Demo ato
Bellefonte, Pa., February 15, 1929.
AFTERWARD.
There's never a storm so wild
But after it follows a calm;
There's never a hurt so great
But somewhere’s provided a balm;
There's never a night so dark
But after it follows the dawn.
There's never a shadow falls
But after it follows the light;
There’s never a sorrow comes
But after it comes delight.
There's never a sky so great
But after it follows the blue;
There's never a false friend found
But later you’ll find a true.
There's never a heart that breaks
But after a while it will heal;
There’s never a moan of pain
But after a laughter peal.
There's never a sin so black
But foregiveness is found at last;
There's never a weary day
But sometime ‘twill be past;
There's never a night so dark
But dawn will come at last.
—Selected.
MORE WAYS THAN ONE.
Everybody in the mountains call-
ed him “Settlin’ Johnny.” He was a
short, stocky little old man, with
tanned cheeks and bright blue eyes
that usually had a smile in them, un-
less he was settling some momentous
question. Then his eyes were clouded
and cast down.
As he came along the mountain
road that morning, the eyes did not
smile. Something was troubling
“Settlin’ Johnny,” and he saw only
the road with its deep ruts where the
wheels of a cart had cut into the soft
clay. So intent was he on solving a
problem that he did not see a tall,
straight young man leap over the
razor-back fence and come swinging
down the road toward him.
“Well, well, if it isn’t
Johnny.”
The old man stopped, and looked
up quickly. Then his eyes began to
smile, and his face beamed with
“Settlin’
pleasure.
“Bat Tanner! Heard you were
home, Bat. It's good for old eyes
to see you agin.” “Settlin’ Johnny”
took the young man’s hands in his,
and pressed them with a quick firm
grip.
“Yes, I'm back, Johnny,” said Tan-
ner, pleased with the greeting; “and
it’s good to be here. It’s a fine thing
to see the world, but there isn’t a
place on earth that can beat the Car-
olina mountains; don’t forget that.
“Settlin’ Johnny.”
The old man nodded.
“Reckon you're right about that,
‘Bat. T'll bet, though, you showed
those fellows over in France how to
do some shooting. Didn't any of
them beat you, I'll wager.”
Bat Tanner threw back his head,
and laughed.
“Reckon I hit most everything 1
aimed at, Johnny. That's over now, |
though, and it’s time to fix up the
old place. Going to start running
that line between our land and the
Watsons’, and settle the thing once
for all.”
The smile faded from the old man's
face, and his eyes
Bat Tanner saw,
change the subject.
“Been doing any settlin’
was away. Johnny?”
“Settlin’ Johnny” nodded, but his
eyes did not lose their worried
look.
“Yes, a little. Julie Fair and Tom
Breckenridge had a spat, and swore
all was over between
grew troubled.
and hastened to
while I
ing to get married next month. And
Bill Peters and his wife couldn't get
along; she said Bill spent too much
time at the store nights and she was
going to leave him, and I settled that '
all right. And--say, Bat, when did
you say you were going to run that
line?”
“Oh, I don’t know, in about a week.
I reckon. Why Johnny ?”
The old man shifted uneasily.
“Bill Watson is home, too,” he said.
“He didn’t get over on account of
that leg he hurt when the tree fell on
him. He was in camp here, though,
teaching them how to shoot. Reckon
if they did as he told them, there
wasn’t many bullets wasted. Bill's
a first-class shot, Bat.”
Bat Tanner's face grew dark and
his eyes snapped as he straightened.
“Bill Watson and I will have a
shooting match mighty soon,” he said
“when I get running that line, and
one of us won't shoot any more when
it’s over. We're the last of the fam-
ily, and it’s about time the feud was
settled.”
The old man put his hand on Tan-
ner’s arm, and looked up wistfully in-
to his face.
“Will you do me a favor, Bat?” he
asked. “Do a favor for an old man
Vho won't be around here much long-
er?
i Vy, of course, Johnny. What is
it?
