possession at the time of the murder,
and dropped it by accident? It is not
impossible for a waiter to acquire a
a Casino counter. It might have been
given to him, it might have been pick-
ed up by him, it might have come in-
to his possession in several different
ways.”
We left the hotel and went straight
to the Rue Paradis. The body had
been removed, but the room was in
just the same state as when the trag-
edy was discovered. It was a pleas-
ant, sunlit room on the first floor,
with a window opening upon a small
balcony. M. Henri went first to the
balcony, and inspected the drainpipe
by which the assassin had climbed.
Then he returned and stood with his
hands behind his back, looking at the
room.
Opposite the window there was a
sofa, and by the window was the arm-
chair in which the invalid had been
sitting when she was attacked. Small
objects of furniture stood about, in-
cluding a small table bearing a vase
of flowers. On another table stood
the jewel box, empty.
M. Henri, having inspected all these
things individually, asked that Rosa-
lie, the maid, should be called. The
girl, when she came into the room,
did not impress me very favorably.
She was pretty, but pertlooking and
shallow; just the tool one might fancy
that a scoundrel would easily handle.
I confess that when I saw her my
previous belief in the innocence of
Coudoyer was not increased.
“Tell me,” said M. Henri, “what
were you doing last night at 9
o'clock,”
“I have already told monsieur the
inspector,” replied she. “I was with
a friend.”
“She was with Coudoyes,” put in
the chief. “Several saw them togeth-
er at twenty minutes to 9, but after
that no one saw them together. Her
story is that they walked about to-
gether, and that she returned at half-
past 9, after the crime had been dis-
covered.”
“That will do,” said M. Henri, and
he dismissed Rosalie. Then he turn-
ed to the chief. “Give me the girl's
story,” said he, “ as she told it to
you.”
“There was very little more,” re-
plied the other. “She said that she
parted with Coudoyer at the corner of
the Rue Marcelle at twenty minutes
past 9. He went for a walk by him-
self, and returned home at 10.”
“And the murder was committed
at 97”
“Yes.”
“Who discovered the body?”
“M. Jacob. He was seated down-
stairs, reading, at 9 o’clock when he
fancied he heard a cry. He thought
it was the rooms above and then he
fancied it was from the street. He
went on reading, but somehow he felt
uneasy, so presently he went unstairs
and knocked at the old lady’s door.
He got no answer, and opened the
door. Then he telephoned for the
police.”
“Tell me,” said M. Henri, “why
haven’t you arrested that girl as well
as the Coudoyer fellow?”
“She’s as good as arrested,” replied
the other. “She can’t escape, and we
are just letting her play about for a
few days. Coudoyer had accomplices,
and none of the jewelry has been re-
covered, with the exception of that
old watch, which he swore was given
him by Rosalie, who had it as a pres-
ent from the old lady.”
“Let’s have a talk with M. Jacob,”
said Henri.
We went to the flat below and found
M. Jacob in—a middle-sized, prosper-
ous-looking, elderly person, greatly
disturbed by the tragedy of the night
before. He told us all he knew. He
had never heard of the gift. of the
watch to Rosalie, though, indeed, as
he pointed out, it was unlikely that
he would hear of it. He was on good
terms with the old lady, and often
went up to have a chat with her, but
a trifling matter of that sext would
scarcely be mentioned between them.
“You never saw or heard of a Cas-
ino counter in her possession?” asked
Henri casually.
M. Jacob was greatly astonished at
the question, for the police had not
told him of the finding of the counter.
No, he had never seen one in the old
lady’s possession. It was a most un-
likely thing for her to have, and no
one else in the house would possess
such a thing.
Then we took our departure to visit
Coudoyer, who was held at the police
department, under arrest. He proved
to be a pale-faced individual with
restless, shifty eyes.
press me favorably, but still, I would
never judge a man by his appearance.
He told a tale substantially the
same as that given by the servant
Rosalie. He protested that his char-
acter was good, that his employers
could speak well of him, that he was
“You |
He did not im- {I
engaged to be married to Rosalie—
and would a man about to marry
commit a crime like that?
