Beworrali atc
Bellefonte: Pa., February 24, 1928
When We Hit the Bumps.
I've had my bumps
The same as you,
The same as other
People do.
Yet when we do,
And when it’s done,
We think that we're
The only one.
But folks before
Have had that bump,
And other cars
Have hit that stump;
Yet if we lived
Like followmen,
No car would hit
That stump again.
‘What you and I
And all should do
Is not complain
And just boo-hoo.
But get right down,
‘When bumps we hit,
And smooth the road
A little bit.
Yes. if we didn’t
Cry about
The bumps, but stopped
And smoothed them out,
Life's hardest road
Would soon be free
Of bumps for them
And you and me.
CLEM’S COW.
Hid away in the far off corner of
the Appalachian Mountains is one of
nature’s most beautiful spots, where
the sturdiest of our pure American
stock still live their simple lives and
till their fields, making scant pro-
gress toward acquiring even the
simplest of comforts for themselves.
On a large flat stone about half-
way up one of these mountains, where
a field had been cleared and planted
in scrub corn, Clem Cowden lay por-
ing over an old yellow-backed spell-
ing book, going over and over each
word, and then painstakingly scratch-
ing it on a large stone with a small
one.
Hoke Henry, not long home from
Craggy Hope school, sixty-five miles
away in the valley, came down from
the wooded heights whistling and
stood beside Clem, viewing his scrawls
on the rock with some amusement.
“Studying in the summer time,
Clem ?”
Clem looked up with a friendly
grin: ‘Sho’ Hoke.”
“Seems like you’ve about studied
the back off that old speller.”
Clem turned the book over and
inspected it gravely: “Sho’ do, but
I got to learn all I can, Hoke, ‘cause
I aim to be a teacher and a preacher,
too, maybe. Need ’em both here in
these hills.”
Hoke laughed: “Sort o’ double-ac-
tion ambition, huh? Well, kid, you
better get your pap to let you go
to Craggy Hope with me.”
Clem Cowden, an up-standing blue-
eyed youth, with the calm and loneli-
ness of the hills somehow reflected in
his face, looked at his neighbor hard.
“But pap ain’t got no money, Hoke.
Ain’t got nothing except a house and
some land. And I ain’t got nothin’ a-
tall cept my cow, Buttercup, and this
hyar old spellin’ book.”
The older boy nodded kindly. “But
Buttercup is a fine cow. Where did
you get her?”
“That Mister Lane what teached
school down at Plumtree that sum-
mer jes’ fer fun ’stead o’ goin’ fishin’
give her to me, and my spellin’ book,
too. I was jes’ a little shaver then,
but I ain’t forgot what he said ’bout
us needin teachers and preachers up
hyar.”
Hoke nodded and looked away down
into the valley toward the little ne-
glected, dilapidated schoolhouse, with
the roof half off, where school was
taught two or three months in the
year by an older boy or girl utterly
unprepared to teach and incapable of
taking a pupil beyond the “readin’
and writin’ ” stage “No teacher at
Plumtree now?” he asked.
Clem shook his head: “No, Mamie
Hitt aims to teach some in August
when she gets her preservin’ done.”
There was a little silence, then Clem
added honestly: “But I ain’t aimin’
to go there to school no more, Hoke.
Mamie can’t learn me as much as my
old spellin’ book.”
Hoke nodded and studied the land-
scape longer, then he said: “No, Ma-
mie can’t much more than spell cat.
No wonder all you kids quit school
long ‘bout thirteen to work in the
corn! They've got what they call
work scholarships down at Craggy
Hope, Clem. You might get one of
them if you tried.”
Clem jerked himself around and
searched the other boy’s face in an
eager, hopeful way. “How you go
’hout gittin’ one, Hoke?” he inquired
almost breathlessly.
“Pay a hundred dollars, Clem, and
work out the rest there at school.
That’s what I do. Leastways, Uncle
Josh pays the hundred and I do the
work.”
Clem’s face fell and his voice quiv-
ered under the keen disappointment.
“But Hoke, I'm a-tellin’ ver I ain’t
got no hundred and no Uncle Josh,
either.”
