Bellefonte, Pa., July 1, 1927.
ANDROMEDA AND PERSEUS.
It was a most curious coincidence
‘that I should have seen all four of
them before, and yet it is a coinci-
dence which occurs with frequence
and regularity, for upon each occa-
sion when I have found myself upon
a sea voyage 1 have discovered, by
the first evening, at least one person
whom I have met or seen previously.
In this instance they proved more in-
teresting than usual, that was all.
The first evening in the saloon re-
vealed the four familiar faces, the fol-
lowing morning on deck placed them
in my recollection. Recourse to the
passenger-list gave them names in-
stead of their being merely, as here-
tofore, “The Tall Woman and The Lit-
tle Man,” “The Big Man and The Lit-
tle Woman.”
Mr. and Mrs. Ellsworth Watts.
Dr. and Mrs. Albert Sydney.
What’s in a name? Which was
‘which, I could not tell. I only knew
that The Big Man was the husband of
The Little Woman and The Tall Wo-
‘man was the wife of The Little Man.
This annoyed me. I must not, how-
ever, get ahead of my tale.
Two years before I had been drift-
ing home from the opera alone. Just
ahead of me The Tall Woman and The
Little Man were walkng. It was bit-
terly cold. At the corner of an apart-
ment hotel where the wind blew round
the pavement like a demon possessed of
demons, a small boy was crying. He
had the usual bundle of newspapers,
proving him to be one of those busi-
ness men who sell you battle, murder,
and sudden death for pennies. Ap-
proaching this forlorn figure, The
Tall Woman paused, The Little Man
took her by the elbow and “warped”
her by successfully; but I knew by the
backward look in her eye that his
victory was to be purely temporary.
Accordingly I approached the weep-
ing urchin and proceeded to engage
him in a business transaction, for I
knew very well that I had only to re-
main with him a moment to be priv-
ileged to look upon The Tall Woman’s
face. Being a congenital bachelor I
have spent, nevertheless, considerable
time studying the various diversities
of type in those persons who have, for
countless ages, erroneously been term-
ed “the fair sex.” For my part, 1
have always found them as unfair as
the deuce; but that, of course, is en-
tirely beside the point of this narra-
tive. Enough to say that I was al-
most immediately rewarded for my
pains by looking upon a most lovely
countenance, so that in this instance,
a few pennies bought me not only news
of battle, murder, and sudden death,
but an impression of a very beautiful
woman as well. .
Our small, half-frozen, street-corner
friend was holding his hand against
his ear in a most piteous fashion,
presenting a picture of woe so pathet-
ic that The Little Man at once be-
came cautious. The Tall Woman held
out a silver coin, and when the change
was to be made she waved it away
and bent down.
“Nothing the matter with him!”
said The Little Man irritably. “Just
the usual dodge—mother dying,
grandma, too, I shouldn’t wonder.
Wouldn’t give him a cent—encour-
ages dishonesty. Come along.”
The Tall Woman looked up a mo-
ment as though returning with diffi-
culty from some far bourne where he
was not.
“Just a moment, please,” she said
gently, and then, looking into my
face, she began speaking to me, quiet-
ly, as if to say: “You, of course, have
seen the conditions as they really are.”
“Don’t you think he cries like a
child with earache?” she asked me.
“Is that it?” I inquired of the
small figure before us.
“Yus,” he averred, and wiped his
eyes with the back of his mittens.
My sainted mother! what is there
about mittens that makes such a ges-
ture more than even my galvanized
heart can bear? By this time I did
not care if the owner of those mittens
was the biggest Swindle in town, I
was for him!
The Tall Woman removed her gloves
and pushed back a stray lock that
covered a portion of a thoroughly
grimy little ear.
“Do for heaven’s sake come! We
shall all freeze to death fussing over
this wretched little impostor!” This
from The Little Man edging out of
the wind.
“Does it hurt when 1 put my fing-
ers here?” she asked the grimy one,
pressing gently below the lobe.
He nodded, breaking out afresh. To
me she said then:
“May I ask you to do something
for him? The child undoubtedly has
a bad earache, and it is swelling in
such a way that I know very well it
might easily become mastoiditis. I
would do it myself, but you see I
must—must be going,” she said at
last, and the sound of her voice made
me shiver.
As she disappeared with a back-
ward glance and a grave inclination
of the head to me, I felt that she had
thanked me in the only way she dar-
ed, and I muttered to myself (a habit
which grows upon all congenital bach-
elors, I am told): “And show thy mer-
cy upon all prisoners and captives.”
