Democratic watchman. (Bellefonte, Pa.) 1855-1940, August 21, 1931, Image 2
—— Bellefonte, Pa., August 21, 1881. A RESPONSE TO THE “BLUE JUNIATA.” The Indian girl has ceased to rove Along the winding river; The warrior brave that won her love, Is gone with bow and quiver. The valley rears another race, Where flows the Juniata; There maidens rove with paler face Than that of Alfarata. ‘Where pine trees moan her requiem wail, And biue waves too are knelling, Through mountain gorge and fertile vale, | A louder note is swelling. A hundred years have rolled around, The red man has departed, The hills give back a wilder sound Than warrior's whoop ere started, With piercing neigh, the iron steed Now sweeps along the waters, And bears with more than wild deer speed, The white man's sons and daughters. The products, too, of every clime Are borne along the river, Where roved the brave in olden time, With naught but bow and quiver. And swifter than the arrow's flight. From truest bow and quiver, The messages of love and light Now speed along the river. The engine and the telegraph Have wrought some wonderous changes, Since rang the Indian maiden’'s laugh Among the mountain ranges. “Tis grand to see what art hath done; The world is surely wiser; ‘What triumphs white man's skill has won With steam the civilizer, But still, methinks, I'd rather hear The song of Alfarata— Had rather chase the fallow deer Along the Juniata. For fondly now my heart esteems This Indian song and story; Yet, grander far old nature seems, Than are in all its glory. Roli on, thou classic Keystone stream, Thou peerless little river, Fulfill the poet's brighest dream, And be a joy forever, As generations come and go, Each one their part repeating, Thy waters keep their constant flow, Still down the ocean fleeting, And white thy blue waves seek the sea, Thou lovely Juniata, Surpassing sweet thy name shall be For sake of Alfarata. Written by Rev. C, Cort in the sum- mer of 18656, while traveling along that ‘peerless little river.’ NUTS AND NEWS “Man that owns the Hillsboro Herald gave me a ride home,” pant- ed Johnny Jordan, importantly, rush- ing in just in time for dinner. “His vacation was for a wedding. He was getting into a swell elegant car 'n’ he asked me to ride 'n" he said the new Mrs. Carson gave the car to him for a wedding present. Say, 1 guess it pays to get mar. ried!” “If it pays as well as that,” an- nounced Joan Jordan, “I think I'll go and see if he won't let me run an anti-poster campaign for him. The Parfait Gas Company is putting up a monster sign in the pine grove where the Boston road curves into Hillsboro. Somebody certainly ought to stop them, and Mr. Carson told me that he wanted to use the Her- a to help good causes.” oan was trying to help support her family by doing “Miss FTE jobs for anybody in Hillsboro who needed her assistance. Before he went away, Mr. Carson had asked her to be onthe watch for material for his paper. With work as hard to find as it been lately, Joan couldn't let a le chance go by. As soon as the dinner dishes were done, she started off, taking an arm. ful of magazines for Sarah Kitchen, to deliver after she had made her business call. “How do, Miss Joan!" The Herald editor and owner turned away from his officé window where he had been smilingly waving off someone, pre- sumably the generous new wife. “An agti-poster campaign? Well, er—you see, Joan, Sam Jackson and Tim Holt are local managers for Parfait. Maybe that sign is a leetle big and not placed as you or I would like it, but I couldn't go gun- ning for Sam and Tim, you know— two of my fellow Rotarians. Must keep the paper popular or we'd lose our influence. “Glad you called, all the same. Maybe I could run an editorial on signs-—not too pointed, not a campaign, but just a little hint to Sam 'n’ Tim not to use too much red paint. Now, Miss Joan, if you think of something else—some real abuse, especially if it's got a spicy new feature attached to it, you drop in again. Always glad of a chance to mold public opinion. Want to make the Herald an influence in the town and State. Clean up abuses. Help good causes. Print the news.” Trying not to feel discou Joan walked on up Hillsboro Street and took the hill road to Sarah Kitchen’s. She and her best friend, Ann Hazard, had discovered Sarah one day when they had taken a - nic lunch up on the hill. When were ready to leave, Ann couldn't start her car. “I'll have to phone to a garage,” she sighed