“Settlin’ Johnny” smiled again.
“I never did have a real chance to
talk to anyone who has been in the
war,” he said. “I ain’t heard a good
war story since old man Lawson died.
Remember the one he used to tell
about shooting his own cow one night
thinking it was a Yankee spy?”
Tanner laughed. “I sure do, John-
ny, but what is it you want of me?”
“Come up to my shack tomorrow
night,” pleaded Johnny, “and tell me
some stories about over there. Tl
be mighty glad if you'll come about
seven o'clock. Don’t reckon to stay
up very late these days—getting to
be an old man, Bat.
“Of course I will, Johnny,
o'clock sharp.”
“Settlin’ Johnny“ watched as Bat
Tanner went down the road kicking
up the soft clay into a cloud of dust.
Watched until he turned the corner
by the old sawmill.
seven
them; but I:
talked them out of it, and they're go- |
Will ye come?” | : |
{a home on the mountain was troub-
! road again, and he began slowly to
climb the hill. At the top he took a
narrow lane to the left, which he fol-
lowed for half a mile.
At the sight of a two-story, hewn-
hog house where a young tousle-
headed man was fixing a hinge on a
door, “Settlin’ Johnny” stopped and
whistled shrilly.
At the whistle the young man turn-
ed, then dropped his hammer and
nails, and walked with a slight limp
to meet the old man.
‘“ ‘Settlin’ Johnny,” as sure as I'm
alive! Reckoned you'd settled every-
thing around here, and had gone over
the other side to fix up things. How
are you, anyway, ‘Settlin’ Johnny?’
Johnny's eyes twinkled.
“Fine, Bill Watson. No, I ain't
settled quite everything in these
parts yet, so I didn't go over. I'm
mighty glad to see you, Bill. Heard
you'd got back; so I thought I'd wan-
der up and take a look at you. Aim-
ing to stay now, I reckon.”
“Yes, got to look after things now.
I'll start running the line between our
It’s about time we got that settled.”
“Settlin’ Johnny's” heart leaped
and pounded so hard that he felt sure
Watson could hear it, but he tried to
appear calm.
“Bat’'s home,” he said. ‘Saw him
about an hour ago. Lookin’ fine;
| reckon didn't many bullets he shot
get wasted. Bat’s a great shot, Bill.”
Watson's eyes grew hard.
“Yes, and I'm going to give him a
chance to see if he can beat me. All
the trouble was over that line, you
know, Johnny. We must settle it
once for all. Bat will probably be
around when I'm running the line,
and we'll see who can draw first.”
“Settlin’ Johnny” did not seem to
hear; his eyes were eager, and he
took a step forward.
“Bill, he said, “do me a favor, will
yer? Do an old man a favor?”
Watson looked amused. ‘Why, of
course, Johnny; what is it?”
“I ain't heard a war story in a
long time,” said Johnny quickly.
“Not since old Abe Jackson died.
Remember the one he used to tell
about going out in the back yard one
night and seeing some of his clothes
his wife had put out on the line to
air, and had forgotten to take in?
Abe thought that the Yankees had
come, and he went in, and got his
birdshot.”
“I sure do, Johnny; and you want
me to tell you a story as good as
that?”
“Settlin’ Johnny's” face was plead-
ing.
“I'm gettin’ old,” he said, “and I
reckon I won't be around much long-
er; but I'd like
something about the Great War. If
you could, Bill—if you could only
come over to my shack, say tomor-
row night, and tell me something
about it, I'd be much obliged. Coma
‘say, about half past seven; don’t get
through my supper and cleaning the
dishes much before that. Come to-
morrow night, will yer, Bill?”
Watson's face softened as he look-
ed at the old man. Yes, it was true
that he wouldn't be with them much
longer.
to please him.
In the
up. some good
at seven thirty on the dot.
meantime I'll" think
stories.”
{ = “Thanks.’
