Page Six
Don M. Kimmel, Clerk of the Or-
hans’ Court, has issued the following
narriage licenses during the past
veek: Robert R. Riley and Elsie
lizabeth Berkey, both of Somerset;
eorge P. Riley and Florede F. Lich-
ter, both of Salisbury; John Kozak,
if Greensburg, and William Horkey,
arnesboro; Roy B. Woleslagle, of
arimer, and Helen R. Bittner, of
rampion; John Maruschock and
ary Mlynarczyk, both of Windber;
irl M. Oakman, of Jerome, and Ada
. Yoder, of Friedens.
Miss Florede F. Lichliter, daughter
Mr. and Mrs. C. S. Lichliter, and
borge P. Riley, son of Mr. and Mrs.
F. Riley, both of Salisbury, were
prried at Johnstown, by the Rev.
hn N. Codori.
Miss Lillian Dawson, daughter of
r. and Mrs. Thomas Dawson, oi
prnesboro, and Clyde E. Brubaker,
of Mr. and Mrs. Jacob Brubaker,
Johnstown, were married at Johns-
, by the Rev. G. K. Walker.
iss Helen R. Bittner, daughter of
and Mrs. Calvin Bittner, of
ampion, and Roy B. Woleslagle,
h of Mrs. Philip M. Woleslagle, of
imer, were married at Indian
ad, by the Rev. H. C. Gonso.
Miss Ada M. Yoder, daughter of
and Mrs. Hiram Yoder, of Frie-
bs, and Earl M. Oakman, son ot
and Mrs. Benjamin K. Oakman,
Jerome, were married at Somerset,
the Rev. I. Hess Wagner.
iss Mary Mlynarczyk, daughter of
and Mrs. Adam Mlynarczyk, and
n Maruschock, son of Mr. and Mrs.
n Maruschock, both of Windber,
e married at Somerset, by Don M.
mel, Clerk of the Orphans’ Court.
iss Anna Rebecca Kinsey, daugh-
of Mr. and Mrs. Wade H. Kinsey,
Robert M. Corter, son of Mr. and
. W. R. Corter, both of Ligonier
bnship were married at Somerset,
he Rev. J. F. Messenger.
rs. Mary Kelly Seaton, daughter
Ir. and Mrs. John Kelly, and John
n Seaton, son of Mr. and Mrs.
rt Seaton, both of Windber, were
ied at Windber, by the Rev. J.
bld Gwynne.
iss Edna Elizabeth Dempsey,
hter of Mr. and Mis. D, F,
psey, and Lloyd Edward Naugle,
pf° Mr. and Mrs. Edward Naugle,
of Holsopple, were married at
dsville, by the Rev. Maurice R.
ius.
ss Sophia V. Adamchik, daughter
r. and Mrs. Constantine Adam-
of Cairnbrook, and Walter J.
biniak, son of Mr. and Mrs. Tho-
Rustelniak, of Detroit, Mich.,
married at Central City, by fhe
Ignatius M. Pilz.
ANTIC CITY TO HAVE
FESTIVAL OF LIGHT
antic City proposes to combine
lersaries with Thomas A. Edison.
breat Jersey shore resort secur-
place on the map as an incor-
pd city 75° years ago, and 25
ago Edison perfected the in-
cent bulb. That is the explan-
of Atlantic City’s six months of
mation period which will begin
pring and last for six months.
and Spray, the snappy publica-
bf the Chalfonte-Haddon Hotel
which have been the leading
of rest, recreation and relaxa-
t Atlantic City for 60 years—
f the Fountain of Light, which
be the feature of the half-year
ation. The National Golden
le of Light will cost Atlantic
| goodly sum—but Atlantic City
k does things splendidly! The
in will be 18 feet across at the
nd surrounded by an octagonal
BO feet in diameter, and will
a multitude of streams to a
of 30, 20, and 15 feet. There
an ever-changing combination
r effects from projecting lamps
the water level in the basin
fountain. Another great spec-
Fill be the Arch of Jewels, con-
more than 25,000 jeweled
The hotels, piers, shops and
balk are being made into ver-
fairyland of colorful lights,
n imposing aurora borealis ef-
being arranged in front of the
lantic City Auditorium, which
dedicated and opened on May
REASING SAFETY
Kecksburg; Clyde E. Brubaker, of
ohnstown, and Lillian Dawson, of
Treasurer of Somerset County to
Commissioners of Somerset County,
Boswell; $12.60.