“But can’t you scare up a hundred
somewhere, Clem?”
“Don’t see, how.”
Hoke frowned thoughtfully and
agreed, finally: “I don’t, either, Clem,
but you might find a way if you put
your mind to it hard. The Lord helps
those that help themselves, you
know.”
Clem sighed heavily, and there was
a long hopeless sort of silence. Then
Clem said: “You might tell me al!
’bout that there Craggy Hope. Even
if I can’t go thar, Hoke, I can picture
it all in my mind while I'm plowin’
corn or milkin® my cow.”
Hoke sat down beside Clem. “It’s
a pretty big place. Big center house
with two dormitories, built sort o’
horseshoe-fashion, one dormitory for
the girls and one dormitory for the
boys. The hundred and your work
pays for your room, board, tuition,
and laundry for school nine months.”
Clem blinked at the tree tops wav-
ing about in the breeze. “Sho’ can
learn a lot in nine months, can’t you,
Hoke 7”
“Sure can, Clem, and they teach
you to do things the right way. There
are self-help students there from
seven different States, and our presi-
dent is tryin’ hard to scare up enough
to make it a heap bigger.”
Clem sat silent a minute, then he
asked, “What sort o’ work do you
‘have to do, Hoke?”
“Most any sort you are a mind to.
We have two big farms. The girls
do the cooking, sewing, look after the
‘chickens, clean the dormitories, do
the laundry, help in the office and li-
brary. The boys feed the pigs, butch-
er, plant and cultivate the crops, haul
the winter coal, clean the school
building, milk the cows, fire the furn-
aces—"
Clem looked around at Hoke and
his eyes glowed. “Can they learn to
be a teacher or a preacher?”
“Sure! Our president is a teacher
and a preacher, too; and they teach
manual training and all sorts of use-
ful things. You better come along.”
Clem hugged his knees up close
and chuckled queerly. Then he stared
off down the mountain a long time be-
fore he asked, “When you aim to go
back, Hoke.”
“First o’ September.”
“How you goin’?”
“On the train.”
“How fur is it?”
“Sixty miles or so.”
Another long silence followed dur-
ing which both boys seemed to be
turning things over in their minds.
Then Clem stood up and stretched.
Guess I better go milk Buttercup,
or she’ll be bellowin.”
“Guess I better go find our cows,”
said Hoke, starting back up the moun-
tain. Clem stood and looked after
Hoke, then he chuckled again and
took himself downward toward a log
cabin set close to a towering rock,
out of which a cool spring spouted.
As Clem came near the spring he
began calling, “Soo-cow! Soo-cow!”
A cow mooed somewhere near, then
a beautiful Jersey broke some bushes
and led the way along a little path to
the cabin and on around to the back
door. Clem caught a shining bucket
off a nail beside the back door, drew
up a little box to sit on and prepared
to milk. Buttercup turned her head
and looked at him out of adoring
eyes, then she nosed him sharply, as
if to remind him of something, Clem
laughed, patted her neck, and asked,
“Say Buttercup, whose cow air yer?”
She nosed him again, and he
chuckled: “That's right: Mine! All
mine! That man give you to me when
you was a little bow-legged calf and
I was a little bow-legged boy, and
we’ve b’longed to ome another ever
since.”
Bill Cowden, Clem’s father, stepped
to the back door of the cabin. “Stop
that gab, Clem. Milk that cow, and
then go bring yo’ mammy some wood
to cook supper with.”
“All right, pap,” Clem replied
cheerfully, “but Buttercup won’t give
down ‘no milk for I tell her whose
cow she is.”
Bill Cowden said “Shucks!” and
shut the door.
The next morning early Clem
climbed up the mountain to a more
pretentious cabin of two rooms, with
a dog-trot between. Hoke was sit-
ting on the steps mending a saddle.
Without a preamble, Clem said:
“Howdy, Hoke! Was you ’shamed to
go to that thar Craggy Hope the first
time when you didmt know nothin’
much ?”
Hoke laughed: “Some, but then 1
knew if I studied faithful I could
soon fix that.”
