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The Port Gibson reveille. [volume] (Port Gibson, Miss.) 1890-current, December 31, 1908, Image 7

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THE REVEILLE
PHONE NO. 29.
Published Every Thursday at
MISSISSIPPI
PORT GIBSON,
H. H. CRISLER.
A really clever woman is always too
flever to show it, announces the New
York Press.
There never was a right-minded
small boy, asseverates the
News, who didn't secretly admire the
kind of man who picks his teeth with
his pocketknife.
Dallas
The torpedo boats have had torpedo
boat destroyers to smash them, and
now the torpedoes have nets to ren
der them harmless. What's the use.
demands the Boston Transcript.
;
Says the Boston Transcript:
The
Monte Carlo corporation has chal
lenged the world to bring on its "sys
tems." Neither the prince nor the cit
izens of his
principality take any
chances in the games, probably for
much the same reason that most bar
tenders are total abstainers.
Hotel keepers expect their patrons
îo be hard to suit, admits the New
Haven Register. But it is unlikely that
•a certain prominent hostelry in Lon
don anticipated the kick which a pat
ron makes in public because it failed
to supply a copy of Burke's Peerage
at his call. There is still an unfilled
hotel want in New York City. It in
volves a hotel with separate padded
cells for kickers and snobs.
A special school for policemen has
been opened in Barcelona, and instruc
tion will be given in
photography,
measurements of the human form foi
purposes of identification, gymnastics
and the languages of France, England,
Italy and Germany, as well as in
practical police work. The advantages
of the institution are to be extended
to only 50 men at a time, but the addi
tion to the force, at intervals of a year
or two, of even that number of offi
cers having unusual qualifications will
materially raise the standard of ser
vice.
Politicians and lawmakers never
learn anything from precedent or ex
perience or common sense, sneers the
New York Sun. Half a century ago ali
.. . ' „ , , . , .
e wines lops n russes, which hac
been required by ordinance to close at
1 a. m., received liberty to remain
open, if they chose, all night The con
sequence was that they closed there
after at 12.30, 30 minutes earlier than
before. People, knowing that they
were not restricted as to time, cared
Jess about remaining in saloons and
went home earlier. This rule would
work just as well in America,
• Two things are needed for succesr
in life—the opportunity and the
brains, or presence of mind, to use it
contends the Free Churchman. Some
teem to'have any number of opportun
ities, but lack the power of instant de
cision or the disciplined mind to make
use of them; whilst others seem tc
have all the- training necessary, but
»ever an opportunity comes within
tneir reach, t am not quite sure, hdw
cv»r, whether this is really so. It
seems to me that to all men, once at
least in life, comes a glorious chance
to make use of all that experience or
hard work may have taught them,
q"
The mortality from motoring acci
dents would be cut down, down,
»
down, if alcohol could be kept from
relationship with the motive power,
claims tne Louisville Herald. Many a
man who seems sober is too drunk to
be trusted with a machine capable of
60 miles an hour on country roads.
What's the matter of a rule denying
« motorist's license to drinking men?
Why demand sobriety of locomotive
■engineers, who stay on the rails, and
waive it for motorists, who scour and
sweep and ravage ^the roads traveled
by everybody? Wouldn't it be better
for the motorists themselves to ex
clude the booze fighters?
Milk,has long been recognized as a
vehicle for spreading typhoid, scarlet
fever, and similar diseases through
contamination by man, and this fact
Is one of the strongest arguments for
pasteurization, which destroys all ma
lignant germs without impairing the
food value of milk. Now, argues the
New York Globe, that it is recognized
by our most eminent scientists as a
means, in its raw form, of communi
cating the most dangerous enemy of
the human race direct from beast to
man the demand for this rational pro
tection should become irresistible. It
may be possible eventually to eradi
cate the* tuberculosis cow, as it is
hoped in time to stamp out tubercu
losis in the human, race.
Meantime,
however, why should any civilized
community subject its children espe
ciallv to the danger of drinking milk
Bubjecl to deadly -infection when
general ordinance for the pasteuriza
tion of uncertified milk would
Ihem from all such unnecessary risk?
a
save
The Passing of Latin \
f
r
4?
