_—
Belefonte, Pa., December 3, 1926.
EE ES ——
IF MOTHER WOULD LISTEN.
If mother would listen to me, dears,
She would freshen that faded gown;
She would sometimes take an hour's rest,
And sometimes a trip to town.
And it shouldn't be all for the children,
The fun, and the cheer, and the play;
‘With the patient droop on the tired mouth,
And the “Mother has had her day!”
True, mother has had her day, dears,
When you were her babies three,
And she stepped about the farm and the
house, ‘
As busy as a bee,
When she rocked you all to sleep, dears.
And sent you all to school,
And wore herself out and did without,
And lived by the Golden Rule.
And so your turn has come, dears,
Her hair is growing white,
And her eyes are gaining the far-away look
That peers beyond the night,
One of these days in the morning,
Mother will not be here,
She will fade away into silence—
The mother so true and dear.
Then, what will you do in the daylight,
And what in the gloaming dim?
And father, tired and lonesome then,
Pray, what will you do for him?
If you want to keep your mother,
You must make her rest to-day;
Must give her a share in the frolic,
And draw her into the play.
And, if mother would listen to me, dears,
She'd buy her a gown of silk,
.With buttons of royal velvet,
. And rufiles as white as milk,
And she’d let you do the trotting,
‘While she sat still in her chair,
That mother should have it
through,
It strikes me isn’t fair.
—By Margaret E. Sangster.
hard all
BLOOD BROTHERS OF THE WILD.
Singing Wind, the Yellow-Knife
squaw, stood like an outraged queen
of the wild, venting her spirit upon
the huge-limbed man who calmly
smoked beside the fire.
“The gods never intended a woman
of the Yellow-Knife to mate with a
coward,” the woman stormed. “Does
he send the eagle down te mate with
the spruce-hen?”
“You’re an eagle, all right,” the big
man admitted. “When you get all het
up like that you’re an honor to the
tribe. What's it all about? Where
does the spruce-hen come in?”
“You—you coward!” the girl snarl-
ed. “To think of a Yellow-Knife mar-
rying a man that’s afraid!”
A frill-throated wail came shivering
across the miles of the night.
“Do you hear?” the girl challenged.
“That’s the wolf pack—my blood
brothers. They are the gray brothers
of the wilderness—and we are the red.
I am a Yellow-Knife—just the wolf
pack and the Yellow-Knife people—
they the the masters of the Northern
snows.”
“You said a whole mouthful that
time,” the man admitted. “If there’s
anything worse that a wolf it’s a Yel-
low-Knife woman when she is mad.”
“l am proud of it,” the girl bloated.
“It is the blood brotherhood of the
wild. The wolf pack and the Yellow-
Knife people know the same law of the
snows—that the coward must die—
and you are a coward.”
“I suppose this is all over me leav-
ing Swanp Creek because McPhearson
got to his cabin ahead of me. You
Yellow-Knives would have burned
him out, but I'm a white man; you'll
learn that in time,” the man tried to
explain.
“So is Pean Jolet a white man,” the
girl taunted him. “Did he want to go
without a fight? No; he is a brave
man, not a spruce-hen. He is a man a
Yellow-Knife woman might love with-
out shame.”
“So that’s the way the wind is blow-
ing, my Yellow-Knife beauty. I
thought you’d been edging over his
way for the last week.” The man
shifted his position beside the fire,
but made no effort to rise.
“I love him; I am not ashamed,” the
woman defied. “And he can have me,
too, if he'll take me after my dis-
grace. I'll never forget the shame of
it—-a Yellow-Knife woman married to
a coward.”
The man half-rose beside the fire.
He looked at her a moment and a
flame flickered in his eyes. Slowly he
knocked the ashes from his pipe, re-
filled it and resumed his smoking.
Then he settled down to watch the
flaming spruce logs with eyes that
never shifted.
The mysterious silence of the wil-
derness night crept closer about the
little camp as the fire died down and
the man smoked on, unheeding.
