Bemocr Wadpnn
Bellefonte, Pa., December 4, 1981.
I like to trust the men I know—
No matter where I chance to go—
The men who look me in the eye,
1 choose to think, cheat not, nor lie.
And though at times I get a bump
Which makes my old heart throb and
jump,
Although I, for the moment, grieve
In mankind I would still believe,
1 would not go along life's way
Suspecting men from day to day,
1 would not stop each time they speak
To find some link which shows up weak
And though at times they prove untrue
And fail in what they say they'll do—
E'en though some men betray, deceive—
In mankind I would still believe,
What though I learn are
frail—
We must expect the weak will fail
The chain of life is not more strong
And so, while frequently I'll lose,
I'll bind my wounds and nurse each
bruise.
Tho' false
grieve—
In mankind I would still believe.
some men
friends cause my heart to
HOW SANTA CLAUS CAME TO
SIMPSON’'S BAR
The first of three great Christmas
stories which will be published in the
Watchman,
It had been raining in the valley
of the Sacramento. The North
Fork had overflowed its banks and
Rattlesnake Creek was impassable.
The few boulders that marked the
summer ford at Simpson's Bar were
obliterated by a vast sheet of wa-
ter stretching to the foothills. The
stage had stopped. The mail was
abandoned, the rider swimming for
his life.
Nor was the weather any better
in the foothills. The mud lay deep
on the mountain road. Wagons
that had neither physical force nor
moral obligation to move from the
evil ways into which they had fal-
len encumbered the track. The
way to Simpson's Bar was marked
with broken down teams and hard
swearing. Cut off and inaccessible,
rained upon and bedraggled, smit-
ten by high winds and threatened
by high water, on the eve of Christ-
mas, 1862, Simpson's Bar clung like
a swallow's nest to Table Mountain
and shook in the blast.
As night shut in, lights gleamed
through the mist from the cabins on
either side of the road. Most of
the population were gathered at
Thompson's store, clustered around
a red hot stove at which they silent.
ly spat in some accepted sense of
social communion that rendered con-
versation unnecessary. Most meth-
ods of diversion had long been ex-
hausted. High water suspended
the regular occupations on gulch
and river and a consequent lack of
money and whisky had taken the
zest from most recreation.
A familiar figure in the group
was “The Old Man,” a man of per-
haps 50, grizzled, scant of hair with
a face full of ready sympathy.
“Dismal weather, ain't it?” he
asked. “And tomorrow's Christ-
mas."
There was a movement among
the men at this announcement,
whether of satisfaction or of disgust
was not plain.
“Yes, and tonight's Christmas
eve,” ne aaded. “you see, boys, 1
kinda thought that is I soita had
an idee, just passin’ you know—
that mayove youd all iike Lo come
over Lo ny house tonight and have
a kinda tear round. But I sup-
pose you wouldn't? Don't feel like
it maybe?" he added, uncertainly.
“Well, I don't know,” responded
Tom Flynn with some cheerfulness.
“P'raps we may. But how about
your wife? What does she say?”
The Old Man laughed. His con-
jugal experience had not been a
happy one. His first wife, a deli-
cate, pretty woman had suffered
keenly from the jealous suspicions
of her husband. One day he in-
vited the whole Bar to his house to
expose his wife's infidelity. On ar-
riving, the party found the pretty
creature busily engaged in house-
hold duties. The sensitive woman
did not easily recover from the
shock of this extraordinary outrage.
With difficulty she recovered suffi-
ciently to release her lover from
the closet where he was concealed
and escaped with him. The Old
Man's present wife had been his
cook. She was large, loyal and ag-
gressive.
The men discussed pro and con
whether to accept the Old Man's in-
vitation. It was about decided
they should go when Dick Bullen
spoke up.
“How's your boy Johnny getting
on?" he asked the Old Man. “He
didn’t look so peart last time I seed
him on the bluff heavin' rocks at
Chinamen. Didn't seem to take
much interest in it.”
The father hastened to assure
him that Johnny was better and
that “a little fun might liven's him |
up.” Whereupon Dick rose, shook
himself and said:
“I'm ready. Lead the way,
Man. Here 2oes.” He led the way
himself. With a leap, a character.
istic howl, he darted into the night.