Surrendered Its Supremacy Only by Sheer
Force of Circumstances.
?
'&
By Brander Matthews.
IVE hundred years ago, a thousand years ago, fifteen hun
dred 'years ago, ev&ry man of education could talk freely
and easily with every other man of education in Latin,
was perhaps his native speech, or he might have had to
learn it; but he was not held to be an educated man until
he had acquired it. Even after Latin had ceased to be a
mother-tongue, and when it was spoken only by those who
had achieved it by hard labor, it was still the language used
in diplomacy, in the church, by men of letters and by phil
osophers and scientific investigators. Out of the fragments of the Roman
Empire new nations had compacted themselves slowly, each with its
tongue; they asserted their independence; they warred with one another; and
yet the Latin language, no longer native to any one of them, was the sole
Lat^ lonfe sufficed
even for their men of letters; as Lowell reminds us, "Till Dante's time the
Italian poets thought no language good enough to put their nothings into
but Latin—and indeed a dead tongue was the best for dead thoughts—but
Dante found the common speech of Florence, in which men bargained and
.scolded and made love, good enough for him, and out of the world around
him made a poem such as no Roman ever sang." A little later, Chaucer
chose the common speech of London for the telling of his tales. And yet af
ter Dante had descended into heil, and after the Canterbury pilgrims had gone
fortlvBacon put his great book into Latin, anti Milton wrote not u few poems
in that dead tongue/
It
F
own
means by which they communicated with one another.
For a century after "Paradise Lost," Latin was still
held to be the only fit and proper vehicle for the systems of the philosophers
I and for the discoveries of the scientists. The language of Cicero lingered as
the most convenient means of communication for the educated men of all
countries; and yet at last the forces of nationality and race were too strong
for it; and now for more than two centuries men of letters have expressed
themselves in their mother tongue, and men of science have used_each his
j native language to set forth his contributions to the sum of human knowledge.
For more than fifteen centuries Latin has been truly a world language, only
in the end to surrender its supremacy, through no fault of its own, but by
sheer force of circumstances.—The Century.
j
! -
^ g m ^-\ g f */ 'j
1 1 ilG ÇJl(Z (DfCtCr C ft Cl Tl §61tl Jj
\
*
À
By Janet McKenzie Hill.
• » ♦ • »fM f HE changes that have taken place since the Civil War of 'G1
are well-nigh incomprehensible. In social and ethical mat
ters, in government, in science, art and religion, these
changes are equally notable. Within a half-century the con
ditions of life have marvelously changed. All things are
regarded now from a strangely different point of view,
natural resources of the earth have been developed in won
drous ways, and wealth has increased almost beyond
measure.
T
The
The nations of the earth are no longer strangers. They have come to
know one another quite more intimately than was once the case with neigh
boring states of -the same continent. Whereas the crossing of the mainland
i or the passage of Ihe Atlantic once cost months of wearisome travel and hard
! shi P* now the feat can be accomplished in the midst of luxurious elegance in
Is it possible to point to a single mode of life cr phase of belief that re
niains just as it was fifty years ago, unless it be human nature itself? We do
\ not read the same books, or think the same thoughts as of yore, nor do we
j entertain the same notions and opinions that we once did ; for simply the
about five days.
Larger light has come; ignorance anl
The làws and conditions of
! viewpoint of all things has changed,
• superstition have been dispelled.
i lf one were asked to s P ecif J' or point out the main difference between the
I spirit of the present and a past age, he might state it thusL Time was when
, people professed, at least, to look upon, this life as a state of probation, a
place of preparation for the life hereafter,—a mere temporary sojourn to be
endured rather than enjoyed; today people are zealous to make the most-of
i here and now - Pe °P ,e of intelligence have come to regard right living
I here not only as a most desirable thing in itself, but as the very best possible
preparation for the life to come. Healthful, cheerful, hopeful living charac
terizes the spirit of the present age. Truth is sought no less than in the
past; likewise comeliness and beauty are as earnestly cultivated. All na
ture's resources are drawn upon to the utmost capacity of man, in order to
enhance the comfort and happiness of mankind. Luck or chance no longer
figure, as it once did, in the conduct of life.
healthful, rightful living and consequent widespread prosperity are more
clearly known, and full assurance is felt that only in the just observance of
these can great reward be found. That scientific knowledge be widespread,
that justice be done, that peace and prosperity be universal throughout the
earth,—these are leading ideals of the present age.—The Boston Cooking
School Magazine.