‘“Settlin’ Johnny took Watson's
hand, and gripped it. Then without
another word he turned, and went
slowly down the road. Usually on
his walks he saw everything—the
sky, the trees, the birds, and the flow-
ers, all of which he called his friends,
but today his eyes were fixed straight
before him. For a mile he stumbled
"along, looking only at the ground.
Then he stopped, and raised his eyes
to the sky.
“God,” he said earnestly, “those
boys are too good to kill each other.
Help me to settle the feud before
they shoot. I've just got to settle it,
but I don’t know how. Help me
God.”
Then “Settlin’ Johnny” turned intc
the path that led to the shack he
| called home.
The Watson-Tanner feud was only
a few years old. It started over the
‘boundary line between the two prop-
erties. The Tanner land on the north
was separated from the Watson prop-
erty by a hundred-acre lot. The lin
lof this lot and the Watson land had
long been a subject of controversy
between tiie owners. Then Tanner
purchased the lot, and without wait-
ing for the legal unraveling of the
tangle drove his own posts for the
line. This brought a protest from
' Watson and a demand that the posts
be removed. Tanner refused, and be-
gan to string his fence.
| So one day Watson, his rifle lean-
‘ing conveniently near against a tree,
with two of his men, began to tear
down the wire fence.
i The news spread fast, and before
| the work of destruction was far ad-
{ vanced Tanner appeared with three
armed men. There was a rapid vol-
ley of words that accomplished noth-
ing’ except to fan into a blaze the
| passions of the two men. The rifles
of Watson and Tanner banged at the
same instant. It was a muggy, low-
| ering day in mid-summer, and for a
‘minute smoke obscured
| When it cleared, Watson and Tanner
were stretched upon the ground—
{ dead—a hundred feet from each oth-
ler.
| From that day black hate descend-
| ed upon the two households; and the
| sons, Bat and Bill, swore early ven-
| geance. But suddenly the war draft
i laid its hand upon the two young
| men, and for two years they were
| separated. Bat Tanner overseas, and
| Watson in a Southern camp.
Upon their return the feud fires
| again flamed.
| “Settlin’ Johnny” in his shack of
bled. Upon the screen of memory he
' saw pictures of the past scenes that
he knew would be re-enacted if Bat !
| Tanner attempted to run the boun-
| dary line again. Neither he nor Wat- | 4
Then the old ! son would give in; of that Johnny , said; “never mind the water, Bill
place and Bat Tanner's next week. :
gun, and pumped his clothes full of
to hear first-hand
He would do what he could
|
“Sure, I'll come, Johnny. Be there
the scene. '
done to prevent it the feud again
would claim two victims.
For a long time “Settlin’ Johnny”
sat thinking; then, without having
come to any conclusion, he rose, and
began slowly to undress.
“I've got to find a way,” he told
himself resolutely as he climbed into
bed. “Those boys mustn't kill each
other if I have to stop them with my
own body.”
The next morning “Settlin’ John-
ny” started for the Tanner farm. Bat
and his men were in the fields, and
Johnny roamed through the old house
without meeting any une. Soon, sat-
isfied with the result of his visit, the
old man started toward the Watson
place.
There, too, he found the house de-
serted, and within ten minutes he
was on his way again to the town.
All the afternoon “Settlin’ Johnny”
sat upon the steps of the village
store, his usually smiling face grave
and drawn. The few people who
passed smiled as they saw the old
man looking fixedly at the ground.
“Wonder what “Settlin’ Johnny” is
trying to settle now,” they said.
Then suddenly, just as the hills be-
gan to throw their dark shadows
across the fields, Johnny sprang to
his feet with a shout of triumph.
“Hang it,” he cried as he started
in alittle loping run down the. road,
why didn’t I think of that before?”
When he reached his shack, “Set-
tlin’ Johnny” searched with feverish
haste until he found a spade; then
with the same loping gait he ran to
the pasture back of the house, and
began to dig eagerly.
It was nearly seven o'clock before
“Settlin’ Johnny” had eaten his sup-
per, washed the dishes, and was
ready to recive his expected visitors.