As he passed through the outer
room he caught up a blazing brand
from the hearth. This action was
old |
| Close to his home the Old Man
| stopped them.
| “P'raps I'd better go in and see
things is right,” he suggested
from feeling. For he feared his
i
‘men became uneasy and
| suggestions one to another.
i she's caved in his head,
“Reckon
‘the first lick.”
“Decoyed him and barred him
u i»
: Pi Got him down and sittin’ on
him.” Just then a voice said:
“Come in out of the wet.”
The voice was neither the Old
Man's nor his wife's. It was the
voice of a small boy. The weak
tremble was broken by a hoarseness
that only vagabondage and a habit
of premature self-assertion can give.
The face that looked up might have
been pretty and refined, but it was
darkened by evil knowiedge from
within and by dirt without. He
had a blanket on his shoulders. He
had just risen from bed.
“Come in and don't make any
noise. Let me be,” he added quer-
ulously to Dick Bullen, who had
caught him up as though to toss
him into the fire. “Let me go, you
old fool. D'ye hear me?"
When Dick lowered Johnny to the
floor, he gravely proceeded to a cup-
board and brought out several arti-
cles which he deposited on the table.
“Thar's whisky. And crackers.
And red herons. And cheese.” He
took a bite of the later on his way
to the table. “And sugar.” He
scooped up a mouthful with a dirty
little hand. “And terbacker. There's
dried apples on the shelf. But I
don't admire them. Now wade in
and don't be afeared. I don't mind
the old woman. She don't belong to
me.”
He stepped to the threshold of a
small room, a recess only big enough
for one bed.
“Hello, Johnny! You ain't goin’ to
turn in again, are ye? "asked Dick.
“Yes. I are. I'm sick. Il got a
fever and chilblains. And rumatiz.
He vanished within. After a mo-
ment’'s pause he added from under
the bedclothes—*"“And biles!
The men looked at each other,
uncertainly. Then came up the
voice of the Old Man incautiosuly
lifted.
“Certainly. Thet's so. A gang
of lazy drunken loafers. That's all
they are. Didn't have no more
sabe than to come yar with sick-
ness in the house and no provision.
That's wot you would expect o' such
trash as lays round the Bar.”
A burst of laughter followed this
unfortunate exposure. Suddenly a
door slammed with violence. The
Old Man reappeared, happily uncon-
scious of the cause of his late hi-
larious outburst. He smiled bland-
ly.
“The old woman thought she
would run over to Mrs. McFaddens
for a sociable call,” he explained
with {aunty indifference. Oddly
enough, it needed this incident to
relieve the embarrassment. The
natural audacity returned.
Jt was nearly midnight when the
festivities were interrupted.
“Hush,” said Dick Bullen, holding
up his hand.
“Dad,” came the voice of Johnny
from the closet. The Old Man
rose hurriedly and disappeared.
“His rheumatiz is coming on
again,” he explained. “He wants
vubbing.” He took the demijohn of
whisky from the table and shook
it. t was empty. Dick put down
his tin cup with an embarrassed
laugh. The Old Man examined the
contents of all the cups and said
hopefully:
“Reckon that's enough. Hedon't
need much. You hold on a spell.
I'll be back.”
The door closed but conversation
still could be heard imperfectly.
“Now, sonny, where does it ache
the most?”
“Sometimes over yar and some-
times over yer.”
Silence. A brisk rubbing, Then—
“Tomorrow's Christmas. Ain't
it?”
“Yes, sonny. How does she feel
now ?"
“Better. Rub a little furder down.
Wot's Crismiss, anyway? What's
it all about?”
“Oh, it's a day.”
“Mar sez that everywhere else but
yer everybody gives things to every-
pody Chrismiss. Then she just
waded inter you. She sez thar's a
man Sandy Claws, not a white man
but a kind of Chinaman, comes
down the chimbley night afore
Chrismiss and gives things to chil-
dren, boys like me.
tried to play upon me. Easy, Pop,
whar are you rubbin’' to--that's a
mile from the place—Why, dad!”