He said that he had never been even
“on the steps of the Casino. He ad-
mitted that it might be possible to
pick up a counter dropped by some
gambler in the cafe where he stated
emphatically that he had not done so.
i Yes, the watch—that was the only
_ thing they had against him, but it had
been given him by the girl. He could
‘not prove this, because Mme. Bertaux
(was dead, but it was a fact. Then,
half unwillingly, but evidently speak-
ing the truth, he said that he believ-
“ed, or had strong suspicion, that Rosa-
lie was not faithful to him— that she
had a lover other than himself. He
!could give no name, however. The
‘thing was a mere suspicion based on
, something that she had said.
That was what he had to say, both
on his own account and in answer to
i questions. When he was removed,
the chief turned to M. Henri.
“Now,” said he, “you have seen all
the important people in connection
with this case, and here is a diagram
showing the position in whch the body
was when found. What’s your opin-
ion?”
“I haven't any fixed opinion just
yet,” said M. Henri; “but from what
I have seen I believe that that young
man will be convicted. Monte Carlo
never guillotines, so he will not pay
the extreme penalty; and that it is
possible after awhile he may regain
his freedom.”
“And what about Rosalie?” he
asked.
“l can’t say anything about her,”
i replied M. Henri. “I'm only telling
the fortune of Coudoyer.”
“You would make your fortune as
a fortune teller,” said the chief. “You
speak so positively!”
“I believe I could make money at
that business,” replied the other, “and
legitimately, for my fortune telling
would be based on circumstance and
character. I say that Coudoyer may
regain his freedom for the simple
reason in my belief Coudoyer is in-
nocent. Mind you, that is only a be-
lief.”
“And you base it——"’
“On the ten-franc counter, and on
Rosalie’s other lover, in whose exist-
ence I half believe.”
“That eternal counter!” :
“Yes, that eternal counter, and other
things that it has suggested to me.”
“What are they?”
“I cannot tell you, for you would
say, Oh, this is nonsense!” Besides,
to let daylight in on half-formed ideas
tends to shrivel them. Moreover, to
talk is fatal in a case like this. Walls
have ears, ideas have wings. I be-
lieve that the murderer is now walking
about Monte Carlo. I believe that
this climber. of drainpipes and assas-
sin of old ladies fancies himself se-
cure; but at a whisper, a breath of
air, he would take measures that
would prevent him from ever being
caught. This I will do, if you like—
I will lend you Malmaison, -of the
Paris Surete. He is not in very good
health, and a change to the Sunny
South will do him good. He will come
here, of course, as a private individu-
al. Nobody knows him here. If he
is successful, the credit will go to
you, for he is not anxious for neter-
ety.”
After that, for a long time, I heard
nothing more. My business took me
‘to Vienna and Rome. I heard, indeed,
‘that Coudoyer and the girl had been
! condemned, both to imprisonment for
‘life. Henri had prophesied truly,
i though he had not included the girl
iin his forecast.
{ Then, one day, in pursuit of my
; business, I returned to Monte Carlo,
(only to find that the man on whose
‘tracks I had been traveling had doub-
{led back, and had been arrested at
| Milan, I was pretty much disgusted.
I had made a mistake, he had got
wind of me, and my reputation would
suffer.
Being what you call at a loose end
i that evening, I went to the Casino. I
don’t care for music or plays, but
people always interest me, especially
the Casino crowd; so there I went, and
scarcely had I made the tour of the
rooms when whom should I find but
Malmasion! He was dressed to repre-
sent the part of a well-to-do business
man, but I could not mistake him.
I must tell you about Malmasion.
He is the most self-obliterating per-
son in the world. In Paris he always
wears a disguise. His name is un-
known, never appearing in the papers,
and that is why he is so deadly. Here
in Monte Carlo his best disguise was
to be his real self. I knew him, but
then I am in the inner circle.
“It is fortunate that I met you to-
night,” said he, “for things have come
to a crisis. I believe 'I have got my
man. Indeed, I could have pointed
him out to you in the room where he
was playing. He did not see me, and
I only got a glimpse of him, but to-
night I expect he will revisit the house
where the murder took place, and
where I have taken rooms.”
