IN A SERIES OF NOTES made while in Honolulu Mrs. George Black, who has just returned from Hawaii, describes some of her experiences in the Pacific islands. Mrs. Black went to Hawaii to visit her son Richard, who is stationed there on duty with the Interior department, and while there she was joined by her daughter Louise (Mrs. Menschel) whose letter descriptive of her trip was recently published in this column. Like her daughter, Mrs. Black was impressed by the beauty of the Hawaiian scene and the hospitality of the people. She also mentions several features not covered by Mrs. Menschel. It was during Mrs. Black's stay in Honolulu that Richard left for Howland island to complete preparations for the landing on that island of Amelia Earhart on her westward flight around the world. That flight ended in a crash while taking off from Honolulu for Howland. Returning to the United States Miss Earhart started on an eastward flight and was lost while again attempting to make Howland island from the east. Mrs. Black writes:

"ON MARCH 10 RICHARD left us for the South Seas on the coast guard Shoshone carrying the supplies and personnel of his fourth expedition since he took over the administration of Jarvis. Howland and Baker islands. They sailed first to Howland where they stood by for five days waiting for Amelia Earhart to land on the field which was prepared between the January and March expeditions. After the crash at Luke field which caused indefinite postponement of Amelia's flight, having worked Baker island during one of the days of waiting (it being only 38 miles from Howland) the expedition started on the journey of 1,- 000 miles eastward along the equator to Jarvis. Each island is manned by four young citizens of Hawaiian or American-Chinese descent, who carry on a constant study of the upper air by daily soundings with pilot balloons, using a theodolite to plot the course of the balloon as it rises,

"AFTER UNLOADING Supplies and replacing one man at Jarvis, the ship steamed north for Honolulu, stopping a few hours at Fanning, also a day at Palmyra, an atoll of 53 tiny coral islands around a deep lagoon about three miles long. They arrived here on March 27.

"ONE DAY WE SAW THE AR-rival at Pearl harbor of the 12 planes carrying over 100 men. They made it from San Diego in 20 hours. A great sight it was when those planes one by one alighted on the water."

WRITING OF THE Departure of the China Clipper Mrs. Black writes: "After watching the plane out of sight we were shown through a sister clipper which was standing by being groomed for a takeoff at noon for Alameda, Calif. I was amazed to see that great 25-ton ship lift from the water and roar away for far away China. And this is only the beginning. They are now, as you know, building a ship to carry 85 persons with a total weight of 102,000 pounds. I thought of the time when as a young girl I recited 'Darius Green and His Flying Machine.’ You remember how Darius thought that 'the air is also man's dominion,' and that, with fin or pinion, we soon or late shall navigate the azure as now we sail the sea.' That dream, cherished by many a young lad, is now realized."

"I HAVE BEEN INTERESTED," continues Mrs. Black, "iii various histories of the Pacific islands as well as this particular group; of their geology, climate, flora, rainfall, etc. An outstanding feature of this place is the great variation in the rainfall. In the Hoolau range it rains 250 inches annually. In another part less than 20 inches. On a point 5075 feet high 476 inches of rain falls, and not 15 miles away near sea level only 22 inches. Since I came we have had several real downpours lasting many hours. In fact, the other day it poured hard all day, all night and part of next day. I speak of this, thinking of all our terrible drouths in past years at home, and how I wish that we might have some of this extra water when it is so much needed there.

"HONOLULU WAS VERY Anxious to find out what becomes of all this water, hence the water commission co- operated with the geologic survey in experiment stations. The city is blessed by having a great artesian reservoir in which nature stores a large quantity of water which has not run off into the sea nor gone back into the air nor been used by plants and animals. They are aware of the danger to the supply of water, as it is not inexhaustible. They have exploited their valuable storehouse. In a period of 15 years it was found that the artesian, head had fallen about 14 to 20 feet. Records show that the head has been raised several feet in a few years. Thus the sewer and water commis- sions together are endeavoring to save Honolulu's priceless heritage." I HAVE BEEN HEADING with great interest articles in several Honolulu magazines by Richard B. Black, field representative of the department of the Interior, who, among other duties has a position which may be described as that of governor general of all the possessions of the United States in several hun- dred square miles of the earth's surface. It is true that the surface included in this area is mostly the water of the Pacific ocean, and the land over which Dick presides consists of three little islands, Jarvis, Baker and Howland.

THE POPULATION OF EACH island consists of just four persons, Hawaiian young men, each group being relieved by another from time to time, but until relieved those boys are the only human beings within many hundred miles. Their main jib is to maintain continuity of American occupation so that there will be no question as to American title. Their other duties are all incidental to that.

THE MAGAZINES Containing Black's articles were brought to Grand Forks by his mother, Mrs. George Black, some of whose notes on her Hawaiian visit were published yesterday. Mrs. Black was in Hawaii during the search for Amelia Earhart. Richard Black was one of those engaged in that search.

NOT MUCH IS BEING DONE in an agricultural way on the tiny islands inhabited by four boys each, but even there some effort in that direction is being made. On one of Black's visits he carried several hundred coconut seedlings which were distributed on the three islands. He was pleased to learn that since his last visit 45 drums of water had been collected from the eaves of "Government house" on Howland, and copious rains had been reported on Baker. That promised well for the growth of the young coconut trees. Water there must be caught as it falls if it is to be used, and as rains are infrequent, water for drinking is carried from Honolulu. The fresh rain water was a welcome addition to the supply. Bathing there is done in the surf.

AMONG THE SOUVENIRS OP her journey Mrs. Black brought with her several feathers taken from birds which until recently were the only inhabitants of How-land island. Each feather is about 16 inches long, very slender, but with a stiff quill. The plumage is very narrow and near the base is white, but otherwise a brilliant red. Each bird has two of these long feathers in its tail. The birds are so numerous on the island that it was feared that they would interfere with the landing of Miss Earhart's plane, and preparations were made to explode a quantity of dynamite in order to frighten them away when notice of the plane's approach was received. But the only message received was that the plane was in trouble, with no position given to guide searchers.

IN THIS COUNTRY THE night-blooming cereus is a rare plant which must be carefully sheltered, and whose blooming is a real event. In Hawaii the cereus is a garden plant which adorns the parks, which blooms in profusion, and whose blossoms may be picked freely at any time after 10 P. M. Picking is permitted because the flower lasts only a few hours, and the time limit is fixed in order that park visitors may enjoy the rare beauty of the flowers during their brief existence.

CONCERNING THE FLORA of Hawaii Mrs. Black has this note: The wondrous rank vegetation and the beauty of the flowers here just cannot be described. It is said that there are 75,000 varieties of the orchid alone, and a vast number of hibiscus. The bouganvilla with its scarlet leaf, when covering the side of a house or a complete hillside forms a picture never to be forgotten. For a century the flora of Hawaii has interested botanists the world over. I read that the reason for this is not so much the number of plants, for this is not so large, nor is it the luxuriance of the forests—for they do not compare with many tropical jungles — but Hawaiian plants are famous because so many of them occur nowhere else in the world. Scientists say that 80 per cent of the flowers here are indemic (plants found only in one region) the reason for this being because we are thousands of miles from the nearest land mass in, every direction—the most isolated place in the world."

DOWN IN BUENOS AIRES they use cockroaches for cleaning their streets. That statement calls for explanation. Our southern friends ordered a fleet of midget street cleaning machines which, mounted on soft tires are capable of moving swiftly and making sharp turns, can be used equally well on the street driveways and on the sidewalks. The swift and apparently effortless movements of the machine suggested to some local person a familiar insect, and the order specified that each machine be plainly labeled “La Cucaracha,” which is Latin American for “ The Cockroach.”

WHICH REMINDS ME OF TWO wayfarers, a Frenchman and a cockney seated on a park bench. Politely the Frenchman said: “I hope I do not cockroach, Messieu.” “Not at all,” said the cockney, with equal politeness. “Not at all, But Wot you wants to say, buddy, is hencroach, not cockroach.”

GLASS MAKING HAS ATTAINED such a close approach to perfection that in one factory recently a continuous sheet of glass 500 miles long was made. Naturally the sheet did not remain in that unbroken strip, as it was cut into lengths as the work progressed, but as the glass came from the machines it was of that unbroken length. Molten material passed through the rolls in a continuous stream for 139 days and nights. In rolling glass continuous operation is maintained as long as possible because interruptions cause many complications. In the case of the 500-mile sheet, believed to be the longest ever made, work was suspended at the end of 139 days because the great heat had at last softened the rolls and caused the glass to stick.

THERE IS AN ELEMENT OF irreconcilable incompatibility between flood control and power development which keeps the engineers guessing. The maximum efficiency of a flood control project is attained when the reservoir is empty before the flood waters begin to come. Power development demands a full reservoir at all times.

THERE IS GROUND FOR hope that the trumpeter swan, generally believed to be on the way to extinction, will remain one of the interesting figures of our wild life. This summer's census, taken as usual under the direction of the Biological survey, revealed at least 158 of these birds in the United States, an increase of 43 from last year. Of these 90 were counted in the Red Rocks refuge in southwestern Montana and the others in and around Yellowstone park.

TRUMPETER SWANS ARE the largest North American wild fowl, tipping the scales at more than 30 pounds. In size and splendor the whistling swan is so nearly an equal that the two birds can hardly be distinguished at a distance, but the trumpeter swan has a windpipe which has "just one more convolution, which enables it to produce a louder and more far-reaching note on a lower key, with he musical resonance of a French horn."

IN EARLY TIMES THE trumpeter swan probably bred south to Indiana, Wisconsin, Iowa, Montana, and Idaho. Even as late as 1871 it raised young in Iowa, and in 1886 in Minnesota. Now it is confined in this country to the region about northwestern Wyoming and southwestern Montana, and in Canada to possibly not more than a single lake area in British Columbia.

JOHN JAMES AUDUBON, Trying to give readers "a perfect conception of the beauty and elegance" of the trumpeter swan, said in part: You must observe them when they are not aware of your proximity, and as they glide over the waters of some secluded inland pool. On such occasions, the neck, which at other times is held stiffly upright, moves in graceful curves, now bent forward, now inclined backward over the body. Now with an extended scooping movement the head becomes immersed for a moment, and with a sudden effort a flood of water is thrown over the back and wings, when it is seen rolling off in sparkling globule^, like so many large pearls. The bird then shakes its wings, beats the water, and as if giddy with delight shoots away, gliding over and beneath the liquid element with surprising agility and grace. Imagine . . . that a flock of '50 swans are thus sporting before you, as they have more than once been in my sight, and you will feel, as I have felt, more happy and void of care than I can describe." WHILE THIS IS NOT IN ANY sense a Kiwanis column, or a club column of any kind, I must mention today some articles which appear in the September Kiwanis magazine, at least two of which have special interest for North Dakotans. First of these is the leading article in the magazine, entit1ed "The Constitution Is Your Govern- ment," by James Morris, associate justice of the North Dakota supreme court and immediate past governor of the Minnesota, Dakotas Kiwanis district.