Commissioners of Somerset County
to Adam C. Berkebile, Boswell, $1.
Adam G. Berkebile, et ux. to Ar-
thur G. Kaufman, Boswell; $1.
Ernest Griffin et ux. to Charles J.
Harrison, Jr., et al.,, Somerset Bor-
ough; $1.
John O. Keefer et ux. to Hays Con-
gregational Reformed Church Trus-
tees, Berlin; $1.
First National Bank, Somerset, to
Howard R. Reed, Somerset Borough;
$1.
Nelson Pritts et ux. to R. A. E.
Mognet, Middlecreek Township, $1,-
500.
R. A. E. Mognet et ux. to Nelson
Pritts, Middlecreek Township, $1,200.
Henry Sarver, Jr, to S. Harvey
Sarver, et ux., Allegheny Township,
$1.
Charles Hentz et ux. to Edward N.
Martin et ux., Somerset Township,
$10.
Charles Hentz et ux. to Newton E.
Beabes et ux. Somerset Township;
$10.
Maritime Coal Co. Receiver of
Trust Co. of Glen Rock, Confluence.
Allen J. Reeser et ux., Assignee, to
Edward Nelson, Windber; $1,600.
Edward Nelson et ux. to Katharine
V. Reeser, Windber; $1,952.34.
Noah Berkey et ux. to Cora Walk-
er, Paint Township; $1.
Webster Thomas et ux. to Ira C.
Lohr et ux., Conemaugh Township;
$5,000.
Gregor Walat to Angela Walat
Wazny et vir, Conemaugh Township;
31.
F. J. Audet et ux. to David F.
Younkin et ux., Conemaugh Town-
ship; $1.
Lewis Weaver et ux. to Lewis Wea-
ver et ux., Trustee, Central City, $1.
Frank Romesberg et ux. et al. to
David Goodstein, Central City; $1.
David Goodstein et ux. to Martin L.
Markel et ux., Central City; $1.
E. B. Maurer et ux. to Herman
Shaver et ux., Jennertown; $1.
Ella E. Rodamer to Emma J. Rehn,
Elk Lick Township; $1.
‘Morris Cohen et ux. to Somerset
Improvement Company, Somerset Bor-
ough, $1.
David B. Wertz et ux. to Mrs. An-
nie Fidler, Conemaugh Township; $1,-
400.
Albert B. Lowry to Annie Kretch-
man, Elk Lick Township; $75.
Annie Kretchman to Edith Kretch-
man et al., Elk Lick Township; $1.
Bolinda Ling et vir to William
Faidley et ux., Quemahoning Town-
ship; $100.
Irvin E. Miller et ux. to S. E. Dee-
ter, Stonycreek Township; $1.
The Tax-Reducing
Fairy Tale is Heard
Just how the people can be fooled
year after year by fairy tales of tax
reduction which will be secured by
creating a new tax, is hard to under-
stand.
Following are a few illustrations of
“new taxes” which did not reduce any
old taxes. We just pay the new tax
plus increased general taxes.
Ten years ago Oregon passed the
first gasoline tax. Today every state
in the union including Oregon has a
greatly increased gas tax which it is
estimated will collect $450,000,000
“special taxes” {rom motor car own-
ers in 1929. Already a large part of
this revenue is diverted to other than
highway purposes, but all other taxes
climb.
Taxes upon insurance companies
originally intended to cover only cost
of insurance supervision, have now
been increased to a point where the
money thus raised is used for every-
thing under the gun and only four per
cent of it goes to supervise insurance,
says the Boston Standard.
Many of our “tax reducing politi-
cians” are suggesting a state income
tax as a “tax reducer.” Also taxes of
various kinds of so-called intangible
property—money in the bank, mort-
gages, bonds, stocks—over and above
all taxes which such property now
pays or has paid while i was being
saved.
We have licens: taxes of too many
kinds to enumerate, inheritance taxes
which take a large part of some per-
son’s savings of a lifetime, federal in-
come taxes, state, city, county, school
district, road district and innumerable
other taxes.