Out of honor to the occasion he had
put on the one white shirt that he
possessed, and which he had never
worn before except to a funeral; he
always attended every funeral in the
town. .
As he sat in a rickety rocking-
chair and waited, the mind of “Set-
tlin’ Johnny” was in a tumult. He
wondered whether what he planned
would go through, whether he had at
last hit upon a way to settle the old
feud, and if not, what would happen.
Then he braced himself, he would not
admit the possibility of failure; this
would be the crowning act of his life,
after which he could die happy.
He started nervously as he thought
he heard footsteps; but it was only
the pounding of his heart, which was
beating wildly. So loud did it beat
that “Settlin’ Johnny” put his hand
upon it, then took it away quickly
and looked at the whiteness of the
shirt to see whether he had left a
mark.
At last he heard the crackle of the
ash-covered path and knew that Bat
Tanner had arrived. “Settlin’ John-
ny” rose, and went slowly to the
door, his heart again beating loudly.
“Hello, Bat;.see you're on time;
didn’t forget the old man, did you?"
~ Bat Tanner laughed his care-free
laugh, glanced at his wrist-watch.
“Used to being on time, Johnny,
and never to forget anything. That's
the way you get when you're in the
army. Good training, Johnny.”
“Settlin’ Johnny” nodded.
“Yes,” he said. ‘Now, Bat, sit
down and tell me about over there.”
“Settlin’ Johnny” sat down in his
rickety chair and Bat upon an old
settee. Between them on a table was
a smoky kerosene lamp whose dim
light drew weird shadows upon the
rough-hewn walls. As Bat talked,
“Settlin’ Johnny” listened in almost
breathless silence, breathless because
he knew that soon there would he
another visitor, the result of whose
coming he could not accurately fore-
tell.
Then came the crackle of the path
again; but this time it was slow, and
the step was dragging. Bat stopped
talking, and looked at the door.
“Some one coming,” he said.
“Settlin’ Johnny's” heart leaped
once more, and he felt sure that Bat
must hear its pounding.
“Yes,” he assented, “seems like
there’s some one coming.’
Neither man spoke, and the step
came nearer. Then ‘Settlin’ John-
ny” gathered courage.
“Reckon it's Bill Watson,” he said,
not daring to look directly at Bat.
“Sounds like his step, doesn’t it?”
Bat sprang to his feet.
“Bill Watson! What's he doing
| here 2” ;
Before Johnny could answer the
door was pushed open, and Watson
came in. 3
For a moment no one spoke; then
“Settlin’ Johnny” took a step for-
ward.
“Come in, Bill,” he said; and his
voice was weak and shaky. “Glad
to see you. Here's Bat Tanner.
Thought maybe you boys hadn’t met
since you both got back, and would
like to compare notes; so I asked
you up here tonight.
and—"
The voice of “Settlin’ Johnny”
trailed into nothingness at the look
in Bill Watson's eyes. It was the
same look he had seen there when
young Bill had heard that his father
lay upon the boundary line with a
bullet through his heart. “Settlin’
Johnny” quailed, then he was galvan-
ized into new life.
“I've got to settle this thing,” he
cried. ‘You can’t go on like this; you
can’'t—you—"
| Tanner spoke at the same instant,
Sit right down .
hands and promise never to fight
again.”
The eyes of the two men met, and
for a minute neither moved. Then
slowly, very slowly, the hand of Eat
‘Tenner wen: out to be met by that
of Bill Watson's.
“We promise,” they said together,
“never to fight again.”
Then a surprising thing happened.
“Settlin’ Johnny,” who was supposed
to have been shot through the heart,
with a great splotch of red glowing
on his shirt-front, leaped to his feet,
and began to dance around the cab-
in.
“Hooray.” he shouted excitedly.
“I've done it! I've settled the feud.
Hooray!”