Clem sat down beside Hoke: “Did
they poke fun at yer?”
“Some, but not much, because you
see, they knew I knew just as much
as they knew the first time they went
there to school. Pretty mice sensible
fellows, Clem.”
“What sort o’ clothes do they
wear ?”
“Same as we do here every day—
overalls and hickory shirts, with may-
be a sweater when it’s cold. Have a
regular uniform for Sunday, that
comes along with your schooling.”
Clem drew a long sigh, got up, and
started off down the mountain path
without more ado. Hoke called af-
ter him: “What’s your hurry?”
Clem shouted back over his shoul-
der without stopping: “Got to chop
out some corn. Aim to go huntin’
this evenin’.” Then he walked on fast.
From the doorway Hoke’s mother
said: Clem Cowden ’pears to have
somethin’ pushin’ on his mind.”
“Sure does,” agreed Hoke, and that
ended the conversation, for mountain
people listen and observe very closely,
but as a rule tell you nothing.
For the next week or two Clem was
more silent and more industrious than
usual. He hoed the corn without com-
plaint, killed game, trapped small an-
imals and cured their hides, staying
up sometimes far into the night to
finish the skins he had on hand.
His mother protested finally: “Make
yourself sick worryin’ so hard with
them thar skins and things, Clemmie.
What you aimin’ to do with all them
hides, anyhow ?”
“Sell, ’em, ma.” -
“What you aimin’ to do with the
money ?”
“Keep it if I don’t use it, maybe,
ma.”
Blue-eyed, thin Sally Cowden
laughed silently. “Well, it won’t wear
yo’ pocket out none, I reckon, fer yer
won’t git mor’'n ten cents apiece fer
summer hides. Yo’ pap tried that
once.”
Clem looked at the poor coon skin
he was stretching and fastening to
the cabin wall beside the back door.
“Well, ma, ten cents is a right smart
bit of money, ain’t it, when you need
it bad?”
Sally looked at her son, then looked
at the coon skin, agreed reluctantly,
“Reckon it is.”
Clem grinned and went on stretch-
ing the hide and fastening it to the
wall with long thorns in lieu of tacks.
Just then Bill Cowden came striding
around the house frowning furiously:
Look a-hyar, Clem, you've got to get
shet of that Buttercup cow. She takes
old speller.
mo’ green corn than her butter and
milk is wuth.”
Clem made round eyes under his
uplifted arm: “But pap, I can’t sell
my cow. She’s all I got.”
“Ill do it fer yer then. She’s done
broke into my late corn again and et
and tromped up half of it. Second
time this week, and I'm a-tellin’ yer
that corn is wuth mor’n the cow.”
Clem squirmed uneasfly: “But whut
will yer dv fer milk and butter if
yer seil my cow?”
“Git whut we need from Mary Ellis,
down to Plumtree, and we won’t have
to be feedin’ no lazy cow all winter
on what mite o’ corn she ain’t et up
in summer.”
Sally Cowden looked at Clem and
pursed his lips. Mother-like, she was
usually on her son’s side against her
husband, but in this case the argu-
ment seemed to be against Clem and
his cow: “That’s right, Bill. But
whar yer reckon yer can sell her at?”
“San Hitt wants another cow.”
Sally folded her work-scarred hands
over her blue cotton apron, looked at
her son attentively, saw that his chin
was unsteady, and prepared to change
her line of talk: “I'd hate, right smart
to part with Buttercup’s milk and
butter, pap. How much yer reckon
ver could git for her?”
Bill Cowden sat down on a stump
and squinted at the sky: “Thirty dol-
lars, maybe. Twenty-five, anyhow.”
Clem’s voice quivered: “Not even
half a hundred, pap?”
Bill grunted: “Buy a lot of milk
and butter, though, and other truck,
too.”
Clem faced his father sharply. “But
Buttercup is my cow, pap, and I ain’t
aimin’ to sell her to git truck fer you
folks.” :
Bill embraced one knee and squint-
ed at his son sarcastically.
“Well, I'm a-tellin’ yer I will, then.
She’s my cow by rights o’ all the corn
she’s et and tromped up.”