* *
*
*
;
!
j
!
□Gvx-wu. Our Country's q
f Pich the Most Generous

By The Reo. John Von Herrlich. •
ECAUSE a man has inherited riches is no reason for hound
«♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦< ► j ng jjj m t0 <j ea th or throwing bombs at him, either dynamite
n or oratorical. Of course we have spendthrifts who ostenta
** tiously squander their money, but most of our wealthy peo
i * pie use theirs not only wisely, but generously. No people in
the world are so magnificently generous as the wealthy peo
ple in America. In 1907 the women of America alone gave
$30,000,000 to philanthropic and charitable objects.» No
country in the world has the same numbef of homes, hospi
tals, asylums and general charities as this country. And it is a mark of the
petty nature not to appreciate and rejoice in it.
As to the late financial panic, some wild speculation was indulged in, it
is true, and honesty did not invariably prevail; but that does not prove that
all were dishonest. Give the ninety-nine the credit for honesty, and leave the
rest to the» reporters. When they have finished fine-tooth ccmbing the news
of the day; if there is anything left unrevealed it doesn't amount to much. In
my opinion the newspapers of today are one of the mightiest forces to crush
out dishonesty, business or political.
B
*
*
*
Kindness to Animals
By
Carmen Sylva
♦ T is absolutely inconceivable that man is not ashamed to
J abuse innocent animals as he does—as if all nature belonged
* to him, and as if he also were not a guest, by sufferance,
J upon the earth, upon which he cannot remain, and of which
+ he cannot say that it belongs to him and that he can do
■I* what he Phases with it. And if man really imagines that
he is the lord of creation—which he, nevertheless, has nei- s
+***!>^*** ther designed nor made, and in which he can neither better
nor alter anything—surely he has, before all, a tremendous
responsibility toward his inferiors and must, perhaps, some time give an ac
count of the way in which he has treated these animals. If eternal retribu
tion is a reality, if we are responsible, what shall we then- suffer for the way
in which we treated God's creatures- No animal is bad
i
*
•J*
-only hungry
first teaches him to be vindictive when he .has exhausted his patience.
man
But how long an animal suffers with patience, before he takes revenge!
How long a dog or a cat will let itself be tormented by children, without de
fending itself, and yet how savagely it can bite and scratch! How well it
could defend itself if it were not better and more patient lhan its small tor
And so it is cowardly for children to torture animals. They know
mentors!
that the animals are good, and do what they please. Shame on them!—The
»Century.
it
is
The Quest for Simple English.
"You say you read every word of
the advertisements in that magazine?"
"Yes," answeerd Miss Cayenne. "It's
a relief to find something that isn't
in dialeeL"—Washington Star.
New Arithmetic.
"If it takes one boy one hour to
co two errands, how long will it take
two boys to do one errand?"
Answer—"Half a day."—The Path
I
a
/
hclev.
%
Introspection.
"I hope you came out of that horse
trade with a clear conscience."
"Yes," answered Si, smiling; bul
it kind o' worries me. My conscience
is so onusually clear that I can't he'i
feelin I must o' get the wust o' the
trade "—Washington Star.
ten years old have to work for a Uv
Inç.
In all the civilized countries o f the
world.60 per cent of the persons over
à
the unkindest cut.
Men have borne the news of troubles -
Such as ruin, with a grin.
They've been brave and never faltered
In a battle's roaring din,
But to some there comes a moment
When they're knocked completely flat.
This Is when some kind friend chuckles:
"Say, old man, you're getting fat!"
Many a steady heart has faltered
As the mirror showed his lutir.