finally, having got herself dirty and hot, all to no purpose. “The car's all right to leave—ist's both go and hunt a telephone.” They came presently to a maple- shaded, weathered old house. There was a funny clicking noise after they had knocked. Preséntly a girl appeared in a wheeled which she propelled with her a pale little aura of golden eyes that shone like visitors. “Shining Face’ was what Ann and Joan always called her to each oth- | beacuse she seemed fairly to i joy. And yet she hadn't walked for two years and wouldn't | for at least another; her mother was dead, and she kept house for her | father, staying alone most of the ‘day. Kept house and éarned money! Zhe didn’t tell all this on their first visit. She just explained that | there weren't any telephones on the ! hill. “The company says it wouldn't |pay them to come up here. My | father has tried to get them to, be- | cause a telephone would be so much | company to me. But then—" she |smiled that sudden, radiant smile of hers— “I have Rover and the chick- ens and all my wild birds that I feed, so I don't really need more com- Pan that, whenever they could ! manage it, Ann and Joan went pte |see Shining Face. Gradually they | learned how she managed her house- ‘work, and how the Green Door shop in Boston sold her barberry jelly and |barberry jam and her butternut candy, which she molded in the most amusing little butternut-shaped ‘““And in that way I can afford one | magazine,” she explained; “and when it's time to take my bothering old !leg to the hospital again, we shan't have to pinch out all the money.” | Ann Hazard discovered that some- ‘times her nights were sleepless and | pain-racked, and brought her an air cushion for the strained hip, a ‘balsam pillow to snuggle and smell, |a copy of Kim to wander with, and Puck of Pook's Hill to people Sarah Kitchen's hill with interesting com- | panions. Joan couldn't do beautiful, ex ve things like those, but she ‘could give friendship, and Sarah prized that most of all. “All the folks on this hill are old or else they're children,” she told Joan, wistfully. “It's splendid to have a girl friend.” | Joan, with not half time enoug: for all the host of young people whose good times she was invited to | share, went as often as possible to see Sarah, and took K. Blake and Judy, and a few others who would be sure to appreciate Sarah's rare quality, so that Shining Face, as they all called her, was soon well known among the Hillsboro girls and dearly loved by them. The front door of the old house was wide open to let in the sun- warmed autumn air. “Hello, Sally!” called Joan. ‘“Hello, Smiling Sally! ‘May I come in?” But for once Sarah wasn't Suiling. “Somebody stole all our butternu yesterday,” she told Joan, listlessly. “Other folks, have lost theirs but we never have, and away up in the woods, nowhere near a road, we thought they were safe. Still, dad's been sort of on the watch. If he heard a car stop, he'd go and make sure they weren't after apples or nuts. t Sunday when he was at church, somebody took our beautiful red-cheeked apples, and yesterday afternoon—it was such a lovely big shiny car, dad never thought they'd want anything we had. But later he was hunting a cow and he came down to the road just in time to see them load in two big bags nuts and drive off. So this winter we can't have any baked apmas for breakfast, with Dolly's good cream, and I can't make my candy.” “That's a shame, ly dear! But couldn't you buy nuts?” asked Joan, hopefully. “I'm afraid not,” explained Sarah. “You see, it wouid ruin my profits it I d out for nuts.” She sighed “Well, I must expect some bad luck, I guess, with all my good. I'll just have to find another way to earn that money.” “I'd like to get hold of those peo- ple,” stormed Joan, “and tell them what mean, despicable, small—worms they are to steal your precious nuts Didn't your father get the number of their car?” “Yes, he did,” admitted Sarah hesitantly, “but it's a number, issued after the Association's year- book came out. Dad said he could probably get the name by writing tc 'the state automobile bureau, but what good would it do him? The owner would say he was mistaken, and dad, knowing he wasn't mis. taken—because 77,770 is too easy tc see and remember—would always just dislike the people who have it. And that wouldn't get back our nuts or make anyone happier.” “No,” said Joan, solemnly, ‘hating | doesn't make happiness; your father ‘is right. Still—it's awful the way | people who motor around help them- seives to farm things and then fly off before they're 5... 