REALTY DEALS
Don’t let anybody tell you that a
“new tax” will “reduce” any old tax
which you now pay. Every new tax
: - be-| makes added public employes who eat
Bh the serie nt Semper jo'up the revenue produced by new
3 . &
at motor manufacturers are| taxes.
more attention to designing
bodies and better lights and
affic congestion grows and
is of additional automobiles
m our streets and highways
BLAZE AT SOMERSET
atterable glass and four- A serious fire was prevented at
kes have added their margin | Barnett’s garage on Saturday through
to driving. And now as a| quick action on the part of R. D.
safety factor the all-steel| Barnett, proprietor, and his employ-
being used exclusively on! ees, when a touring car caught fire
kes of cars of all prices. | from a short circuit in the ignition.
piodern railroad eliminated| An a]arm was turned in for the Som-
aches in favor of steel cars). cot volunteer Fire Company, but
1 g + ila which :
modern automobile Si CA meanwhile employees at the garage
so protect life, has followed |
pital for crippled kiddies; you know,
going to make his money forget its
must have you! I simply must! Take
me and say—" |
MEYERSDALE COMMERCIAL, THURSDAY, MAY 9, 1929
of
i
0.9.9.0. 9.000000
D>
| er CT EES
|
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A Disturbed
Decision
20000000 0ee
By A. W. PEACH
LOOSE
QoMETIMES it seems as if into our
moments of supreme happiness
fate drovped a regret or disaster that
immediately comes pretty near to dis-
solving that happiness. So it seemed
to Richard Marsh as he read and re-
read the letter upon his desk. 4
The preceding evening he had gone
to the little cottage at the end of the
| broad street where Avery Wells lived
| with her pleasant-faced mother, and
there, in the homelike quiet of the
cottage living room, he had looked in-
to Avery's dark eyes and asked the
question as bravely as he could, which
she had answered in a whisper.
He had spent most of the night
dreaming in his rooms, building cas-
tles. He loved the village, and the
village people trusted him. His fu-
ture did not promise giory and gold,
but it did promise happiness with
Avery to share it with him. And now,
from beyond the grave, Brinner had
reached with bitter ingenuity to wreck
a dream he could not share.
Marsh turned to the letter. It was
from a law firm in Philadelphia. It
said In precise phrases that Edgar
Brinner had died, that in his will a
bequest of $100,000 was made to Miss
Avery Wells.
He knew that as Jar as he was con-
cerned two things were plain; he
could not marry Avery if she accept-
ed this money bequeathed to her by
his old and bitter rival; yet that sum
of money meant for her and her moth-
er independence and comfort, the re-
moval of worry, after long years of
severe and frugal living.
One thing he wag sure of: if Avery
knew how he felt, she would not ac-
cept the bequest. Marsh reasoned, “I
cannot ask her to give the fortune
up: and Brinner knew I would not.
Funny, how a dead man in his grave
can tangle up the living,”
Under the stress of his suffering
memories, his thinking became a bit
hazy, but he came to a decision. He
heard the jingling sleighbells, the
hearty greetings as men came into
the post office below him; faint as
they were they were clear enough to
make him think of the wholesome.
friendly life of his village. With the
thought came his decision. A friend
in a northern city had written to him
repeatedly to join him where oppor-
tunity was wide apd money ready.
He would go, refuse to assume charge
of the fund and shut the doer quietly
but firmly in his little house of
dreams.
A week passed. He did not see
Avery, and pleaded as an excuse that
he was very busy. He was—in the
grievous business of slowly sunder-
ing all ties that bound him to the
home of his boyhood and his man-
hood. :
Sometimes he was doubtful of the
wisdom of his purpose, at times when
his great longing for Avery broke
through the barriers his judgment had
set, at times when the dream castles
loomed so brightly on the hills that
they seemed almost real. But ever
and anon he returned once more *‘o
his decision.
Then came the
clinched the matter. A friend had.
come in, his voice athrill with the
news. “Dick, what do you think?
Brinner has left Avery $100,000!
What makes you start? The news?
I should think it would. And, say,
Avery is going to accept it!”
“I stopped in to get her ‘to sing ar
the church fair, and she told me about
it—said she would. She was happy
as a lark over it.” His friend’s face
grew sober. “I suppose this will make
a little difference with you, but not
serious.”
“Serious!” Marsh laughed bitterly,
his mind whirling at the thought of
her acceptance. He had hoped in a
dim way she would refuse the money.
“Serious? No, except I'm going to
leave the village for good!”
The realization dawning upon him
that he had given himself away under
the strain, he swore his friend to si-
incident that
lence, and he heard him pounding
down the stairs, muttering as he
went.
He turned to his desk. Dusk came
down over the village.
He did not hear Avery until she
stood beside him.
Then she spoke, and the office
seemed filled with pleasant music.