In the great quiet that fell upon
the house the sigh of the pines and
the drip of leaves without was very
distinct. Johnny's voice was low-
ered as he went on.
“Don't you take on, now, fur I'm
gettin’ all right fast. Wot's the
boys doing out thar?”
The Old Man opened the door and
peered out. His guests were get-
ting on sociably enough. There
were a few silver coins and a buck-
skin purse on the table.
“Bettin’ on suthin’-— some little
game or ‘'nother,” he replied and
recommenced his rubbing.
“I'd like to take a hand and win
some money,” said Johnny reflec-
| tively.
“Why do they call it Chrismiss?”
the child went %n again.
The Old Man continued rubbing.
The house took on an uwonted
That's wot she p
I'm
'Thar's them, now
| There was a low tap on the door.
goin’ in a jiffy.
Outside
“Can I make it—it's
miles, the round trip.
mare?”
nigh on 50
Whar's the
the ,
“Let them hold her a minute
longer.”
house. The Old Man had fallen
asleep. Beside him lay Johnny.
Dick parted his huge mustaches
with both hands and stooped over
the sleeping boy.
mischievous blast rekindled the
hearth with light. Dick fled in
bashful terror.
His companions were waiting for
him at the c¢ . They were
struggling with some mishaped bulk,
which as Dick came nearer bore the
resemblance of a horse.
“Stand clear of the heels, boys,”
someone called. “Don’t miss your
first holt of her mane. Mind yer
get your stirrup, quick. Ready!”
There was a wild leap, a scram-
bling struggle, a bound and a retreat
of the crowd. A circle of flying
hoofs, two springless leaps that jar-
red the earth, a rapid play and
jingle of spurs, a plunge.
“Don’t take the lower road unless
you are hard pushed for time,”
someone called. “We'll be at the
ford at five.”
A splash, a spark struck from the
road. A clatter in the rocky cut
beyond and Dick was gone.
At one o'clock Dick had only
gained Rattlesnake Hill. For by
that time the mare, Jovita had re-
hearsed all her imperfections and
had practiced all her vices. Twice
she had reared and fell backwards.
Twice had the artful Dick, unharm-
ed regained his seat before she found
her legs again.
A mile beyond them, at the foot
of a long hill was Rattlesnake Creek,
the crucial test of the night. Dick
set his teeth, put his knees well un-
der the mare's flanks and changed
his defensive tactics to those of brisk
aggression. Bullied and maddened,
Jovita made the descent of the hill.
The time made in the descent is
written in the chronicles of Simp-
son's Bar. To Dick it seemed a
single moment until the mare was
splashing in the overflowed banks of
the Creek.
Beyond the road was tolerably
level. Hollows, ditches, patches of
fresh grass all flew beneath the rat-
tling hoofs. There was no abate-
ment in strength and speed. At
two o'clock Red Mountain was pass-
ed. Ten minutes later, the driver
of the stage coach was overtaken by
“a man on a pinto horse,” an event
sufficiently notable for remark. At
half past two, Dick rose in his oar
rups with 4 great shout. rs
were glittering through the rifted
clouds and beyond him rose two
Spires, a flagstaff and a line of black
objects. He jingled his spurs and
bounded forwards. In another mo-
ment they swept into Tutlesville to
the wooden plaza of the Hotel of
All Nations.
Jovita was handed over to a
sleepy hostler while Dick and the bar
keeper sallied out for a tour of the
sleeping town. Lights gleamed
from a few saloons. But avoiding
these they stopped before the closed
shops and by judicious tapping and
persistent outcry they aroused the
proprietors from their sleep. Some-
times they were met with curses
but oftenest with concern for their
needs. The interview was invari-
ably concluded with a drink. It
was three o'clock before this was
over. With a small water proof
bag, Dick returned to the hotel.
Dick sprang to his saddle and
dashed down the lonely street and
into the lonelier plain. The lights,
the black line of houses, the spires
and the
and were lost in the distance.
To avoid the rising grade Dick
'had chosen a longer road,
mud Jovita sank fetlock deep at
every bound. But Jovita took it
with her usual blind unreasoning
fury and half an hour later reached
the level that led to Rattlesnake
Creek.