1 sup | pose they don't think—See here, | y, I was talking to-day to Mr. Carson, the Herald editor. He's planning to use his paper for just | this sort of thing—showing 3 | abuses, I mean, making people . | ize them and reform. An article |in the Herald won't get nuts | back, but it ought to them, ‘and other people's safer in the fu- ture.” Shining Face brightened. “That would be splendid. You won't let them put in my name, will you? 1 shouldn't want it to seem as if I was asking folks to be sorry for ‘me, when I have so much happiness left. But I do think it's pretty mean of people with big cars and the mon- |ey that goes with them to ride round taking apples and nuts and | pumpkins and corn out of the fields of farmers who have worked hard to raise their crops and have hard work to scrape along. It's awful | up here on the hill where the houses are far apart. Most all the pump- kins and squashes have been taken, and lots of apples and corn. Apples are dear this year, and we all want our corn to can for winters.” “You just walt!” Joan's voice was eager and i t. © “I'm go- to do something about this! t now. You look in tomorrow's paper!” ; Joan walked so fast in her excite- in the neigh- erald office feeling Slackening her to of from a car that slid past her and parked be- side the paper's big sign, emerged a pretty, smiling, pink-and-white young woman whom Joan had never seen before, and ran lightly up the stairs to the editor's office. ndoubtedly the pew Mrs. Carson! Joan follow- ed on leaden feet. Probably Mr Carson would be locking his desk and getting ready togo home with his wife. But that wasn't the worst: Joan's quick eyes noted that the number of the big shining new car that the new wife had hopped out of was 77,770! Halfway up the Hingy staircase Joan P How foolish to goon! Even if she kept back the number of the offending car, as she had in- tended doing all along, she couldn't tell her story before the new Mrs Carson. Why' she couldn't tell it at ali! Very likely both of them had been involved in the theft. Very likely, too, Mr. Carson was one of the horde of people who see no harm in “snitching” from farmers. Out upon Joan's discouragement burst the new Mrs. Carson, flutter- ing down the stairs as gayly as she had climbed them. But Mr. Carson, escorting her to the top of the flight, paused there, and, looking down, saw Joan. “Why, hello, Miss Joan!" he hailed her. ‘Meet the wife. Mrs. Carson, Joan Jordan, one of our bright young girls. And this is the sec- ond call she’s honored me with this afternoon. Come on up, Miss Joan, and shoot what's on your mind now.” Joan was fairly caug.t. She coudn’'t explain and leave, so she went up, deciding swiftly that Mr. Carson deserved to be made to squirm if he had been involved in taking the nuts. So she told her tale—told it with’ fire and spirit, as she thought of poor Sarah-—and decided in the téll- ing that Mr. Carson hadn't been in car 77,770 during the nutting party and didn't even know about it. He wasn't excited or embarrassed; he wasn't even much interested. “It's just the sort of thing you wanted to push,” Joan concluded. “There couldn't be a better cause. You'd be surprised what nice people go off snitching things every fall. eople who'd be furious if a farm boy walked into their yards and took a few flowers.” “Oh, yes, it's a deplorable prac- tice,” agreed Mr. Carson, “but it's got to be news, too.” He reached for a pad. “Now let's see. ‘This girl that was robbed—her name, please.” “But she doesn't want {it used,” protested Joan. “She particularly said so.” “Why not?” snapped Mr. Carson, (irritably. “She's done nothing tec be ashamed of. wen, you tell me, anyway. I can't rinting stufl unless I got names behind it, y more than I'd print an anonymous letter.” That was reasonable. Joan told him Sarah's name. “Now the parties that took the stuff —any clues? Any reason to think they're from prominent fam- ilies?” “N—o, 1 mean yes, began Joan, confusedly. “I can't tell you any- thing about that part of it, Mr. Carson. And if I could, you couldn't print it——1 assure you, you wouldn't want to.” “But you can tell me! You actas if you knew who took those nuts. Well, then, out with it! I can put in sort of veiled hints and scare ‘em a little. Get up some excitement get folks asking, “Hey, Joe, were you the mean man took that lame