THE GARDEN 47 



light straw or grass cuttings it will be no task for our housekeeper to avail 

 herself of the fresh leaves all through the winter. Indeed, parsley is 

 singularly resistant to the ordinary frosts, and has even been known to 

 survive, unprotected, a fairly severe siege of cold. A plant or two may 

 be potted and grown in a cool spot for immediate use. 



Sage and thyme are both favorites, well known, and entirely indispen- 

 sible in one's herb garden. These are best procured as small, sturdy 

 roots from any old kitchen garden, or from your nurseryman, although they 

 may be slowly raised from seed. 



Mint, marjoram, fennel, dill summer savory, and winter savory, all 

 these are old standbys, and easily grown, should have a place in every 

 garden. 



Horseradish? Most certainly. The cook who has never had the 

 indescribable bliss and anguish of grating her own horseradish roots, dug 

 freshly from the black earth, is no cook worthy of the name. 



THE TUSSOCK MOTH AND OTHER PESTS 



Everyone knows the dreadful havoc this moth has worked with thou- 

 sands of the shade trees. Much of this mischief might have been pre- 

 vented, and those valuable trees, that required so many long, weary years 

 to reach the perfection of beauty that they did reach, would have been 

 saved, if hundreds of the citizens of this same town had taken the smallest 

 bit of pride in their town, and helped the authorities to check this moth. 

 And this is the way they might have done it, and may do so this summer, 

 now — right away. We will explain: 



The tussock moth is that small, caterpillar-like creature of remarkably 

 beautiful appearance, with his brown and yellow tufts of hair sticking 

 from his back. He seems to have many projecting horns, but the two first 

 noticed are those issuing from either side of the head. He is a voracious 

 feeder, as need not be remarked when one remembers the trees destroyed 

 during the last few years. 



The cocoons that have been left on the trees over winter, full of tiny, 

 snow-white eggs, have broken open just the other day. Each of those 

 tiny white eggs becomes a minute worm, or rather caterpillar, (not being 

 an authority on this subject, I may not be using the proper terms, but 

 these are the terms that will explain to the ordinary person) with two 

 minute hair-like horns projecting from his head. This creature grows 

 w^ith tbe most wonderful rapidity. In fact, only a few days are necessary 

 for the pest to become full grown. His life is not very long. Next week 

 even, you will see him, crawling, nervously, and with a very business-like 

 air — crawling hurriedly here and there, looking for some convenient place 

 to rlace himself, so that he may commence the weaving of the nest, which 

 becomes the cocoon. 



Watch him weave this nest. He first places himself, if he can find 

 such a place, in a crack or crevice, or some such place where there is a 

 partial protection. Then he commences the weaving. He literally plucks 

 his coat bare to get material to form the silk for the thread to weave 

 his shroud. He works away, never resting, never halting until he is cover- 

 ed in, safe and snug. Then he goes to sleep, after performing the duty 

 nature gave him to do. 



When you see him hurrying rapidly up a tree or anywhere else, then is 

 the time to destroy him. Or, destroy the cocoon. Every cocoon left to 

 mature means countless pests of destruction. 



Every citizen should at least take care of the trees in front of his 

 own house, whether they are on the boulevard or on home property. If 

 each householder were to make a point of watching his own trees, mucli 