Andromeda!
“Now for you!” I said cheerfully to
the red mittens. “Come along and
tell me the whole thing.”
“It’s just my ear,” he said between
stifling his sobs, “and of course I ain’t
sold ’em. And I has to sell ’emn before
I kin go home.”
Same old tale.
“Never mind your papers. Bought
and paid for on the spot. Chuck ’em
over the fence. What about this ’lis-
ten-in’ apparatus—very bad?”
He gulped out a very good imita-
tion of a groan.
“Oooh! Tl say it is!”
“Pretty cold, are you?”
“Oh, not so bad—only around the
edges.”
We had now walked about a block
and a half. nip
“If I take you to a hospital will you
let them take a crack at your ear?”
He recoiled. and, considering my
inexcusable misuse of the English
language, on the whole I did not blame
him.
“I mean,” 1 said hastily, “will you
let them look at it to see if it is in
need of something to—to stop the
pain.” .
His face brightened. But he said
cautiously: “My folks ain't much on
hospitals. I'm skeered of ’em.” 1
hailed a passing taxi.
“Rot! Might frighten a baby, but
a chap of your age! Never heard of
such a thing.” I got into the cab.
“Coming?”
“Ye ain’t kidnappin’ me?” he ask-
ed as we rolled along, with such a
dreary smile that I began to see that
he rather hoped I was. We arrived
shortly at the hospital, which, as I
happened to have contributed recently
to its support, knew me by name and
was kind accordingly.
“I'll wait, if you don’t mind,” I
said. And while the examination was
going on I thought of that lovely face
which I'had seen in such an unexpect-
ed fashion. :
And it was a mastoid, and they did
operate successfully, and before the
into his motor after his chauffeur had
run into him in Washington Square,
for he had operated upon him within
perfectly the old man he had lifted
And I felt a sort of unseen presence
pass, bringing with ‘it'a ‘chill silence.
It seemed to touch us and withdraw,
as a thief might mark the doorway
| the hour of the accident, doing one of of a house which he intends to rob.
those infinitely delicate things that
are the daily wonder of brain-surg-
ery; the old man was alive and in bet-
| ter circumstances than before this
surgeon had been flung into his ken.
Doctor Sydney’s deep regard for the
miracle of human life, combined with
"a consciousness that his own skill was
‘given him as a trust, placed him, in
tal.
been a forlorn hope, or, failing that,
the face of one who had “gone down
scornful before many spears.”
important human history of others.
A kind of steady power radiated from
him in such a way that he swept vast
mental horizons into my conscious-
ness, until I became aware of latent
courage in myself, disused emotions
and capabilities of the nobler sort,
His |in this volume—was
talk was always of others, never of j you?”
himself, save in relation to the more |
Andromeda was looking straight be-
fore her into the mist. ;
“Did you feel that?” I asked, in
hat I feared she might think an ir-
relevance.
. “I not only felt it, but I see it,” she
said.
She nodded toward a fragment of
fog which parted slowly and revealed
i
my estimation, on a very high plane. | an immense pallid phantom, noiseless
The whole quiet strength of his face ly drifting by, a frozen majesty.
made me think of him as an immor- |
It was, at very least, a face |
which, centuries ago, might have led | seen, and the nearest,” she added.
men on to victory out of what had |
“Icebergs!” I exclaimed.
“The most beautiful one 1 have ever
I picked up her volume of Tenny-
| son.
“That poem—which I shall not find
it written for
“For me? A poem written for me?
I'm afraid not.”
| “It would not be as strange as all
| that.”
And immediately upon her smile of
crash, which now, in the obscure and
lengthy annals of maritime catastro-
chapter ended I knew a great deal | which sometimes made me smile at phes is a matter of history.
more about the chap with the red
mittens.
I often wished that I might tell her
that she was right; and The Little
Man that HE was wrong!
And then to run into them on the
old S. S. Kobe on the way from Yo-
kohama to Vancouver over the north-
ern route!
It was too delightfully strange.
The Big Man and The Little Wo-
man were a more recent recollection.
It was one of those times when things
happen so swiftly that afterward one
recalls the whole episode with a sense
of unreality. An old man had been
crossing the street at Washington
Square, myself and two other men
were just behind him. A motor came
round the corner, skidded, we shouted
at him; it made him turn and look
around, stand still, instead of rush-
ing to safety. In an instant the
thing was crashing into him; we saw
his old face with the eyes wide, not
an inch from the pavement. The eyes
remained open.