girl's nuts 'n’' apples?” “Yes, but you can put in your hints and i : up excitement just exactly as well without knowing a name,” Joan insisted. ‘This road- side looting is just the thing for the Herald to show up. Oh, surely you can do it, Mr. Carson!” Mr. Carson shook his head de- cisively. “If I knew prominént families were involved, it would be ‘news. Nobody really cares much what happens to those back-road farmers. Down on the street Joan met her friend, Mr. 8 Adams, banker. “Say, Jo, you look hotter 'n’ the weather. What's the trouble” Somebody give you a bad check?” ! Joan told him. “Said a thing |like that wasn't news unless he knew the name of the thief!" snort- “It would be police court ed Steve. news then, I'd say. Jo, you come ‘In my bank and telephone six or eight of what George Carson calls | prominent citizens. Tell 'em all to go in and urge George to show up this affair. I'll up right now. Before he's th he'll see wheth- er folks care about back-road farm- ers! | It was astonishing how eagerly | everyone to Joan's request; {no one whom she called refused to go to Mr. Carson. As the news trav- | eled, other farmers sent in stories of losses, their own or their neigh | bors’. Mr. Carson found himself in- {undated with facts about a perni- cious practice. Ni morning's Herald had nearly a column headed, Thief,” with Sarah's story, followed | by dozens of others. A pompous | editorial deplored the state of public | morality and ended by hinting That there were those who more than guessed the whereabouts of Sarah's | nuts. | Soon after breakfast Mrs. Carson. | as cool and pink-and-white and pret- ty as ever, called to see Joan. | “Miss Jordan,” she began in busi- | ness-like tones, “do you really know | who took the lame girl's nuts?” | “Do you?” countered Joan. | Mrs. Carson looked at her ly, {and then she burst out laughing. | “I'm very much ashamed,” she gasp- (ed, when she could speak, “but all (may saine, it is funny, isn’t it? To ave rge’s paper yapping at me {like a cross dog before we've been mariied two weeks! And now Ican néver tell George because—oh, you see why, don't you, Miss Jordan? Do other people know? Are they likely to tell him?” Joan explained that at present she “The Meanest ,aion against roadside looting. NO, season were of little use to the old 195 pounds yellow corn, 100 pounds Carson's secret. | “I lay awake all last night worry- ing,” sighed Mrs. Carson, “after George had come prancing inat mi t and waked me up to tell me about his beautiful editoral—all in print and no stopping it. You see, Miss Jordan, I never those nuts as anybody's. ews were My neph- it was any harm—at least I suppose we did realize it, because we slipped along very quietly when we got near the road. And we didn't tell George; he's so fearfully public-spirited I thought he might object. But I didn't expect him to go to work and object so publicly,” she laughed. “He tried hard to get me to tell him my suspicions,” said Joan. “Oh, I know he did,” cried Mrs. Carson, “and I'm everlastingly grate- ful to you for holding out. Well, at least I've thought of something to do—to make up to the lame girl, I mean. I want to help start a branch of the Green Door shops right here. With all our summer people and all the tourists, it ought to do well, and, if so, it will mean more profits for this girl, and more fun, too, besides benefitting other women and girls on the farms near here. And George says you're the very best person in Hillsboro to run such a thing.” Joan gasped. “A shop—a store— to sell farm women's products? Oh, that would be splendid. But you see, I'm earning my living, Mrs. Carson. I couldn't give my time, or even any appreciable amount of it.” “Certainly not,” agreed Mrs. Car- son. “It should be a business propo- sition for you-—every bit of the work you do for it. George told me about your advertisement. ‘What you want done, have done when you want it; that's the very motto fora shop like the one I think we could have here. But we can discuss all this later, after we've got the thing started.” Joan thougnt a minute. “I believe the Hillsboro girls would like to start this going, she said finally. “Lots of them know Sarah and love her. And, Mrs. Carson, I think Sar- ah could run the shop—at least sell the things. She's lame but that doesn't stop her from anything. And she'd make everyone who came in feel as if they were buying starshine and diamonds, mixed, and as if they were wo 10.” Mrs. Carson