IN THIS ARTICLE JUDGE Morris describes the conditions under which the constitution came into being, defines its principles and describes its method of operation. He emphasizes the fact that ours was intended to be "a govern- ment of laws and not of men," and that unrestrained exercise of power, whether by an individual or by the multitude, is fatal to the development of a really great nation. ANOTHER ARTICLE DE-scribes the dedication of the Kiwanis peace tablet at the International Peace Garden between Manitoba and North Dakota. The dedication took place on July 18, and addresses in connection with the event were delivered by F. Trafford Taylor, international president of Kiwanis, and other officers of the organization. The article gives a description of the park, with illustrations and notes the progress that has already been made in the improvement of the 2,200 acres of land in the area. American CCC boys have built park structures on the American side of the line with Manitoba pine logs, and the article notes that the sight of American army trucks engaged in this work hundreds of miles in the interior of Canada indicates the spirit^ of friendship that exists between the two countries. It will be remembered that Carl Daniel-son, of Minot, for many years president of the Greater North Dakota association, is now engaged in raising funds for the completion of work in the park. OF NO GREATER INTEREST in North Dakota than elsewhere, but of general interest, nevertheless, is the fact that the West Toronto Kiwanis club has taken over Casa Loma, the baronial style castle owned by the city of Toronto, and which the city has found such a perplexing possession. CASA LOMA WAS BUILT IN 1911 by Sir Henry Pellatt, then a millionaire, but who later lost his fortune. The building has all the appearance of a baronial castle of the middle ages, with turrets, battlement, moat and all the other appointments, even to the dungeon. It has 100 rooms, some of immense size, and the carvings and other embellishments are replicas of originals in European castles. The building cost several million dollars. After the financial reverses of its owner the city was obliged to take the property over for delinquent taxes, and it has been a veritable white elephant.

NOT LONG AGO THIS Column commented on the proposal made by some hare-brained individual that the Dionne quintuplets be installed in Casa Loma in the hope that the sightseers who would thus be attracted would yield suf- ficient revenue to stop the loss on the property. Fortunately no serious consideration was given to that proposal.

INSTEAD, THE WEST Toronto Kiwanis club has assumed charge of the property on a share-and-share basis. The castle is featured as one of the sights of the city for a small admission charge. It is also used for club and recreation purposes, and new equipment for these purposes has been installed.

LASTLY, FOR TODAY, THE magazine contains an article by Charles Wakefield Cadman, who asks: "What's wrong with popular music?" These, in brief, are the conclusions of the writer: "Cleverness and sensationalism have been supplanting sincerity and artistic approach. "Cleverness is being confused and too often accepted as merit and is found on the concert stage as well as in radio, on Broadway and in Hollywood. "School children have not been taught the art of carefully listening and carefully discriminating between what is worthy and what is unworthy. "It is deplorable that the various fields of entertainment continually pander to the lower tastes and preferences of uneducated listeners. "I have never forsaken my early love for good popular music but too often one finds in some of it the most childish, almost idiotic texts. "I feel that community music is greatly abused and badly handled in America ... we see an alarming absence of individual or group advancement." A FRIEND WHO HAS PLAYED hostess to a flock of swallows for several years is convinced that the birds keep a calendar of their own and regulate their movements by it. Each year for several years past it has been noticed that the birds left for the south on the first of September. Shortly before that date there would be evidences that the birds were preparing for something out of the ordinary. And, when the morning of September 1 dawned, the birds were gone.

THIS YEAR AUGUST Approached its close without any sign of the customary preparation for moving. There had been no unusually cool weather to suggest the approach of fall. Members of the household commented that this year the swallows were likely to miss their moving date. But on the last day of August several strange swallows appeared and joined the little local flock, and the day was spent in friendly visiting. Next morning there was not a swallow to be seen. Guests and hosts alike had taken flight for the south. They had kept up the tradition of moving on September 1.

MY INFORMANT HAS Observed the domestic habits of her swallows with great interest. The birds rear several broods each season. This year five broods were hatched and feathered out. No time is lost between broods, for as soon as one is hatched work is begun on the building of another nest close by. In this eggs are laid and hatched while the older birds are feathering out. When the young are old enough to fly they are coaxed out and given lessons, and as soon as they have perfected themselves in flight they are led off somewhere—no one knows where, and the parent birds devote their attention exclusively to the next batch.

IN CONNECTION WITH THE recent successful meeting of the state Horticultural society here there comes the thought that many of the things of beauty that we see around us, and nearly all of our food plants have resulted from the painstaking work of man. There are innumerable beautiful wild flowers, of course, but there is scarcely a garden flower that has not been changed materially from its wild ancestry by cultivation, selection, cross - fertilization and other methods known to the horticulturist. Thus, from the ordinary wild rose there has been developed a vast collection of superb roses, larger and finer, and with a wide range of color, which bear but a slight resemblance to their distant parent. This is true of almost every cultivated flower.

OUR WHEAT, CORN AND other grains were developed from wild grasses. The potato is the product of many generations of experimentation. All of our fruits have passed through many stages of change at the hands of the horticulturist. Even our root crops have undergone similar changes.

ALL THIS, IF YOU PLEASE, is "contrary to nature". It is not according to nature that there should be a field of wheat and another of potatoes, or a garden filled with flowers, all free from weeds. Nature's products, in this sense, are "scrubs." It has taken the ingenuity of man to improve them, which means to fit them for his own use. To accomplish his purpose, of course, man must not violate the laws of nature, but apply those laws in the manner which will best promote his purpose. And, if the guidance of the human hand were suspended, within a few generations all our plants would revert to a state of nature; wheat and corn would become grass again, potatoes would shrink and toughen, and all the choice products with which we are now familiar would use their usefulness to man in achieving the hardihood necessary to maintain their, existence.

ANOTHER WEEK OR SO AND we may expect frost, and the first frost is always unwelcome because it blights the flowers which, but for perhaps one cold night, might retain all their beauty for several weeks longer. But, if the frost blights the flowers, there is compensation in the glorious coloring of autumn foliage. There is also compensation in the fact that frost spells the death of mosquitoes.

A VALUED CORRESPONDENT at McCanna sends in the following letter of appreciation:

"SIR:—YOU HELPED THE booze by finding excuses for men to drink, and now you encourage the use of tobacco because a bunch of weak kneed preachers were strong enough physically to withstand its harmful ef- fects temporarily while the less robust ones didn't smoke. "If now you could encourage rape, stealing, cussing and all the other faults we are prone to have, you'd sure have something to gladden your heart your last remaining years."

APROPS THE ABOVE, THE Minneapolis Journal comments editorially on a recently published book, "American Wonderland," by Shane Leslie, an Irish writer, who reviews the American scene as he has observed it during the past quarter of a century. Leslie recalls an amusing incident in which Grandmother Jerome, an ardent "dry," was asked what she thought of the miracle at Cana of Galilee. Without hesitation the old lady pronounced the turning of water into wine "an error of taste." SPEAKING OP TASTE, IN THE physiological rather than the esthetic sense, I often wonder when, and how, and by whom there were discovered the various' tasteful combinations which we now find so indispensable on our dinner tables. Of course it was a simple matter for our ancestors to sample such things as bananas, and oranges, and apples, and determine whether they liked them or not. We, their descendants, have profited from their experience and made some tests of our own.

I WAS 19 YEARS OLD Before I ever tasted a banana. At home I had seen occasional bunches of those peculiar fruits, but I saw no one eating them, and curiosity concerning them had not been aroused. But, arriving one day in Chicago, I saw, as it seemed to me, everyone eating bananas—on the streets in the stores, on the street cars, everywhere. I made up my mind that if all those people could eat bananas, I could. I tried one, and didn't care much for it, but, yielding to the mob spirit, I persisted until I became rather fond of bananas. Others have had similar experience with various foods, cantaloupe, for one.

THEN THERE IS THE Matter of roast pig. Everyone knows on the authority of Charles Lamb's inimitable essay, that the first roast pig was cooked in the fire which destroyed the barn of a Chinese villager, and the discovery that roast pig tastes good was made by the owner's young son, who licked his fingers after dragging the pig from the embers. Thereafter, for some time, the villager burned down one barn after another, pig included, in order to taste such a savory morsel.

ALL THAT, OP COURSE, IS A matter of history. But who discovered that cheese belongs with apple pie? There is little similarity between goose and pork, yet apple-sauce goes properly with each, though not so well with roast beef. Who found that out, and who first learned about roast beef and Yorkshire pudding? Who learned that roast duck and currant jelly have, a peculiar affinity for each other. It is understandable that green peas should be served with lamb, for they belong in the same season, but the calendar has nothing to do with the practice of sprinkling mint sauce on lamb.

IN THE UNITED STATES cranberry sauce is indispensable with roast turkey, but that is an Americanism, pure and simple. The Pilgrims found turkeys running wild in the woods and cranberries growing wild in the bogs, and the Indians used both because they were easy to get. The Pilgrims followed suit for a similar reason, and thus was founded one of the great American traditions.

ALL TRACE OF THE ORIGIN of most of these practices is lost, but it is quite certain that we owe some of our most pleasing food combinations, not to the genius of high-priced chefs, but to some fortunate accident which befell our distant progenitors, or to the daring and resourcefulness of some of those progenitors who were willing to take a chance in order to discover what was good to eat. IN WATCHING THE Progress of events in the Far East and wondering whether the disturbance there will resolve itself into a war or will remain a mere killing-fest, Signer Mussolini's late excursion into Ethiopia has been pretty well forgotten. But Mussolini is now trying to consolidate whatever it was that he gained in Ethiopia, and it is understood that he is finding the task a tough one. In that connection I was interested in reading a description of some of the physical conditions met in Ethiopia given by Emil Ludwig in his book, "The Nile." The book was written before the invasion of Ethiopia, and the description is without political animus. Ludwig writes:

"BUT THIS RAIN, WHOSE Effects the Egyptian fellah enjoys every October, and the Abyssinian peasant rather earlier, visits the Abyssinian farmer in terrible guise; thunderstorms, heavier and more frequent than anywhere else on earth, cloud-bursts and hail, appearing and disappearing suddenly, like everything else in this strange land, destroy men, cattle and huts. The number of thunder storms has been reckoned at four hundred a year; hundreds are killed by lightning every summer, and not long ago the emperor ordered services of intercession to be held because so many men had been struck down by it.

"THUS THE PEOPLES OF these lands have had to turn nomad, spending the nine months' dry season where vestiges of water lie in the river beds, where men and beasts can find just enough to eat ... With their camels and goats, with all they possess by way of women and children, these Arab nomads choose their camping place in the dry, deep beds of these rivers, especially on the lower reaches, where there is, after all, more food to be found than in the desert whence they come . . . Suddenly, though the sky is clear blue, there is a rumble of distant thunder. All the thousands of men and women camped in the river bed rush out, carrying their tents and their household goods with them, to take flight. A confused clamor arises, ‘E1 Bahr! The river!' . . .