The Big Man wrenched the car door
open; the woman in the limousine
screamed and lay back crouching in
the corner. There followed the
usual crowding and staring, an officer
took names and numbers; The Big
Man lifted the crumpled form in his
arms and stared down at it.
“Don’t flag out, old fellow,” he said
his face stiff with pity, “we'll have
you right in an hour or two!”
He kicked open the door of the car.
There was another scream.
“O my God! Not in here! I can’t
bear it. Can’t you get an ambulance ?
You know how these things affect me!
You shan’t bring him in here!”
The Big Man looked up at her and
a curious look came over his face—
it was as if he said: “You there? I
don’t remember ever having seen you
before. How do you happen to be
sitting in my car?”
He stepped inside with his burden
and closed the door, giving the direc-
tions to the chauffeur through the
tube.
As they drove off I saw his profile
clear against the pane of glass be-
yond. It was just like the engraving
of Perseus that hung in my nursery
when 1 was a child—the eyes with
that deep hunger and haunted look,
the lips set, yet with a vague ten-
derness upon them.
I knew him the moment he walked
across the deck of the Kobe. The look
was still there.
Now the curious thing about an
ocean voyage is that by the time you
have been a day or two at sea you
know more about your fellow passen-
gers’ ancestors than they do them-
selves, and by the time you have
been out thirteen days of chill, gray
weather and as many nights of icy
dark, you know more about their per-
sonal character and individual habits
than you really care to know. Dur-
ing the course of the voyage it seem-
ed to me that every single cabin pas-
senger must have sat for hours with
every other cabin passenger; most of
them had found their own level, and
inseparable groups had formed, card
groups, cocktail groups, coffee and
cigar groups; one became accustomed
to seeing the same faces together.
The only two exceptions to this rule
were Doctor Sydney and Mrs, Watts;
Mr. Watts and Mrs. Sydney were insa-
tiable bridge-fiends, the moving pow-
ers of the card group. I attached my-
self to Doctor Sydney and Mrs. Watts,
whom I privately refused to call by
lesser names than “Andromeda” and
“Perseus.” They never, to my knowl-
edge, spoke one word to each other
during the whole voyage, until the
last day of it, and I might talk to the
one or to the other, but never to both
at the same time, for while they spent
many hours walking the deck for ex-
ercise, I never knew them to stop and
speak, or, indeed, to take any notice
of one another beyond the grave in-
clination of the head which was her
“good morning” to wus all, and his
courtly, rather formal bow of ac-
knowledgement.
I do not suppose I ever met a wo-
man who interested me more than
Andromeda, or for whom I had a more
profound admiration. She was of
course immensely interested in the
second chapter of our newsboy friend.
She remembered the incident at once,
and bathed me in a gracious nimbus
forthwith for having been her mis-
sionary in that affair of the street
corner. Whenever we talked for any
length of time, Mr. Watts would pop
his head out with regularity and aver
that he did not see how she could help
being cold on deck. Mrs. Sydney
would drag him, not unwillingly, back
to cards, and we would resume the
thread, I, for one, wondering how in
the world this woman, who in every
exchange of thought proved herself
to be built on wide and deeply human
lines, could ever have attached her-
self to the absolutely limited and
singularly comraonplace Mr. Ells-
worth Watts. By the same relativity
of thought I was never able to solve
the riddle of how Perseus, with whom
I talked for many hours; had acquired
the light-minded Mrs. Sydney for his
life's mate. He remembered very
myself a little satirically. This Per-
| seus might be equal
.many Andromedas from their rocks
—not I, alas!
Coming upon him suddenly one
! morning somewhere near the Aleu-
| tians, I heard him muttering to him-
self, and as I joined him he strode on
smile.
“Poetry!” he said.
me of it, would you?”
“Composing it?” 1 asked, " awe-
struck.
“Lord no. Just groping for what I
used to know. Queer how things
survive. Do you know this:
‘“ ‘When you and I have played the little
hour,
Have watched the tall subaltern, Life, to
Death
Yield up his sword; and, turning, draw
the breath,
The first deep breath, of freedom;
When the flower
Of Recompense has fluttered to our feet
As to an actor’s, and, the curtain down,
We turn to face each other all alone,
Alone, we two, who never yet did meet,
How shall be told the tale?