laughed. “And how will she make me feel this morning ? I'M going ht up there to return the nuts and explain. You think she's surely the sort to understand that mustn't know ?" “Of course,” said Joan. “I'll ge with you. I want to see her face when you tell her your plan for our own Green Door.” The Hillsboro girls went at the organizing of the Green Door pro- ject with whirlwind zest. It didn't take much persuasion to get Mr. Stephen Adams to promise a small piece of land at the Four Corners, where one main road turned itself into Hillsboro Street. .Ann Hazard's father offered a building if it could be moved from a farm he owned near’ by. Her brother Tohy sald of course it could be moved-—he'd see to it. There was a pine tree on the land, with a big, fern covered rock beneath it. Joan at once saw possi- bilities of serving teas and lunches there in the open. The house must have a green door, of course, and green shutters with pine tree cut- outs in them and green window- boxes would be charming touches All right, said young Lonny Jordan he'd ask the manual training teach: er to let the boys make those. The finance committee (mostly fathers) and the advisory committee | (mostly mothers, with Mrs. Carson as chairman) met with the girls and : ‘decided upon a handcraft specialty for the shop; hooked, braided, and ‘woven rugs, all of which must be jup to a high standard of design, ‘color, and workmanship to be ac- 'cepted for sale. All that fall and winter, whenever Joan had a few ‘spare hours, she went “shop-calling,” to explain the details of the Green Door plan to the women on the farms and to make tactful sugges- tions about the rug-making and | SRuer handiwork that they had start- The Hillsboro Herald was full of news items about what Mr, Carson sonorously called “our little town's finest civic enterprise.” he met Joan, he inquired eagerly if she hadn't something new for him him to push. | “Some day, young lady,” | nounced to her one day, “you're go- ling to tell me who stole those nuts. Public beenfactor he turned out to be—that is, if you'll excuse me say- ing it, I turned him out that! So 1 surely deserve to know.” “You never will, Mr. Carson,” said Joan, solemnly. you, there wouldn't have been any Green Door.” “There wouldn't!” Carson. “Friend of mine did mean? Well, no friend of mine | would have stopped me in my cam- snapped Mr. sir!” “Maybe that's so, Joan, demurely. Mr. Carson,” “I guess ways as I am in mine.” “Well, you're close-mouthed enough Carson. thing—for Warde in the Classmate. “ that's saying some- Absent-minded Professor: “Con- stable, I've lost my umbrella.” Constable: “Why it's hanging on your arm.” Professor: “Dear me, so it is. If you had not told me, I should have | gone home without it.” The honeymoon couple were aout to alight from their taxi. “I feel so nervous, George,” she whispered, “They are sure to know." But George was resourceful “Here”, he said, “you carry the bag!” spending the day here on their way to school and they want- ed to go nutting. We didn't think Whenver Cleveland about the Green Door, or perhaps some other betterment campaign for he an- | “Why, if I'd told you're just as obstinate in your| At 70 Jane Adams is known as | “Chicago's most useful citizen.” | At an age when even the most | tireless business men usually have retired, the woman who has givena of lifetime to improving the condition of the poor, it still active. She doesn't want to rest. So great is her interest in Hull- House that she finds her deepest joy in continuing her active neighbor- hood work. It was in 1889 that Jane Addams first came to the squalid, congested district around Halsted and Harring- ton streets, in Chicago, found the stately old Hull mansion, and began the work that was to make her the world's spokeswoman of social pro- gress. Jane Addams doesn't look seventy. Her face is too young, too eager, too enthusiastic ever to assume the tired expreszion of old age. She is a little heavier than she was ten years ago, and her hair is sil- very now. But her voice still has the ring of youth. She looks always forward. Her great interest now, next to her be- loved Hull-House, is in legislation for universal peace. Louking back on her own record of achievements, the great improve- ment is working conditions and the increase of prosperity among the masses, Jane Addams believes the day will come when war will be out- lawed and forgotten. After forty years in Hull-House, one might