Clem turned back to the coon hide
and stared without seeing it, and
there was a little pathetic hush of
helpfulness. Then
eyes flashed on Bill. Clemmie’s right.
Buttercup is his cow, and if you'd fix
y’ old fences up, couldn’t no cow git
in yo’ corn.”
Bill grinned indulgently, said
“Shucks!” and that ended the talk.
Clem ate no supper that night, and
when he pushed back from the table
he slipped out of the back door and
climbed up the path to his flat rock
on the edge of the woods, and there
he sat, chin in his hands, thinking—
thinking harder than he had ever be-
fore.
The next morning the cow-lot fence
was down in a new place, and Butter-
cup was gone. Clem called and called
her, but this time she did not come
breaking through the bushes to lead
the way to the cabin, head up and
gentle eyes looking back at Clem.
Clem went back to the cabin and sat
down, saying nothing, and after
breakfast he stared out again and
tramped the woods all day.
That night when he came back he
looked so weary that his mother sym-
pathized. “Couldn’t you find her?”
Clem shook his head.
“Well don’t let it take the heart
out o’ yer, Clemmie.”
Bill Cowden scowled. “Don’t fret.
When she gets empty she’ll come
back to steal and tromp more corn.”
Clem sat with bowed head, saying
nothing. When he had gone to bed
in his little lean-to shed, his mother
turned on Bill sharply. “Look a-hyar,
Bill, didn’t yer sneak that thar cow
off 5 the boy wouldn’t raise a rump-
us?’
“No, I didn't, but I was aimin’ to
do so today.”
Sally eyed him penetratingly: “Sho?
and certain, Bill?”
Bill nodded emphatically. But
don’t fret; she’ll come back.”
But several days went by, and
Buttercup did not come back, and
Clem’s expression grew more lonely.
His words were fewer, too, but he
hunted and trapped and cured skins
more industriously than ever.
Sally protested again: “Tromp yo’-
self to skin and bones, Clemmie. Why
don’t yer stay home some?”
Clem looked up slowly. “Can’t ma.
Lonesome without Buttercup.”
Sally smoothed his hair back lov-
ingly, then returned to her quilting,
humming one of these doleful tunes
of the mountains.
On the first day of September Clem
bundled up #4 his nicely cured hides
and swapped them off to Joe Bigger,
the store-keeper, for two dollars in
money and two new suits of overalls.
“Must be a-fixin’ to step out with the
gals some!’ teased Joe, but Clem said
nothing and hurried away.
Clem hid his new clothes under the
big flat rock and said nothing about
having been to the store. The next
morning both Clem and his two best
shirts were gone—vanished into the
night, but just as Buttercup had done.
At daybreak when Sally Cowden went
to get breakfast she found this note
stuck under her coffeepot: “Don’t
fret, ma. I've gone on bizzniz. Clem.
Sally spelled the words out twice,
then sat down and wailed heartbrok.
enly. Bill appeared, then she com-
plained between sobs: “’Pears to me
he could-a wrote where he wuz goin’
and whut his bizniz wuz!”
Bill grinned: “Don’t fret, old wom-
an. He’s gone to hunt that thar But-
tercup, I bet. Sam Hitt lowed some-
body said they saw a cow that fa-
vored Buttercup ’way up in Stone's
Cut. I aimed to go and fetch her
back.”
Comforted but not reassured alto-
gether, Sally wiped her wet cheeks
and fixed breakfast bragging. “Clem-
mie will sho find her if she’s thar.
Never seed a body so set on a old
cow. Been puny ‘bout her all sum-
mer.”
Meanwhile out through the early
morning sunshine about ten miles
away Clem tramped and whistled in a
very “un-puny” way, driving Butter-
cup before him, and farther and far-
ther away from the little shack he
called home. “Git a move on, Butter-
cup,” he coaxed. “Got a right smart
tramp a-fore us.”