“Dear, Ted swore to keep his word
to you, but he came to me; said he
would keep no such fool promise as
he made you. I think I know all that
is wrong. They wrote me of the
money, as Binner told them to, that
you were to have charge of it. You
want me to have it for what you
think is mother’s happiness and mine,
and you won't come to me if I do
take it. You see, I ot Why, I
couldn’t take it. I couldnt be happy
with it. I love you, the village and
the ones I have known from girlhood.
I couldn’t touch a penny of it, because
I knew how he got it. You see—"
He rose to his feet trembling. “But
you accepted it!”
Her white teeth gleamed a bit in a
smile. “For others! I'm going to
turn every cent of it over to that hos-
the one we visited.
broke my
That visit nearly
heart—seeing them. I'm
4
In the Haunted
House
POOOOOOOOGS
By FREDERICK HART
DG
~ wv al
(Copyright.)
“Dp SHAW! There's no such thing
as a ghost!” Cordelia Davis’
voice was defiant. “There's no more
harm in that old house than there is
in a chicken coop.”
“But, Cordelia, old Bates says—"
! “Oh, don’t tell me what old Bates
says! 1 wouldn't believe that old rep-
robate on a stack of Bibles!”
The object of Cordelia’s outburst
of skepticism was a group of young
pecple around the fireplace in the
Davis country house.
The talk had drifted from golf and
bridge to haunted houses and some
one had mentioned the deserted house
up the road, stating that it was haunt-
ed, and adducing the evidence of old
Bates, the peripatetic gardener of the
Davis menage, as evidence in support.
A weird tale of moving lights and
hollow groans had caused the com-
pany to sit a little closer around the
fire—all except Cordelia. She shouted
her derision at the idea, and over
rode the objections of the company.
“Why,” she fnished, as a sort of
crusher to trample all opposition, “I
wouldn't be afraid to spend a night
in that eld place any time. [ll go
there tonight!”
And before anyone could protest
she was out of the room. Looking out
of the window they could see her in
the early moonlight walking rapidly
toward the path that led to the haunt-
ed house, with a shawl which she had
caught up in her progress through the
hall, thrown over her head. The com-
pany returned to their seats by the
fire a little sobered by the incident.
“l think Cordelia’s very foolish to
rush off like that,” said Betty Sterne,
one of the most popular of the guests.
“She might meet a tramp or a dog or
anything. Don’t you think some one
might go after her?”
“Whoever went after her would run
an awful risk of being eaten alive,”
retorted Charles West, Betty's suitor
of the moment. “Cordelia’s made up
her mind, and nothing we could do
would change it.”
So the crowd continued its chatter,
apparently forgetful of the obstinate
Cordelia. But one man was moody
and silent. This was Jimmy Westlake.
He did not like the idea of Cordelia’s
being out alone, even though the
ruined house was on her own property
and there was nothing to be appre-
hended from tramps or other prowlers
of the night. His solicitude was not
entirely based on disinterestedness;
Cordelia had long.ago entangled him
in the meshes of her attractiveness.
but he was by nature a silent man,
who did not show well in the com-
pany of the «brilliant, if s¥allow-
er, group that “Surrounded Cordelia.
So he had never spoken.
As the hour wore on toward half-
past eleven, Jimmy’s uneasiness in-
creased. Finally he could bear it no
longer, and with a word of excuse
about going out to the garage to see
about something he had forgotten to
do to his car, he slipped from the
room. Once outside he headed for the
haunted house.
The = broken edifice was ghostly
enough in the pale moonlight, with
Its erumbling walls, glassless windows
and shattered door: He stole cautious-
ly up the path te the doorway, and
ever as his fcot touched the worn sill
He heard a muffled shriek from with-
fn. Every nerve on fire, he rushed
through the littered hall and came to
a door from behind which emanated
sobs mingled with an unearthly clank-
ing sound.
It was locked, but his shoulder sent
it crashing inward and he found him-
self in a room dusty with the accumu-
lation of years, in which the moon-
light filtered dimly through dirty
panes; in one corner a huddled heap
of white which he knew to be Cor-
delia; and across the floor something
black and shapeless was moving ac-
companied by that ghostly rattle!
He kicked savagely at the thing.
It leaped away with a snarl, and the
moonlight fell on it—a small dog with
a collar from -vhich dangled a few
feet of rusty chain!