Suddenly Jovita shied with a
bound that would have unseated a
less practiced rider. Up rose a
shadowy horse and rider.
“Throw up your hands.”
The mare trembled and apparent-
ly sank under him. But Dick was
repared.
“Stand aside Jack Simpson, and
let me pass, you d-—d thief.”
He did not finish the sentence.
Jovita rose straight into the air
i
|
his eyes.
Simpson's Bar, the sleeping boy. He
‘opened his eyes, cast off his boots,
. coat, pistol and saddle. He bound
his precious pack tightly to his
shoulders as he grasped the bare
flanks of Jovita with his bare knees.
With a shout he dashed into the
yellow water. A cry rose from
the opposite bank as the head of
man and horse struggled against
the battling current and then were
swept away amid the rooted trees
‘and whirling driftwood.
“Bill and Jack are holding her at
Dick crept softly into the
But as he did a
The Old Man started and awoke.
The fire was dead. The candlein
the outer room flickered in its sock-
et. Somebody rapped on the door.
He opened it. A dripping half
naked figure reeled against the door
post.
“Dick.”
“Hush! Is he awake?”
“No but—"
“Shut up you old fool. Give me
some whisky. Quick" Dick stag-
gered, caught ho'd of the handle of
the door and motioned to the Old
Man.”
“Thar’s suthin’ in my pack for
your Johnny. Take it off. I can't.
The Old Man unstrapped the pack
and laid it on the table.
“Open it, quick--"
He did so with trembling fingers.
It contained only a few cheap toys
—bright and barbaric in paint and
tinsel. One of them was broken.
Another was ruined by water. A
third bore a cruel spot.
“It doesn't look like much. That's
a fact,” Dick said ruefully. “But
it's the best we could do. Take
them, Old Man. Put them in his
stocking and tell him—tell him, you
know--hold me, Old Man.”
The Old Man caught the sinking
figure.
“Tell him,” said Dick with a
laugh, “Tell him Sandy Claus has
come.”
And even so, bedraggled, ragged,
unshaven, with one arm hanging
helplessly at his side, Santa Claus
came to Simpson's Bar and fell
fainting on the first threshold. The
Christmas dawn touched the re-
moter peaks with rosy warmth. It
looked so tenderly on Simpson's Bar
that the whole mountain, as if
caught in a generous action, blush-
ed to the skies.—By Bret Harte -
in Pittsburgh Press.
—
FREE FUEL OFFERED
FROM STATE FORESTS
Free fuelwood from the State for-
ests of Pennsylvania is available for
the relief of distress among the un-
employed, according to a statement
issued by Lewis E. Staley, Secretary
of the Department of Forests and
Waters. State Forest officers have
been authorized to issue free cut-
ting permits in the State forests
to the needy who cannot afford to
buy their winter fuel.
Welfare and charitable organiza-
tions engaged in helping families
d the present unemployment
“crisis can supply the homes of the
needy by getting in touch with local
district foresters and arranging for
fuelwood cutting by qualified per-
sons.
The Department already has made
free wood available at the site of
the Pymatuning dam where consid-
erable clearing work is under pro-
gress. The present system will af-
fect all localities where there are
State forests.
Forestry officials estimated that in
the one and one-half million acres
of Pennsylvania State Forests there
are 50,000 cords of wood available
in the form of dead and fallen tim-
bers, and, if this amount is insuffi-
cient to supply the homes of the
needy with fuel, 50,000 additional
cords can be released with no detri-
ment to the remaining timber stand.
Secretary Staley announced that
wood to be provided for fuel under
this plan consists of blight-killed
‘chestnut and diseased and fire killed
flagstaff vanished behind 28'
in whose |
timber. This material includes both
standing and fallen, dead and dam-
ed trees, which will make excel-
lent fuel. Special areas, easily ac-
cessible for transporting the cord-
wood, will be set aside in the State
Forests where cutting will be done
under the supervision of State For-
est officers.
No cutting may be done without
a permit, and the sale or exchange
of fuelwood for services or com.
modities will be prohibited. Fuel-
wood may not be cut for use in
commercial enterprises, such as
stores, hotels, and roadside stands.