Then every little while the boy and
cow would stop and rest and Butter-
cup would pick grass or get a drink
of water, while Clem would eat an
apple or lie on his back studying his
But sometimes Clem
Sally Cowden’s |
would just lie there and talk to But-
tercup: “Had a fine time up ir Stone’s
Cut, didn’t yer? Turned th_ tables
on pap, I say.” ad
Buttercup flirted her head and tail !
in a pleased way. Clem chuckled si-
lently and added to the conversation:
“Have some more good times, too,
and Ill be right thar to feed and |
milk yer good. Be a whole lot bet- |
tern havin’ old Sam Hitt haul yer
’round.”
Buttercup seemed to agree by com- |
ing over and nosing Clem lovingly. |
Then she nosed the spelling book and :
the paper in which were wrapped |
Clem’s new overalls and his two |
patched shirts. Convinced that all
was well, she stepped off down a bank |
and stood in a clear pool to cool her |
travel-weary feet.
Two days later a very tired boy
and cow wound their way up the
gravel drive to Craggy Hope School.
The boy was barefooted, brown from |
sunburn, and nearly starved; but he
had on a clean shirt and a new suit
of overalls, and his blue eyes darted
about the place with eagerness and !
interest. :
Hoke Henry spied Clem and came
running across the lawn. “Hey, Clem
Cowden, what you doing here?” |
Clem grinned. “Same as you air, |
Hoke. Come to go to school.” |
Hoke stared. “But where did you
get the hundred dollars?”
“Ain’t got it. That’s why I brung
Buttercup along. ’Lowed maybe that
thar Mister President would take her '
instead.’ |
Hoke’s mouth fell wide open and he
said nothing. Clem moved his toes '
uneasily on the gravel and talked !
some more: “Don’t want to cheat no-
body, but thar ain’t no finer cow
nowhar, and she’ll be wuth a hun-
dred.”
Hoke continued to stare silently.
So, not knowing what else to do,
Clem thrust his hands into his pock-
ets and began to hum a doleful tune.
Just then a tall, friendly looking
man stepped out from among some
shrubbery and said: “Howdy, Guess
| youll have to get that wild cow off
{my lawn.”
Clem stared hard, but his coun-
tenance underwent no change, except
slowly there seemed to be a strange
He said finally: “Howdy, Mister. Put-
ty day.”
The man nodded in a friendly way,
and then Clem added, “Please, sir,
work and my cow?”
The man shook his head. “Full up,
my boy, full up. Not a vacant bed
in the house. Turned away fifty girls
and boys this week.’
Clem stood motionless, staring up
into the face of the man, and still
his expression did not change. Final-
ly he said: “But I'm a-tellin’ yer, sir,
Pll sleep on the floo’, eat scraps, and
milk all yo’ cows jes’ as keerful as I
do Buttercup.”
The president of Craggy Hope gave
a little start, stroked his chin, and
looked at Clem more closely. Then
he looked at the cow. At last he
smiled: “Buttercup has grown a lot,
Clem, and so have you.”
and in that overwhelming instant the
game, starved boy lost eontrol of his
rather have died than have them do
it. But the president pretended not
to see them, and finally Clem could
{say: “She’s a fine cow, sir, and I set
a right smart store by her, ’cause
you give her to me. She’s been my
cow all the time, and I hid her all
(summer to keep pap from cotchin
‘her and sellin’ her to Sam Hitt. Then
!'T snuck her away and drove her hyar
so I could git that thar proper school-
in’ like you said.”
Now Doctor Lane was the same
man he had been several summers
before, when he gave up his vacation
to teach school at Plumtree and took
a fancy to the little Clem Cowden
with the appealing blue eyes. So he
clapped a hand on Clem’s shoulder:
“That’s the spirit of the pioneer still
shining, Clem, and it shan’t be de-
feated. Put Buttercup in the pasture
and I'll have a cot put up in the of-
fice for you.”
Clem’s chin was quivering danger-
citedly in regular mountaineer fash-
ion, “Glory, hallelujah!” And his eyes
were shining mightily. Then Hoke
stepped up and steered the boy and
cow off.
Doctor Lane looked after them and
said to himself: “Who would have
thought that boy and calf would come
back to me like bread and water?