Clasped hands, pressed lips,
clasped hands again;
No words, but as the proud wind fills
the sail
My soul to yours shall reach:
Then one quick moan;
And then our infinite Alone.”
I nodded. “Yes. Sir Gilbert Park-
er, I think.”
“The only poem of his that I know
well enough even to attempt to say.
I'm afraid I haven't it exactly, at
that,” he said. Soon afterward I
joined Andromeda, who laid down her
book as I approached.
“Come and talk to me!” she called
graciously.
We watched Perseus striding past,
his perfect co-ordination between
brain and body keeping him with ease
upon his course in spite of the oily
swell that was turning the old Kobe
in a nasty roll and pitch.
I told her of my name for him, and
I added: “The only belittling thing I
can find about him is his choice of a
mate.”
“You mean that, having chosen Mrs.
Sydney, Doctor Sydney loses some-
thing in your estimation?”
“I can’t help feeling that such a
choice must represent something
wanting in him.”
She looked straight into my eyes,
then for a moment she seemed unable
to discuss the subject further. But I
saw her make the effort, and she said
gently: “Your reaction is very mas-
culine, and—hasty, if I may say so.
1 have never spoken one word to your
Perseus beyond ‘good morning’ and
‘good night,’ as you have seen me
speak it yourself. Ihave no way of
knowing the facts, therefore. I can
only tell you that very few people
with large natures have the good for-
tune to stumble at the right time up-
cn one whe would be the perfect
complement of that nature—and dur-
ing the lack of that, many other emo-
tions arrive which may easily be con-
fused with love. The greater the na-
ture, the more apt it is to feel tender-
ly toward some one weaker than it-
self; I do not mean pity, I mean a far
more subtle thing. That impulse to
protect, to serve; that deep urge to
supply another’s lack out of one’s own
wealth of spirit; that response to de-
pendence—I know so well how it can
lead one to spend what will never be
repaid—perhaps not even seen!
“Now with me, Perseus’s choice of
a mate moves me unspeakably—so
much that I avoid him. I feel that I
know too much of what he sometimes
thinks.”
Her voice, which was always so low,
was lower still, and I felt that to
change the subject was the least I
could do for the remark applied, of
course, only too well to her, as well as
to Doctor Sydney.
“What have we here?” I asked indi-
cating the volume.
She took it up, and, opening it ob-
viously at random, she began reading
as if from the page:
‘“ ‘There are long hours when I am sick
death
Of so much purchase and debate with
Life,
Laying the little coins down, one by one,
that buy me breath
And weariness and sleep at set of sun.
Oh, for one hour of elemental strife
Towards one who dared be crucified for
me;
One crimson-flowered Gethsemane
For faith disdained by an unthinking
world ;
One moment at some brink, at which to
pause and choose
‘Which of the silver-pieces, Life or Death,
to use,
With all stakes bartered for the instant’s
vision
Of one white Christ saved from a world’s
derision! ”
“That poem was never written by
Alfred Lord Tennyson,” I remarked.
“No. I fear it lacks his beautiful
phraseology. But it was written in
some one’s very heart’s blood.”
“Yes, I think it was.”
and so
to delivering
The phantom which we had
passing to leeward of us had not been
‘without its mate, and the latter trav-
i elling unhurriedly to windward of our
, course, had borne down upon the poor
| old Kobe and dealt her the death-blow
{for which its predecessor had marked
i her.
around the deck with a Seprecsiing | In the unspeakable confusion of the
ne;
xt few moments everything was
“Never suspect | photographed upon my mind in flash- :
In the various kinds |
of death-groans emitted from the ship
herself as her ribs were torn from her
light exposures.
vertebrae and her breast was broken
open to the seas, we could hear the
commands of the captain and first of-
ficer ringing out like bugles in all
that bedlam of human and other
wreckage. A child had got pinned
under one of the stanchions, which
before I could gather my wits togeth-
ed those two, Perseus and Androm-
we released the child, and ran to a
sailor who had been pierced by a hugh
flying splinter of wood. We put
them into a lifeboat which was being
manned and guarded them from the
attacks of those who became frantic
in their desire to be saved. Into this
boat we put others who had become
incapacitated. It was Perseus’s hos-
pital ship that tiny craft reeling forty
feet above an abysmal sea; I was its
orderly, Andromeda its patron saint.