“But Johnny,” cried Tanner as
soon as he could recover from his
amazement, “you're dying, you
mustn’'t—"’
Johnny stopped his dance, and be-
gan to grin.
“No, I ain’t dying, Bat Tanner, and
I ain't going to die for a long time
yet; I can feel it in my bones. Now
I'll tell you what happened;” and Set-
tlin’ Johnny” drew a small box from
the table-drawer, and handed it to
Bat. “Open it,” he said, “and tell me
what's in it.”
“Bullets,” answered Bat as he took
off the cover.
Johnny's grin grew broader.
“Yes,” he said, bullets, but not
lead. I made them myself this win-
ter out of paper, and colored them.
When I asked you two boys to come
here toinght, I didn’t have an idea
what I was going to do. I reckon,
though you would both bring your
shootin’ irons; so this morning I went
to both of your houses while you
were in the fields, found your old
pistols, took out the bulets, and put
the paper ones in.
“But you might have known,” in-
terrupted Watson, “that after-
ward—" :
“Yes,” said ‘“‘Settlin Johnny” slow-
ly, “it was the afterwards that I was
afraid of. I sat on the steps of Bill
Peter's store all the afternoon trying
to think of a way. I just had to
make you think I was hurt. Then it
came to me all of a sudden that the
bloodroot in the old pasture was get-
ting mighty ripe and juicy about this
time. I went down there, and dug
up a piece, and put in under my shirt.
When you fired and I tumbled down,
I squeezed it, and the red came.”
“Settlin’ Johnny” stopped. There
was a look in Bat Tanner's eyes that
he did not like.
“So you fooled us, “Settlin’ John-
ny,” said Bat quietly.
“Settlin’ Johnny” looked into the
cold gray eyes, and shivered.
“Boys,” he said in a shaky voice,
“what you said goes, doesn’t it? even
if I did fool you. When a Tanner
and Watson shake hands and make a
promise, they never have gone back on
it. You won’t, will you, boys?”
Neither man answered. ‘Settlin’
Johnny's” face grew white.
“I know I done wrong,” he went on
plaintively. “I hadn't ought to have
played a trick on you. I ought to
‘have left the bullets in, and when
you fired stepped between you just
the same. I'm nothing but a putter-
ing old man, always trying to settle
things, and always making mistakes.
But I kind of wanted to live a little
while and see you boys happy; that's
why I done it. “I—"
The old man stopped, and turned
away. Then Bat Tanner stepped :pr-
ward, and put his arm around “Set-
tlin’ Johnny's” shoulders.
“Settlin’ Johnny,” he said, ‘don’t
worry. You've done a great thing
tonight; you've settled the feud.
What we said goes, doesn’t it, Bill?”
“It sure does,” said Watson.
“Shake on it again, Bat.”
“Settlin’ Johnny” sank into his
chair, weak from excitement; but his
eycs shone as the two men again
gripped hands.
“Go home, boys,” he said, “and let
me get to bed. I'm all in, can’t stand
this sort of think like Icould fifty
years ago. Go home, boys, and God
bless you.”
As the two men started for the
door, ‘“Settlin’ Johnny” struggled ro
his feet and followed them. The
arm of Bat Tanner was around the
shoulders of Bill Watson; the recon-
ciliation was complete. “Settlin’
Johnny stood watching and ‘smiling
as they went down the path and into
| the road, where a turn hid them from
view. 3
For a minute longer “Setlin’ John-
ny” looked out into the night. The
moonlight was very bright, brighter
than he had ever seen it before, he
thought. From a tree on the moun-
tain-side above an owl hooted twice.
A fox darted swiftly across the path,
and crashed into the bushes. Silence.
Still smiling, “Settlin’ Johnny”
turned back into the room; but the
smile faded as he caught sight in
a broken mirror of the big red splotch
on his shirt.