Relieved, Jimmy laughed aloud, and
took two strides to where Cordelia
crouched, her hands over her face. At
the sound of his voice she looked up.
then suddenly sprang to her feet and
threw her arms around his neck, hid-
ing her face on his shoulder.
“Oh, Jimmy, Jimmy! I'm so glad
you came! I’m so glad!”
Even when he explained that it was
only a dog she refused to be com-
forted, shuddering against Lim and
begging to be taken home. He helped
her outdoors, and in the open air she
found relief in tears, his good right
arm holding her close. And as she
realized her need of him he felt surg-
ing through him his love for her, and
then and there, on the path that led
to her house he told her all that his
heart had ached to express. Her
tears ceased; but she did not draw
away from his protecting arm. At
the threshold of the house they
paused.
“And you were the only one to think
of coming for me!”
“I had to come—something made
me. I had to come because I love you
black past. Oh, my dear, I simply
|
The door opened slightly, and Ted |
stuck his head in, gasped at what he
extinguished the fire by means of a
— bucket brigade. The damage was
ve for The Commercial slight.
i
saw and with the utmost skill softly,
Hngeringly, gently closed it.
and have always loved you. Cordelia
| dear, you do care, don’t you?”
“Oh, Jimmy, I'm so glad I was fool
ish and willful and went to that hor-
rible. house! [I might never have
known—just think, 1 might never have
found out that you love ma and that—
and that I love you, Jimmy.”
|
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i don’t.
*
FORE C SCO SNS SOS See
Two Strings to .
Her Bow x
By LILLIACE M. MITCHELL
(Copyright)
©.
¢¢JF I had a chance at two men the
way you have,” said Marie bitter-
ly, “it wouldn't take me long to de-
cide to say yes to one of them—and
leave one for some other girl.”
Ellen stared at her friend. “But
you see, I've known both of them ever
since IT was a child and sometimes I
think it’s one and then again I think
it’s the other.” Her blue eyes cloud-
ed for a moment and then she smiled.
“But I know that I'll know—pretty
soon—" she paused.
“I believe that you knew right now
and are just—”
Ellen looked aggrieved.
But I know that—”
“Bother!” interrupted Marie and
slammed out of the house.
It was Saturday afternoon and EI-
len began preparing for the evening.
Tom always took her to dinner down-
town on Saturday nights and then
they usually went to a show while
they were still downtown. And so
on Saturday afternoons Ellen always
washed her hair and manicured her
nails with extra care for Tom, who,
although he never said anything con-
cerning ier personal appearance, al-
ways had the air of regarding her
critically as she stood in the hall,
She and Tom and David McGuire
had all gone to school at the little red
schoolhouse, which lay equidistant be-
tween their three homes. Tom had
gone to the city where he had made
a definite success in the bond business
which his uncle had founded some
forty years before, while David Mec-
Guire had stayed back in Hillstown,
where he worked hard on the farm all
summer and slaved all winter at the
little model of the potato-hiller he was
trying to perfect.
That evening she was drawing on
her white gloves under the affectionate
yet critical eyes of Tom when David
McGuire was announced. The men
greeted each other with the friendli-
ness that their school days warranted ;
yet, Ellen thought, there was a reserve
on the part of each.
Tom wore his clothes well and was
entirely at ease; David, however, was
plainly from the country.
It was decided that they should all
dine together and Ellen found as they
drove downtown in the taxi that Tom
had ordered that she had ample occa-
sion to look at the two men together.
She thought of the two proposals, so
like the men who had made them.
“I—I can’t give you much now,
honey—except love,” David said as
they had stood under a_tree laden
with cherry blossoms, “but some day
the potato hiller will work out and
then—then—" his eyes had looked far
‘away over the hills. (
~ Tom's proposal had come while they
stood waiting for a taxicab after the
theater: “I think a whole lot of you,
Ellen, and with your looks and my
money we'll just make the little old
town hum—I can give (you every-
thing I”
Everything—and nothing!
Tonight she would decide. She felt
it instinctively. At dinner she said
little. Tom did the ordering easily
and she saw that David McGuire was
delighted to be relieved of the duty.
David was plainly distressed by the
silverware and Ellen found that he
watched her eagerly to see which
should be picked up first. Between
courses Tom said:
“Ever study psychology, Dave?”
David shook his head.