Then the woman brought more fuel
from under the spruces and set the
fire crackling again.
“Don’t be afraid; I won’t let the
wolves hurt you.” She tried to goad
him into speech, but the man only
shifted his long legs beside the fire.
Several times he lifted his head and
listened. The voices of dogs came to
him through the night. :
It was time for the winter snows,
and Jean Jolet had gone over to Wil-
low Creek for the dogs.
The woman watched her giant mate
out of the corner of one eye. Perhaps
she had overstepped herself that time;
perhaps even Duncan McGregor, who
was a spruce-hen and a coward, could
be crowded into a fight. She didn’t
like his silence. She had come to fear
the silent men of the North. Those
who said the least were the bitterest
and most heartless when they set their
feet to the blood trail.
Singing Wind’s heart fluttered as
the yelp of the sledge dogs sounded
just beyond the bend in the trail. She
knew it was Jean Jolet, the man whom
even a Yellow-Knife woman might
love without shame,
The man beside the fire had proved
himself a coward. There is no ques-
tion about it; he had violated the
honor of the Yellow-Knives. But why
didn’t he talk? ip
—_—
So the woman waited, watching for
the battle flame to flicker in those cold
gray eyes.
Her husband was a coward, but even
the stolid musk-ox fought for posses-
sion of its mate.
The woman waited. As her husband
rose to meet his partner her blood ran
rife with the call of battle; perhaps he
would fight after all. :
Though she would not admit it even
to herself, she knew, down deep in her
heart, that there was something there
that had been born one soft night in
the spring, when Duncan McGregor
had first come to the camp of the Yel-
low-Knife. If he fought, and fought
well, perhaps it would spring into life
again, with its shiver of delirious de-
light.
She noted McGregor’s massive
shoulders, the graceful swell of his
iron muscles. Surely he was a beau-
tiful animal to look at—so was a
moose—but the moose forgot his
strength and went floundering through
the snow to his death when the blood
song of the wolf pack began to shiver
among the spruce.
Surely the wolves were the true
lords of the wilderness, and Jean Jolet
was like the wolves—gaunt and
sinewy and not afraid. She was cer~
tain of that, he was not afraid.
Jean Jolet would never shame her
with his cowardice. He would even
face the wolf pack with a smile; fight
and die like the brave Yellow-Knife
hunters.
“Jean, you want to go back to
Swamp Creek ?” the passionless voice
of the big trapper questioned.
“Sure thing, if you've changed your
mind, Wouldn’t like anything better,”
Jolet boasted as he unfastened the
dogs.
“No, I haven't changed my mind,
but Singing Wind has. She’s got a
hankering for old McPhearson’s fur,
and it’s you and her for it. I'm going
South; been in the stunted forests too
long already. You can give me a lift
with the dog tomorrow as far as
Swamp Creek if we get the snow
that’s threatening.”
Singing Wind looked at Jolet. She
could see the fire of happiness dancing
in his eyes. They two, alone, would
battle for the rich trapping grounds of
McPhearson—surely it was bravery
that would be an honor to even a Yel-
low-Knife. But over the pulsing of
her new happiness the dull pain of
regret gripped her heart. Once she
had gloried in the blind faith that this
iron-limbed man who had come from
the south was braver and stronger
than other men. Now he had cast her
aside rather than fight.
If he had been a murderer she could
have forgiven him. If he had been a
grub thief in a famine-stricken camp,
and had stolen for her, then she would
have crawled on her knees to kiss his
hand, but a coward—that was beyond
the law, the iron law of the Yellow-
Knife people, that a woman must be a
bearer of burdens and the men must
be unafraid.
Jolet did not question whether Sing-
‘ng Wind was willing to share a trap
camp with him or not. It was the
pride that forbade him making inquir-
ies. Of course a Yellow-Knife squaw
would-be glad to share a camp with
Jean: Jolet, trapper.
