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The St. Charles herald. [volume] (Hahnville, La.) 1873-1993, November 23, 1918, Image 2

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Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn85034322/1918-11-23/ed-1/seq-2/

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Our Part in Feeding the Nation
(Special Information Service, United States Department of Agriculture.)
7 " ' 9 *
Camp Meigs, Near Washington, D. C., Does Not Use a Lump of Coal In Its
Mess Kitchens.
More Convenient and Cheaper in
Many Cases on Farms and
L in Small Towns.
f&'r.-- _
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
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
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
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
, 1 New England and
1 North Atlantic
Ohio, Indiana. Illi
nois, and south
east Missouri
Northern Michi
gan, Wisconsin,
Southern Michigan,
Wisconsin, Min
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,
Jack pine, hem
lock, scarlet and
black oak, elm,
Black oak, red elm,
4 frîvî^vi t4-w if 1111 IHIIIHW l+TW
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
maple, ash.
5 de
4 » livered.
4* Per
4* ton
T »5.00
» 1.66
? 6.00
Z 7.00
* 8.00
T 900
f 10.00
X 11.00
Z 12.00
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
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
(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
"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
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
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
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
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
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
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
"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
"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
"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
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
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
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."

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