Streaked with gray about the temples,
Or a bald spot spreading there;
Comfort, though, was qui m in coming—
He could hide it with hit? hat—
But this knocks a man a twister;
"Bill, by George, you're getting fat!'*
Old age comes, and we accept It,
Though with secret, pained regret,
Then, our inner self keeps saying
That we're really not old yet,
But, O shades of flesh reducers.
Fate deals her most stinging bat
When the old acquaintance giggles:
"Say, old boy. you're getting fat!"
—Charles R. Barnes, in the New York
Sun.
+*F*>*k4**i**»":*** v »>♦:**
*
The
*
*
Earthquake That *
Swallowed
Nelse Walker.

*
*
*
*
*
**♦ -i* *k*** ♦:• ♦:* *:* *^ ♦:* *;♦ *:• ♦:* *;• *;* *t* *i* -5*
Through the heart of the Coast
Range, from San Luis Obispo to San
Bernardino County, there lies a pe
culiar trench or ditch, a long mark
of broken ground, as if some giant
j had scratched the earth with a sharp
stick. It might pass for an old canal
or trail, except that it extends over
valley and mountain alike, north
west by southeast. In reality it is
the path of an earthquake—the earth
quake of January, 185 1 .
Although the mountains dance-d and
the hills bowed together, no one was
killed in that great shaking; yet there
was one mkn—so tradition says—who
ätood in the path of the earthquake
and felt its power.
This man was Nelse Walker, hunt
er for the stage-station at old Fort
Tejon. Fort Tejon lay in a green
valley of the Coast Range, forty
miles south of the present city of
Bakersfield, California, and there
each day the overland stage from the
Missouri River to San Diego and
thence along the coast to San Francis
co drew up for food and rest and fresh
horses. It was the duty of Walker to
keep the station supplied with fresh
meat, no very arduous task in those
days, for the mountains abounded in
game.
On this day, however, search as he
would, he could find neither deer nor
; bear. Stillness semed to smother the
garth, and under its spell all animate
nature became apprehensive. Rabbits
an d birds shifted about uneasily, and
the wild cattle footed along their
trails on the steep hillsides in abso
lute silence.
Five miles from the station Walker
halted under an oak and gazed out
over the little valley.. A hush, such
as comes during an eclipse o^the sun
Dr before some mighty storm, came
upon him. The hunter was afraid.
Yet of what?
There was a sudden bump under the
soles of his feet, and'he heard the oak
leaves begin to rustle above
Again there came a bumping at his
feet, accompanied by a subterranean
rumbling—deep and ominous.
^ third tifue, and the rumbling
deepened into a roar. Above him the
broad oak tree lurched sharply to the
right, and then back to the
3 tones began to rattle down the hill
sides, and clouds of dust rose from
their fall at the foot of a neighboring
cliff. The ground heaved beneath
him once more, and with a bound he
was in the open. For the first time
|he realized that he was in an earth
him.
left.
; quake.
Yet all this was but preliminary to
the shocks to come. As he gazed
about him in a nameless terror, the
! earth seemed to rise in waves and
sweep toward him like the breakers
of tfi'e sea.
j B-r-r-upm! The earth heaved be
! neath his feet, and. he fell to the
ground, dizzy and sick. A deathly ■
nausea seized him.
To his sïralned eyes the whole
valley seemed swaying in huge waves.
At each dip the great oaks bent over
and brushed the ground, while above
the roar and rumble öf the earth
quake came the crash of falling trees
and the crunch of rolling boulders.
Strangest of all, down the steep hill
side above him, scuffling and tumb
ling, came flying numbers of wild cat
tle, shaken from their narrow trails,
and shot bawling down the mountain- j
side by the mighty ^subterranean
blows of the earthquake.
All the world seemed wrecked, rmn
ed, topsy-turvy, and Nelse
sprawled on the ground and closed
his eyes. When
sways beneath a man, he is helpless

Walker
tne solid ground
beyond compare.