“Taken rooms?” said I.
“Yes, he said. ‘Mme. Bertaux’s
flat was let, for pecple weren’t anx-
ious to rent it just after the crime;
so M. Jacob, who owns the place and
lives below, let it to me. I have been
there for some time, watching the
Casino and the strangers who have
come to Monte Carlo. I had to wait,
but I found my man—and my wo-
man.”
‘Who was the woman?”
“Rosalie. She was justly condemn-
“And the man?”
“Was her lover, a rival to Coudoy-
er.
‘Tonight,” I said, “ you expect him
to revisit the scene of the crime.
What bait have you put out for him?”
“You'll see,” said Malmasion.
We had reached the door, and he
opened it with a latchkey. The door
of M. Jacob’s flat was closed.
“You haven't told M. Jacob?” said
: “Not a word,” he replied. “ I be-
lieve Henri’'s motto—‘Be dumb.’
perous renter, and as I pay my rent
in advance he doesn’t bother about
gnything else. Why should I tell
im
M. |
Jacob believes that I am just a pros-
He led the way up, and I found my-
self again in Mme. Bertaux’s room,
which looked very different now, with
cigar and cigarette boxes about, and
glasses and other signs of good cheer.
Malmasion made me take the arm-
chair. Then he opened the window
and left it standing half open.
“You expect him to come through
the window?” said I.
“Let us expect nothing,” said he.
He offered me a cigar and went on:
“I came here on a seemingly im-
possible task, but M. Henri had given
me an idea of how to set to work. It
was only during the last few days,
however, that the truth became evi-
dent. The criminal is, first of all and
above everything else, a gambler.
The crime was committed to recoup
his gambling losses. He has a cousin
who runs a hotel here, and I suspect
that it was this cousin who turned
the stolen jewelry into money. He
is a very shady man—a worse man,
perhaps, than the actual murderer,
who was urged by play and the devil
to commit his crime.”
i “The criminal,” he went on, “has
, two addresses here. One is the hotei
‘owned by his cousin, but he doesn’t
{ live there. He has a home of his own
!—a pleasant little place which he
i picked up cheap, and where he lives
free of taxes, the only drawback be-
'ing that when he wants to play at
the Casino, he can’t, owing to the fact
that he’s a resident employed in a
bank. He is also a man with a cer-
{ tain power over women, and so it
‘came about that Rosalie fell under
his spell. Now you will see how
things conspired to bring this man to
his undoing. He has a brother very
like himself, who travels in wine for
{ Meyer & Capablanca, of Bordeaux.
i The brother,when he visits Monte Car-
| To, stops atthe cousin’s hotel, and
"plays at the Casino. One fine day it oc-
curred tothe criminal, who was then
only a bank teller, to drop into the Cas-
ino under the brother's name, and to
| give the address the brother had al-
{ ways given. The chief difference be-
{tween the two men was the fact that
the brother wore glasses. It was quite
an easy matter to buy a pair of
glasses, and, handing the brother's
card over the counter, to gain ad-
mittance, or to get in with his ticket
for the season.
“Well, there you are, a man well-
to-do and comfortable, yet sucked by
the whirlpool of the tabes—drawn
into the net. Most likely, the first
time he went in under guise of his
last. He just went in to see the play
and have a flutter, but then the pas-
sion grew. Or it may be that
he was a gambler at heart, with a
who knows? One can only say that
the tables took him and turned him
into a murderer. I believe that Henri
jumped to the fact that the man who
dropped that ten-franc counter might
be a resident who played at the Cas-
ino under disguise.”
Malmasion rose and held up a fing-
er. :
‘Here he is,” said he.
I could hear a far-away step in the
silent street outside.
Malmasion closed the window.
“Why do
I asked.
“I only left it open to let in a foot-
step,” said he. “Come, this gentle-
man will enter boldly by the front
door, if I am not mistaken. Quick!”
I took my hat and followed him
down stairs to the hall, where we
stood waiting while footsteps paused
outside. The hall light was on. We
heard the noise of the key in the latch,
the door opened, and a man entered.