The quantity of material removed
must be limited to the amount ac-
tually required by a family or fam-
ilies to whom permits are issued.
The action of the Department of
Forests and Waters insures sufficient
cordwood to take care of 10,000
Pennsylvania homes during the pres-
with a teriffic bound, threw the fig- |
ure from her bit with a single shake
of her vicious head and charged
with deadly malevolence down on
the impediment before her. But
the good right arm of her rider,
shattered by a bullet, dropped help- |
lesaly at his side.
thout slackening speed he shift-
ed the reins to the left hand. He
had to stop to tighten the saddle
girths. This in his crippled condi-
(tion took some time. e was not
|afrald of pursuit, but a deadly ter-
‘ror clutched his heart when he saw
| the eastern stars were paling in the
y.
During the last few rods there
|was a roaring in his ears, caused
| by exhaustion from loss of blood.
| Dazed and giddy, he swept down the
(hill. He did not recognize his sur-
reneated by the rest of the party stillness. The Old Man got up roundings. Had he taken the wrong
and before the
was aware of the intention of his
guests thev had departed.
The night was pitchy uk. In
the first gust of wind t.eir tem-
porary torches were extinguished
and onlv the red brands dancing
and flitting in the wfoom like drunk-
en will.o-the-wisps indicated their
whereabouts.
doing. To his surprise the house
| was dark and deserted. A flare
{from a smoldering log revealed the
frame of Dick Bullen.
| “Whar's the boys?” asked the Old
| Man.
| “Gome up the canon. They're
|coming back in a minute. Don’t
mind manners. You just stay where
astonished grocer again to see what his guests were road or was this Rattlesnake Creek ?
| It was. But the bawling creek
ent winter.
PROF. GARDNER OF STATE,
SIGNALLY HONORED.
Professor F. D. Gardner, head of
the department of agronomy at the
Pennsylvania State College since
1908, was signally honored Novem.
‘ber 19, by election as a fellow in
| meeting
the American Society of Agronomy,
in Chicago. By coinci-
dence, the day of the election was
thea nniversary of Professor Gard-
iner's birth.
‘sistant agriculturist.
1908 he was scientist and soils ex-!
Graduated from the University of
Illinois in 1891, Professor Gardner
served there for four years as as-
From 1895 t.
pert in the bureau of soils, United
(States Department or Agriculture.
| During that time he was in charge
‘of the Porto Rico Experiment Sta-
'he had swam a few hours earlier’
|had more than doubled its volume |
[ia now rolled a swift and restless
| river between him and Rattlesnake |
Hill. For the first time that night
his heart sank within him. ‘The
{ river, the mountain, the quickening
| east swam before him.
i
tion for three years.
Professor Gardner is author of,
“Successful Farming;” “Farm Crops,
their Cultivation and Management;”
and “Soils and Soil Management.”
|He also has written many bulletins
| containing
He shut
the reswts of
ments he has conducted.
In that interval there FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
came back to him the little room at
DAILY THOUGHT
Absence may make
Hearts grow fonder—
| Of what they garner
| As they wander!
i —Ruth Lambert Jones.
!| —Christmas is the one season
when the kitcheh must be on dress
parade. As the heart of the home,
it is the center for all the jolly in-
dustry which results in puddings
and pies, sugar and spice and every-
thing nice from the delicious sea-
food cocktail to the plum pudding of
the holiday dinner. But it must be
in readiness. It can't produce de-
lectable things unless its knives are
sharp, its cutters keen, its bowls
many, its scale accurate.
. So here is some advice about a
dozen sundry items which help the
kitchen give its best to holiday
cooking. And, moreover, most of
these convenient and helpful tools
would make excellent presents for the
housewife's own stocking. Why not
give simple and inexpensive “Christ-
‘mas Gifts that Save Labor” instead
‘of bonbons or books?
It is surprising how long the giv-
er of a handy little kitchen knick-
nack will be remembered with pleas-
ure all year through. Often these
items are novelties which the house-
wife would like to buy for herself,
but feels perhaps they are a little
bit of an extravagance. And that's
what every real gift should be—a
luxury, a more than ordinary object,
s0 much more pleasurable than a
common necessity!