think Miss Addams would be inctitutional-minded. But it is her ;reatest pride that she is not. Hull-House bustles like a busy home, of which she is the mother. Her radio talks are famous for their spontaneity-—the directors can never make her use notes. When Jane Addams was a little girl, suffering from a youthful de- formity which was cured by special- ists, she dreamed of having a big home in the midst of squalid little streets, and inviting all the neigh- bors in. She has realized her dream, she is happy. That is why Jane Addams will never be old. - and HUCKLEBERRY CULTIVATION CAN BE MADE PROFITABLE Belief that good huckleberry crops can only be raised on land which has been repeatedly burned over is un- founded acco to John W. Kel- ler, deputy secretary of Forests and Waters. Special studies have recently been conducted by the department in var- fous sections of the State, and the results of these investigations have shown that excellent crops of huckle- berries are growing in forest areas which have not been burned during the past twenty years. This is true of stands which are more or less open, as huckleberris will not thrive where the shade is too dense. That successive crops of huckleber- ries may be raised on unburned areas is demonstrated on a huckleberry area 0 “by J. W. Horne, of Jefferson county, wuitlh las Leen proaucing successive crops of berries for the st fifteen years. He had more than he could farm, and three acres had been partially cleared for buckwheat on a hill on stony soil. The year following the clearing he found huckleberries growing abundantly around some of the stumps which re- mained in the cleared field. He came to the conclusion that huckle- berries might be a more profitable crop than buckwheat, and so plant- ed the whole area with huckleberry seeds. The bushes that grew from the sowing have borne fruit every year since they reached the berry age. Reports from district foresters in- dicate that huckleberry pickers are numerous this summer, prob- ably due to the unemployment situ- ation. The pickers consist not only of local people, but entire families from towns and cities camp out on the forested areas and every member of the family is engaged in picking the fruit. Successful pickers gather as high as a bushel of berries a day. Dealers send trucks into camps in the woods and purchase the berries direct from the picker at 10 and 12 cents a quart. These are shi to the larger cities as far as delphia, Pittsburgh, Baltimore and e GOOD FINISH ON 1981 TROUT SEASON Fishermen's luck! If it’s not one thing, it’s another for state anglers. Early last year there were enough (trout in Pennsylvania streams to gratify the most avaricious angler, ‘but the long drought made condi- tions so bad that many fishermen ‘gave up in disgust before the season ‘was very ol This year the streams appeared in good condition for the April open- |ing, but the late hatching of flies | ruined the early part of the season. Fish Commissioners estimated that | the first three weeks of the 1831 | timers because of the late hatching | flies. Veteran anglers who spurn | worms had to wait. But despite the poor start, the fish officials predicted that the 1931 | season which closed July 31, would to run a newspaper,’ retorted MF. pe found to have been as satisfac- | | tory as last year. Ideal conditions a woman!"—By Margaret! i, ‘the past two weeks, they said, | who had | not become discouraged by the poor start. The last two weeks were | just about enough to counter balance | the rest of the period and allow the | fishermen to “break even.” Some Central Pennsylvania counties report- | ed that the end was marked by mud- |dy streams and poor fishing, but | elsewhere, especially in the northern tier counties, Hie oa vos went out | with a grand flou # | From their present report, the fish | commissioners estimated that the | number of licenses issued this year would equal that of 1930. A de- | crease had generally been expected. FARM NOTES. —Top dressing lawns with super- phosphate or bone meal at this time of year is considered practical. The treatment should be applied immediately after a rain or it may be done in late afternoon, provided the lawn is well watered immediate- ly afterward. —To be inviting and to induce buyers to come back for more, ap- ples must be handled with great care from the time they leave the trees until they reach the consumer. —If you are preparing vegetable exhibits for the county