Democratic watchman. (Bellefonte, Pa.) 1855-1940, August 21, 1931, Image 2

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

Bellefonte, Pa., August 21, 1881.
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.’
“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.
“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
“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,
“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-
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
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,
“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
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-
“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
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
! 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-
| 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
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.
“Maybe that's so,
Joan, demurely.
Mr. Carson,”
“I guess
ways as I am in mine.”
“Well, you're close-mouthed enough
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-
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. -
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
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
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
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.
—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
—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-
~-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
Single stalls protect the cows
and help make them comfortable.
—A honey bee must visit 56,000
clover blossoms to make a pound of
—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.