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Our Part in Feeding the Nation
(Special Information Service, United States Department of Agriculture.) HERE'S HOW THE ARMY CUTS WOOD FOR FUEL 9* 7 " ' 9 * Camp Meigs, Near Washington, D. C., Does Not Use a Lump of Coal In Its Mess Kitchens. USE OF WOOD TO HELP SAVE COAL More Convenient and Cheaper in Many Cases on Farms and L in Small Towns. f&'r.-- _ SET PROFIT FROM WOODLAND I" _ ^Probable High Prices Offer Opportu nity to Farmers to Cut Out Unde sirable Trees— Relativ# Heating Values. 1 Farmers who own woodlands and people in cities, towns and Tillages who can purchase wood from nearby farms can help in the coming winter— as last winter—to relieve the demand for coal and the strain on railway capacity by burning wood in place of coal. It is not expected substitution of wood for coal will be complete or uni versal, as for many purposes coal is «rach more convenient. But for heat Sng many kinds of buildings wood IS file more convenient aud cheaper fuel. This is particularly true In the case of Churches, halls, summer cottages and (Other buildings for which heat is re quired only occasionally but then is wanted in large volume at short no tice. The Illustration shows the utiliza tion of wood at Camp Meigs, near Washington. The power cut-up saw shown is the standard machine used by the army at various camps, and has m. capacity of about 15 cords of four foot wood cut into 18-lnch lengths in a flay of six and one-half hours. Wood was the only fuel used at Camp Meigs when the picture was taken. In the winter coal is used to heat the bar racks, but wood alone is used in cook ing. t Relative Heating Values. P In heating value, one standard cord nt well-seasoned hickory, oak, beech, birch, hard maple, ash, elm, locust, or cherry Is approximately equal to one ton (2,000 pounds) of anthracite coal. Bat a cord and a half of soft maple, and two cords of cedar, poplar or bass wood are required to give the same amount of heat One cord of mixed wood, well seasoned, equals in heat ing value at least one ton of average qrade bituminous coal. In the accompanying table is Indi cated the price the consumer can af ford to pay for a cord of wood as the equivalent of anthracite coal at vari ous prices. Methods of Making Cordwood. The most common method of making cordwood is to cut the trees into four foot lengths with the ax and split the The pieces are then 1 larger pieces. éf l l 11I I Uli HI l »44-4'4 i *»4-44-4- l -4-4-44 " * " l-4 " l'4 "H '4' l " *- 4 4 " »4 " M " H TREES TO LEAVE IN WOODLAND AND THOSE TO REMOVE FOR FUEL, Region. , 1 New England and 1 North Atlantic States. Ohio, Indiana. Illi nois, and south east Missouri Northern Michi gan, Wisconsin, Minnesota. Southern Michigan, Wisconsin, Min nesota. Species to be favored for lumber. Other things being equal, these should be left. White pine, red spruce, balsam, chestnut, white and red oak, hard maple, yellow birch, tulip poplar, white ash. hickory, basswood. Yellow poplar, black walnut, red gum, white and red oak, cotton wood, hickory, white aeh, hard maple, basswood. White and red pine, aspen, yellow birch, basswood, red oak, white ash, hard maple. White and red oak, white ash, basswood, hickory, hard maple. Species of less value for lumber or slow growing. These may be cut. Hemlock, arborvl tae, black and scarlet oak, red maple, beech, gum, elm, gray birch, ironwood. Black oaV. elm, beech, maple. red red Jack pine, hem lock, scarlet and black oak, elm, beech. Black oak, red elm, beech. 4 frîvî^vi t4-w if 1111 IHIIIHW l+TW wl Fair Prices for Wood as a Coal Substitute. Equivalent price for wood delivered in stove lengths. 4» Price Hickory, oak. T of beech, hard Soft maple coal maple, ash. cedar. poplar. 5 de elm. locust. basswood. 4 » livered. cherry. 4* Per Per Per Per Per 4* ton cord run. cord. run. T »5.00 »5.00 » 1.66 »2.50 »0.83 ? 6.00 6.00 2.00 3.00 LOO Z 7.00 7.00 2.33 3.50 L16 * 8.00 8.00 2.66 4.00 1.33 T 900 9.00 3.00 4.60 1.50 f 10.00 10.00 3.33 5.00 1.66 X 11.00 11.00 166 5.50 1.83 Z 12.00 12.00 4.00 6.00 2.00 h*** ***** ***** ***** piled in a standard cord, which Is 8 feet long, 4 feet high and 4 feet wide. The contents are 128 cubic feet, of which about 70 per cent is wood and 30 per cent air. Wood cut 4 feet long can be sold to brickyards, limekilns, metal-working plants and other indus tries, but is too large for household use. Another method, and one better adapted for old growth hardwoods, which are difficult to split, is to saw the tree into logs of convenient lengths, say from 10 to 15 feet. These are "snaked" out to the edge of the wood land and there sawed and split into lengths proper for the stove or fur nace. The sawiDg is usually done by machine, driven either by gasoline or by electricity. The wood is piled 4 feet high and 8 feet long, 6uch a pile being called a "stove-wood" or "run ning" cord or "run." When the wood is sawed into 16-inch lengths, as Is customary with stove material, three runs are theoretically equivalent to one cord. ~ Wood a Profitable Farm Crop. Firewood is expected to bring a bet ter profit this year than ever before. It is a much less perishable crop than many which the farmer raises. When properly plied, the better kinds of wood will last from two to three years, although wood steadily deteriorates after the first year. To have the best heating value, as well as to reduce the cost of hauling, wood should be thoroughly seasoned, which means air-drying it from six to eight months. However, when piled so as to get a good circulation