"EVEN UP IN THE Highlands, thousands leave their homes and take refuge in the higher mountains, as men did in the flood. All traffic is at a standstill in the rainy months, for nobody can cross the raging rivers, and even the poorest peasant going to the next village takes a kind of cape of papyrus with him to cower under when a fresh deluge overtakes him. The horses, who cannot cross the streaming valleys, stand unharnessed in the huts with the people, who pass the rainy months dully, perhaps sociably, but not impatiently. They all know it will not last long . . . When the Savanna greens, it at once becomes a swamp, a cloud of insects arises, the herds are in danger; even the most constant companion of man, the camel, flounders if its driver does not wait until the morning sun has dried off the surface a little. Men and beasts hurry to higher levels; the Nile creates wanderers. In three months, the greater part of the whole rainfall for the year has come down, and with it the flood."

LUDWIG'S BOOK, WHICH IS described in the sub-title as "The Life-Story of a River," presents in panorama the history of that ancient river and describes the civilization along its course, as it has been and as it is. It is a fascinating story.

PERSONS WHO HAVE BEEN apprehensive concerning the danger to game birds from the spreading of poisoned grain for gophers and other rodents will find something interesting in these paragraphs from a bulletin issued by James Kowles, of Mitchell, S. D., district agent of the Biological survey: "THE U. S. BUREAU OF Biological Survey has conducted experiments at Aberdeen, S. D., and New Rockford, N. D., in an effort to determine the effects of strychnine treated rodent bait on China pheasants and Hungarian partridges. There were 100 China pheasants and 25 Hungarian partridges used in these experiments. No deaths from poisoning resulted.

"THE BAIT USED IN THIS experimental work was strychnine poisoned oats in the strength used in ground squirrel (gopher) prairie dog, and rabbit control work in the Dakotas by this federal agency.

"TWO IMPORTANT THINGS concerning the reaction of these birds were determined. 1. Poisoned bait is not taken readily by the pheasant nor by the partridge when the same untreated grain or some other clean food is present. 2. Even when starved for periods up to six days for the pheasant and one day for the partridge and then given only strychnine poisoned bait, the birds will not eat a sufficient amount of this poisoned bait to kill them. 3. Pheasants ate only one-third as much poisoned as unpoisoned grain. Partridges ate only 10% as much poisoned as unpoisoned grain.

"IN FACT IT APPEARS THAT a pheasant or partridge may consume a crop full of the rodent bait, as the Biological Survey prepares it, without death being the result. "An attempt was made to get additional strychnine poisoned grain into the birds by force feeding after they had been starved for two days and then given only poisoned grain to eat voluntarily. It was not found possible to kill the birds in that manner. "Over one ounce of the strychnine bait was taken by starved pheasants in several cases. Much smaller amount was the maximum for partridges as they do not have the capacity ordinarily for more than 1-8 ounce per feeding. No deaths resulted even though every effort was made to get the birds to eat as much as possible." JOHN WELCH, EXECUTIVE secretary of the Nebraska humane society, is convinced that the war that has been waged on crows is responsible for the invasion of grass-hoppers that swept several of the Midwest states this summer. Formerly, says Mr. Welch, crows and hoppers fought it out along natural lines, but when man stepped in with shotgun and dynamite and began t o destroy the crows, the hoppers had all the advantage.

THAT CROWS EAT Grasshoppers is generally understood, but it is to be feared that in reaching the conclusion that the killing of crows is responsible for the grasshopper plague Mr. Welch, like many other persons, started out with a conviction and then used current facts to support it, assigning to them the respective positions of cause and effect, without taking steps to ascertain whether or not that relationship existed. The argument would run something like this: "Crows eat grasshoppers. Many crows have been killed. Grasshoppers have become numerous. Therefore the killing of the crows is responsible for the increased number of grasshoppers." Which may or may not be true.

THERE HAVE BEEN Occasional visitations of grasshoppers in immense numbers from as far back as -the records go, but it is only in these later generations that systematic war has been waged against the crow on a scale which would have any appreciable effect on the number of those black birds. There are now living in the northwest persons who have vivid recollections of the grasshopper plague that swept southern Minnesota in the sixties. The district was then sparsely settled, and if the homesteaders took time off to shoot crows at all, there were not enough farmers to make much impression on the number of crows. Yet the grasshoppers devoured every green thing, and there was a great exodus from that country to escape literal starvation.

A STUDY OF THE FOOD OF adult crows has been made by the United States biological survey, and a table based on that study is published in "North Dakota Outdoors," the little magazine published by the state game and fish department. An examination was made of the stomach contents of 1,340 crows, some being killed in each month of the year. The table shows the percentage of each kind of food consumed in each of the twelve months.

THE CROW IS OFTEN Described as a carrion-eating bird. It does eat carrion, but only 2.58 per cent of all the food consumed by those birds in a year was carrion. Corn accounts for 38.42 per cent and other grain 12.70 per cent. Hence more than half the food of the crows had been grain, justifying the description of the crow as a grain- eating bird. Grasshoppers account for 7.34 per cent of the year's food.

THAT DOES NOT QUITE TELL the story. While those hoppers seem to have consumed small quantities of grasshoppers in every month, winter or summer, that food is available in quantity only in the summer months. The percentage of grasshopper in July was 14.04, in August 19.14 and in September 19.24. The percentage of grain in those months was 29.35, 40.76 and 37.93. In the order of quantity the foods ranked the year round, corn, other grain, wild fruit and grasshoppers, with small percentages of various other foods.

THE FACT THAT MORE THAN 50 per cent of the food consumed in January was corn suggests that the study was made in a corn country where the birds had access to corn cribs and fields of corn being hogged off. One wonders where the crows found enough grasshoppers in January to constitute more than 2 per cent of their food. The study does not bear out Mr. Welch's statement that the killing of crows is responsible for the multitude of grasshoppers. It may have helped. SCHOOL DAYS HAVE BEGUN again, and millions of children are again on their way each morning to spend several hours in class rooms. Shakespeare’s Jacques, in his famous seven ages of man, listed the second age as that of the schoolboy: "And then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel, "And shining morning face, creeping like snail "Unwillingly to school."

THE MODERN SCHOOLBOY may have a satchel, and he is quite likely to have a shining morning face. Usually his mother looks after that. But he is seldom whining, nor does he creep like a snail, and it would be difficult for one to find evidence of unwillingness in his demeanor. Probably he is sorry that vacation is over, and if asked how he likes school he might declare it to be "the bunk," or use whatever is the latest equivalent of that phrase. But the schoolboy of today takes the transition from vacation to the grind of school work philosophically, and in one way or another he contrives to get considerable kick out of school.

THESE OBSERVATIONS Apply equally to schoolgirls. Taking the youngsters as they run, and observing them any morning a little before nine o'clock, one would pronounce them a happy lot, notwithstanding the immortal Jacques, the more transitory philosophers of later times, innumerable cartoonists, and a whole army of newspaper paragraphers.

THE IDEA OF MANY OF these seems to be that because somebody started a tradition of unwillingness to go to school, a tradition which actually had some foundation, all children, everywhere, must regard going to school as prolonged torture and go to school to escape the whipping which will be given them if they don't go and go in anticipation of the whipping that they are sure to get after they get there. The notion resembles that which applies to Friday. That day was once quite generally believed to be unlucky, and the common custom was to be wary about starting new enterprises on a day of such bad repute. Today few persons pay any attention to Friday except to joke about it, but the tradition lives, and it is given a fresh start every time that Friday happens on the thir- teenth of the month. But generally speaking, nobody cares.

CHILDREN HAVE HAD TO BE whipped to school, and in certain schools they were pretty sure to be whipped after they got there. There were teachers who were! bullies and tyrants, and school days under such direction were anything but pleasant. Those were the dark days and dark places, but there is little left of them. Our school chil- dren now seem to have no sense of grievance. They go to school willingly, and they enjoy it.

IT IS INTERESTING TO watch the new first graders on their way to school. To them a new world has opened and they enter it eagerly, wonderingly and joyously. One of these mornings every first grader will be seen marching to school bearing an apple, or a flower, or some delicacy for teacher. That has become one of the tradi- tions. What teacher does with all the gifts that are thus showered upon her is a mystery, but if she is a young person of tact, as usually she is, the gift will be received with every evidence of surprise, although last year's class did the same thing, and the class before that, and so on away back.

SCHOOL DAYS ARE VERY far from being the horror that they are often said to be. And while there has been much exaggeration in reference to the undesirable features of the old school, so there has been exaggeration in reference to the other side of the old school days. "Dear old golden rule days' must have been written by someone who had forgotten most of what .went on in his or her own school days. RAGWEED IS ONE OF THE most important sources of hay fever. In the east it has been discovered that there is biological war between ragweed and sunflowers, and that if both are given equal chance sunflowers will crowd ragweed out. It has been suggested, therefore, that sunflowers be planted freely wherever ragweed grows in order that the vicious weed may be destroyed. However, a plant specialist says there is nothing in this idea be- cause the two plants do not thrive naturally on the same kind of soil. Ragweed prefers a moist soil and sunflower a dry 9ne. Sunflower, says the specialist, will kill out ragweed where both are planted on medium soil, but in moist soil the ragweed will hold its own. OF COURSE THERE ARE many other sources of hay fever. There are persons who cannot pass near a field of ripening corn without being taken with a fit of violent sneezing. Minute particles from the fur of a cat or dog are intensely irritating to some. President Coolidge had to avoid horses for a similar reason. Some sufferers, are benefited by avoiding the particular substants to which they are sensitive. Others can be rendered immune, at least for a time, by injections of serum prepared for that purpose. Still others seem unable to find relief from any source. They must just sneeze and bear it. And it's no fun.

I AM INFORMED THAT MY name has been selected for inclusion in a magnificent volume of genealogy, and I am urged to supply immediate data relating to my life and activities, and also to send $25 as advance subscription for a copy of the publication, as the book will not be sold except by subscription. With profound thanks to everybody concerned, I am not having any.

SIMILAR OFFERS ARE Being made by one concern or another to millions of people, and perhaps hundreds of thousands bite. The announcements are usually so worded as to convey the impression that there has been some investigation of the history of the prospect's family, and that the publishers have the necessary facts relating to the prospect's distinguished ancestry, and wish current information merely to complete the picture. And in the fond belief that the forthcoming book will show his direct line of descent from Charlemagne, or Brian Borou, or some other ancient personage, if he is sufficiently credulous he may shell out his shekels.

I HAVE SOME INFORMATION concerning several generations of my family on both sides, paternal and maternal, in this country and in England and Wales, and as far back as my information reaches there is no suggestion of kings, princes, bandits or other greatly distinguished persons in the line. Therefore, when the publishers of genealogical books convey to me hints of super-excellence or distinguished position in the family just a few generations back, I take it that they are telling me fairy tales.