“I'm much interested in it,” Tom
went on easily, “psychology, mental
sciences, Freudian theories and all of
that. I believe that a man can get on
faster in the world if he knows a good
deal about the workings of the minds
of the men with whom he deals. Take
me, for instance: when a fellow comes
into the office with a bit of money to
invest I can usually tell to a ‘t’ wheth-
er he is interested in public utilifies—
in Industrials or rails. I watch him
—that’s all—just watch him and see
where his eyes travel. After I know
that 1 mention different sums of
money until I see, by the flicker of
his eye, how much he wants to invest.
Most people are rather reticent about
mentioning a certain sum of money.
Without knowing how much they want
to put up it’s hard for me to tell what
suggestion to make in order for them
to get the most return for their money.
What's this, waiter—" he broke off im-
patiently, and his face grew red. “I
told you well done—well done. Do
you understand English? Look at the
red blood running out of that meat!”
He pointed a finger shaking with
wrath toward the silver platter before
him.
And Ellen knew! It didn’t make
any difference about manners or mon-
ey or anything else. It was dispo-
sition that counted. David. was look-
ing at the confused waiter with sorry
eyes and kept telling Tom that he
liked his meat rare anyhow.
And on Sunday morning when she
met Marie at church she told her,
“We're going to live on the farm, on
the top of a hill, and the cherry blos-
soms in the spring—oh, Marie, you
must come to visit us next spring!”
“And—and you're not going to mar-
ry Tom?” amazement spread over
Marie’s face.
Ellen shook her blond head and her
eyes grew soft. “I guess I've always
loved Davey—only I didn’t know it—
you know I said yesterday I'd know
pretty soon—I must have known right
then—subconsciously,” she ended, us-
ing one of the very terms that Tom
had liked so well as she spoke of her
man, David McGuire.
“Truly, 1
DAIRY
FACTS
COW SHOULD PAY
$192 FOR KEEP
With cows, as with automobiles, it
isn’t the first cost, it’s the upkeep.
For proof of that statement rural
economists at the Ohio State univer-
sity offer records kept for five years
by twenty Medina county dairymen,
their herds totaling 183 cows. The net
cost, not subtracting the credit of
$9.05 for manure and $6.83 for a calf,
averages $208.35.
" Feed is the big item. It totals, in-
cluding a charge for pasture, $107.92.
The grain and other concentrates nec-
essary to keep a cow in production
throughout the year cost an average
of $50.14. The roughage including the
silage, hay, stover, pasture, cost $57.78.
Labor, the next biggest item, costs
an average of $43.36 per cow. The
other costs, to make up the gross cost
of $208.35, include straw bedding,
taxes, insurance, depreciation, etc.
In order to let her owner break even
at prevailing milk prices, this average
cow should produce at least 7,00Q
pounds of milk a year. The average
cow among tke 183 Medina county
cows just about did, producing 7,386
pounds of milk a year, worth about
$197.21, giving her owner a profit of
not quite $5.
The cows that make for profit, the
econoriists point out, are those that
rrcduce at least nine or ten thousand
pounds of milk a year.
Reduce Cost Production
and Other Dairy Losses
Analyzing the reasons for the rela-
tively good organization and manage-
ment of the dairy industry, Dr. A. F.
Woods of the United States Depart-
ment of Agriculture finds the follow-
ing three of particular importance:
(1) Fertility largely goes back to the
land through the manure. Feeds pur-
chased in part probably add more
fertility than is sold in dairy products;
(2) the monthly milk check is useful
if not entirely remunerative; (3) ev-
erybody on the dairy farm works the
year round. Though the pay may be
small it gradually accumulates.
“The dairy farm and the dairy fam-
ily,” said Doctor Woods in addressing
a group of Ohio dairymen recently,
“gradually become richer—not too rich
nor perhaps rich enough, but improv-
ing all the time. This is true even
though modern bookkeeping methods
show a paper loss, based on going
wages und sale values. These eco-
nomie studies of the dairy industry
have pointed out ways to reduce costs
of production and other sources of
loss and thus increase the margin of
net profit.”
Off-Flavored Milk Due
to Lack of Air and Sun
Guard against off-flavors in milk
during the cold weather when barns
are closed and conditions congested,
warns R. G. Connelly, extension spe-
cialist in dairying at the New Jersey
State Agricultural college.