Singing Wind understood his view of
the matter, yet it hurt her, for she was
a daughter of the Yellow-Knife people
who ruled over the Northern snows.
She saw McGregor spread his
blankets beside the fire, and she
waited hopefully. Perhaps the wolf-
:man of the Northern snows would
come to her to ask her consent. She
saw him finish his pipe and spread
his blankets for the night—and no
word was spoken.
The woman of the Yellow-Knife sat
alone beside the fire. The spruce
branches burned to a heap of coals
that threw a bloody light upon the
surrounding forest.
She heard the plaintive wailing of
the rising wind among the spruce tops.
A gust of wind came swooping down
out of the northeast and scattered the
white ashes of the fire about the camp;
an owl hooted out in the blackness of
the swamp; the sledge dogs stirred
uneasily in their sleep; then one of
them lifted his nose to the dull murk
of the Northern skies and sounded a
troubled wail.
| Singing Wind was a daughter of the
{ Yellow-Knife. Each of these things
carried a message to her—she knew
iit would be snowing before morning.
i So she crawled away to her own
i blankets, while the winds and snows
of the Northern night crept closer
and closer to the sleepers. In the
morning one of them would turn his
back upon the Northern snows, to
breast the long miles that led back to
the land from whence he had come.
When Singing Wind awoke next
morning she found a white and lonely
world. The storm had spent its fury.
She prepared the breakfast, while the
men got the outfit ready for the trail.
Three miles to the northwest was
the little cabin where big Duncan and
she had spent those few months of
happiness—a camp beside the game
trails of the Yellow-Knife people. Ten
miles to the south lay the trail camp
at the mouth of Swamp Creek. They
would spend the next night there.
The big Scotchman would soon turn
his face toward the South—and Jolet
and she would proceed to the aban-
doned camp in the country of Me-
Phearson.
The fresh dogs swung off through
the swamp with a chorus of glad yelps
vad kept time to the lurch of the
sled,
Singing Wind huddled among her
furs and watched the ghostly spruces
slip by. At regular intervals the two
men changed places, the one who had
been riding at the front would take
his place at the handle-bars and run
behind the sled. Not a word was
spoken except a sharp command to a
dog that was shirking.
At midday a halt was made. A pot
of tea was prepared and a portion of
smoked moose meat eaten, then the
rested dogs were urged across the
white miles of wilderness.
The days were short at that season
of year, and soon the shadows of night
began to creep in among the snow-
covered spruces and night voices
called, faint and far away.
The gloom of the spruce swamps
deepened. The whine of the sled run-
ners upon the snow was now the only
way to gauge the speed of the weary
k.
Soon they would reach their last
camp, and the soft-spoken giant would
go out of Singing Wind's life; would
probably go in silence, this strange
man who was almost perfect, but who
was afraid to fight.
Out in the night shadows of the
spruce swamp she heard the rallying
call of the wolf—her blood brother of
the Northern wilderness. His fangs
were bared against the whole world,
but her heart went out to him, that
lonely gray brother of the i for
was she not a daughter of the Yellow-
Knife, whose hands were against all
mankind ?
The wolf call sounded closer, and
the weary dogs quickened their pace— |
that inborn wilderness fear urging |
them across the night miles to a bend
in the trail where the road camp offer-
ed its shelter.
Soon the wolf call changed to a full-
throated cry in the shadows behind.
Then the heart of Singing Wind grew
cold within her breast—cold with the
fear of the wild. It was not a moose
that was fleeing for its life, but a
trail-spent dog team and a loaded sled.
Louder and louder rose the gloating
deathsong of the pack. Jolet, at the
handlebars, added his ringing voice to
the medley, urging the dogs to greater
speed.
Then the voice of the man behind
awoke a memory that had grown
strangely remote during the quiet
hours of the ride. It was Jean Jolet
behind there—the wolf-man who was
never afraid.