Well, the Lord never made any brav-
er, better people than those hid away
up there, and I'm glad to do my part
toward giving this boy his chance.”
The next day when he was rested
Clem sent this note to his mother:
“Putty day down here at Craggy
Hope, ma, where me and Buttercup,
is self-helpers. The president is our
Mr. Lane, whut gave me Buttercup,
and I aim to live right and learn to
be a fine teacher and preacher, too,
maybe, jes’ like him. Don’t fret, and
I'll be able to help you sometime.
Tell pap howdy. The tables got
turned on him real sweet. I hid But-
tercup all summer in Stone’s Cut,
‘cause I jes’ had to have my chance.
Hoke ’lowed the Lord helps him that
helps himself, and it looks like he sho’
do. Clem.”
English Rats Eat Food Worth 500
Millions.
Rats and mice eat $500,000,000
worth of food in the British isles ev-
ery year, according to Sir Thomas
Horder, physician to King George.
In an address to the college of pest-
ology Sir Thomas gave the following
explanation as to how the computa-
tion was made:
It is computed that there are as
many rats in Great Britain as there
are human beings, which is about 44,-
000,000. Each rat eats 2 cent’s worth
of food per day or 88,000,000 cents
per day, which is equal to around
$333,000,000 per annum. A mouse,
it is computed, eats 1 cent’s worth of
food per day. Assuming that there
are about the same number of mice
as rats, the total of $170,000,000
would he eaten by the mice.
see
"cular skirts nearly all fasten on belts
new hope shadowing his blue eyes. |
can I come to school hyar for my |
It was then that Clem knew him, '
tired nerves, and big, scalding tears
filled his blue eyes, when he would
ously, and to cover it up he caught
Doctor Lane’s hand and shouted ex- :
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
DAILY THOUGHT
The life « man leads after his death in
the memories of those who loved him is a
stronger and better life than any he lived
during his physical life—Butler.
The double-breasted effect seems to
have transferred its smartness from
the waistcoat of the well-dressed man
to the coat-dress of the well-dressed
woman. So enthusiastic has been the
reception of this style by smart
women that it promises ever greater
popularity in feminine fashions.
The latest piece of costume jewelry
adopted by Paris is the big ball or
lozenge-shaped pendant which is at-
tached to the blouse or dress with the
wrap-around or side closing at the
left side of the blouse, high up.
Jade green or pink, coral cornelian,
amber and crystal are used for the
pendants, but jade is by far the most
popular. Sometimes two of the pen-
dants are used, but the precedent fol-
lowed by the smartest designers is
cne only. The ornaments are equally
popular for silk or woolen costumes.
There is a tendency in Paris to
bang skirts from the waist again, af-
ter months of hanging them from
the shoulders. Narrow sewed on belts
which clasp somewhere close to a nor-
mal waistline are the style on the
new tailored and sports things. Cir-
at the waist.
One of the jolly things about the
moment is the way that the creators
use materials. Time was when there
were dress models that were for taf-
feta and others that were for crepe
!de chine, and others that were for
‘satin—and so on, and always, always,
j each type of fabric was kept for cer-
(tain lines that it was supposed to
ibe most adapted to. Today, how-
ever, the couturiers are experiment-
| ing—-trying out crepe satin dresses in
‘lines that were once supposed to be
made only for broadcloth, making
sweaters—not of jersey, but of crepe
satin, smocking jersey as though it
were crepe de chine (and a very en-
, chanting effhct it made, too) and
i generally setting topsy-turvy all our
old preconceptions about fabrics and
their uses.
Aside from all idea of beauty the
hands should be kept soft and pliable
"if we wish to be comfortable, for
‘there is nothing more annoying than
: bad-conditioned hands.
The treatment for softening the
hands should be far more vigorous
than that for merely smoothing them.
i When the texture of the skin is made
_coarse and hardened, it is usually the
‘result of a deficiency of the natural
.oil of the skin.
| If the hands are very hard and
i harsh, so that a considerable quan-
tity of the emolient must be used
choose vaseline for this purpose. It
is inexpensive and very effective. Rub
it in thoroughly massaging the hands
for several minutes. Coat the inside
of a pair of large white canvas gloves
with vaseline or cream of your choice,
and wear these gloves in privacy
. whenever possible.