Milk has the absorbing qualities of
a sponge, so that wherever foreign
odors exist near milk, it will have
an off-flavor highly distasteful to the
consumer, ;
Such defects may be traced usually
to one of three sources. First, faulty
barn ventilation which may allow
gases and odors to accumulate. Then
there is the matter of feeding. Good
hay and ~rain ordinarily de, not pro-
duce abnormal flavors in milk, but
turnips, cabbages, potatoes, and cer-
tain weeds will make milk very repul-
sive to some consumers. The best
plan is to feed after milking rather
than before. Finally milk becomes
contaminated from foreign odors when
it is stored or handled in places
where fruits, vegetables, oil, gasoline,
or other materials emitting strong
odors, are stored. Proper ventilation
and exposure to sunlight will help, but
it is better to remove the offending
object.
O®
DOOD ® OOOO O®
Dairy Note $
© ®
POPPI PLRDOPVVOPLDOLDOO®
Never mix warm and cold cream.
Cool the warm cream before mixing.
® *
OVOP RE
‘Wash the separator after each sep-
aration. A separator that is not clean
will not skim clean.
®t ® *
It’s the last few pints of milk,
bushels of grain, or other units of
production, which are the most profit-
able.
* * @&
Variety and irregularity are two
very different things. Variety in the
ration may be helpful. The cow may
relish a little change but irregularity
in the time of feeding is all wrong.
® * -
If you are observing, you have no-
ticed that the cows milk better on a
sunny day in any but the excessively
hot months.
® * 2
If she produces less than 300 pounds
of butterfat a year, a cow is not pro-
ducing as much profit for her owner
as she should or would if better fed.
*® * &
Poor producing cows should be
eliminated from the dairy herd by
careful culling. The best method of
doing this is to join a cow testing
association.
i
SWEETS ARE PROPER FOR
AMERICA’S SWEETHEART
Who is America’s Sweetheart? A
gray-haired woman, neither beautifu!
nor famous, has come to the fore in
the last few years to claim this dis-
tinction. Her name is Mother, and
she takes the center of the stage on
Sunday, May 12, which is now nation-
ally observed as Mother’s Day.
Proof that this title belongs to her
is offered by the National Confection-
ers’ Association, which reports that
gifts of candy for Mother’s Day are
more numerous and costly than for
any other holiday except Christmas.
Even Valentine’s Day is less import-
ant. It is estimated that 4,000,000
pounds of sweets of all kinds are pur-
chased and given to mothers on that
one day alone.
These are not all old-fashioned pep-
permints or horehound drops, either.
Mother’s sweet tooth seems as cath-
olic in its tastes as it is capacious.
She likes chocolates of all kinds, the
newest and most elaborate bonbons as
well as the simpler candies. Fruit
centers are high favorites; so are nuts
and caramels and the chewy sweets.
The packages that fond sons and
daughters are selecting are trimmed
in ribbons and artificial flowers. Some
bear oldfashioned silhouettes and
others are gay with crimson and gold.
Tender mottoes and fervent inscrip-
tions assure the recipient of her
child’s undying devotion.
Mother, no doubt, is a popular per-
son the world over. But America is
the only country where on a certain
anniversary - she is showered with
gifts of candy and flowers that bring
back the days of her youth.
Poland Means to Clean
Up by Legal Process
, Bathing people by law—making
Saturday night a legal observance at
least once a month—is the latest step
taken by Poland, according to recent
news reports, in an attempt to ele-
vate the living standards and general
health of the people. Only children
under two, and persons over sixtyfive,
are to be exempted from the new law
which goes into effect next New
Year’s.
Truly public opinion has swung a
long way since the 18th century or-
dinances right here in the early days
of the United States, forbidding baths
except at certain periods of the year
unless a doctor prescribed them. It
may not be generally known that laws
and regulations actually requiring
bathing are now in effect in this coun-
try. In certain states and cities the
health department requires persons
using public swimming pools to bathe
before entering. In more general
force is the law of social opinion. This
goes far beyond the Polish law, for
baths have to be more than monthly
more than weekly, to accord with the
requirements of good manners and
good form.
But even a strong public opinion
would get nowhere here if there were
no facilities to enable people to live
up to it. Making bricks without
straw is no harder than taking baths
without, water or tubs. And that, it
seems, is the trouble in Poland.
Ninety per cent of the population, it
is stated, have no baths. If the law
is to be enforced, public baths will
have to be built.
In the United States the situation
is reversed, fortunately. Almost ev-
ery one has the means to take some
kind of bath. If they do not make
use of it, the cause is not lack of law
so much as lack of enlightenment.
Children who grow up in clean homes,
where example as well as precept
make healthful living easy, do not
need legislation. Educational efforts
that make children clean by desire
and habit will, we venture to say, go
farther than any law.