It was only M. Jacob.
I pitied Malmasion. I felt like a
man watching a play which has sud-
denly broken down, or a hunter who
hears the footsteps of a tiger and
finds them to be the footsteps of a
lamb.
“Good-evening,” monsieur,”
Jacob, when he saw Malmasion.
“Good-evening,” replied the other.
“I was just going to show my friend
out. How fortunate that we have
met, for my friend wished to ask you
some questions concerning real estate
in Monte Carlo.”
“Come into my room,” said M.
Jacob, “and we can talk.”
“M. Jacob,” said the man from
Paris, while we took seats, “excuse
my asking, but how much money did
you make playing at the Casino to-
night 7”
The murderer rose to his feet at
this question, the full weight of which
he had not quite realized. He knew
that he was caught, but not how ser-
said
iously.
: an said he. “A spy of the
ank!
“No,” said Malmasion. “I have
nothing to do with the bank of which
you are cashier. I am a police officer
in search of a certain ten-franc count-
er which was dropped: »
| He did not finish the sentence. Ja-
cob had made a dash for the door.
The struggle did not last a min-
; ute. It wasn’t much, for I had man-
aged, seeing the truth, to seize Jacob
from behind. We found the glasses
«in his pocket, and a large number of
bank notes which he had won that
‘night. At the headquarters of the
police, where we brought him, he was
| fold that his cousin, the hotelkeeper,
had confessed to the whole business.
This was an untruth, but it served,
for in his anger our prisoner round-
j ed on the cousin and told how he had
disposed of the jewels.
He also rounded on Rosalie, the girl
, who had begun by stealing the antique
| watch as a present for Coudoyer,
{and who ended by assisting M. Jacob
in his plans—the girl who had not
'given him away simply because she
would have had to give herself away
too, and who had taken her condem-
! nation and sentence without a word,
| knowing that she would do herself no
{ good through freeing Coudoyer. Per-
haps, too, she could not endure to have
Coudoyer escape while she had to suf-
fer. Women are strange things!
The result was that both Jacob and
his cousin received life sentences.—By
H. de Vere Stacpoole.
——The Watchman prints all the
‘news fit to read.
brother he thought it would be the
passion full grown to be satisfied—
you close the window?”
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
DAILY THOUGHT.
Love understands love; it needs no talk.
—F. R. Havergill.
—The oxford is a smart mode in
footwear for fall; but it’s a far cry
from the staid and sturdy boot of
former days to the high spike-heeled
affair with short vamp and contrast-
ing kid trimming that is the present-
day oxford. Young girls and modish
women alike will be entranced with
these smart examples. They will find
them in many smart combinations
such as suede with patent leather and
a patent heel, as well as dull kid.
—Sewing time will be here before
we know it. The nicest material for
new frocks that has come along in a
long time is that old standby, jersey.
It is selling in as great quantities as
ever this season, and one of the big
shops has just received a new ship-
ment of fine wool dress jersey in all
the latest colors.
—Contributing charm to little
straightline coats, or completing the
message of tiered skirt on some pret-
ty frock of georgette, we find the bol-
ero’s inroads. Not always, however,
is it suggested so artfully as in the
model under discussion. The finesse
of that black velveteen corsage—it
forms the entire back—as it “steps
out” in front on its bolero destiny to
reveal the plaid wool of its skirt.
Velveteen, as I have frequently re-
marked, is a childhood classic—just
like Louisa Alcott. This year, how-
ever, it has received a tremendous
impetus from the vogue of this mate-
rial in adult circles. We find it in
types of juvenile clothes, both dress-
up and everyday—and occasionally we
find it indorsing some brand-new the-
ory of line.
In this instance I recall a delightful
casaquin model for the girl of from
6 to 12. Now, the casaquin or short
jacket mode has received all sorts of
attention in mature styling, and this
happens to be one of those modes that
do nothing to violate juvenile ideals of
simplicity. Hence this afternoon model
of eggplant blue velveteen, with its
short rather full skirt and its short
sleeved casaquin or jacket reaching
just to the hips, struck me as a de-
lightful adventuring away from the
more standardized modes. I may add
that it was finished around the jacket
border and sleeves and collar with
wool embroidery in contrasting tints.