It has often been observed of earth
quakes that they come in waves and
in series of waves. Delicate instru
ments have been.contrived which reg
ister these oscillations and mark their
direction and Intensity. Before each
are a series of
great shock there
smaller shocks; before each great ser
umber of pre
ies there are often a
liminary shocks.
Sharp as had been the oscillations
which threw Walker to the ground
and tumbled the frightened
down the mountainside, the
quake of 1857 had not j^et attained its |
Its vietini3 were
9
cattle
earth
maximum intensity",
not to escape so soon. The grinding j
and rocking passed into a mere trem- j
bling, and Walker rose to his feet '
with a great sense- of relief. But ;
hardly had he picked up his gun j
when the earth began once more to j
i
sway and hump. There was a roar |
in the air like thunder, and down the |
valley he saw coming huge waves,
before which the trees dipped Sudden
ly and the stampeding cattle dropped
as if shot.
The next moment there was a bump
which threw him into the air, and a
rending crash which made his heart
stand still. Then with a wrench the
solid earth parted, and a mighty draft j
>f air sucked him like a leaf into the
»lack abyss. j
In a moment of great terror one acts
Jn a purely instinctive way. As a |
Jrowning man clutches at a straw,
Nelse Walker, swept. iàto the boa- |
i
iO
wrive t
om or the earth bÿ an almost incon
ceivable catastrophe, dropped his gun
and clutched out wildly.
His hands encountered a tangle oi
roots—perhaps the roots of that sam*
broad oak beneath which, but * lev/
moments before, he had sat at his
ease. At the touch he grappled with
them desperately, while the sand-laden
wind swept past him into the bowels
of the earth.
In spite of the falling dirt and the
tornado of wind which beat down up
on him. Walker clung to his hold with
the insane strength'of a man who fac
es sudden death.
It was but a moment, but in that
moment a great range of mountains
was split in twain, split to a great
depth. Of all the huaian beings in
that land, one man was caught in the
throe of nature-, sucked into the gulf
which yawned at that moment across
three hundred miles of mountains. To
that one man the moment seemed an
age.
Deep into that crack swept the
winds of heaven. It yawned its wid
est—and closed!
The inrush of air past Nelse talk
er suddenly ceased; then, as the part
ed earth came together again, the
air which had rushed in was a3 quick
ly expelled. If a mighty bellows,
miles in length, had been suddenly
closed from its uttermost, the effect
could not have been more irresistible.
Like a leaf once more Nelse Walker
was blown upward by the blast. His
hands were torn from their clutch
on the oak roots, an^i the next mo
ment lie was hurled past the mouth of
the bottomless hole and shot out into
the light of day.
How he came there he did not know,
but when Nelse Walker recovered his
his sense of locality, he was still
clinging to a tangle of roots—yet on
second thought he realized that they
tfere not roots, but branches. He
was in t.he top of a tre-e. About him
the limbs were still rocking and wav
ing, and smother«* J bumps still shook
the tree, as if a mighty ax was being i
I
The breath of the cool afternoon
breeze awakened him, and he felt
about instinctively for his gun. Then
it came to him that his gun was far
down in the- bottom of the earth. He
rose. Before him lay the long fur
row of the earthquake, still smoking i
with the dust which rose from its new- j
cleft depths. Into this he had drop- |
ped, and from it he had been hurled !
laiii to its roots.
A faintness seized upon the man
who had been the toy and sport of
the lements. Realization of his pre
dicament and of his escape rushed in
upon him, and he nearly fell. He
clambered feëbly down the tree and
dropped to the trembling earth in p
faint.
like a feather.
Small wonder, then, that
W'alker was dazed, and wandered far
before he reached the station at Fort
Tejon. Nor was there much which i
Nelse
was familiar there to bring him from
his dream.
station-keeper beard |
\ akers story, he thought that fear
.a tinned his head. Bpt a search
for the lost gun on the following day
brought him to the brink of that
ful chasm which had swallowed it.
The adobe buildings of the stage
houses lay crumbled in ruins, branch
es strewed the ground, and frantic
horses stampeded about in the corrals.