A PARAGRAPH SAYING THAT red clover seed is scarce this year reminds me of my first and only speculation in farm products. In the Brantford store where I worked we handled a considerable quantity of clover seed. One year clover seed was reported scarce and the price, which had been about $6.00 a bushel, rose step by step until it reached $10.00. I bought 10 bushels of the seed, expecting that the rise would continue. I didn't buy on margin, but paid outright for my purchase and took possession. I stored my five sacks of seed in a corner of the warehouse and waited for the expected advance. I had bought exactly at the top of the market. The price didn't advance a cent. Instead, it dropped a cent or two a pound, hesitated a while, gained a fraction, and then dropped again. After holding my purchase for a year I sold for $60.00 the seed for which I had paid $100. Since then, whenever I have felt symptoms of temptation to dabble in wheat or other commodities, I have thought of clover seed and shied off like a frisky horse from a fluttering sheet of paper. THOMAS D. CAMPBELL, Former Grand Forks man, who became known as "the world's largest wheat grower," through his mammoth farming operations at Hardin, Mont., does things on a big scale or not at all. His Montana venture was undertaken during the war, when the government was clamoring for wheat and more wheat. Campbell obtained per mission from the Interior department to lease an immense tract of Indian land at nominal rental, upon which to grow wheat by dry farming methods. To obtain capital he laid his plan before J. Pierpont Morgan, who, with several friends, advanced $5,000,000 to finance the project. Morgan explained to his friends that the project might or might not prove successful financially, but urged co-operation in order to aid the government in its war measures.

MUCH WHEAT WAS THUS provided, but following the war a series of bad years made the enterprise unprofitable. The New York financiers withdrew, charging off the greater part of their investment, and leaving Campbell to continue independently. Recently Campbell joined John J. Raskob in a partnership to farm a big tract in New Mexico, and this brings from The New York Times the following comment:

"SEVERAL RECENT NEWS items, when taken in conjunction, would seem to imply that the end of the world in these United States has been greatly exaggerated. "John J. Raskob, who once made automobiles in large quantities, and Thomas D. Campbell, a farmer who thinks in terms of counties, are going to operate a new 286,000-acre ranch on the Rio Grande in New Mexico; it means a farm about one-fifth the size of the State of Delaware. The geophysicists and meteorologists in congress assembled speak with confidence of the end of drouths. The present dry cycle is about all through, in the opinion of Dr. C. G. Abbott of the Smithsonian Institution, and the next one is not due till the year 1975. We have published pictures of thriving dry belt cornfields under the heading Dust Bowl Stages Comeback. The five major grain crops this year will be about five billion bushels, as against three billion last year and a quarter billion in 1932."

THE TIMES CONTINUES ITS comment in cheerfully humorous fashion, referring to the persistence of the dry belt farmer who stays on and on, looking forward to "one good year," which is to get him out of his difficulties and pointing out that in spite of gloomy predictions the dust bowl has been soaked and is again yielding crops, contradicting predictions.

"ODDLY ENOUGH, SAYS THE Times, it is the self-styled forward-lookers who refuse to look honestly forward in hard times. They want only the bad news. If it does not rain for a couple of years in the Dakotas, then it will never rain. If the dust storms begin to blow in the Panhandle, they will keep on blowing until everything in the United States west of 100 degrees goes back to desert. If, in an allied field of social despair, factory employment falls sharply, then factory employment will never come back. Even with countrywide recovery, technological progress has us sunk."

E. A. GETCHELL, FORMER Grand Forks resident now of Minneapolis, who was visiting here the other day, told of a conversation he had recently with Charles King of St. Paul, who back in the '70's was partially responsible for founding of The Grand Forks Herald. At that time George Winship and King were setting type on a daily newspaper in St. Paul. One day King said to Winship: "Why not get a plant and start a paper of our own in one of those new western towns."

THE NEXT TIME A TYPE salesman came along, they asked him if he knew where they could get a printing plant cheap. He told them of a newspaper in Caledonia, Minn., that had just gone broke. Winship and King went there and bought the plant at a bargain, loaded it on a wagon, and with Frank, a brother of Charles, drove to Grand Forks. On arriving here and looking over the field, they decided that the place wasn't large enough for three persons. Frank King went west, Charles returned to St. Paul and George stayed here—and that was the birth of The Herald.

CHARLES KING WAS Connected with the U. S. land office in Duluth for many years, being retired on a pension several years ago. Now 86 years old and in fair health, he spends his summers at Lake Haven, Minn., and has an apartment in St. Paul during the winter months.

THE HERALD WAS Established in 1879, nearly 60 years ago. Sixty years is a long time, and at 86 one's recollection of events of early manhood are not always accurate. Mr. King's story of the founding of The Herald differs materially from that told by Mr. Winship himself, and in Tuesday's column will be published the account written by Mr. Winship several years before his death. ON SUNDAY THIS COLUMN contained the substance of a statement made by Charles King to E. A. Getchell, a former Grand Forks resident, in which Mr. King reported that he and another printer had co-operated with George B. Winship in the founding of the Grand Forks Herald. Mr. King’s recollection is that the decision to establish a newspaper in one of the new western towns was made by the three young printers in a St. Paul newspaper office, and that they bought a Caledonia, Minn., newspaper plant and moved it to Grand Forks.

IN THE YEARS OF OUR Association Mr. Winship talked often to me about his early life and the conditions which led to his settling in Grand Forks. He told of his work as a journeyman printer in St. Paul and elsewhere, of his journeys up and down the Red River valley by river and by ox team caravan, of his operation of the stage station at Turtle river with William Budge, of the purpose that he had entertained for years to start a paper at Grand Forks when the time was ripe, of his weekly newspaper at Caledonia, Minn., and of his ultimate removal to Grand Forks with his printing plant. Never did he mention any other person as being associated with him in the venture, and instead of buying the Caledonia plant to move at once to Grand Forks, he bought it to operate, and he published the Caledonia Courier for two years before coming to Grand Forks. Not only have I a distinct recollection of our many conversations on the subject, but I have Mr. Winship’s account in writing of the events of those years. From that account I quote the following.

MR. WINSHIP’S STORY. “IN 1875 GEO. H. WALSH, with whom I worked in the same alley on the (St. Paul) Pioneer Press, decided to go to Grand Forks and start a paper, and that was a disappointment to me, for I had that field spotted for my own initial effort as a publisher. I was not prepared to make the venture, anyway, at that time, not having the means to buy a plant, so I said nothing and plugged away as usual. I knew the time would come, sooner or later, when there would be room in Grand Forks for me. During the last year of my service on The Pioneer Press I tried to into the newspaper business in at least two places. I thought practical experience as a publisher for a year or two would be helpful to me before starting in at Grand Forks. I went to St. James, Minn., and inspected a plant, and then to Elk River; but more money for the first payment was required than I possessed, so these projects fell through.

"DURING THE WINTER OF 1877 the St. Paul printers endeavored to pull off a strike on account of some grievance which did not appeal to me as justifiable, and I discouraged the movement. I was at the time vice president of the Typographical Union and presided at many of the meetings at which the strike proposition was under consideration. The 'subs' and 'banner carriers' were in a majority at most of the meetings, and they did their best to precipitate a strike. The regulars were more conservative. They took into account that publishers as well as printers and others were victims of hard times, that a strike at that time was uncalled for and unjustifiable, and that was the position I took.

"PENDING THIS AGITATION I met some representative citizens of Houston county, Minn., and was urged to start a paper at Caledonia in that county. I agreed to look over the field, and subsequently did so, securing encouragement sufficient to warrant me in making the venture. At that time, after two years and a half of steady work at the "case," I had a credit at the savings bank of $225.00, and with that amount of capital, plus a few hundred dollars credit, I established my first newspaper at Caledonia, Minn."

SEVERAL, FOLLOWING PAGES of Mr. Winship's story deal with his work for more than two years at Caledonia, marked by his espousal of the cause of the people against an entrenched county ring and his fight against repudiation of the county's bonds. In both of these contests he was successful, and he refers to his victory over the county ring as the most satisfactory success of his life. Continuing, he writes: "DURING THE MONTH OF April, 1879, news came to me about the prosperity of Grand Forks, that it was growing rapidly, that homesteaders were filing on land in the valley, even back from the Red river, and that the season just opening promised to be one of unusual activity. It occurred to me that it would be a good time to investigate, and that a trip to my old home was advisable ... I was amazed by the changed condition since I had passed over the country six years previously, and even before I reached Grand Forks I had made up my mind to cast my lot somewhere in the Red river valley without further delay. Apparently government land was going so fast that I feared it would all be taken if I did not act quickly. I was full of surprises all the way to Fisher's Landing—the terminus of the St. Paul and Pacific —from which place stages conveyed passengers to Grand Forks and other points north and south. The stage crossed the river at Minnesota Point On Ed. Williams' ferry, and, two hours later, left its passengers at Viets House, then under the management of Wild Dow." THE STORY THEN Describes Mr. Winship's meeting with old friends, the encouragement which they gave him, his decision to locate in Grand Forks and his return to Caledonia to arrange for removal of his plant. He bade a reluctant farewell to the people of Caledonia, shipped his plant to Fisher's Landing, whence it was brought to Grand Forks by team, and packed the rest of his goods on a prairie schooner to be hauled by team the 500 miles. That trip required 16 days. The printing plant was installed in a ,building built for it by Captain McCormack adjoining the present site of the Met theater, and the first issue of The Weekly Herald was published on June 26, 1879.

THE STATEMENT BY1 Charles King, of St. Paul, published in Sunday's column, that he and George B. Winship bought "a newspaper in Caledonia, Minn., that had just gone broke," a n d brought the plant to Grand Forks to start the Herald, was read with interest by Walter Dunbar, of Grand Forks, a Great Northern conductor. Mr. Dunbar said he knew there was something wrong with that statement, for he knew that Winship operated a paper at Caledonia for some time and that Winship was instrumental in electing Wells E. Dunbar, Conductor Dun-bar's father, to the state legislature from that district. MR. WINSHIP DEVOTES AN interesting chapter to his two years at Caledonia. Of his starting iris weekly paper there in opposition to the "ring" paper already in the field, he writes: "ABOUT THE 15TH OF APRIL, 1877, I engaged in my first newspaper venture at Caledonia, Minnesota. As before stated, my capital was only $225.00, I bought a Washington hand press for $200, one-half cash, the balance in six months, and about $50 worth of new type. A small lot of well-worn display type, old cases, galleys, rules, slugs and leads, was purchased from the Pioneer Press Co. —material they had thrown in the "hell-box" and junk pile—for which I paid about $12.00 I had barely enough material to set up two pages of a seven column folio newspaper, but from the encouragement I. had received from citizens of Caledonia I was confident I could I take in considerable money after the first number of the paper was issued and I had demonstrated the fact that another paper was established in the town that would represent the cause of the people as against the county "ring," which dominated the other paper across the street. After that I could add material to my plant in the ratio of my receipts and expenses. I named my paper the Caledonia Courier, and the first four or five issues were handled exclusively by me, except the inking process, which was done by a small boy. Mrs. Winship folded the papers and mailed them and otherwise rendered acceptable service.

"THE COURIER WAS WELL received throughout the county, and subscriptions of $2.00 per year came in freely until may circulation reached 350 copies. I spent two days each week in canvassing, hiring a one-horse rig for one dollar a day, and working mainly in farming communities. When cash was not convenient, farm truck of all varieties was taken, and by the time I reached home my democrat wagon was filled with stuff suitable for the subsistence of man or beast. Each week I wrote up the locality in which I canvassed, giving publicity to the name of every man I met, saying something about his family, his stock or his success as a farmer. I made many friends on these trips, and in three months the Courier was doing a paying business and I was in good standing."