He would fight the wolf pack; would
show the trembling coward upon the
sled how a man of the Northern snows
could fight. The thought filled her
with happiness that almost drowned
her fears.
A moment later the sled gave a lurch
and their speed slackened. The wolf-
man was riding the sled. For a mo-
ment the woman thought he was get-
ting his rifle ready for the battle. She
reached out her hand and touched him
as he crawled past her on the sled.
She wanted to let him know that she
was proud of him, that her heart
would be with him in the red agony
of the battle. Then the heart of Sing-
ing Wind grew heavy and dead within
her breast. The body of Jean Jolet,
the wolf-man of the Northern snows,
was ashiver with fear.
The dogs swung out into an opening
where the light of the Northern day
still lingered. She turned and glanced
backward. A gray, shifting blotch
upon the snow disclosed the fact that
the pack was almost upon them—and
Jean Jolet, the wolf-man, had added
his weight to the burden of the sled,
and was cursing the dogs with a
strange, shivering voice, while the
pack crept closer across the snow.
Once more the sled lurched as one
of the men leaped to the ground. The
hunched-up figure was almost hidden
by the flying snow as they reeled past.
Singing Wind reached forward to urge
her husband to fight; not to leave the
man back there to fight their battle
alone,
With a cry she sprang back and
shook the furs from her and groped
for a rifle, for her hand had closed
upon the lean, trembling arm of the
wolf-man huddled among the furs.
A rifle shot rang out in the night;
the dog team swerved as if to go back.
Singing Wind thrust a rifle into the
hand of the man. He pushed it aside,
grasped the whip, and beat the dogs
back on to the trail.
Again thle rifle spoke behind them
and the hot tears rushed down the
cheeks of the woman. She was a
daughter of the Yellow-Knives, who
never turned their backs upon a foe.
But there in the road was the man
she had hated because he was afraid—
the man who was going out of her life
in the morning.
Singing Wind thrust a hunting ax
in her belt, grasped a rifle and leaped
from the sled.
The rifle back there on the trail was
speaking as fast as Duncan McGregor
could swing the lever; no one in all
the North could use a rifle like that.
The firing ceased before the woman
reached him, and she know that the
big Scotchman was at death grips
with the pack. She leaped blindly for-
ward—the honor of the Yellow-Knife
was at stake.
Then she saw them in the night
gloom, a giant whose clothes were
torn to ribbons by the fangs of the
pack, whirling like the hub of a great,
gray wheel, and swinging a hunting
ax in a deadly circle that cut into the
wolf pack better than any rifle. The
pack opened before the shrieking
thing that raced down upon them-—a
thing that belched fire and death as it
came.
Then with empty guns beneath their
feet, they fought back to back—the
woman of the Yellow-Knife and the
man she had scorned. She could feel
the man reel in his wild and deadly
thrusts at the maddened horde. The
snow grew slippery with blood, and
the heap of still gray forms grew
higher around them. The pack
wavered, then returned for one last
drive.
Singing Wind felt the man at her
back sink to his knees; yet he fought
silent-lipped and determined as the
gray beasts swarmed out of the night
gioom,
Then over the snap of slavering
jaws there came another sound—the
blessed, honest battle song of the
sledge dogs returning to the fight.
As the yelping challenge of the dogs
drew nearer across the snows, the
beaten pack slipped away into the
shadows, and the battle-wrecked giant
who had dared to stand in the path of
the gray brotherhood that ruled the
Northern snows slipped down among
his dead enemies in the crimson,
trampled snow.
Singing Wind raised her eyes to the
blue-dancing stars. No sound escaped
from her close-drawn, bloodless lips—
for she was a daughter of the Yellow-
Knives, who hid their hearts beneath
their fur robes and battled for the
mastery of their lean land.
When the lead dog floundered up to
lick the face of his senseless master.
Singing Wind threw her arms around
his neck and buried her face in his
thick fur and listened to the night
voices that called from the shadows.
: States.