When the
the erosion and floods of forty-sev
en years have done much to fill the
great; rift through the hills, so that
now in places it serves for a road-berl
or a trail through the heavy brush;
but to the old settlers about Fort Te
jon it is still the finger-mark of the
earthquake that swallowed
Walker.—Dane Coolidge - in Youth s
Companiion.
aw
Nelse
Diamond Cutting.
It is said that before the fourteenth
century no one knew how to cut and
polish diamonds.
teemed for their marvelous hardness
hut not greatly admired for beauty
There is a tradition that a genrle
man jeweller in Flanders, Louis van
Berghem, discovered the art of cut
diamond with diamond. But it
probable that he only made
notable advance in the art, since as
Relations of diamond c ytterg had ex
isted France and Flanders from
fouriteent^ century. Louis van
Berghem's most famous achieve
ment was the cutting and polishing
of a huge diamond belonging to
^ hartes the Bold,
They were es
• I
some
Charles was so
delighted with the result that he
warded the artist liberally and de
clared that the diamond would now
serve him for a bedroom lamp. The
jewel, which was found on Charles's
body after the battle of Nancy, is
still in existence and celebrated un
der the name of the Nancy diamond,
—Youth's Companion.
re
A Noire in Court.
Sir Richard Bethell, afterward Lora
Westbury. with a suave voice and a
stately manner, nevertheless had a
way of bearing down the foe with
almost savage wit. Once in court, he
had to follow a barrister who had de
livered his remarks in very loud
tones. "Now that the noise in coin":
has subsided." murmured Bethell, "I
will tell your Honor in two sentenc
es the gist of the case."—Argonaut.
the
ex
U oon. Nettie?
Forgetting Herself.
Mamma—Were you a goad girl
while at Mrs. Simpson's this after
ma . I had so much fun that I forgot
to pay any attention to myself.—Chi
cago News,
Little Nettie—I don't know, mam
Actually Made.
"What's this lunch doing in
safe?"
"That's an election
prevent its loss.
wager,"
plained the junior partner. "A fellow
just bet me a dollar to a doughnut oc
the result."—Pittsburg Post.
No Use.
"Why at weddings does nobody evei
give the bridegroom away?"
"The bride would
believc
never
them."—Baltimore American.
A patent has bfeen granted on a ham
mer handle recessed to carry a nail
punch and with a clamp on the end tc
1
.GARDEN, FARM and CROPS
SUGGESTIONS
!•
I
FOR THE
UP-TO-DATE
?
AGRICULTURIST
£
them. A washed
cloth. Do not was
in
To
an
One ounce of acetate of lead dis
solved in a quart of water and this
applied to the growth will
warts and other fungous growths in
farm animals,
much does not reach the tender skin
around the wart.—Weekly Witness.
remove
Be careful that too
Young Pullets.
In every flock there will be found
some young pullets that are undesir
able to keep for stock birds, and also
a number of cockerels that c£^n be
spared. To dispose of -tfiese while
they are yet but a small item of ex
pense, is a good business move.—
Farmers' Home Journal.
of
/
Sheep and Sorrel.
Kindly inform me through your col
umns whether or not a few sheep
turned into a five acre pasture will
keep down the sorrel or sour dock;
also the btirdcck. If they will not,
how may these weeds be extermin
ated ?—" Weedpatch."
The sheep might keep down as you
j suggest if starved into doing so, but
! That would be bad for the sheep. Bet
1 ter put in a crop to cultivate them out
and use some air-slacked lime in doing
on
and some fertilizer for the crop grown.
This would probably lid the land of
all the pests mentioned.—Indiana
Farmer.
i
i Palatability in a ration for hogs is
I p.s important as for horses and cat
tle. Change the hog's feed occasion
ally or give him a little dessert occa
sionally. Wood ashes, salt and char
coal are relished by the pigs and are
good medicine. If they have access
to a box of these they will take some
every day. The ashes are good for
worms, and charcoal takes up the acids
of the stomach in such a way as to ba
beneficial. A little' lime in the water,
being careful not to get too much, will
be beneficial as a hone builder,
ashes and charcoal will be the same,
Some people feed a little bone dust,
i But it is so much easier to feed what
j you can manufacture yourself, like
| charcoal and ashes, aud one is much
! more likely to do this than to depend
on sending off for something. Place
salt in the slop, or, if not feeding slop,
trough Where the
Medicine for the Pigs.
of
in
p
The
place in a box or
bog can get at it.—Weekly Witness. ,
i -
Fish as a Fertilizer.