- New Fun in Shooting
With a view to studying the value
of “skeet” for increasing the efficiency
of machine gunners, the United
States Air Corps will install the nec-
essary equipment at the famous Boll-
ing Field, in Washington. In connec-
tion with the introduction of “skeet”
for military training, Major H. C.
Davidson, commandant of Bolling
Field, and Captain Bayley of the Air
Corps inspected the “skeet” grounds
near Wilmington, Delaware, which,
are considered among the best in the
country.
It is explained that “skeet” consists
of shooting with shotguns at targets
such as are used in trapshooting.
These so-called clay pigeons are sau-
cer-shaped dises which are thrown
from a trap propelled by springs. In
the case of “skeet,” one of the traps
is elevated, while the other is located
on the ground. The idea is to make
the flight of the targets simulate that
of game birds. Singles and targets in
pairs are «thrown at various angles
and elevations. Twenty-five targets
are shot at by each contestant.
_ In military circles, shotgun shoot-
ing has long been considered excellent
training for the operators of machine
guns which are mounted on airplanes.
During the World War and since, this
form of gunnery practige has been
extensively used. Many thousands of
men who were called to the colors in
1917-18 were familiar with the safe
handling of firearms because of their
experience as hunters and trapshoot-
ers.
SE
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Copyright Ba
THE 8
CHAPTER I1.-—TI
nel, known during
tion as the most |
in Europe, is an
identity is unknow
he is hailed as a}
is feared and hate
as a spy, as he ha:
fortunates from |
brought them safel
recent rescue of tl
ays makes him the
and he is the topic
a party given by
popular London 4d
Scarlet Pimpernel)
wife, Marguerite.
coaxes Sir Andrew
the latest advent
Pimpernel.
CHAPTER I1L.—T
one of the French
the section in whic
pernel has recently
prevent the escape
Agenavs brings tt
the government upc
with Armand Chat
enemv of the Scarl
a trap for the Eng
has given up a hig
his entire time to
turing English =
France—in particul
pernel.
CHAPTER IIL—
arrest of the Des
mother, and littl
charge of ‘treason,
about the small ei
of the Deseze fam
ers are being take
feeble escort. In
men, armed to th
concealed in the c
oners. Lauzet and
lure the Scarlet Pi
tack on the coacl
The vehicle is drive
a half-wit, who is
fight in him.
CHAPTER 1IV.—
Moisson in a dow:
morning the small
farmers and drover:
tle to market. Ch
make their final |
capture of the bo
his bandg Captain
‘of the ¢fArty. He
/ ~to_be made in a f
the coach has to
his preparations a
CHAPTER V.—I
much sympathy fo
and condemnation
mor spreads that |
,lto capture the Scs
whose arrest a re:
has been offered 1
and he (Lauzet)
ward. Feeling tha
have been outwitte
that they should
a part of youths,
set out in pursuit of
er from Aincourt
in his denunciati
drives the cart car
CHAPTER VI—
ceeds slowly, he
a high state of ti
evening a halt is 1
of a cart apparentl
ing youths is som
Then to Raffet’'s a
of men whom he r
of Moisson, attac
leader shouting th
ed them. The sol
assailants, and Ra
attack, orders the
to the nearest cit)
CHAPTER VII.
preparing to rest
Paris when he hes
appeals ror help.
son tell him they
Lauzet on the rc
tied them up. It
fet supposes, wt
Leaving three so
Deseze family, the
of the troopers ha
the uproar. They
officials. Chauvel
incident the work
pernel, in fact, is
nized him among
CHAPTER VII
the driver of tI
brought the party
brought to him.
Marie, appears, ir
fear, explaining t
by a “drover fron
the coach and dr:
Mantes, the “drove
after the horses ©
CHAPTER IX.
now that he has
the “drover” is tk
Hastening to the
soldiers left as g
The coach, of cour
has disappeared.
and the sorely dis
their way to the «
themselves the la
countryside. The
has scored again
the coach, with th
of Raffet’s troope:
ers had carried off
'Chauvelin realize
hopeless, the fug!
field for their es
CHAPTER X.—.
of Wales, one of
the identity of ti
recounts the stor
party of his int
Sir Percy Blakend
ever, affects to s¢
ic in the adventu:
of the ladies, to
Scarlet Pimpernel
little Mademoisell
unconscious of th
tude she owes hin
of feminine repro
Percy!”