Olive oil, lanoline, cottonseed oil
and liquid petrolatum well massaged
into the skin are excellent hand soft-
eners.
People would have less trouble with
their eyes if they would only realize
that their eyes need exercise as much
as the rest of the body, declared a
beauty specialist recently. Daily eye
FARM NOTES.
This is a good time to start the
spring work by hauling manure on
those fields which are not too soft or
deeply covered with snow, say farm:
management specialists of the Penn-
sylvania State College.
The hand sprayer or duster should
be cleaned and put into good working:
order. It may take some time to get
new parts, and they should be ordered
now. Nozzles and valves may be
cleaned by soaking them in kerosene.
Sucessful operation of the gas trac-
tor in the winter demands several
considerations of great importance,
states county agent R. C. Blaney.
Proper lubrication, cooling, and meth-
ods of starting are the three chief
points to consider.
A thin grade of oil, such as: is rec-
commended by oil companies and trac-
tor manufacturers should be used con-
sistently if one expects to be suec-
cessful in operating his tractor in
winter. The grade of oil used in sum-
mer will be entirely too thick and stiff’
to work well in winter,
Chief injury is done by the Euro-
rean corn borer when it bores into the
stalk so that they break over and the
ears cannot mature. Serious losses:
also result because of the reduction
in the number and quality of the ears.
Clean culture is the best way of keep-
ing the borer under the control.
Fifteen out of every hundred cows
tested in Pennsylvania cow testing as-
sociations were sold last year. Most
of these cows were unprofitable ani-
mals. They were boarders failing to
pay their board. Does your herd
have three cows of every ten support-
ed by the other seven? Testing will
answer the question.
A simple method of making a ger-
mination test of garden seeds is to
count 25, 50, or 100 seeds of the
sample to be treated and put them be-
tween folds of moist blotting paper.
Put the paper between plates and
place the apparatus in a warm room.
Keep moist but not wet. Count the:
sprouted seeds and note the rapidity
of germination and the vigor of the
sprout,
To start a tractor in cold weather,
a rag may be wrapped around the
carburetor and hot water poured on
the rag. This will heat the carbur-
etor and assist in vaporizing the fuel.
High-grade gasoline is an aid in
starting. If the petcocks are open
and a little of this gasoline is poured
in on the suction stroke of the piston
the fuel will be vaporized and mixed
with air, and if all the features are
correct the engine will almost always
start.
A white Leghorn hen at the Penn-
! sylvania State College completed a
laying record of 1000 eggs last week.
She is now in her seventh year of egg
production.
In her first year she laid 164 eggs,
in the second 222, in the third 164,
in the fourth 145, in the fifth 143, in
the sixth, 139, and 23 eggs so far this
year. This little hen, which weighs
less than four pounds, is a remark-
able factory. Eating 5256 pounds of
i each in their pullet years.
pounds of eggs.
| of
feed during her life she has laid 125
Another remarkable achievement
this hen is that of having nine
daughters which averaged 207 eggs
Eight of
"the nine daughters were sired by the
drill should be as much a habit as
daily toothbrush drill.
It is a good thing to prepare for
the exercise by trying to express hap-
piness in the eyes. This is a good
saine male.
Solutions of calcium chloride and
water, alcohol and water, or alcohol,
' glycerine and water may be used as
mental suggestion, as it puts the
mind in a pleasant mood.
Here are suitable exercises. Keep
the head still and roll the eyes as far
upward as possible, then as far down-
ward. It is essential that this and
carried out slowly and without the
slightest suspicion of jerkiness.
Next, keeping the head still look
to the right and then to the left. Fin-
ally roll the eyes slowly in a right
hand direction, then to the left. Each
exercise should be carried out rive
‘times at first, and the number grad-
‘ually increased to ten.
The exercise should be completed
by an eye-bath, which in itself is a
: refreshment and tonic to tired eyes.