The same current which has brought
to us the short jacket mode is respons-
ible for the cardigan or golf jacket
fashion that is now such an integra}
part of adult sports wear. If your
young daughter has become bored
‘with jumpers, the cardigan—usually
with its V-neck and always with its
buttons down the front—represents
an exhilarating change. Apd it is
shown along with the regulation
jumper models in school frocks of
ool jersey, tweed jersey, crepella and
risca.
—The mother worn out with her
house-hold duties should take as much
sleep as possible, as this is Nature's
' greatest health restorer.
Keeping the children clean, seeing
that the household runs on smoothly,
going to market and attending to all
the sewing is not the easiest task in
the world and plenty of sleep will help
her more than all the medicines that
come in a bottle.
The girl in business who sometimes
feels that the days will never come to
an end is probably trying to work all
day and keep up a social life in the
evenings. The girl with an iron con-
stitution can do this for a time, but
eventually it will tell on her as much
as it does on her weaker sister. Take
a half day in bed now and then and
simply relax your tired body and
nerves. Do not take an exciting novel
and read it, but let your brain have a
holiday as well as your body.
i It is not necessary to stay home
: from the office on a pretended plea of
‘illness to take this required extra
sleep—it can be done on an occasional
- Sunday morning, the holidays that are
bound to come from time to tims, or
on Saturday afternoon.
Women need far more sleep than
the average man. Many men can get
along with four or five hours sleep,
| arise and are perfectly refreshed. Not
so with the average woman. She
‘needs at the very least seven hours
lof good, uninterrupted sleep, and if
she is a nervous, high-strung woman
she needs at least ten. Just as soon
as you begin to steal the hours that
{ you should be sleeping you will age
i with about twice the rapidity that you
would were you giving the alloted
time to rest that your physical being
! craves. Sleep reduces fever, it re-
lieves pain, it helps nutrition, it courts
beauty—the loss of it leaves you a
wreck that nothing can repair.
Women the world over have a bane-
ful habit of leading inactive lives.
They persuade themselves that they
get plenty of exercise while doing
household work, and then when they
go to bed at night they cannot sleep.
Just for a change try a little exercise
out of doors. Fill your lungs with ali
the fresh air they will hold, taking
deep breathing exercises as you walk
along, then go home and see if you do
not sleep better than you did the night
before when you had not taken any
fresh air into your starved lungs.
“If you have been made by nature
short and plump, don’t spend your life
wishing you were tall and slim, but do
what you can to correct nature's
shortcomings. Toward 40 most wo-
men run somewhat to overplumpness.
Systematic exercise is one of the best
remedies for this and about the only
safe one. There are reducing baths
that can be taken, and external and
internal cures, and diets galore. But
some are unsafe, some are awfully
expensive and the diets are a nui-
sance. It is easy enough to give up
sweets and Tats if you are inclined to
be very stout, and a cup of hot water
before breakfast is a help in reducing,
as is plenty of cold water between
meals ‘and no liquid with them.”—
Mother's Magazine.
—————— i ———
—The “Watchman” gives all the
news when it is news. Read it.
i
FARM NOTES.
—Sunlight is the cheapest disinfect-
ant. Have plenty of it in the poultry
house.
—The glazed stage is right for
harvesting silage corn, but frosted
corn makes poor silage. It is better
to harvest it a little too soon than too
late.
—Pennsylvania’s cow testing asso-
ciations need more testers. A short
course to train cow testers will be giv-
en at the Pennsylvania State College,.
September 27 to October 2.
—Late summer rains have kept
fruit tree bark in condition so that.
fall budding may be practiced. The
buds in the axils of the leaves on the
Su pion season’s growth are the ones
used.
—Quality fruit costs more to grow
and prepare for market than worm-
eaten, scab-infested fruit does. En-
courage the producer of good fruit by
insisting when buying that you get a
quality product.