Tenderly she lifted the man from
the bloody snow and rolled him to the
sled. Then the road song of the wolf-
dog went ringing far through the
Northern night.
The man stirred among the furs. He
lifted a blood-stained face to the blue
star-light, saw the woman and ques-
tioned weakly:
“Where is Jean?
get him?
“They won’t catch him as long as
his legs hold out,” Singing Wind
whispered spitefully.
“How far is it to the trail camp?
We must be ’most there,” the man
puzzled, half delirious.
“We're going home,” whispered
Singing Wind softly, as she hid her
face on the man’s shoulder—“back to
the lean land of the Yellow-Knife, that
never bred a coward.”—By Chart Pitt,
in Philadelphia Public Ledger.
Did the wolves
Big Apple Crop to Boost U. S. Health.
America should have its healthiest
Trial List for December Court.
Prothonotary Roy Wilkinson has
prepared the trial list for the Decem-
ber term of court which will convene
on the 13th. Only one civil case is
listed for trial the first week, that of
Elmer Jackson vs. Paul Baroutais, an
appeal.
The list for the second week is as
follows:
Gordon Bros, Inc., a corporation, vs.
H. D. and H. P. Kelley, trading and
doing business as the Kelley Bros.
Coal Co. Assumpsit.
Century Hoist Manufacturing Co.
a corporation, vs. The Central Refrac-
tories Co., a corporation. Assumpsit.
H. H. Salisbury vs. James M. Smith
and W. J. Musser. Feigned issue.
James M. Foster vs. Pure Coal
Mining Co., a corporation. Assumpsit.
George E. Harper and Mary E.
Harper, his wife, vs. G. D. Morrison.
Assumpsit.
Evan Davis, Elizabeth Ross, Mag-
gie Brighton, by their attorney in
fact, Fred Brighton, and William
year in 1927, if the old adage about | Wood, guardian of Edward Davis and
apples and health still holds, accord-
ing to Sears-Roebuck Agricul-
tural Foundation. The estimated
apple crop for this year is more than
234,000,000 bushels, which is the
largest crop since 1914 and the third
largest in the history of the United
is fully one-third larger than last
year, apple prices have dropped to the
lowest point in years and give promise
of remaining at a low level through-
out the season.
Practically all of the increased pro-
duction of the commercial apple crop
this year was made in the East, the
principal apple orchard section of the
country, according to the Foundation.
Here favorable conditions prevailed
throughout the growing season, al-
though some sections reported the
crop as maturing later than usual. The ,
crop in the Northwest, the only other
important commercial apple section in
the country, however, suffered severe-
ly from freezing in late September '
with the result that yields were ma-
terially reduced.
The export trade is likely to affect
the market to some extent. While
increased consumption in England, !
one of the big consumers of American '
apples, is not expected this year be-
cause of the continued unemployment
which is keeping the buying power of |
the country low, Germany, another of
the biggest consumers, is taking more
American apples than the year before. !
Improvements in the purchasing
power of the German people and re-
duced apple crops in European coun- |
tries which compete with the United
States in the German apple market
are given as the reasons for this year’s
increase in the American apple trade |
with that country.
meme eee eee.
Britain May Soon Build Liner 1,000
Feet Long; Biggest Ship in World.
British shipbuilders may soon be |
busy building the world’s largest
liner
An inquiry has reached the Clyde
Trust asking whether, in the event of
a vessel 1,000 feet long being built,
the width and depth of the river would |
be sufficient for launching the craft
and affording a safe passage to the
open sea.
The largest vessel at present afloat
is the Majestic, the ex-German liner,
915 feet, 6 inches in length, owned by
the White Star Line. The largest ves-
sel yet built on the Clyde is the
Aquitania, 868 feet 7 inches in length
built by the John Browl Company at
Clydebank in 1914.
There are two or three firms on the
Clyde, all in the upper reaches, which
would tackle a job as big as that now
suggested, and the Clyde Trust would,
of course, do its part.