It was the first boat lowered success-
fully into the water, and when it lay
alongside, rising and falling to the
swell, its crew quieted by contact with
the amazing quality of inherent cour-
age which I have already described in
the man, he turned to me and said
quietly:
“Slide down the falls. They will
need some one of integrity to hold
them together. Quick! The old girl
may dive any moment.” Absurd as
it was at my time of life, I felt as if
he had knighted me. I felt a colossal
I was in the boat I immediately shov-
ed clear of the ship and had the crew
pull away out of danger in case of a
sudden plunge.
Other boats were filling and shov-
ing off; the first panic was over, and
only the whimpering of some of the
women, and the moans of the injur-
ed, floated out across the chill heav-
ing swell. One boat going past us
in the scud was greatly over-laden,
which was to come it would drift with-
out capsizing. In it were Mr. Ells-
worth Watts and Mrs. Albert Syd-
ney. Their faces were rather ghastly
with fear. They swam before me on
the lift of a wave and swept beyond
my gaze forever. I looked back at
the Kobe. »
“Don’t get too far off,” I told my
crew, “God! what courage that oper-
ator has!” The wireless was still
sending, by the grace of God.
“There may be some one on the way
to us. We'll stand by in case we're
needed further.”
“No more in this boat, sir,” said
one of the crew firmly.
“Still we'll stand by!” I answered.
“Keep off!”
A great wave spilling its crest at
the urge of a sudden squall sent us
surging toward the doomed Kobe. We
pulled frantically away.
“Better get off, out of danger; most
everybody’s left her by now and
there’s one more boat for the others.”
My coxswain put his helm hard ov-
er.
“Damn you!” I cried. “Not yet!
Keep clear, but don’t pull out of hail-
ing distance!”
I looked quickly over my shoulder.
They were standing by the rail,
those two; there were no others in
sight from the angle at which I saw
them. There could have been no more
injured, dead, or dying for them to
attend. They turned and looked at
cne another smiling. They stood
there smiling and talking in the most
extraordinary way, as they might
have stood together in a summer gar-
den, jesting tenderly about matters
of the most trivial, the most delight-
ful, the most personal nature. In a
word, she was like a woman who has
been wooed and won, he like a man
who is flattered and softened by the
winning. In their superb liberation,
their mutual independence of any of
the horrors around them, they seemed
to me splendid beyond all telling.
They came, a moment later, and
leaned upon the rail, shoulder to
shoulder, as if they were going on an
afternoon’s excursion! I waved to
them, but they were engrossed
themselves. They did not see me.
And I have never seen either of
them again. I only know that where
they live they are together.—By Am-
ory Hare.
————— fy ———
—A Kansas City minister has dis-
covered that girls of his congregation
wish to marry men with big salaries.
Next thing we’ll find out that water
runs down hill.
in
when it is news. Read it.
pleasure at my words, came that
seen |
had twisted like wire as it fell, and
eda, were beside it. I joined them and '
and I wondered how far in that night
——The Watchman publishes news’
'! FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
DAILY THOUGHT.
| Cloud and shadow are the clay
That the sky must put away,
As we put the body by
jf we want to feel the sky.
{ Cloud and shadow—flesh and world—
Sunshine bursts when these are furled!
| —Emphasizing the importance of
jewelry in the season’s modes, one
fine chains with small stone settings.
More important are the single strands
of small indestructible pearls that are
also being used for this purpose.
each end is a strong but small and
flat pin that may be passed through
several folds of material. These pins
inate the necessity of having differ-
ent straps on the various underthings
and are particularly useful for wear
with evening clothes. The chains
come in both single and double
strands.
—An attractive little powder box
is made of tortoise shell in somewhat
| square shape with sides so curved
that a little more bulging and they
would turn the shape into a circular
box. The cover has a bit of fine work
in the inlay design which may be
had in either gold or silver. These
| designs are meodernistic in theme and
show snatches of plant and animal
life. Inside, the cover is equipped
with a mirror, while opposite is a flat
little pat of composition powder.
—-Bracelets to wear with
clothes. or, as matter of fact, with any
of the gay little printed chiffons or
crepes, are made of genuine amber,
cut in miniature spool shapes. And
to render them more charming and a
bit more unusual, they are separated |
from one another by tiny little round-
ed beads of none other but the precious
(and important onyx. Between the
cracks on close inspection one glimps-
es the fine silver chain that serves in-
| stead of a silk cord.