of air, 50 per cent of the moisture may be re moved in three months. Wood cut in October and November, therefore, may be burned the latter part of the winter. The prices which cordwood likely will bring this year offer the farmer an opportunity to Improve his wood land by weeding out the inferior trees. In the past this has seldom been prac ticable, for the Inferior wood was not marketable. With the prices indicated for the coming winter, thinnings be come practical 'c- over a wider range of country In the vicinity of good mar kets. The woodland owner may secure specific information from his state forester, his county agent, his state agricultural college, or from the Unit ed States forest service, Washington. M " H Dawn By DOROTHY DOUGLAS (Copyright, 291S. by tlie McClure Newspa per Syndicate.) "No," Dawn said, with regret and finality equally blended with love in her voice, "I love you as much as I am capable of loving any man, but you have not the right to ask me to give up my friends. It is far better that we consider ourselves free." Harry Barrington looked back at Dawn with pain in his eyes. A pain that was perhaps mixed with a too great darkness of jealousy. He looked all that a man should be in his khaki uniform, and he was sailing away to fight for America's liberty. He glanced about the cool, home like studio that was Dawn's home and realized that when he was in the trenches fighting, his sweetheart would be entertaining other men—that she would be sitting down at the little ta ble dining tete-a-tete over a Dawn cooked chicken or a rarebit and giv ing her smiles and her rare glances to some one else. "You know, dear," he replied, trying to persuade her to his viewpoint, "it is not only jealousy—and Lord knows I am that—but it is just common sense I'm talking. Here you will he while I am away, and though you may be col laborating on stories and working your brain to tatters with Dicky Vane or Ralph Reed, you are still Dawn Con ner, and therefore will be tempting both yourself and the other fellow. You can't help flirting," he added. Dawn blushed, but her eyes were Bteady and enveloped Captain Barring ton with a glance that should have told him that she was true as steel, with all her flirting. ''I'm sorry," she said, "but women have gone far past the time when they will give up all interests and all men friends for the one man whom they marry. My writing is as great a part of my life as marrying will be —my men friends with whom I col laborate and work in this studio are dear and sincere friends and another big part of my life and happiness. If you cannot be generous enough to let me have my life and fulfill my ambitions Just as you do your own, then, dear—we must not marry. But, Dawn—I love you—I—" "And I love you," she said unstead ily, "but have I ever asked yon to stop having your lovely stenographers in your private room for dictation—' "That is In business," he put in qnlckly. "And so Is mine business," Dawn stated, "but even if my men friends were not working with me, I should still expect to be here and entertaining them in my studio. I want to be trusted by the man who loves me suf ficiently to let me lead my life accord ing to my own nature." She very gently slipped the ring from her en gagement finger. "I am firm In my philosophy in love and marriage," she said with a swift, if unsteady, little laugh. Barrington gazed long and earnestly at Dawn as he took the ring from her extended hand. Her beautiful satiny arm was as white as the lilies and her shoulders molded for the sheer beauty of art. Barrington took her in his arms. "Cou don't love me, Dawn," he told her sadly; "you are perhaps not capa ble of loving." "I can't be the slave of love, if that Is what you mean," Dawn told him, and she put her lovely arms up about his neck and held him close to her, "Please try to remember, dear, that I love you more than any other woman ever will, but my men friends would be a constant source of unhappiness to you, and In the end to me." "I am sorry I have disappointed yon, Dawn. Life would have been a very beautiful experience with you at my side. There will never be another woman either in my heart or at my hearthstone." When he had gone Dawn gave way to tears, but after that she braced up, began to readjust her life and tried not to think of the void that Barring ton's going had left. She was neither the clinging vine variety of womanhood nor yet the in dependent, masculine type. Dawn was merely a good specimen of femi nine beauty and brains combined. She loved Captain Barrington as a weak er nature could never hope to love. There were both depth and breadth to her affection and complete trust. Dawn continued her writing and she made no change In her manner of liv ing. When Dicky Vane came up and their work carried them into the noon or evening hours, Dawn's chafing dish was brought out and savory meals prepared. Then the typewriter clicked while rabbit stewed. Dawn and her collaborators turned out much that was worth while in the literary world. If on rare occasions Dawn was brought face to face with the nature of man under trying circumstances, she blamed herself and not the man. Dawn was a flirt, and she knew there was more than n little ground for Bar rington's fears. On the whole, she knew, however, that her own way of reasoning had been right—her own philosophy be3t suited to her success aud happiness. She did not fight attractions in other men. Dawn knew that to live on ihe mrface of love affairs tended to make her great void less deep. She misled Barrington's