No holiday dinner, of course,
could be evolved without a chopper,
a grater and a mixer. So here are
three new ones.
First, there is the chopper, which
has a triple blade and which does
as much chopping at a single stroke
as it usually would take three maids
with three choppers to do! But it
is all in one and of stainless steel,
no hope for onions, parsley, nuts or
mincemeat when this chopper slices
onward.
Then there is the stationary grat-
er, which every kitchen should have
all the time. It is much like a
meat chopper except that instead of
having different blades, one may
speedily interchange its metal cyl-
inders, each one of which does a
different job well, such as grating
cheese, grinding crumbs for stuffing,
slicing apples and root vegetables.
Dull knives will not cut thinly
sliced meat nor attractive cake, nor
will they charmingly dismember the
holiday bird, whether that be turkey
or goose. So a knife sharpener is
an inalienable adjunct of every
kitchen. This one consists of a
couple of wheels on a stand and all
you do is draw the blade across sev-
eral times when said blade will re-
new its keen zest and cutting skill.
If there are children in the fam-
dy, then the new sieve for baby's
food is another gift which every
young mother would delight in. It
has a glass dish and cover and in
the top fits a stainless steel per-
forated disk. To use it push a
small stiff spatula up and down over
the vegetable pulp, and, of course,
only the strained portion will fall in-
to the glass dish beneath. Strange
somebody didn't think of this thing
long ago.
For example, there is a new and
very clever zeppelin mold, shaped
just like the famous dirigible. How
smart it would make a quivering
cranberry jelly! Or what about a
turkey mold for the ice or cream?
Or a curved fish mold for the en-
tree? Simple dishes look sophisti-
cated if given fancy shapes.
Then, coming a little nearer the
utility viewpoint, there is the sauce-
pan bar which mother would sure-
ly welcome. Here we have six
sliding hooks on a heavy bar of
aluminum. Fasten the bar to the
wall or the shelf ana hang the six
pans on it. There they are, clean,
visible and easy to grasp. Better,
give mother two racks and thus
take care of all the pots in the
pantry.
If you are thinking of the house
for a gift, here are some more sug-
gestions; radiator covers, and radia-
tor moisteners; a new kind of coat
tree which collapses and folds into
umbrella space, and which is the
best ever to have on hand when you
are planning to have a party and
must take care of extra guest cloth-
ing; a boot wiper that is so good
looking that you are almost tempt-
ed to pick it up by its long handle
‘and walk off with it. It has a
‘handle of brass, at the base of
which is a circular thick bristle
brush. Of course it will stand any-
where and let feet, little or big,
‘brush the mud off on its sturdy
bristles.
Last, don’t forget cleaning cioths
as jolly stuffers for the house wife's
stocking. Slide several of these
down among the nuts and oranges,
or under the tree. What are they?
Why, specially impregnated cloths
which will clean silver, brass or
copper without the use of additional
powders or liquids.
But I shall have to stop right
here, only saying again that the
small counter is a good bet from
which to choose Christmas gifts.
—American women become su-
preme in the air when the Interna-
tional Aeronautics Federation ac-
cepted as the women's world straight-
line distance record the 1,976-mile
flight of Miss Ruth Nichols of Rye,
YY, from Ookland, Cal., to Louis-
v. on Oct. 24-25, 1931.
A.. “ican women now hold six of
‘the se, 1 recognized world's air rec-
ords——speed, altitude, distance and
useful loads.
| The latest record gives Miss Nich-
ols two palms, for she also holds
the world's speed record for women
| with her fight at 210 miles an hour.
Miss Elinor Smith has one, Mrs.
Amelia Earhart Putnam holds two
Edna May Cooper share another.
upon request, can arrange a demon-
stration on saw filing.
—Brood sows should be well pro-
tected during the winter and provid-
ed with clean, dry, comfortable
sleeping quarters. They should,
shine to keep them healthy.
—To clean soiled eggs use a knife
or steel wool to remove the greater
part of the dirt. Then wipe the
eggs clean with a damp cloth.