If necessary dredging would be
undertaken, and it is not considered
that difficulties at the turns of the
Channel would be insurmountable.
Burning Weeds in Fall Will Kill Their
Seeds. ,
Fall is the best time to burn weeds. |
The burning of weeds is a practice
that should be universally followed in
places where they cannot be used for
green manure. The use of fire de-
stroys the seed as well as the unsight-
ly dead plants.
Where weeds are burned in the fall
there is less chance for the seeds to
be scattered than later, when the
plants have died from frost. It is a
good plan to mow the weeds close to
the ground while they are still green
and immediately rake them into piles.
In this way the seeds will not be rat-
tled out. The piles should be rather
small—half the size of a hay cock—so
that they will dry out quickly and
burn up completely. Set fire to the
piles, and see that the loose ends are
raked into the coals when the centre
has burned.
JACKSONVILLE. :
John Tressler held a shooting match |
on Thanksgiving day.
James Mackey spent Thanksgiving
at the Fred Haines home.
Hogan Long purchased John Bloss-
ner’s Ford touring car last week.
The Stork brought Mr. and Mrs.
Ray Deitz a baby girl on Thanksgiving
day. i
John Condo, of Lock Haven, visited
over Sunday at the A. A. Garrett
home. |
Mr. and Mrs. Merrill Walker and
children spent Thanksgiving at the
E. R. Lucas home.
Mr. and Mrs. Mervin Hoy attended
the butchering at the John Corman
home, at Curtin, last week. |
Some of our folks called on Rev. and
Mrs. Gass and Miss Viola Hartzell, at |
the Claude Moore home at Howard, |
on Thanksgiving day.
The Ladies’ Aid society will hold
their meeting for December and
Christmas this Saturday night, at the |
home of Mrs. Nevin Yearick.
James Mackey, who has been visit-
ing with friends at Snydertown, is |
now visiting among friends here and
also attending the butcherings.
Because the 1926 production |
William Davis, vs. The Penelec Coal
Corp., a corporation. Two cases, one
for ejectment and one for trespass.
Philip D. Foster vs. J. D. Musser.
Replevin.
0. C. Struble vs. Anna M. Meyer.
Sur mechanics lien.
M. I. Gardner vs. Highland Clay
Products Co., a corporation. Assump-
sit.
Antoine H. Burke and Mary L.|
Burke, a co-partnership trading as
Burke Bros., vs. C. W. Hunter. As-
sumpsit.
George A. Reiter vs. P. R. Camp-
bell. Trespass.
Della Reiber and George A. Reiber
vs. P. R. Campbell. Trespass.
General Motors Acceptance Corpor-
ation vs. H. A. Mark Motor Co. and
Alfred P. Butler. Replevin.
rmre———(et———
Real Estate Transfers.
Harry Chiumenti, et ux, to Mary
Hahn, tract in Burnside Twp.; $300.
Bellefonte Cemetery Association to
James P. Irvin, tract in Bellefonte;
Isaac B. Seigfrid, et ux, to John
Ses Jr., et ux, tract in Worth Twp.;
,000.
Ivan Walker, trustee, to Conrad
Miller, tract in Bellefonte; $220.
Adam H. Krumrine, et ux, to Geo.
C. Harper, et ux, tract in State Col-
lege; $200. /
Mary S. Osman to Mary E. Fish-
burn, tract in College Twp.; $1.
Mary E. Fishburn, et bar, to Ho-
Mary E. Fishburn, etbar,to How-
ard R. Shuey, et al, Adm., tract in
Russell O. Shirk, et ux, to Harry F.
Houtz, tract in College Twp.; $375.
Tamer B. Kern, et al, Adm., to Liz-
zie Page, tract in College Twp.; $830.
Charles Boyer, et ux, to J. F. Turn-
er, et ux, tract in Patton Twp.; $200.
Ivan Walker, Trustee, to Kate D.
Shugert, tract in Benner Twp.; $9600.