love, aaj she never for of to of I I a moment thought seriously of her many flirtations. But in a way her big captain had been right. Lifë told her that she could easily have succumbed had she been less true to some nearer love. Barrington, along with other men, could perhaps not appreciate that site was not iike other women in love. Dawn loved love, but she also lsved her work. She was generous and big hearted and unselfish, and wanted oth ers to be the same. The months flew past. Dawn reached wonderful heights of fame in her writing and found a very level sense of contentment and happiness. She had many friends and many who would have been more than friends. She began to dress exquisitely. The beautiful arms and shoulders were even more lovely when set off by beau tiful gowns. Then suddenly Dawn knew that Captain Barrington had been brought back home wounded—wounded to the point of being on that terrible preci-. pice that rears itself between life and death. She knew, also, that a considerable amount of skin-grafting was all that might save his life. It was no time before Dawn had made her way de terminedly to the surgeon In charge of Barrington's case. "And he must never know," she in sisted, after having pleaded success fully with the surgeon. The blood test had been perfect. Dawn was permitted to give many, many square inches of skin from her wonderful arms and shoulders that Barrington might live. The operation was successful. Bar rington, being totally unconscious, knew not that Dawn's skin had been grafted on his frightful wounds. Dawn's courage had been marvelous and her spirit felt greatly rejoiced. She had done a small bit in the great fight. No one in her big circle of friends knew why Dawn stopped wearing the lovely gowns that revealed her satiny arms, and no one knew that Capt Harry Barrington's recovery was entirely due to the skin taken from those same arms. When the hero was ont of hospital and able to attend it a big dinner was given for him. Dawn, of course, was there, and her eyes were steady and held the old light in them when she and Barrington again clasped bands. "Dawn, Dawn," was all Barrington said. His eyes told her that life had meant nothing to him without her, and finally his lips said that he had been wrong, all wrong In demanding so much of her. Dawn's smile was radiaoL She had won the kind of love she had always dreamed of and she could look Bar rington squarely in the eyes and tell him she had never wavered from his love. Back in the studio after the dinner, Barrington took Dawn swiftly into his arms. Afterward, when a suggestion of cahn reached him, Barrington trailed his fingers down over Dawn's arm. "Why are my satiny, precious arms hidden by this chiffony thing? And why are Dawn Conner's shoulders so modestly under cover?" Dawn shrank and the color stained her cheeks. Barrington had never seen her shrink from his touch. "It's just a little scar or two," she said swiftly; "they will all vanish some day." Barrington looked hard at her. Love's eyes are overkeen and love's brain Intuitive. Her sleeve was swift ly rolled back and Barrington's heart thumped madly. He trembled with her In his arms as he had not trembled when the great shell sprang at him on the battle field. "But I couldn't have any other per son's skin on your arms." she said finally with a little trembling laugh. "It would have worried me—all the time." "Dawn—my own wonderful Dawn," was all Barrington said. The Danger Mark. To the new munition worker the Red Line, or danger mark, is a source of wonder. He sees a large room divided by a line of red paint drawn upon the floor; on one side of the line a seeth ing line of men in various stages of un dress, on the other side few or none. He observes that individuals who cross that line do so in their stockinged feet as though entering a mosque, and that once across they do not return the way they went, but disappear through doors on the other side. Later he will dis cover that the reason for all these pre cautions is to prevent explosions, be cause inside that danger zone is the filling room and everything there is covered with a fine gray dust. That dtist is gunpowder. The men working there wear few' clothes, no shoes with nails In them, and change and bathe t-efore leaving the factory, so that when they are safely home and are having their evening smoke they won't cause a sensation by suddenly going up in the air through the roof. Canada's Algonquin Park. If Canada cannot claim a national playground equal In wild beauty to the world-famous Yosemite Valley, the great California park of the United States, it has, at least, something both beautiful and gigantic in the territory of nearly 2,000,000 acres, termed the Algonquin Park. Far up in the high lands of Ontario, 2,000 feet above sea level. Canadians from all parts come to camp in the woods of pine, balsam and spruce, which stretch for hundreds of square miles, and in which thou sands of holiday seekers may lead the simple life In comfort. The district is studded with lakes a at Young Men of United States Urged to En list in Student Training Lorps By Dr. P. P. CLAXTON. United State* CommiWoner of Educ*Uon "How can I rentier the most valuable service to my country during the period of the war?" Every young man over eighteen is asking himseif this ques tion. The war department has just offered a new nswer to the question. It says: "Enter college if you are fitted to do so or return to college if you are already enrolled, and enlist in the student army training corps." By