MR. WINSHIP GIVES A Lively account of his fight against the ring which dominated Houston county, a ring in which the liquor trade played an important part, and which was organized with a completeness rivaling that of New York's Tammany. Fat salaries were paid to county officials, and tax money and license money went in various secret ways into the pockets of cross-roads politicians. Winship rolled up his sleeves, spit on his hand and sailed in. He described the conditions in the county in language which the people understood, and under his leadership the county convention swamped the gangsters and nominated a complete county and legislative ticket of their own. All of these were triumphantly elected except the candidates for two local offices. Wells E. Dunbar, father of the Grand Forks conductor, was sent to the legislature, and Halvor Steenerson, later a resident of Crookston and member of congress from that district, was elected county auditor. When they met, as they did often in later years, Winship, and Steenerson went over again the campaign which cleaned up Houston county.

WHILE WINSHIP FOUND LIFE in Caledonia pleasant, with friends all around him, and his little paper was prosperous, the place was small and it had no prospect of material growth. The Red river valley was being settled, and Grand Forks seemed to be its coming town. His removal to Grand Forks was in pursuance of a plan that had been in his mind for years and which only awaited suitable opportunity for realization. As has been stated, the Courier plant was shipped to Fisher by train and brought to Grand Forks by wagon. Winship himself came by train. His miscellaneous effects were brought from Caledonia by wagon in charge of Alfred Percival, Winship's printer, and Charles Wtezel, who volunteered his services, as he wished to settle in the Red river valley. THERE ARE MANY Interesting things about trees, and some of them are puzzling. This summer I have had a curious experience with an elm. The tree was planted last spring to replace one that had been destroyed by borers, heat and drouth. The new tree was tall and straight, an excellent specimen, and it was planted within an hour after being removed from its original home and while the earth around its roots was still fresh and moist. Its top was properly trimmed back, earth was carefully packed around its roots, and it was well watered.

TO GUARD AGAINST THE laying of eggs which would presently develop into borers I wound tough paper around the trunk to the height of about 10 feet. After everything was set I continued to water the tree thoroughly once a week. But presently its leaves began to wither and one by one they dried up and dropped off, leaving all its twigs bare. For a time I continued to water it, hoping that life remained in it somewhere, but there was no response and I gave it up. After the early part of June the tree had no water except from occasional rain, and during the recent dry period the earth around it cracked wide open. I intended to have the tree removed to make way for another.

A FEW DAYS AGO. GLANCING toward the tree from some distance, I saw a small object which looked green projecting from the trunk of my abandoned tree at the height of about four feet. Approaching to get a better view I was astonished to find that the green object was a vigorous leaf which had worked its way through a joint in the wrapping. There was life in the tree yet! I removed the wrapping and found that while the upper half of the tree is still apparently dead, the lower half is very much alive. Several dozen shoots had been sent out from the trunk. Many of them were over a foot long, all but the one which had first attracted my attention had tried in vain to reach the light, and in color and texture they resembled potato sprouts grown in a dark cellar. I cannot understand why, when the tree died in spite of the excellent care which it received in the spring, it came to life after being neglected all summer. Whether or not some of those tender shoots will survive and make a usable tree is still a problem.

PROBABLY MANY READERS of this column have received announcement, similar to the one I have just received, of a book entitled "The Story of the Pyramid." In the announcement emphasis is placed on the prophetic character of the pyramid. We are told that certain measurements and inscriptions foretell the birth of Jesus, the World war and the end of the depression. September 16 of this year, according to the symbols, is to be the beginning of a new era of marvelous prosperity.

WE MUST CONCEDE TO THE builders of the pyramids architectural and mechanical skill and considerable knowledge of mathematics and astronomy. Evidences of such knowledge are abundant in the massive structures which they have left. But when it comes to prophecy, I draw the line at that. Just bunk!

FOR GENERATIONS MYSTICS have been reading into the design and structure of the pyramids their own notions of the supernatural knowledge of the ancients. Always they have been able to find in measurements and inscriptions prophecies of what was to happen in the world hundreds of thousands of years later, and always they have succeeded, very much to their own satisfaction. But the mystics of different periods have not agreed with each other. To one a given feature might presage the fall of the Roman Empire, to others the destruction of the Spanish Armada, the Napoleonic wars, the recent World war, or some even yet in the future. Given a little nimbleness with a tape measure and a lead pencil one can make the pyramids prophesy anything. THE AMERICAN Constitution, whose sesquicentennial is being observed this week, is a written document, setting forth in precise terms the principles on which American government is founded and providing the method for its operation. The British constitution is a vague entity, a thing of custom and tradition, but a very real thing, at that.

TO THE Onlooker, unfamiliar with the historic background of British institutions, many of the customs attending the operation of British government are tinged with absurdity. While there was much that was dignified and impressive in the recent coronation of King George VI, some of the bizarre costumes and antiquated ceremonies were provocative of mirth. Yet each is linked up with history and in its symbolism recalls something of grave import.

SYMBOLISM OF LIKE Character attends the opening of the British parliament, at which the young king will officiate on October 26. Theoretically parliament is summoned into session by the king, and in earlier times only the king had that authority, an authority which he yielded on his own responsibility. The form remains unchanged, but after a long struggle, culminating in the revolution of 1688, it was decreed that the king could act only on the "advice" of his ministers. The speech from the throne, which is read by the king at the opening, is not the king's speech at all, but that of his ministers, who outline the legislation which they intend to enact during the session.

THE HOUSE OF COMMONS, representative of the people, guards its independence with great jealousy. The king himself may not enter its chamber without permission, and when at the opening of parliament the king sends his messenger from the upper chamber to "command" the attendance of the Commons, the messenger finds the doors barred against him, and he must ask permission to enter.

THE "COMMAND" TO ATTEND the joint session in the other chamber is received without protest, but instead of attending "immediately," as ordered, the Commons take their time about it. In order to show that they are not taking orders from anybody the speaker moves with deliberate slowness and majesty, and the members move in an equally leisurely manner.

NO MATTER HOW URGENT the matters which the king recommends in his speech, both houses show their independence by doing something else first. Two bills, the Vestries bill in the Lords and the Outlawries bill in the Commons, are given their first reading as the first order of business. The same bills have been read at each open- ing for many years, and that is the last that is heard of them until the next session. Then the dust is brushed off them and they are read again. That gesture completed, the houses settle down to business.

IT IS ALL VERY ARCHAIC, very solemn, and very funny. But back of it all is a centuries-old struggle in which thrones were toppled over, dynasties changed, wars waged and the common man won increasing recognition of his manhood and his rights. In that feature the human element is lacking, and one is reminded that the building of a nation is serious business. ELLIS PARKER BUTLER IS dead. He was a successful banker, something of an authority on interior decoration, and the author of many books, some humorous and some serious. But for 30 years he has been known to the public always and only as the author of "Pigs is Pigs," a sidesplitting story which he wrote reluctantly at the urgent request of Ellery Sedgwick, editor of the Atlantic Monthly. Butler, born 68 years ago at Muscatine, Iowa, seems to have been born with the itch to write. At the age of 6 he wrote a poem which was not published, but which was much better than most poems written by persons of similar age, and better than those written by many older persons. Here is one stanza:

TWO LITTLE CHILDREN, OH so sweet, Went out to play in the snow and sleet, The little boy who has the sled, Oh, his name is Ted. The little girl with the silver curl, She is our sweetest little Pearl, Ted, he has froze his nose, And Pearl is crying with her toes. Oh, papa calls. He says come in and play with your dolls.

AT INTERVALS OF Clerking and other occupations he wrote stories and articles and sent them to New York. Most of them came back, but a few were accepted, and Butler himself went to the big city. Calling at a publishing office he asked the editor's advice about settling in New York. "Are you the young man from Iowa who keeps sending manuscripts to New York?" asked the editor. Butler confessed that he was. "Then," said the editor, "I should advise you to come to New York and send your manuscripts to Iowa." Butler planted himself in New York and stayed there for many years.

"PIGS IS PIGS" SET MOST OF the world laughing 30 years ago, and those who read the story have laughed at it ever since. Butler became thoroughly weary of it. It clung to him like a leech. Always he was identified as "the author of 'Pigs is Pigs,' and never as anything else. And it impaired his later standing as a writer. If he wrote a serious article those who had read his frivolous masterpiece scanned it for the humor with which they were familiar, and were disappointed at not finding it. He wrote many funny stories, but the reader always laid them down with the thought that while they might be funny, they were not half as funny as "Pigs is Pigs." Butler was never able to live down his great literary success.

I SUPPOSE THERE ARE Millions who are familiar with the title of that story who have never read it. I advise them by all means to read it. For their benefit, the story deals with the perplexities of an Irish country freight agent and a shipment of a few pairs of guinea pigs. There was a dispute over the freight bill, the consignee demanding the rate for pets, while the agent insisted on the high rate for pigs on the ground that "pigs is pigs." Delivery was held up while the agent wired for instructions. In the meantime the "pigs"' had multiplied, creating a new problem, and before the thing was settled the railway station was full of guinea pigs and the railway system was about demoralized. Read it. It will do you good. AN ILLINOIS PAPER HAS the following about a mountain lion, which has inhabitants of the vicinity of Como, Ill., all excited: "THE MOUNTAIN LION WAS sighted in the vicinity of Como; about 5:30 o'clock Wednesday afternoon, according to a call received by Sheriff A. E. Hamilton from Mrs. Asa Stewart. The lion went to the river to get a drink when it was seen. Sheriff Hamilton was unable to go but Lee Whistler and George Schroeder, prominent hunters of Morrison, went to the vicinity with some dogs; however, they were unable to trail the animal. Hunters who have searched for mountain lions claim that it would be useless to attempt to hunt for the lion at night but that the hunt should be started at daybreak. By this means if the dogs do get the trail they will be able to get the varmint if it is routed."

ASA STEWART, WHOSE WIFE called the sheriff, is the son of Irving Stewart, well-known Grand Forks auctioneer, who is interested; in the Como farm operated by his son. Mr. Stewart has heard from, the family about the depredations of the lion, which is both bold and wary. It has raided many poultry yards at night, and has carried off several of the larger domestic animals. The beast, which is described as a large, tawny animal, has been seen at a distance as close as a rod, but by persons without guns, and, quite naturally, they did not wish to get closer. ROCKWELL KENT, AN Artist whose work many of us have admired, has completed a series of murals for the postmaster general's office building. One of the pictures shows a group of Eskimos haranguing a group of Porto Ricans. Shown in the design are a number of drawing s, evidently symbolic, which no one around the office could understand. 'Vilhjalmur Stefansson was called in to interpret, and he reported that the picture represented the Eskimos urging the Porto Ricans to strike for independence.

JUST ON WHAT BASIS artists think it proper to use their art as means for propaganda when somebody else is paying for their services. Diego Rivera, talented Mexican artist, was engaged by the Rockefellers to paint a mural for Rockefeller Center. He produced a picture exalting Communism and was deeply aggrieved when he was not allowed to finish it, although he was paid the price agreed on for the completed work. Rockwell Kent undertakes to slip over a bit of propaganda of his own. If an artist wished to paint propaganda pictures, he has a perfect right to do so. but let him paint them frankly on his own, and then offer them for sale to whoever wants to buy pictures of that particular kind.