—Lawns should be gone over now
if they were not attended to last:
month. Rake the lawn well and throw
seed in the thin and bare spots. Keep
the water hose running long encugh
to soak the soil so that the seed will
germinate quickly.
—Seed corn promises to be at a
premium next spring. If frost hits:
the corn any time after the ears reach
I the glazed stage, seed can be picked
'from the stalks. Hang the ears in a
building where there is free circula-
ition of air around every ear until
. thoroughly dry. Be sure it is well
cured before freezing weather comes.
| —Radishes, one of the easiest crops
to grow, are just the thing for filling:
;a coldframe in the fall. Plant from
now until October 1 to have radishes
{ ready for use from late October until
: perhaps December 1.
—Rose gardens require attention
1 this month. Cut out suckers but do
not prune main stalks. Gradually pull
the dirt in around the roots for winter
protection.
—Special practices must be follow-
ed with various late crops, such as
putting paper or boards around celery
to bleach it, tying up endive and cauli-
flower for the same purpose, breaking
off the lower leaves of Brussels
sprouts as the tiny heads develop, and
providing material, such as old bags
and old carpets, to cover the tender
crops like tomatoes and peppers when
frost threatens, according to Penn-
sylvania State College specialists.
—Naming the farm gives it an in-
dividuality and also a very definite
business value. A name marks a
farm as a place of more than passing
interest to those who are in the mar-
: ket for products of the soil. Protect
the farm name by producing standard
quality products which are always de-
pendable.
—Proper management of dairy
cows plays an important part in the
economical production of milk and
butterfat.
—“Sour, moldy, and off-flavor
cream can often be traced to the prac-
tice ‘of carrying buttermilk in cream
cans from the creamery to the home,”
says Harold Macy of thy division of
dairy husbandry, University of Minne-
sota. Cream cans, he believes, should
be used only for the transportation
of cream. Mr. Macy says:
“With the facilities available at the
average creamery, it is a difficult task
at best to clean and sterilize the cream
cans properly. The process is much
more difficult where the buttermilk is
transported in the cans.
“It is exceedingly hard to keep the
buttermilk tank in such condition that
the product does not sour or decom-
pose, particularly in the flush of the
summer season. Such buttermilk has
a high bacterial and moldy content of
many undesirable types which con-
taminate the cream so badly that one
cannot expect to get a good product
from the patron who fails to wash or
Siethize his cans after they are emp
tied.
“On many farms the cream can nev-
er receive the attention which it de-
serves. Many times the buttermilk is
simply poured into the barrel in the
hog pen and the can rinsed out in cold
water. "In this condition the can re-
mains until it is stuck under the sepa-
rator spout. This sort of thing goes
on from day to day, so that one mar-
vels that much of the cream is as good
as it is.
“The best way to solve the butter-
milk problem is to contract with the
individual for the whole batch. This
takes it off the operator’s hands and
makes cream grading much easier.
The powdering of the sweet cream
buttermilk is also another outlet and
often very profitable. If the farmers
insist upon having their buttermilk, it
is well for the operator to influence
his board to require the use of other
cans for the purpose.
“Eliminate this practice of placing
buttermilk in cream cans and cream-
| ery operators will be one more long
step nearer the standard which they
wish to reach—all first-class cream.”
—Composted pine needles make a
good fertilizer, and were quite exten-
sively used by southern truck gard-
eners during the war when the fertil-
izer situation was so acute. Needles
of the short-leafed pine were found
to contain 0.26 per cent. potash, which
is equivalent to twice that amount of
muriate of potash. .
The organic matter in the pin
straw is also valuable; it may be made
to serve as bedding in cattle pens,
where it will be still further improved
by the absorption of manure. If the
gardener does not wish to compost the
pine straw it can be applied to the
land as it is gathered from the woods,
and plowed under.
Hotbed sash are no longer cheap to
replace, therefore during the off sea-
son it pays to store them under cover.
Never let them rest on the ground,
where they are sure to rot in short
order. If there is no shed available
make a pile of the sash, elevatzd
slightly, and cover them with boards
or roofing material of some sort.
Treating the sash with a good wood
preservative is an excellent invest-
ment.