enlisting in the student army training corps you will become a member of the United States armv. You will receive a uniform and be given military drill under officers detailed by the war department. During the early part of your course you will receive ten hours of military instruction a week, six of which will be academic work, for which military credit is given, such as mathematics, English, foreign languages, history, e<*ienee, etc. You will he carefully rated both by the college authori ties and by the military officers, who will help you to discover a special line of military service for which you have the greatest capacity and preference. Later in your course you will have an opportunity to specialize in a branch of training designed to fit you to become an officer of field artillery, medical or engineer officer, an expert in some teclinical or scientific service, and so on. On reaching the age of twenty-one you must register with your local board. You may remain in college until your call is reached under the selective service law. At tMat time it will be decided whether you will be called immediately to active service or whether you should remain in college to complete the course you are pursuing. The decision will depend, upon the needs of the sendee and upon your achievements in your mili tary work and in your studies as determined by the military officers at the college and by the college authorities. During the summer you will have an opportunity to attend a sum mer camp for intensive military training. Your traveling expenses to and from camp will be paid and you will be on active duty under pay and subsistence by the war department ' As a member of the student army training corps you will be subject to call to active duty at any rime in case of emergency. If you desire to enter active service before completing your college training, transfer to active duty may be arranged through military channels with the consent of the military officers at the college and of the college officials. It will be the policy of the government, however, to allow you to remain in college until you reach the age of twenty-one, or until you complete your course. Previously there have been two methods by which a young man might enter the national service. He might either enlist voluntarily as a private in the army or a seaman in the navy, or he might remain in civilian life until called into active service at the age of twenty-one under the selective service law. The student army training corps rep resents a third method of entering the service which has special advan tages for young men fitted to go to college. For further information concerning the student army training corps apply to any college which you desire to attend or to the committee on. eduoation and special training, war department, Washington, D. C. Yankees Feel the Ties of Kinship With Canadians Drawing Closer By G. BONNER Over the line Canadians and Americans fraternize as neighbors do over the back fence. Sometimes they cross from one side and settle on the other. The stocky Canuck from Quebec province moves into Maine and raises his log house among the pines; ranchers from Montana and Dakota go northward to till the rich plains of Alberta and Manitoba. They intermarry and the children are Canadians or Americans—they might just as well be one as the other. For there is no lurking suspicion, no veiled distrust between us and our brother of the north. We are of the same race, live by the same ideals. Of all our national relationships our closest is with him. He is not only our nearest neighbor but he is our nearest of kin. There have been times when we envied him the riches of his vast empire yet to corner his well-administered laws, his thrifty competence where we have been care less and slovenly, his sturdy honesty. Canadians rose from desk and bench, locked the shop and closed the ledger, left the plow in the furrow and the pick in the mine breast, not alone to help England in her nèed but to preserve the creed that their race has lived by since John met the barons at Runnymede. What our brother of the north did in France and Flanders is now matter of history. Writ larger than the Plains of Abraham are Ypres and Loos, from this time forth names of heroic invocation. American Boys "Over There'* are Well Provided for in All Details By FRANCIS ROGERS, of the Vigilantes Parents and friends need net fear that the bodily wants of th( boys in France are not well provided for. Many times I have shar the soldier's mess and have never failed to get a good meal. There a no frills about the service, naturally, but all the essentials are there wholesome food, ample in quantity and well cooked. Hospital conditions are vastly improved. Now a sick or wounded bi can count on being treated in a well-equipped hospital by the best Arnei can surgeons and nurses. I chanced to be at an* ''evacuation hospita somewhere in France the day Archie Roosevelt was brought to it wi a leg and an arm badly smashed. So well prepared was the hospital meet just such an emergency that his temperature never rose a sing degree above normal. The simple, regular, outdoor life has done wonders for the heal of the bo\s. Their chests broaden, their cheeks grow ruddy, their muscl harden, their eyes brighten, they gain in weight. "Does my boy look ve fat? asked the mother of a boy I had seen a few weeks before. "I writes he has put on twenty pounds." "No," I answered, "he wasn't f at all. He is now just the fine, big, husky lad that nature always intend« him to be."