“Hang it!” he cried. “Now I've
gone and spoiled the only decent
i shirt I ever had. What'll I do when
there's a funeral? There ain't noth-
ing on earth that will take out a
bloodroot stain.”
| Nevertheless, that night “Settlin’
' Johnny” slept the sweet sleep of
peace.—From the Reformatory Rec-
ord.
|
Snow Plow Gets Right of Way.
| “Watch for snow plows on the paper cases frilled in red, white and |duction but think
lhighway and don't interfere with
The guns of Bill Watson and Bat | them,” is the warning sounded by |
| Equipment Engineer C. A. Eichelbar-
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
DAILY THOUGHT. /
Every noble life leaves the fibre of it
interwoven forever in the works of the
world.—Ruskin.
[ENTERTAINING ON WASHINGTON’'S
BIRTHDAY.
The hostess who needs the spur of
special occasions to give her ideas
for entertaining has her last chance
this month on next Friday.
It used to be something of a bur-
den to prepare favors for special hol-
idays, but now fascinating things can
be picked up at small cost and one
can get up a delightful affair in
honor of Washington's birthday at
short notice.
With the telephone handy the
question of summoning the guests is
easily settled, or you might mail to-
night some of the patriotic postals
stamped with flags or pictures of
George Washington, asking the
guests to come to an informal Colon-
ial supper at 7 o'clock Friday even-
ing.
These postals should be inclosed in
envelopes, or, if preferred, note pa-
per with a flag on one corner or edz-
ed, with a border of red, white and
blue quarter-inch stripes can be us-
ed instead. A box of water colors
will quickly transform ordinary white
paper.
Naturally your first interest will
center in the supper table. The col-
oring for this may be the blue or buff
of Colonial days, or, what will be
easier to arrange, red, white and
blue.
If the former is chosen fill an old-
fashioned blue bowl with hyacinths,
the blue varieties and the palest yel-
low you can find; a de€p cream will
be better than an actual yellow.
From the edges of this bowl trail
alternate blue buff ribbons to each
plate, ending in pretty Colonial ta-
vors. These might be small candy
boxes on which stand miniature beaux
and belles, the former dressed in the
cocked hats and blue and buff uni-
form of the Revolution, or else in the
knee breeches, frilled shirts and pow- |
dered wigs of gala attire; the latter
in the rich brocades, high powderad
hair and beauty patches in which our
great-great-grandmothers delighted.
These boxes can be bought rather
reasonably, but could easily be made
by covering any small round or
square box with stripes of blue and
buff paper and pasting on the lid
small china dolls dressed in Revolu-
tionary costume. Almost any history
gives pictures of such costumes,
which the ingenious girl can copy,
either in paper or bits of silk.
If posible, have old silver or glass
tall candlesticks which to be truly
Colonial go unshaded. To carry out
the color effect make shades of buff
paper with portraits of George and
Martha Washington in the center.
Cut these pictures from magazines
or fancy cards and border them, as
well as the top and bottom of the
shade, with a broad band of blue pa-
per.
For place cards trace the silhouette
of Martha Washington bordering the
card with an outer line of blue and
an inner one of yellow. Similar cards
with a head of George Washington
can he used for the women.
Attractive entree dishes in paper
come in the form of Colonial cocked
hats, and if one wishes to go to the
expense fancy ices can he ordered of
Colonial figures. Or the, ice cream
can be served in meringue shells tied
with blue and buff ribbon.
The average hostess will decide for
the red, white and blue coloring. For
this, an effective centerpiece would
be an artificial tree thickly tied with
red cherries, also artificial. The
cherries might also be fastened to 2
small green foliage plant if one he
not particular about incongruity.
Around the hase of this tree stack
toy hatchets, tied in red, white and
blue ribbon. Or the centerpiece cen
be bordered with hatchets cut from
red paper with the handles overlap-
ping and the heads on the outside.
Fringed strips of red, white and
blue paper, which can be bought by
the roll, can be festooned from the
chandelier to each corner of the ta-
ble to end in candlesticks made to
‘represent a tree trunk. \
Cut candlesticks from a stiff news-
paper roll, covered with brown paper,
and tie to it by red, white and blue
ribbon a red paper hatchet and a
cluster of cherries.
| Serve the nuts and candies in pa-
per boxes covered with frills of tri-
‘color tissue paper, or they can be
served in the boxes
i FARM NOTES.