Another bracelet is made of wood
in the queerest of shapes, carved to
| represent a mound or low hill and with
finely cut ridges like ravines. The
woods used are in colors rich brown
or wine red. The two little eyelets
bored through at each side are fitted
with bright, shiny brass rings to hold
the wooden motifs together, a con-
cealed clasp being used for fastening.
—For those who prefer to wear a
simple but becoming opera pump, and
yet feel the need of a strap, there are
smart-looking adjustable straps made
of various metals. These straps are
not only useful but decidedly decora-
tive, for they are made up in both
simple and ornate styles, and in col-
lors to harmonize with all the new
| leathers. Aside from the general
| styling they meet the shoe require-
jments for all occasions. The day-
, time shoe models take the move tail-
;ored effects in strap, made of woven
imesh or box links finished in copper,
| steel, dull silver or burnished bronze.
independence of fate surging up un- [On the ‘mesh straps occasionally a
der my ribs, and I said. As soon as:
small buckle is introduced to simu-
i late the strap idea, while in the box
| links pierced and engraved tops elim-
{inate the need of a fancy centre orn-
| ament.
' Since afternoon shoes are necessar-
ily more given to detail in trimming
and color, the straps offered for them
naturally follow the same designs.
Color is used discreetly in a braoch
‘arrangement slightly curved to fit
over the instep. Different shapes are
followed—squares, narrow oblongs and
ovals or bow-knot effects. Strans are
! fashioned of braided mesh with em-
bellishment at the side fastenings.
| Straps for evening wear are decidedly
more ornate and are shown in the
| silver, gold and platinum finishes.
| Elaborate centre motifs in odd
| shaves are set with large imitation |
i precious stones in different colorings
{and in some the surrounding frame
{work is set with small rhines*anes or
| other stones to match or supvly con-
| trast. The bracelet idea is carried
lout here, too, with links set vith
| stones or showing fine cut-work in
the open designs. These straps fast-
len at either side of the shoe by tiny
i clamps, finished on the inside with a
flat surface to prevent injury to
stockings.
—The problem of procuring just
sheer frocks in navy, black or tan, or,
lin fact, any shade, need no longer be
| wearisome. Gay plaids and stripes in
soft lustrous silk are used to fashion
the new models made with deep sha-
dow hems, snugly fitting bodies and
The colors chosen are varied, with em-
phasis on the back-ground, the stripes
this way
giving a new appearance to
the dress. :
—Attractive little triangular scarfs
smart shops.
adaptable for wear with the new sport
dresses made without sleeves. Scarfs
of this shape and size, when worn
with the knot tied at one shoulder,
serve to protect the neck from sun-
burn. Then, too, they serve to bright-
en up a sombre costume or lend con-
trast where it may be needed. The
colors are soft and becoming, and
harmonize well with the new Spring
and Summer shades. In many of
them several tints are combined, with
stripe forming the border. For wear
with white focks the navy, red, green
and yellow are suggested.
—Black satin handbags, despite
their somewhat limited acceptance
during the Palm Beach season, are
coming forth for Summer in many
new shapes. The melon shape is much
affected, with self-covered frame and
with fancy zigzag insets through the
centre. To brighten them a touch of
the ornate is found in the clasps.
which are usually of rhinestones of
imitation jade. Other models of the
pouch shape are sometimes mounted
on heavily gilded and jeweled frames.
enough to carry many small articles
and yet not appear awkward.
| _ FARM NOTES.
New York establishment is showing |
! straps for silk underthings made of
At
will hold several garments and elim- |
sports |
the right kind of slip to wear with
shoulder straps that do not slide off. |
or plaid effects standing out and in |
are now on display in many of the !
They are especially |
The bodies of the bags are deep
—As soon as the breeding season is
,cver take the old rooster away from
j= flock.
—The color of apples depends upon
| their nitrogen content, the highest-
: colored fruit having the least.
—Hay for dairy cows should be cut
jearly as it contains more milk-pro-
! ducing power and is more palatable
than when cut later.
—Provide roosts for chicks at three
i weeks of age. Remove cockerels when
| eight weeks old or sooner. Clean
; brooder house twice a week and move
it to a clean area. Keep liquid milk
! before the chicks or feed a mash con-
| taining 40 per cent. dried milk.