CHARLES AND EDNA Garske, of Garske, N. D., write: "In an issue of The Grand Forks Herald you stated that the swallows were gone south. Now we live 20 miles north of Devils Lake and have watched the swallows here on the farm, and now, on September 16, they are still here. Where was it you saw the swallows depart from? Was it in North Dakota?"

THE SWALLOWS TO WHICH reference was made were a small colony which nested in a Grand Forks garage. For several years they, or their parents and grandparents, have nested in the same place, and, whether by accident or design, each year they have taken flight for the south on the first of September. For some reason the swallows at Garske do not observe September 1 as moving day.

O. T. BAKERUS, 524 NORTH Fifth street, sends in a paper containing a clipping from The Miles City, Mont. Star (Joe Scanlan's paper) in which is given an account of a ghostly apparition observed by Fred J. Engel, a former Montana ranchman, now of Mad-dock, N. D. Mr. Engel tells of walking by moonlight on a trail in the Powder river country, when suddenly he saw the figure of a man walking in the same direction on a trail parallel to his own and only a few feet away. Presently the figure vanished. There was no place of concealment, and Mr. Engel was puzzled. He retraced his steps for a short distance, and the figure reappeared. Mr. Engel saw his own shadow distinctly, but the apparition cast no shadow. His explanation is that the vision was the result of some light effect similar to the mirage often seen in daylight. Mr. Bakerus writes that he has heard his father tell of a similar phenomenon in Norway.

I HAVE JUST HAD A BRIEF visit with W. E. Davis, of Minneapolis, here to attend the funeral of his brother-in- law, L. C. Hazlett. Nearly 40 years ago Davis was one of the best-known of the traveling men making headquarters in Grand Forks. Because he sold groceries he was known all over the northwest as "Prunes" Davis. Somewhat earlier he had been city editor and editor-in-chief of The Grand Forks Plaindealer when that paper was published by E. C. Carruth. Later he went to Winnipeg, where he was engaged in the wholesale grocery business for seven years. For several years he has operated an advertising agency in Minneapolis. His visits to Grand Forks have been infrequent, but he still likes the old town, which he says compares favorably with a good many other towns several times its size with which he is familiar. It was good to see him, even for a few minutes, and to see that the years have not impaired his vigor and forceful-ness. In the old days people used to get our names mixed, and at one time he received congratulations on the birth of one of my children, or I was congratulated on the birth of one of his—I have forgotten which way it was. IN A NORMAL SEASON Autumn conveys, among other things the impression of abundance. For some reason that impression is given by the gleaming piles of straw that remain after threshing even more than the sight of fields of waving grain or of the shocks standing thick on the field. In these latter there is yet something of promise, something that lacks a little of realization. But the threshed straw means that the crop has actually been' saved, and stack on stack of it speaks of bountiful production.

THEN THERE IS THE Harvesting of the products of truck gardens and potato and beet fields, whose yield speaks volumes for the fertility of the soil. All of these things mean long trains of freight cars rolling on their way to market, but they suggest even more strongly cellar shelves filled with canned fruits and vegetables, bins filled with roots and granaries and haymows stored with winter food for the animals. SIGHT OF THE THRESHING machine at work recalls to me the threshing of earlier days when gasoline was unknown and the use of steam power for that purpose, if not unknown, was rare. First in my recollection comes the flail, an implement with which a man could pound out 20 bushels of wheat in a day as a cost of a dollar. To the uninitiated threshing with a flail may seem hard work. Really it wasn't so very laborious. In that respect I should compare it with golf. And, as it was done in the winter, there was about it the satisfaction that one feels when warm and sheltered from the elements while storms rage outside. I thing of threshing under those conditions, with the animals feeding contentedly in their stalls close by and an experience full of peace, comfort and security.

OUR FIRST THRESHING Machines, of course, were operated by horsepower. Eight, ten, twelve and I think as many as sixteen horses were attached to the sweeps that turned the tumbling-rod that turned the wheels of the threshing machine. Early threshing machines did not separate wheat from chaff. Wheat and chaff were shaken loose from the straw and piled on one side to be separated by a hand-driven fanning mill. It was long after the completion of the machine as a separator before the blower was invented to dispose of the straw. On the eastern farms all straw was saved, and it was stacked as it came from the machine. To stand under the carrier and fork away straw all day was a strenuous and an exceedingly dusty job. On the western prairie farms, prior to the advent of the blower, the straw was dragged away from the machine by means of a bucking pole with a horse attached to each end. Bucking straw was another job which nobody coveted.

AS A SMALL BOY I HAD A consuming ambition to be the driver of the dozen horses, more or less, which were hitched to the horsepower sweeps. To stand on a revolving platform in the center of all those horses, crack a long whip and cry "Giddap," seemed the pinnacle of bliss. A little later, when I had an opportunity to try it, all the dignity and romance vanished with it. Twelve hours of it left one with stiff back and legs, sore feet and strained vocal cords. That was simply one of the many vi- sions of childhood that do not stand the test of actual experience.

ONE OF MY NEIGHBORS over in Minnesota, A. E. Brush, of Angus, for several years did the threshing on a fairly large farm with a little tread-power machine operated by three horses. The endless platform on which the horses stood was pitched at a steep angle, and it seemed tough on the horses to have to climb up hill all day and never get anywhere. MODERN MACHINERY HAS done away with the threshing machine feeder and the band cutter. Formerly the bundles were pitched onto a table at the side of the machine where a man or boy with a sharp knife cut the bands and passed the bundle on to the feeder. The feeder's job was to keep the maw of the machine full without crowding it or causing it to jump. It was a job for a husky man and usually two or three men changed off on this work every hour or so. Now, I notice, they merely pitch the bundles onto a belt and the machine does all the rest.

FORMERLY GRAIN WAS sacked as it came from the machine instead of being run directly into a grain tank. Handling those sacks all day long was another job that called for muscle and endurance. AFTER DOING BUSINESS FOR a little over a year in quarters rented from the First Methodist church, the Grand Forks postoffice now occupies its enlarged and remodeled building, a fine structure which should be ample for all requirements for many years. The contractors are to be congratulated on having completed the building within so short a time over the period prescribed in the lease for temporary quarters, as exceptionally stormy weather last winter compelled suspension of work several times.

SEVERAL "MEN ON THE street" have expressed doubt as to the need for the enlargement which has been made. It happens that most of the work in a modern post-office building is done out of sight of the public whose principal contact with the institution arises from occasional visits to mail letters or obtain mail. The volume of the parcel post business and the extent of its growth are seldom realized. This is a branch of the business with which the old-time postoffice had no contact, and its growth had been such that in the old building facilities for it were wholly inadequate, and it had encroached dh the space required for the transaction of other business. Affecting the need for office space also is the addition of many new agencies to those formerly existing. Each of these must have room. In the past it was necessary to rent separate quarters for several of them. Now all are housed in the same building.

IT WILL SOON BE A Century since the first postoffice was established in North Dakota. That office was established at Pembina in 1851, with Norman W. Kittson as postmaster and Charles Cavalier, who was also deputy collector of customs, as assistant postmaster. Cavalier was subsequently appointed postmaster, a position which he held for nearly 50 years.

THE FIRST POSTOFFICE IN Grand Forks was a log building on Eighth avenue South, near the Almonte intersection. That building, nearly a mile from "the Forks," was erected in 1868 by Mic. Hoffman and August Loon, who had a contract to forward mail from that point to Pembina. In 1869 Hoff-man and Loon were joined by Sanford C. Cady, who was instrumental in having a postoffice established and was appointed the first postmaster of Grand Forks.

WHEN I MOVED TO GRAND Forks in 1892 the postoffice was on Kittson avenue in part of the building now occupied by the Penney store. Willis A. Joy was then postmaster. Later the office was moved to the old Odd Fellows block, corner of Fourth and Kittson, and from there to its present location.

OCCUPATION OF PART OF their property by the postoffice as temporary quarters restricted the Methodists to the use of the main church auditorium and one floor of their education building. A fire in the early summer made use of the auditorium impossible, and since the summer vacation the Methodist congregation had held Sunday services in the Forx theater. Old residents recall that this is the site on which the original Methodist church stood. Repairs on the church will be completed within a few weeks, and the congregation will then resume occupancy of the entire building.

A FEW YEARS AGO MUCH humor was expended on the difficulties experienced with 'balky automobiles. The cry "Get a horse!" was heard whenever a stalled car was seen, and that was often. But horses were not dependable. Quite often they balked. A newspaper paragraph more than 60 years old lists six methods of starting a balky horse. Those are, patting the horse and examining harness; taking the horse out and turning him until he is giddy; holding the ani- mal's nostrils and shutting off his wind; tying twine around the flet-lock; tying his tail to the saddle-girth; and tying a string around his ear. Omitted from the list are the ancient devices of spitting in the animal's ear and building a fire under him.

THE LATTER METHOD WAS once used by a man with a load of hay. One of the horses balked and could not be persuaded to move. The driver collected a small armful of hay, placed it under the horse and set fire to it. The horse stepped forward just out of the fire and balked again. The fire caught on the load of hay, and presently the team was on the run with a blazing load of hay behind. Wagon and hay were burned. THE WINNIPEG TRIBUNE published a picture of a cairn erected this year at Norway House, the Hudson’s Bay post on the Nelson river 30 miles from the northern end of Lake Winnipeg. Affixed to the cairn is a plaque on which are inscriptions commemorating the post as the company’s trading headquarters, the invention of a syllabalic alphabet of the Cree language by Rev. James Evans, a Wesleyan missionary stationed there in 1833 and 1839, and the treaty whereby the Indians ceded 100,000 square miles to the “Great White Father.” Such bits of history are encountered in remote places all through the northwest.

ACCOMPANYING A REVIEW of a new book, "The Sod House Frontier," by Everett Dick, is a picture of a sod house of typical design and construction. Seated in front of the house is the settler, surrounded by his fairly large family. The picture of the settler would pass perfectly for one of Theodore Roosevelt, but Roosevelt didn't live in a. sod house, and when he was ranching in Dakota Territory he had no family.

ANOTHER ILLUSTRATION reproduced is that of the plat of the boom town New Babylon, Kansas territory, which will have a familiar appearance to those who remember the days of townsite booming in the new west. The platting of towns and marketing of town lots was a thriving industry some 60 years ago. Any settler so minded— and many of them were so minded—could turn his farm into a town site by employing a surveyor to run the lines and draw the map. Filing the map with the register of deeds completed the legal formalities.

A QUARTER SECTION OF land will cut up into about 1,000 lots of standard size, 25 by 140 feet, with the necessary streets and alleys. The customary charge for a survey was 25 cents a lot, and often the surveyor could be induced to take part of his pay in town lots, which reduced the cash outlay. Marketing was the real problem. Many eastern promotion companies were engaged in this business. Operating usually on a combined cash and commission basis, they took care of advertising, published large maps of the town with glowing prospectuses, and made what sales they could.