fair, remem- ber that the largest specimen sel- dom wins. Points to be considered in selecting your exhibit are: gen- eral appearance, market conditions, uniformity, and trueness to type. —Dahlias are the show flowers for this month. Water the plants free- ly and fertilize well to produce strong roots and perfect flowers, say Penn State floriculturists. —Egg size can be improved some- what by growing pullets to full size before production starts. Proper feed and care will fit the pullets for maximum production during the win- ter months. —To protect the grain from the ravages of Angoumois grain moth wheat should be threshed early. It is best to thresh from the- field, and = ay case not later than Septem- r 1. —Be sure to atend the big Potato Exposition at State College, August 24 to 26. All phases of potato in- dustry, production, marketing, and consumption, will be stressed in demonstrations, exhibits, and talks. There will be two entertainment programs, Monday and Tuesday eve- nings. The 400-Bushel Club mem- bers and their families will have a banquet. —Field headquarters of govern- ment forces resisting the slow but relentless march of the European corn borer, have been moved 130 miles farther south—from Toledo to Springfield, O. Ffteen hundred Federal inspectors will enforce the quarantine regula- tions this year and these will be aided by state officials in all infest- ed States. At the Agriculture Department it was said today that the drouth last year slowed up the borer’s progress. The farthest point westward reached by the borer is in Indiana, 50 miles east of the Illinois line. Southward it is just reaching across the Ohio River into West Virginia and Ken- tucky. ~-Chickens that have never touch- ed their feet to earth, are raised | profitably for the market in the rear of a grocery store. The chickens are removed to wire cages in a rear room as soon as they hatch. There they are kept ‘until large enough to market. The experimenters reported that their | profits were larger than on range chickens because of the sa in fand, lags of fowls by rodents and because the chickens grow more rapidly. Single stalls protect the cows and help make them comfortable. —A honey bee must visit 56,000 clover blossoms to make a pound of honey. —If poison ivy is troublesome, start an early campaign against it with calcium chlorate. -—Pasturing the farm woodlot isa poor practice. Trees and live stock do not mix. The trees are likely to suffer more than the stock. —Damping off of vegetable seed- lings can be controlled by treating seed or soil with chemical solutions. Ask your county agent about this. —No planting is ever quite com- plete—that is what makes gardening such an alluring adventure. What modern touches will you add to your grounds this year? , —Fattening cattle which get good ‘legume hay-—clover, alfalfa or soy | bean—and corn will make excellent gains for three or four months with- out the addition of such feeds as cottonseed meal or linseed oil meal. —In general, shallow cultivation of corn is best. It does less damage | to the corn roots which grow close | to the surface. Deep cultivation may | cut and tear out the roots, stunting the growth of the plants. Sixty per cent of the cost of egg roduction is usually feed cost, H. . Alp, University of Illinois, told farmers at Urbana recently. It is to the advantage of every | poultryman to use good rations but | as cheap ones as possible while eggs ' must sell for 20 cents a dozen, or it. | Officials connected with the Board of less. An economical ration at present grain prices can be made by using ‘of ground wheat, 100 pounds ground | oats, 100 pounds meat scrap and | five pounds salt. The price of this | ration should be around $1.65 a hun- | dred. | —Sportsmen and farmers of York | county recently killed over 25,000 crows in an effort to reduce the | population of those birds locally. If | the rest of the State would do half ‘as well, and keep it up every year for a few years, especially during | the nesting season of our more bene- | ficial birds, it would mean the sav- ing of much valuable wild life. | Every soprtsman knows that crows |eat the eggs and young of many | birds, and also do much of the eat- ing of young rabbits for which the | ringneck pheasant usually gets the | plame. Farmers, particularly, shoulc | aso bear in mind that the crow was |a nuisance in their corn fields long | pefore the ringneck pheasant wat | introduced in Pennsylvania.