—Birds are our greatest garden
friends. Shrubs and trees which at-
tract them may he selected for plant-
ing on the home grounds. Bird
houses and birds baths that are or-
namental as well as useful can be
provided for the feathered friends.
—The rolls are open now for the
sixth Keystone Ton Litter Cluk. En--
roll in this swine improvement pro-
ject and grow a few litters to weigh.
a ton each in 180 days of feeding.
The profitable way of producing pork
is to feed out pigs for market in six.
months.
—Are your garden tools in good:
condition? This is the time of the-
year to repair and sharpen them.
Are you using the best labor-saving
tools? There is a large assortment
from which to choose. There is a
tool for.every need, which makes
gardening a pleasure.
—Cows are markets for farm:
crops. . You set the price you get for
your crops, for the price depends up-
on the quality of your cows and the:
proper halancing of their feed. Bal-
ance your home-grown feeds with
purchased protein in cottonseed or
oil meals if you want highest pos-
sible prices for hay, silage, and grain
crops.
—Hens need water. It is an es-
sential part of the ration, poultry
specialists of the Pennsylvania State
College say. A shortage of water
causes a decrease in the number and
size of eggs. Chickens do not like
ice cold water and will drink more if’
the chill is removed. Heated drink-
ing fountains usually are good in-
vestments.
—With cows as with automobiles,
(it isn’t the first cost, it’s the upkeep.
' For proof of that statement rural!
economists at the Ohio State univer-
sity offer records kept for five years:
by twenty Medina county dairymen,
their herds totalling 183 cows. The:
net cost, not subtracting the credit
of $9.05 for manure and $6.83 for a
calf, averages $208.35.
Feed is the big item. It totals, in--
cluding a charge for pasture, $107.92.
The grain and other concentrates:
necessary to keep a cow in produc-
| tion throughout the year cost an av-
erage of $50.14. The roughage in-
‘cluding the silage, hay, stover, pas-
ture, cost $57.78.
Labor, the next biggest item, costs:
an average of $43.36 per cow. The
other costs to make up the gross:
cost of $208.35, include straw bed-
ang, taxes, insurance, depreciation,
etc.
. In order to let her owner break
even at prevailing milk prices, this:
average cow should produce at least
7,000 pounds of milk a year. The av--
erage cow among the 183 Medina
county cows just about did, produc-
‘ing 7,386 pounds of milk a year,
worth about $197.21, giving her own--
er a profit of not quite $5.
The cows that make for profit, the-
economists point out, are those that
produce at least nine or ten thousand’
pounds of milk a year.
—For several years the department
of poultry husbandry at the New Jer--
sey agricultural experiment station.
has been hatching part of its Leg-
horn chicks about mid-February. .
This was done, first as an experiment
snd in later years because it paid tc-
do so.
It was found that February hatch--
ing of Leghorns for the following -
early fal! egg production lengthens
the season of incubation by beginning
it earlier, thus making better use of"
incubation and brooder equipment. It
also make: use of more eggs for in-
cubation purposes, which is —onceded:
to be netter practice for poulirynien..
The early hatched Leghorn cock--
erels, most of which are surplus, are
ready for sale as broilers in early"
April - when prices are at their best.
These early broilers help to offset
lowar prices which usually must be
accepted for the same type of broil-
ers that are hatched in April and are-
not ready for the market until June-
or thereabouts. In view of these ad-
vantages it is believed that poultry-
men should make money on their-
February-hatched surplus of Leghorn:
cockerels.
The February-hatched pullets grow:
almost to laying maturity before hot.
weather sets in, or are at least be-
yond the stage in which hot weather:
materially affects them. They are
usually ready to lay in August and.
lay well during that month, Septem--
ber, and part of October anyway.