MANY OF THE PURCHASES were made in true gambling spirit. Buying a town lot was like buying a lottery ticket. The purchaser knew that most of the new towns would never amount to anything, but he bought a lot here and another there in the hope that one of his purchases would be lucky and that it would yield him enough to pay for all his other outlay, plus a fabulous profit. The settler who made only a few sales and collected for them got a handsome price for his quarter section and could afford to let the rest of the lots go for taxes.

A SCIENTIFIC EXPEDITION is investigating what is known as Sky island, a tract in the middle of the Grand canyon of Arizona which escaped the erosion some 20,000 years ago, and stands, a gigantic pillar of rock and earth, with almost perpendicular walls several hundred feet high. It has been thought that because this area is cut off completely from the surrounding terrain, animal and plant life such as existed many thousands of years ago may have persisted there, unmixed with that of the surrounding country and unaffected by the evolution that has accompanied it.

ON THE ISOLATED PLATEAU were found mice with peculiar I "leaf" ears, which the scientists' have not yet classified. But traces of human presence have been found in the form of arrowheads, and there are evidences of deer and other animal life, indicating that, after all, there has been communication between the "island" and the surrounding country.

THE DESCRIPTION OF THIS "island" and the speculations concerning what might be found on it recall a story of Conan Doyle's published a few years ago in which the author planted a similar island somewhere in the center of South America in a region unknown to whites and shunned by natives. It was a vast plateau 1,000 feet high, jutting up with perpendicular walls from the surrounding marshy plain. There a group of adventurers found ape men, pterodactyl and other survivals of prehistoric life. It was a good enough yarn, but it was spoiled by one lame feature. The adventurers gained access to the plateau by climbing a pinnacle which was comparatively easy of ascent, and which was separated from the main mass by a narrow chasm which they bridged by felling a tree across it. After they had crossed a traitorous guide loosened the tree and sent it crashing into the chasm, leaving the explorers stranded. Thereupon Doyle pictures his adventurers as in a blue funk because they believe themselves doomed to spend the rest of their lives on that plateau, there being no way of getting down. The idea of three intelligent and able-bodied human beings being unable to devise means of getting down a rock wall 1,000 feet high!

PENDING THE RETURN OF Mr. Justice Black from Europe, with whatever he has to say about being a member of the Klan, there wigs have been drawn into the scrap, and fragments of the alphabet are flying in all directions. WHILE President Roosevelt has suggested that the supreme is raging a controversy as to whether it is "whippletree" or "whiffletree." Lexicographers and other literary big court has returned us to the horse- and-buggy age, the return has not been so complete as to familiarize many of our people with the accouterments that belong to a horse and carriage. Reference to a propeller, an altimeter, a carburetor or a differential would be perfectly intelligible to many who wouldn't have the slightest idea whether the horse should go before the cart or vice versa, and whose idea about whipple-or whiffletrees might be that they are planted in groves for use as windbreaks. But they are not that kind of trees.

IT MAY BE EXPLAINED that a whiffle- or whippletree, is the pivoted bar on a vehicle to which the harness of the horse is attached by means of tugs or otherwise. Webster gives both spellings, but gives preference to the double "p." Other dictionaries reverse the preference. Dictionary makers, like politicians, have a habit of evading an issue and carrying water on both shoulders.

THE PRESENT DIFFERENCE of opinion on the subject is not of recent origin. It existed away back in my boyhood, but in those days nobody seemed to get excited about it. In my immediate neighborhood it was always "whipple," but in another district only a few miles away it was "whiffle.' We just let it go at that. At one period in my youthful career I did the bookkeeping for a village blacksmith. The job consisted in transferring to an account book the items which the blacksmith had recorded with a stub of pencil and grimy fingers on stray scraps of paper. Among those items would often be one like this: "John Smith, fix one whiff, 25 cents." That meant that Smith's whiffle tree had been repaired at the cost of a quarter.

AS A PART OF ITS Contribution to this wordy controversy The New York Times quotes Mark Twain's description of the way they hitch up a horse in Europe. Mark was not familiar with the technical terms, so he wrote it like this:

"THE MAN STANDS UP THE horses on each side of the thing that projects from the front end of the wagon, throws the gear on top of the horses, and passes the thing that goes forward through a ring, and hauls it aft on the other side of the horse, opposite to the first one, after crossing them and bringing the loose end back, and then buckles the other thing underneath the horse, and takes another thing and wraps it around the thing I spoke of before, and puts another thing over each horse's head,, and puts the iron thing in his mouth, and brings the ends of these things aft over his back, after buckling another one around under his neck, and hitching another thing on a thing that goes over his shoulders, and then takes the slack of the thing I mentioned a while ago and fetches it aft and makes it fast to the thing that pulls the wagon, and hands the other things up to the driver."

THEY HAD A DINNER THE other night to congratulate each other on the fine growth and prospects of Cavalier. There were some fine addresses setting forth the many beauties and advantages, and the enthusiasm developed among the 50 or more persons present was so great that it had to be given expression in some concrete way. It was felt that nothing better could be done than to share the community's prosperity with some others less fortunate.

IT DEVELOPED THAT Potatoes and vegetables, not marketable, but decidedly usable, were going to waste, and it was decided to collect some of this surplus and pass it on to people in the western dry belt where nothing at all has grown. Steps were taken immediately to put this plan into effect. Sacks were donated to contain the produce, arrangements were made for collection, and the highway department volunteered the use of trucks for transportation. As a result the satisfaction of one community in eastern North Dakota with the growth and progress of their town is being reflected in better conditions for some of those who have been less fortunate, though not less deserving. That seems like a "booster" movement of a sound and practical kind. AIRPLANES ARE VERY Different now from what they were in the days when Arch Hoxey made the first flight in the northwest at the Grand Forks fair grounds and Tom McGoey landed his crate on top of one of the fair grounds barns. The planes that now fly over Grand Forks without stopping seem like fairly substantial struc- tures, and those that do alight here occasionally impress one with a sense of their strength and stability. But the biggest of the planes that ever visit Grand Forks are mere toys compared with the enormous craft that now fly the Pacific in the ordinary day's work. And presently the Russian government will have the biggest of them all. There is now being built at a plant near Baltimore, for the Soviet government, what will be, upon its launching next month, the largest flying boat in the world. It will weigh 65,000 pounds as against the 52,000 pounds weight of the China Clipper. Each wing section weighs 4,000 pounds, and to elevate those sections to the required 32 feet the construction company borrowed a Steel corporation crane. The Russian plane will carry 7,000 pounds more cargo than the China Clipper, and its cost is said to be around $1,000,000.

IT IS NOT ON THE PROGRAM for President Roosevelt, when he dedicates the grand stand at the Grand Forks fairgrounds to do any flying, although he has done his share of it in the past. And it may not be generally recalled that it was at a fair grounds gathering that Theodore Roosevelt first .took to the air, with Arch Hoxey as his pilot.

IT WAS SOME TIME AFTER Hoxey had thrilled the northwest with his Grand Forks flight that he and Theodore Roosevelt were attractions at a mammoth gathering at the St. Louis fair grounds. Hoxey had landed after perform- ing several stunts and Roosevelt came over to inspect the plane. "Better take a ride," said Hoxey, as he shook hand with the former president. "But I haven't a cap," said Roosevelt. 'Til lend you mine," said Hoxey, without any idea that his laughing invitation had been taken seriously. "All right," said Roosevelt, reaching for the padded helmet. "Where do I sit?"

HOXSEY WAS Flabbergasted. The most prominent man in America was about to trust himself in the air in that crazy bundle of sticks and wire and canvas, and Hoxey would be responsible for whatever happened to him. No committee had been consulted, there had been no official inspection of the plane, and flying was dangerous business, anyway. But Hoxey felt that he couldn't recall his invitation, and before a dozen persons knew anything about it, Hoxey and his passenger were aloft. There was consternation among the officials when they learned what was going on, but the flight went smoothly and a good landing was made. Hoxey said that he had been scared stiff, but Teddy had the time of his life,

ONE OF THE SIGNERS OF the Declaration of Independence was Charles Carroll of Carrollton, the 200th anniversary of whose birth has just been celebrated. There were several Charles Carroll’s in Maryland at that time, and for fear that King George might get hold of one of the others and hang him by mistake, the signer of the Declaration appended to his name the identifying words "Of Carrollton."

FOR AT LEAST 250 YEARS northeastern Ireland has been famous for its linens. And Ulster linens are still bleached on the grass, just as they were generations ago. In a little article on the industry it is said that two impor- tant factors which have contributed to the success in linen manufacture in that corner of the world are the natural atmospheric humidity which is essential for spinning and weaving, and freedom from the smoke which is so pre- valent near large industrial centers. While bleaching is in progress acres and acres are covered with cloth, making the landscape seem covered with snow. Of course linen manufacture is not peculiar to Ireland. Flemish weavers brought the industry to England about the time of the crusaders. In one of Scott's novels an important character is Wilkin Flammock, chief of a group of Flemmings, who in an emergency finds himself acting warden of a castle which is besieged by the Welsh. Looking out from the ramparts one morning over the enemy's camp, Flammock admired the orderly disposition of the Welsh tents, resembling, as he says, "the finest object in nature, a well spread bleaching-field." DURING THE WARM DAYS of the middle of last week the changing of nature's dress from that of summer to that of autumn was almost perceptible hour by hour. A touch of frost had hastened the ripening of the foliage of trees and shrubs, and the warmth of those three or four days hastened the process. The garb of green in which all outdoors had been clothed was changed for one of an infinite variety of color and the landscape began to take on the rich hues which precede the somber tints of winter.

OUR PRAIRIE LANDSCAPE lacks some of the factors which I give color to the great forest areas east and south. There, outstanding in the richness of its color, is the hard maple, whose foliage becomes a mass of colored fire as its yearly cycle nears completion. Rivaling the maple in color is the red oak, equally brilliant, but differing in tinting. The hard maple is a stranger to our prairie timber belts, and it has not been easily grown even under cultivation. We miss it in the autumn color scheme. We have some varieties of oak that color beautifully, but they are less conspicuous than those of the eastern forests.

LACKING SOME OF THE Elements of color, we have other features which are beautiful beyond description. Opposite my window is a Virginia creeper which for a week has been performing miracles before my eyes. In the summer a solid mass of green, it has responded to the touch of fairy fingers, and its leaves have become delicate pink, flaming crimson, rich bronze, with indescribable tints in between. Native to the soil, hardy and persistent, the Virginia creeper is one of the most satisfactory decorative plants growing in any latitude.

A FASCINATING STUDY IS the individuality of trees. Across the way is Fred Payne's row of ash, which I have mentioned several times. Originally of the same size, and planted at the same time, they taper off in size uniformly from one end of the row to the other, for no reason that anyone has been able to discover. Last spring the smallest tree, at one end of the row, put out its leaves a full week ahead of the others, and the others followed in regular order, the largest last. This fall, the smallest tree, apparently having reached maturity first, became a £.\lid mass of yellow a week before a leaf of any of the others had changed color. Now they are all changing in the inverse order of their size.

EVERYWHERE IS TO BE noted similar evidence of individuality. An ash in my own back yard shows no sign of autumn coloring. In a group of cottonwoods near by all are touched with yellow but one, whose green is brilliant in contrast. Box elders show masses of yellow, with here and there a touch of pink, but here and there are those which still retain their green unchanged.