Cholera is a very contagious dis-
| ease confined to hogs, and has a mor-
tality of nearly 100 per cent. The on-
ily means of contro! is through strict
| quarantine measure and the judicious
| use of anti-hog cholera serum and
{virus. One should keep men, birds,
i and dogs away from his hogs, and be
| careful about importing feed from
cholera-infested areas. If cholera is
, near, vaccinate. Also keep in touch
. with the State veterinarian and watch
' the sanitation.
| ——
| -—Steer feeding is a business that
fits in conveniently with the work of
{the ordinary farm, starting after
crops are harvested and ending be-
| fore spring planting begins. Steer
feeding provides a market for the
hays and other roughages produced
on the farm during the summer. By
providing work during the winter
months, the farmer can employ a more
satisfactory class of farm labor—Ex-
tension Bulletin 195-A, “Steer Feed-
ing in Colorado.”
—One male in a flock of fourteen
Plymouth Rock fowls of any variety
should be sufficient to insure fertility
of the eggs during the natural hatch-
ing season. It would make no differ-
ence that the male and the females
were of different varieties. Unless
these eggs were set very early in the
season, this head of the flock should
be replaced by another bird, when
eggs might be saved for hatching af-
ter a week or ten days. Close confine-
ment is detrimental to fertility.
—As a rule three main factors
should be taken under consideration
in culling the ewe flock, viz: age,
wool, and lambs. And, without ques-
tion, age is the most important factor,
and affects very strongly the other
two. Ewes are in their prime gener-
ally from their third to fifth and
sixth years. During this time they
should produce their best fleeces and
raise their best lambs. The older sheen
are more susceptible to disease and
| the wool becomes of poorer quality.
| —Ideal growth in a chick is an ex-
| ceedingly rapid process, which is re-
vealed in a comparison with an in-
| fant baby. ‘A well hatched chick will
| weigh approximately one and a
i quarter ounces at time of hatching,
land in twelve weeks will attain the
, weight “of two pounds, or twenty-five
{times its original weight. A ten-
| pound baby at the same rate of growth
{ would weigh 250 pounds at twelve
1 weeks, which would be a real bouncer.
‘Discard the runts and deformed birds.
—JForemost of the superhighwys in
the United States is the one running
out of Detroit. It has a width of 204
feet, with two separated roadways 44
feet wide, each carrying one-way
trafic. On each of the four-track
roadways horse-drawn traffic keeps to
the right-hand curb, slow-moving
heavy trucks outside them, and pas-
Senger cars in the two other lanes.
Space is also provided between the
, roadways for trolley lines, and pro-
vision is made for motor-car parking.
—With reasonably good care and
feeding, little ducklings are easier to
raise than chickens and will seldom
be lost. Two important things to re-
member, however, are these—duck-
lings must always have plenty of air
i to breathe and a dry place in which to
exercise.
A brooder cannot be tightly closed
at night or dead ducks will be found
in the morning. Many duck raisers
remove the skirts of the hovers en-
tirely after the first of May in order
that the air may circulate freely over
and around the brood when they are
, resting’ or during the night.
{ While ducks enjoy water after they
get a good start, there is nothing
harder on little ducklings than damp,
| rainy conditions. Keep them warm
“and dry until feathered out.
| —Fully 50 per cent. of the value of
‘farm manure may be lost through
' careless handling.
One way of handling farm manure
is to apply it to the land as it is pro-
duced. This may be accomplished to
advantage by pasturing off crops, pro-
vided animals are not allowed to run
on the fields when the soil is wet.
When the manure is handled this way
the losses are perhaps not as great
as through improper storage. There
is, however, a serious disadvantage
to the method in that one cannot al-
ways apply the manure where it
should go, and, in some cases, it may
be necessary to store it at least a part
of the year.
The liquid portion of manure con-
tains a large percentage of the total
nitrogen and potassium. When this is
rot saved much of the value of the
manure is lost. Therefore, when cat-
tle are fed in the feed lot and the
manure is stored in the open, the ma-
nure pile should be on level ground to
prevent the liquid from easily drain-
ing away. If the manure is stored in
a loose pile rapid fermentation dries
it out and much of the organic matter
is Jost. Such losses, however, may be
reduced by keeping the manure firm
and moist.
Piling the manure in the field, ex-
pecting to scatter it quite a while
later, is bad practice and should not
be followed. The loose open nature
of the pile encourages fermentation,
which increases the loss of organic
matter and nitrogen.—F. B. Smith,
. Agronomy Department, Colorado Ag-
i ricultural College.