! The best bath for the’ eyes is a solu-
| tion of boric acid and water, but some
| People prefer weak cold tea. A plain
| water bath is better than none at all.
| At a white elephant party recently
| given by a ladies’ club in a mid-west-
i ern city, each member was requested
to bring something that she did not
care to throw away, but which she
found more or less useless. On the
evening of the party, 19 of the 27
ladies present brought their husbands.
All sorts of good combinations of
flavors are possible in club sand-
wiches, which might well be used
more often for an easily prepared
Sunday night supper or for other
lunches. When you order a club sand-
wich in a restaurant you usually ex-
pect to be served a three-tired sand-
wich made of toast, with two filled
sections, usually containing some let-
tuce, a slice of chicken, a slice of to-
mato, a little ham or bacon, and
mayonnaise dressing to moisten. Both
sections of the sandwich may be alike,
or the ingredients may be distributed
as you please, provided that the to-
tal combination is a palatable blend.
tl is not necessary to use chicken
every time you make club sandwich-
es. Veal, lamb, pork, or other cold
meats may be used, or cottage or
cream cheese. The last makes an ex-
cellent filling because it can be com-
bined with various other flavors in
an appetizing way. For example, cot-
tage cheese with nut meats and slices
of tart tender apple, in addition to
the dressed lettuce. Sliced Spanish
onion and tomato also go well with
the cottage cheese, and cucumber may
be used during its season.
The secret of making and serving
any club sandwiches successfully is
to have all the ingredients assembled
conveniently for rapid work. Do not
undertake to make these sandwiches
for a large group of people unless
you are sure of being able to fill and
serve them before the toast cools.
cooling liquids. A 10 per cent solu-
tion of calcium chloride with water
‘will freeze at 22 degrees Fahrenheit.
A 25 per cent calcium chloride solu-
tion will freeze at 28 degrees below:
zero. A 10 per cent solution of al-
the two other movements should be Oho! and water will freeze at 24 de-
grees Fahrenheit, and a 40 per cent
i alcohol solution will freeze at 20 be-
i
1
1
low zero. A mixture of 15 per cent
of alcohol and glycerine with 85 per
j cent water will freeze a{ 20° degrees
Fahrenheit, while a 4¢ per cent mix-
‘ture of alcohol and glyeerine in 60
per cent water will freeze at 24 de-
grees below zero. Kerosene can he
used in the radiator without danger
as a cooling liquid.
It is easy and economical to test
vegetable seeds which have been kept
over from last year; declares county
agent R. C. Blaney.
By making a germination test the
vegetable grower knows how much
seed to plant to get a good stand and
may avoid the necessity of replant-
ing, he says. .
A simple method of making a ger-
mination test is to count 25, 50 or
100 seeds of the sample to be tested
and put these between folds of moist
blotting paper. The blotting paper
is placed in a plate and another plate
is inverted over the lower one to pre-
vent rapid drying. The tester should
be set in a warm room and the seeds
kept moist, but not wet, by sprink-
ling the blotting paper with water.
As the seeds sprout they are counted
and thrown away. The rapidity of
germination and the vigor of the
sprout should be noted, for the seeds
which germinate very slowly and pro-
duce weak sprouts may fail to pro-
duce plants when planted outside.
It is wise before adopting a new
variety or strain of vegetable seed to
test a small amount to determine
trueness to type, yield, earliness,
quality, and other characteristics.
For example, it is not uncommon to
find fields of golden self-blanching
celery with 10 to 15 per cent off-type
plants. Dr, C. E. Myers, of the Penn-
sylvania Experiment Station, in tests
on 29 strains of Jersey Wakefield cab-
bage covering a period of three years
discovered that the lowest yielding
strain produced 6.93 tons and the
highest 10.76 tons to the acre. The
earliest strain produced 2.88 tons and
the latest 0.22 tons per acre at the
first cuting. The average weight per
head varied from 1.09 to 1.69 pounds.
Numerous demonstrations in strain
and variety tests on many vegetables
by the Depaartment of Vegetable
Gardening Extension of the Pennsyl-
vania State College have shown the
importance of carefully selecting the
strains and varieties and making
careful tests of the new ones.