PREDOMINANT IN THE Coloring of city foliage are the yellows, browns and tans, merging softly with the summer green. In the country the more brilliant hues enrich the picture. And it is a changeful picture, with fresh beauty shown with every change of lighting. Viewed from the west late on a sunny afternoon, a farm grove will show masses of soft color, mingled with magic skill to present the most exquisite harmony. Viewed from the east, with the rays of the lowering sun shining through it, the same grove will appear to be on fire, the soft tints having changed to a sparkle of in candescence.

NOTHING CAN BE MORE beautiful than the northern landscape in autumn. It matters not whether one drives through the lake country of northern Minnesota, where maples glow against a background of pine, or through the hill country of our own state, where trees and shrubbery present color combinations of wondrous beauty, or across the level prairie, where the soft tones of stubble fields and pasture lands mingle with the rich tints of ripening leaves, the season is one in which one may revel in beauty and feel glad to be on earth. I HAVE A WEAKNESS FOR mystery stories, but many of them bore me. They are too labored, too crowded, too intricate. They contain so much detail that I lose track of the story, and this I conceive to reflect on the workmanship of the author rather than on my capacity as a reader. The accomplished painter can treat a masterpiece with what appears to be a few simple lines. The blundering amateur fills his canvas with figures and curlicues and produces a monstrosity.

CONVENTIONALLY YOUR mystery story involved a murder, although that is not strictly necessary. Several competent authors have dispensed with murder altogether and substituted the theft of jewels, the forging of wills, or some other bloodless crime. However, while my taste does not run to murder, in a story I have no ob- jection to murder provided it is done in a straightforward, workmanlike manner, without studied effort to make it nauseating and bizarre. I have no use whatever for murder with new-fangled weapons or in a complicated, arti- ficial manner.

MYSTERY STORIES ARE Often too crowded with people. A crowd is all right in its place, such as a circus, or a reception to the president, but I see no point to dragging into a mystery story a whole mob of uninteresting strangers whom one does not wish to meet and about whom one cares nothing. It's like throwing a lot of unrelated and irrelevant items into a mathematical problem merely to have one sort out the rubbish.

AGATHA CHRISTIE IS ONE of the most popular of modern mystery writers, but she mixes things up too much to suit me. S. S. Van Dine has been a writer of best-selling mystery yarns for years, but I quit him because I didn't think he treated me fairly as a reader and he made his detective, Philo Vance, a cad. Arthur B. Reeves had considerable vogue in this line a few years ago with his "scientific" mystery stories, most of which were tommyrot. There has been a lot of gushing over Poe's "Gold Bug," which is held up as a model of what the mystery story ought to be. It's an entertaining yarn, all right, but it contains several improbabilities and some impossibilities which are obviously lugged in by main strength just to make the story go.

WHILE THE SERVICE Rendered to the world by the invention of the telephone does not depend at all on the precise spot where the idea first took form in the mind of the inventor, there is the matter of local pride to be considered, and residents of Brantford, Ontario, are naturally desirous that the fame of their city as the birthplace of the telephone be maintained. In a recent letter to the New York Times F. D. Reville, of Brantford, states some of the facts upon which the claim of his city is based. Mr. Reville writes:

"RECENTLY, THE AMERICAN Telephone and Telegraph Company issued a brochure, 'The Birth and Babyhood of the Telephone,' containing an address delivered by the late Thomas A. Watson, in Chicago, to a gathering of telephone workers on Oct. 17, 1913. Watson, in his narrative, recorded that he was working in an electrical shop when he first met Alexander Graham Bell and that it was in 1875 that he gave telephone help to the great inventor. He added: 'If the exact time could be fixed, the date when the conception of the undulatory or speech- transmitting current took its perfect form in Bell's mind, it would be the greatest day in the history of the telephone.'

'IT HAS BEEN FIXED BY Bell himself and was related on Oct. 14, 1917, when a handsome memorial to him and his invention, a memorial first sanctioned by himself, was unveiled in this city, Brantford, Ont, Canada. In his interesting address, the great inventor placed the date of the discovery as July 26, 1874, at the Bell Homestead near this city, and so recorded in a diary kept by his father.

"BELL FURTHER CONFIRMED this statement when in handing a silver telephone to the Duke of Devonshire, then Governor General, who presided at the unveiling, he said: 'I hope that in using this you will remember that the telephone originated in Brantford.'

"MELVILLE BELL, FATHER of the great inventor, brought his family from London, England, to Canada in 1870, and purchased a homestead on Tutela Heights, in the suburban area of this city. Here, Graham Bell did a great deal of pioneer work on the telephone and his experiments were well known to citizens, many of whom had an incidental part in them. Here, also, he had experimental designs made for him in the shops of Cowherd and Whitaker long before Watson had met Bell.

"I AM ONE OF THE Members of the Bell Memorial Association whose first act was to obtain Bell's unqualified sanction of this place as the proper location for a tribute to the invention of the telephone. The commission also purchased the Bell Homestead, and large numbers annually visit the birthplace of the telephone.”

GRAND FORKS IS Fortunate in having, at least, an auditorium adequate in every way for the presentation of the very best in musical and dramatic entertainment. One reads with a feeling of satisfaction the announcement of the opening on Wednesday of the ticket sale for the a r t is t s course presented by the Community Music association, and with the realization that these fine numbers are to be given in quarters clean, commodius, comfortable and beautiful, consistent in every way with the high character of the entertainment to be presented.

GRAND FORKS HAS HAD some fine music in the past, sometimes under trying conditions. The old Met, in its palmy days, served an excellent purpose. Opened with grand opera by Emma Abbott, through the years the building housed a splendid array of musical talent. One remembers with pleasure Madame Butterfly, the Choco- late Soldier, El Capitan, Robin Hood, the Minneapolis Symphony orchestra, and many others, all presented by real artists, and in surroundings which at that time were ideal.

BUT THE OLD THEATRE passed its best days, and the only other place available was the city auditorium, which has never been an ideal music hall. Still, good music was brought to the city, and in that barn-like structure we heard Paderewski, greatest pianist of his period, Melba, of the golden voice, the beloved Schumann-Heink, the San Carlos Opera company, the Ukrainian chorus and the Cossack singers, to mention only a few of the attractions that have appeared in that totally inadequate building.

THIS YEAR THE ARTISTS can be welcomed to a building for which no apologies are necessary, and the quality of the entertainment to be given is of the very highest. On the stage and in the concert hall the artists have been interpreters of music in its highest form, and they are at the height of their powers. In securing this course for Grand Forks the Community Music association has performed a service of inestimable value to the city and its adjacent territory.

A PAMPHLET TELLING OF attractions for tourists in Great Britain and Ireland describes a kind of horseracing which is an annual event at Inishbofin and Inislyon. The races are run on the seashore. The start is on the sand a quarter of a mile inland. The horses gallop that distance, plunge in, and swim a mile, with their riders in bathing suits clinging to neck or tail according to the swing of currents. Thousands of spectators are gathered in boats along the course to cheer the racers on and to bet their pounds or shillings on their favorites.

THE WRITER OF THE Paragraph perversely refused to locate Inishbofin and Inislyon, the scene of these novel races, and I began to hunt for those places. Suspecting that they might be in Ireland I tackled the map of that interesting country. I found two Inishbofin islands, one on the north coast and one on the east, but no Inislyon. In the search, however, I found Inishowen, Inishtrahull, Inisfree, Inishmurray, Inishglora, Inishkea, Inishturk, Inishdalla, Inishark, Inishmore, Inishmann, and Inisheer. I suppose "Inish" has a meaning. Will some Irishman tell me what it is, THAT BRINGS TO MIND AN ancient story about Queen Victoria. Having sampled a dish of haggis she complimented the cook and asked how it was made. "Well,” said Sandy, "there's mutton intil’t an' barley intil't, an'—" Her majesty, then unfamiliar with the northern dialect, interrupted to inquire, "What's 'intil't?" Patiently Sandy replied, "There's mutton intil't, and barley intil't—" "Yes, said Victoria, but what's 'intil't' 'intil't'?" "Losh! woman," exclaimed Sandy, "I'm a-tellin' ye what's intil't. There's mutton intl't, an' barley intil't—" NEW YORK'S DRAMATIC Season gets under way with the usual number of new plays, one of them being "The Star Wagon," by Maxwell Anderson. It is a departure from Andersen's recent offerings in verse, being a prose fantasy which one announcement says goes back to bicycle days. Word of its reception will be awaited with interest. Friends of Maxwe11 Anderson will also be interested in the information that this season for the first time one of Andersen's plays is to be produced in London. His "Winterset" reached London as a film, but no play of his has been staged there. This year Londoners will see "The Masque of Kings," which proved to be only a moderate success on Broadway last year, and which, therefore, may not prove to be Anderson's most fortunate introduction to British audiences. THERE ARE FEW FAMILIES whose residence in North Dakota has been longer than that of Blanding Fisher, himself for many years a resident of Devils Lake. The family of Mr. Fisher's mother settled on a farm near Wahpeton in 1862, and members of that family still live on the same farm. Jessie Blanding, Mr. Fisher's mother, was one of the early teachers in the Grand Forks schools. For some time she made her home with the Freemans, who owned the farm which later became Lincoln park.

I HAVE KNOWN KARL Farup, of Park River, for many years, but only recently learned that he and I got our start in North Dakota in the same line of work, surveying. I am told that Mr. Farup worked on the surveys that ran the lines through the territory north and west of Devils Lake.

I HAD A CHAT THE OTHER day with Mayor Hocking, of Devils Lake, about the days when Captain Heerman's steamer, the "Minnie H.," plied the waters of Devils Lake, and when fish were shipped from the lake by the carload. Dr. Hocking says that in Fargo, where his boyhood was spent, practically all the fish consumed there were netted in Devils Lake. One farmer who lived by the lake shore, had a point of land on his farm which ran into deep water, and there he was in the habit of throwing fish out of the water with a fork.

IN LATER YEARS, WHEN the brine became too strong for the fish, Professor Brannon, of the University of North Dakota, had built a biological station on the lake shore for the study of the water and the possibility of maintaining fish life in it. His experiments dealt with the development of strains of fish which would live in relatively strong alkaline water, and in discovering what sort of plant life could be propagated to assist in providing food and shelter for the young fish. The water became so strongly impregnated that the experiments had to be abandoned as hopeless. The biological station became a museum which kept open during the summer.

EVEN AFTER THE WATER had subsided enough to dry up the bay which once permitted the steamer to land at the dock close by the present Great Northern right of way, the lake shore was a lively place in summer. Many cot- tagers spent the summer there, and tents were used as temporary habitations. The Chautauqua association brought excellent attractions and thousands attended the gatherings. For the accommodation of summer visitors a railroad was built from the city to the lake. It wasn't much of a railway, but it had a real locomotive and a string of three or four open cars, and for a time it did a thriving business.

AS A PART OF THE Missouri diversion project there is contemplated the raising of the lake level, not to where it was originally, but a few feet, which would work wonders for the locality. In the course of a few years the influx of fresh water would freshen the lake and make fish life again possible, and the lake would become one of the great summer resorts of the northwest.