Washed eggs do not keep well, say
State College poultry specialists.
—During the past two dry years,
better yields of corn have been ob-
tained on fall-plowed soil than on
spring plowed land. Even in wet
seasons, fall plowing gives as good
or slightly better yields than late
spring plowing. Plowing as much
land as possbile in the fall saves a
great deal of work in the spring.
—Poison bait for mouse control
may be placed now in the orchards.
The bait should be so placed that it
is hidden from birds, livestock, or
irresponsible persons. Wide-necked
bottles and tin cans may be used,
or the bait may be placed under
Noarats or in the tunnels of the ro-
nts.
—Good tools kept in condition
will make gardening a pleasure next
year. Now is the time to clean all
tools and cover the metal parts
with light grease. Hotbed sash
probably need paint. If the hot-
bed is cleaned it will be ready for
use next February or March.
Wheat makes a good feed for
dairy cattle in amounts up to one-
third of the total grain mixture. It
should be rolled or coarsely ground
and mixed with bulky feeds, such
as bran or oats, in addition to
enough protein feed to make a bal-
anced ration.
—Trees have been dying this year
as a result of the severe drouth last
year. By harvesting them now,
good logs may be saved for lumber
or firewood. If these dead trees
are allowed to stand through anoth-
er summer, many of them will be
rendered useless by decay, say Penn
State foresters.
--Colony or individual hog houses
are easy and inexpensive to build.
They are warmer and more sanitary
than most central farrowing houses.
If such houses are not available,
they can be built during the winter
So they will be ready for farrowing
time.
--Seed corn which has dried out
about as much as corn ordinarily
does by May 1, when stored in cribs,
can be shelled and stored in sacks
or in metal containers, which have
a few holes in the top for ventila-
tion, until planting time.
~—There are 612 licensed milk
dealers in the State of Pennsylvania,
whose daily sales are from one to
nine quarts, according to figures
made public by R. E. Irwin, chief
of the bureau milk control, depart-
ment of health. This gives some
idea of the number of milk produc-
ers, on a small scale, who are sell-
ing a part of the product from a
very few cows, Irwin said. No
matter how small is the output sold,
each dealer must apply for and re-
ceive u permit from the State board
of health.
More than 310 applicants stated
that their sales would run from 10
to 14 quarts per day. The
single group—T755 applicants report-
ed that they would sell between 100
and 200 quarts daily. The total
‘number of JineanLy for sales per-
mits was 3576, and the total num-
ber of quarts of raw milk sold daily
reaches 306,000.
Forty-eight reported sales of more
than 500 quarts daily in the raw
milk field, while an exactly equal
number of applicants stated that
their sales would run over 5000
‘quarts per day in the pasteurized
‘division of the dairy industry. When
it comes to totals, the difference in
the number of quarts sold daily, is
enormous. For instance, 3576 ap-
plicants report sales of 306,000
quarts of raw milk daily; while
570 applicants stated that sales in
the pasteurized section will reach
the .total of 1,639,000 quarts. On
this basis it is estimated that more
than seven million persons in Penn-
sylvania are daily consumers of
pasteurized milk.
~The double attack of depression
and drought has dealt a
blow to the poultry business in
Pennsylvania.
Economists of the Department of
Agriculture have found a larger
stock of poultry in the State on
January 1 was worth less than 2a
smaller flock two years ago. Ac-
cording to their figures 20,351 chick-
‘ens last January 1 were worth only
$19,944,000, whereas 19,034 on Jan-
uary 1, 1929, were valued at $23.-
031,000.
In 1920 the figures were 20,181,
worth $26,647,000,
| The rainless weather of the sum-
mer of 1930 sent corn feed to high
| prices and consequently caused a res
duction in the number of chickens
raised. The depressen sent chicken
prices to the lowest level in a dozen
years.
Hens laid 1,766 millions of eggs
| during last year, of which 1.476 mil-
| lions were sold for domestic pur-
poses. The sales orought an in-
—Common sense and experience
{will raise more chickens to laying
jage than the advice of a dozer
experi- and Mis: Evelyn Trout and Miss neiehbors.
come of $35,719,000.
i