Eggs are worth money in that sum--
that represent | mer period, and as the older hens are
drums, decorated in the national co- falling off in egg production at that
lors with gilt cord strings.
The cherry place cards can be eas-
ily painted at home. For favors at
each plate have shield-shaped candy |
boxes covered with red, white and
blue satin or pgper, or at the merss
time the pullet production helps
materially to balance the income on:
the poultry plant.
These early pullets are likely to:
molt in late fall, and the rest they-
get during that process will render:
plates might be short trunks of trees | them useful as breeders in the fol-
tied with cherries and a hatchet to
match the candlesticks, while for the
{women could be fans, each stick |
ending in a flag or oval flap of the:
| tricolor. i
Serve oysters, with a tiny flag
erect in the cracked ice in the center |
of each plate; tomato soup in cups,
| blue ones if possible, with whipped
| cream on top of it and the handle of
(each cup tied with red, white and
‘blue ribbon. Creamed white fish in
blue.
For the main course have either
| chicken or nicely breaded veal cutlet |
l adults.
lowing spring, their first spring as
The department suggests
that about one-quarter of the Leg-
horn flocks might be February hatch-
ed. The rest can come along in mid--
April.
Many poultry keepers become dis--
satisfied with the way their hens are:
laying and immediately, without try-
ing to figure out the cause decide to:
change to a different kind of feed.
They may be getting a fair egg pro-
they can get a
much better one, and therefore they
change the feed.
There is only one time when it is.
filling the little cabin with their roar. [ger of the Pensylvania department served with a border of rice and to- safe to make a change in feed, that
Not so quickly,
“Settlin”
tween the two men. For an instant
he wavered, then sank slowly to the
ground, his two hands clapsed over
his heart; but between the fingers
could be seen a crimson stain upon
the white shirt.
however, but that
| The two men knelt, and put their |
arms around the old man.
“Johnny,” cried Tanner, ‘“you’re
hurt, you're dying. Get some water,
Bill, quick.”
“Settlin’ Johnny” opened his eyes,
and smiled wanly.
Johnny” had sprung be- |
“Don’t worry about me, hoys,” he !
of highways to automobile drivers.
Due to flying snow, he pointed out,
the view of snow plow operators
often obscured and their attention is
{ mainly directed toward driving the
[truck or tractor. Efficient plowing
| requires that machines be kept mov-
|ing at a steady speed. :
Drivers
| snowstorm are urged to keep a look-
‘out for plows and arrange to meet
them at a spot where the snow is
| light. Much difficulty has been experi-
| enced, Eichelberger declared, by driv-
| ers overtaking a plow and attempting
to pass, plunging into heavy snow
ahead, where they stall and block the
man’s eyes shifted their look to the | was sure; and unless something was ; But hefore I go I want you to shake ; road.
is |
on the highway after a |
i mato sauce on a blue platter. Pass
| cranberries and potato balls.
The salad can be of shrimps and |
hearts of lettuce, served in a blue
bowl. |
For ices have vanilla ice cream, |
decorated with candied violets and |
| red and white mint drops. |
After supper, if cards are played, |
| decorate each table with flags or |
| small artificial cherry trees, and give |
| for prizes some of the many trifles!
| appropriate to the day. |
{ An interesting contest would be to |
| have a green tree or plant to which |
| the guests, blindfolded, tie artificial |
i cherries. The two fastening on the |
| most cherries win the prizes.
{
is, a radical one and this is in the
spring when all chickens, if they
amount to anything at all, will lay
eggs. A change at this time will not
have the serious effects that a change
during the fall, winter or summer
will have.
In the first place, choose a good
feed, one that has been tried and has
given good results. Then stick to
this feed. If something goes wrong,
look to the way in which this feed is
being fed. Don’t make any radical
change, however, as birds are very
susceptible to any such changes at
this stage of their lives. Such
changes are apt to cause a molt with
a consequent drop in egg production.