Among the Freneh-Canadian potato
farmers in ihe vicinity of Quebec, her
ring and a species of a small fat fish
are used in great quantities as fer
tilizer for potatoes. Along the banks
| 0 f Lawrence river at frequent
intervals fish-weirs are constructed,
and in t - ne mon th of May principally,
immense quantities of these fish are
caught. The farmers come from ail
directions with their wagons, which
h ave a capacity of about 1200 pounds
s
each, and purchase their supply direct
from the fishermen at 50 cents per
load. Preparatory to plowing, the land
is fairly well covered with the fish
and then turned in. The seed potato is
cut so as to retain two well formed
eyes and the pieces are dropped into
the furrows. The more careful plant
er will place a fish between the pieces.
The work of planting is mostly done
by women and boys, labor-saving ma
chinery such as the potato planter and
digger, being unknown.—Indiana
Farmer.
'S
The Vine Blight.
Several inquiries from New England
were recently received at the Depart
.ment of Agriculture asking for reme
dies to prevent or cure the blight that
destroys cucumber, melon and squash
vines and referring to the well known
disease very prevalent in America of
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— _
late years and which causes apparent
ly vigorous tines to suddenly wither
and ale wtihin a few days from the
beginning of the attack.
According to Dr. B. T. Galloway of
the bureau of plant industry, the blight
is prevalent all along the Pacific coast.
The germs of the blight are carried
by an insect. He Recommends that the
vines should make a steady rather than
a rapid growth and should be planted
on ground containing a large amount
of organic matter, adding also nitrogen
in the form of nitrate of soda. Spray
ing the plants with paris green and
bordeaux mixture such as is used for
potatoes kills the insect which carries
the blight and prevents its puncturing
the leaves and admitting the fungus
of the disease. As a means of preven
tion it is recommended that the crops
be grown on fresh ground each year.—
Weekly Witness.
The Farm Hen.
The easiest money picked up on "the
farm is eggs, and of all farm products
Ihey are the quickest turned
money. On most farms they are very
carelessly handled, but to get the most
money out of them, they must be
handled with care. Note the range in
price on the Easlern city markets and
the difference jn price is just the dif
ference in handling. To command the
highest price the eggs must be spot
lessly clean and newly laid. To get a
uniform grade of eggs'you should weed
out of your flock of hens all old and
sickly, undersized and scrubby stock.
and change your roosters each year,
To harden üte shell so the eggs will
ship well the fowls Aould be fed ey
shells occasionally, or Yeed a bran
mash two or three times each week.
Jt matters not how good a range your
into
ster
flock has, they should be fed grain at
least once esch day to give the eggs
a streng body. The nests should be
the e:
•ç ga.hejed each !
hep! elP 2 n
day. Do not keep them in damp spring
houses or mus'y cellars cr hot kltch
Keep them in a ccol room and
CDS.
cover them so that they will nc get

-»specked or dust on them.
should be clpar>"cl with a C
The soil
it OÄJ.«
eg g quickly spoilk ànd breaks in ship
ping. Do not put pin holes in them or
grease them to keep from hatching.
Do not carry your eggs to market in
bran, oats, sawdust or flne'tiay or they
will look f>ld. But get egg carriers
mail-order
from your buyer or the
houses. At the prevailing prices for
fresh eggs it is not profitable to fool
with holding them in pickle, salt or is
inglass or the like fakes. But market
them at least twice each week,
the egg buyer in your section is slow
and out of dafe, do not sacrifice your
eggs by selling to him; but combine
with your neighbors and ship to deal
ers familiar with the modern meth
ods used in handling eggs, and who
will pay for your eggs according ta
théir quality.—Indianapolis News.
If
Silage for Milch Cows.