P. E. Wolmesdorf, attorney in fact,
to Winfield L. Erb, tract in Rush
Twp.; $135. 4 vvrm
W. G. Stitt, et ux, to Katherine A.
Meyers, tract in Millheim; $1.
Rosie E. Musser to Orlando Hock-
enberry, tract in Haines Twp.; $200.
H. B. Young to Penn State Alpha
Gamma Rho Allumni Association,
tract in State College; $1.
Boyd N. Johnston, et ux, to Robert
D. Scheirer, et ux, tract in State Col-
lege; $7,600.
"and
FARM NOTES.
. —Many potatoes are to be dug, and
in some districts hopes of saving the:
entire crop have been abandoned.
Outdoors, plant all kinds of decidu--
ous material, so long as dormant. In-
doors, gradually start the heat and ac--
custom the house plants to winter
conditions. r
—Alfalfa or clover hay and corn
silage make ideal roughage for dairy
cows. These crops should be grown
regularly on all dairy farms, say
specialists of the Pennsylvania State
College. :
. —Horticulture Week, a short course
in fruit culture, vegetable gardening,
and landscape architecture, will bring
orchardists, gardeners, and landscape
architects to the Pennsylvania State
College December 7 to 10.
—To prevent colds in the poultry
flock keep the hen house dry, Atv ~
least eight inches of perch room per
bird, and provide plenty of green food.
A dose of epsom salts, at the rate of
one pound of salts to each 400 pounds:
of poultry, fed in a wet mash may do:
a great deal to get the affect :
back into condition. bred Hock
—Is the farm machinery put awaw
for the winter? The great i Bebe
make poor tool sheds. The roof leaks.
other weather extremes work
havoc.
—Farmers have control of the:
European corn borer in their OWIL
hands largely. Farm practices, in-
cluding clean culture, must be relied
upon to stop this destructive insect
pest. Other folks can help, too, by not
carrying corn from infested territory
to clean regions.
—The pig trough without book-
keeping is a blind alley into which
feed is thrown carelessly, the one upon.
which records are kept tells a story
of success or failure.
During the past year five farmers
kept books on their hogs in Clinton
county. When summaries were made:
it was found the profit ranged from a
little more than two dollars per pig
to more than eleven dollars per ani-
mal at six months of age.
Pushing pigs through to market-
able weight at the earliest possible:
date was the method pursued by the
man who pocketed $11 profit per pig..
The former with the $2.00 profit car-
ried his pigs for several months on a
maintenance or pasture and skimmilk,
The pigs made no gain they merely
held their own, so no profit was made
during this period.
“To make a good profit on pork.
hogs destined for the butcher must
be kept on the gain all the time.
—Keeping the cows in the barn and
out of the cold stormy weather this
time of the year means more dollars
in the milk pails of the Centre county
dairies.
Too many cows are expected to
make milk pail profits on a cold
weather treatment which consists of
running through pastures and eating
frosted grass says R. C. Blaney, Cen-
tre county agent.
Cold, wet, rainy weather is hard on
dairy cows. They have much thinner
skins than beef cattle so are more
sensitive to the cold than are the fat
stock animals.
Dairy cows will do much better if
kept in the barn now and fed regular
winter rations. They will enter the
winter in better flesh condition and
with a higher level of milk production.
On nice days they may be turned out
for exercise for a short time but other-
. wise should be housed.
Cows standing outdoors on cold
Titus M. Gramley, et ux, to Wil- days with backs humped are losing
liam F. Groel, tract in Gregg Twp.; dairy dollars for their owners.
$250.
Philipsburg Cemetery Association
to Elizabeth C. Baird, tract in Rush
Twp.; $204.80.
Albert Corman, et ux, to Ione C.
Hillard, tract in Benner Twp.; $1.
Samuel Bierly, et ux, to Barbara
Hubler, tract in Miles Twp.; $600.
Nutritive Value of Any of Home-
Cooked Cereals.
It is almost impossible to compare
the nutritive value of ready-to-eat
with home-cooked cereals, says the
United States Department of Agricul-
ture. The nutritive value of any
cereal food depends on the kind and
on the proportion of bran, germ, and
endosperm (white inner portion of the
kernel) included. If outer coatings
and germ are included, it contains far
more minerals and vitamines than if
these parts are rejected. Judged on
the basis of average servings the food
value of the light-weight ready-to-eat
cereals is lower than that of the home-
cooked kinds. In the case of all ce-
real foods, however, it should be re-
membered that comparison of the nu-
tritive value should be not on the
basis of the form in which they are
“sold, but on that of the parts of the
kernel they include.
College Students Home for a Brief Va-
cation.
Students of the many colleges in
Pennsylvania and nearby States are
spending this week-end at their home,
taking advantage of the Thanksgiv-
ing vacation. Local young men and
women from the Pennsylvania State
College arrived on Wednesday and
will return for the re-opening of
classes at the college on Monday af-
ternoon.
Many of the Penn State students
are in Pittsburgh for the annual Penn
State week-end there, featured by the
Thanksgiving day football game be-
tween Penn State and the University
of Pittsburgh. “Penn State Night”
KDKA broadcasting station was ob-
served on Wednesday night. The col-
lege band and varsity quartet render-
ed a varied program, which you prob-
ably heard if you have a radio.
a cin Het ———
——The gift She will cherish for-
ever: A Tennessee cedar chest, priced
from $13.50 to $38.00, at W. R. Brach-
bill’s furniture store. 71-47
-—The Watchman publishes news
when it is news. Read it.
—Five European corn borers in
northwestern Penna. this season com-
pared to mere last year is what agents
of the Unites States department of
Agriculture have found in surveys. In
addition while confined to 16 counties
last year, the corn borer has launched
an offensive and gained entrance into
14 more counties, according to the
latest reports. Roughly all territory
north and west of a line drawn from
a point just south of Pittsburgh to the
extreme northeastern corner of the
State is now infested by European
corn borer.
Our Penna. climate is thus proved
to the liking of this pest which is evi-
dently organized for a real drive dur-
ing the next few years, declares H. N.
Worthley, assistant extension entomo-
logist of the Penna. State College.
According to Worthley, prevention of
serious damage is in the hands of the
farmers themselves, since farm prac-
tices destroy stalk, stubble and cob
will kill the borers. The control pro-
gram briefly stated, includes cutting
the corn low and early using the silo
to the limit shredding all stover, pul-
ling down, raking and burning stand-
ing stalks, high stubble and hogged-
off corn, plowing all corn stubble land
cleanly, shelling all corn and burning
the cobs by May 15.
—It is frequently pointed out by the
Bureau of Soils of the United States
Department of Agriculture that the
nation will have to depend upon the
cultivation of the soil for about one-
third of its combined wheat, corn and
oats produced; upon crop rotation for
another third, and upon the use of ma-
nures and commercial fertilizers for
the other third.
It is logical, the bureau says, that
cultivation aids both rotation and fer-
tilization, that rotation aids in render-
ing fertilizers more effective, and that
fertilizers increase the value of rota-
tion. Recent experiments in Illinois
bring out the fact that rotation and
the use of fertilizers, when practiced
together, may interact to the extent
that their conjoint effects, as measur-
ed in terms of crop increases, may be
not only equal to but greater than the
sum of their separate effects.
The average yield of corn obtained
without fertilizers and rotation in this
particular experiment was 23.4 bushels
per acre. The gain due to using ferti-
lizers and lime was 9.2 bushels per
acre, and the gain due to rotation
alone was 27.8 bushels, or practically
three times that obtained from the
fertilizers and lime. The total increase
effected by conjoining rotation and the
use of fertilizers was 44.2 bushels per
acre, or 7.2 bushels greater than the
sum of their separate increases.