Perhaps there is more benefit de
rived from silage by feeding it to milch
cows Ilian by feeding it to any other
kind of stock. At any rate, it is used
more and thoifght more of by dairy
men than by any other class of farm
ers.
You ail know that green succulent
gr ass, or Other forage plants, stimulate
the production of milk much more than
the same forage would if fed to cows
after being dried. It is the some way
with silage, for silage contains all the
natural juices of the plant and it stim
ulates the production of milk just the
same as though the plants were cut
fresh and green in the field and fed
to the cows.
Cows should never be fed exclusive
ly on silage. They need some dry for
age to go with it, they need a variety.
Besides this, corn silage is a carbon
aceous food and needs some more nit
rogenous food to go with it to make
a v/ell-baianced ration. About thir
ty. or at most, forty pounds a day of
silage is as •much as should ta<e fed
from the top of the silo, taking off
about two inches in depth from the
entire surface each day, for, if it is
lcng exposed to ihe air, it wilf be
damaged. If the feeding commences
immediately after filling the silo—
and this is a good way to do it—there
will.be no damaged silage at all. Care
; hculd be taken at each time of feed
ing to !ea\e the surface smooth and
even and not pick and-stir it up with
the fork, for that will let in the aid
and cause damage.
My way is to feed the silage ration
in tyo feeds, both night and morn
ing, and it is better to feed after milk
ing, because the peculiar odor of the
silage might affect the flavor of the
milk.
Cows, as well as other stock, have
a wonderful liking for silage, and I
believe much of the success in feeding
it can be attributed to its palatabil
ity. They even prefer it, to a certain
extent at least, to fresh cut forage or
good glass in the pasture. I have
seen cows in June when on good pas
ture, which had been féd silage every
day, come to the gate at 4 o'clock in
the afternoon and bellow and ask to
come to the barn to get silage, which
.they would eat greedily and apparent
ly with great relish. I have seen the
experiment tried of offering the cows
,at the same time corn cut fresh from
the fields and silage that was put up
the year before. Every ,cow chose tho
silage and ate that first. It is true
these cows had been fed silage every
,day all summer, and it may be the
habit of eating silage had something
-^o do with their preferring it, but they
surely would not have done it if sil
age had not been pretty good feed.
There is no belter and cheaper fee-1
to supplement short pastures, which we
ere almost sure to have evçry summer
^.on account i>Ê drought, or other causes,
.ihan good silage. I know some of tho
most successful dairymen in th# coun
t rv w ho feed silage every day in the
year —winter as well as summer.—M.
a. Goodrich, in the American Cultb
vator.
»I- r
Farm Notes.
The essentials for the dairy cow are
a dry floor, a good bedding, and warm
stable, plenty* c£ wholesome feed and
pure water.
Neglect to milk the cows clean each
milking is a simple cause of trouble
in many, dairies. Hired help should
be carefully watched. \
The fowls that are allowed to range
get all the green food they need, but
those that are confined must be sup
plied with it in some ferm.
Better not raise calves at all unless
they are kept growing all the time.
Stunted calves are hardly worth the
trouble of bringing to maturity.
No wonder the poultry business i$
growing each year. There are more
than 5090 poultry shows held annually
in the United States and Canada.
The cow that remains fat during' the
full milking period should be viewed
with -suspicion. It is likely that too
much of her food goes to, flesh instead
of milk.
One quart of milk is equal in feed
ing value to 20 cents, which costs five
sixths pounds cf sirloin steak and
people afe kicking at 7 cents per quart.
It is not ihe right ratio. The price is
not enough.
The ways of the cow should be stud
ied. Some will give more milk on
one kind of food than on another.
Some are easily injured with concen
trated grain. Others do not like cer
tain kinds of feed and will waste it.
The Clerk's Strategy.
"What are you forever kicking for
a raise in salary for?" asked the
fi"st clerk. 'You're getting a good
alary, ain't you?"
"Yes." replied the other.
"Well, ain't you satisfied with it?"'
"Sure! But I' don't want the boss,
to know it or he may cut me dowu,' 4 -
— Cathn^i'' c< '
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