MISCELLANEOUS 
XI 
(Continued from page 84.) 
price of honey it would not be right to 
sell at so exorbitant a rate, and on the 
other hand it would not be justice to 
our beekeeping friends to cut the price 
in the market. We have put into prac- 
tice the principle of altruism that per- 
vades all the work of The Agassiz As- 
sociation ; we have sweetened the com- 
munity and we have done missionary 
work in behalf of beekeeping as widely 
and as wisely as possible, and as we 
have distributed honey we have dis- 
tributed apiarian literature and in- 
formation. 
In building this great successful, 
educational and experimental apiary we 
have from time to time acknowledged 
contributions of various kinds, and we 
especially wish to express gratitude to 
The A. I. Root Company of Medina, 
Ohio, for their liberal cooperation. 
To a White Orchis. 
Orchis, springing from your sheath 
As gleaming as a star, 
If rose be queen, on throne of green, 
Then you a princess are! 
— Emma Peirce. 
Wonders About Naturalists’ Pay. 
Ernest Thompson Seton, naturalist, 
is to make his debut in vaudeville, this 
evening, in Proctor’s Theatre, Port 
Chester, and the announcement is that 
he “will present a variegated sketch of 
twenty-five minutes’ duration, said to 
be the finest production ever afforded 
to the theatre-going public.” Right on 
the heels of this, it is not surprising to 
find the press agent saying that Mr. 
Seton is to receive a salary of $3,000 
per week, and “has been contracted for 
a coast-to-coast tour on the biggest cir- 
cuits.” Wonder what would be the 
proper pay for dear old John Bur- 
roughs, or the enterprising naturalist of 
ArcAdiA? — The Stamford Advocate. 
It surely is encouraging to note that 
naturalists are coming into their own ! 
Of course all of us have known all 
along that three thousand dollars a 
week is the proper salary, and we con- 
gratulate Mr. Seton upon having found 
it. All naturalists recognize his unique 
abilities along financial lines, and that 
he has done great good for the Cause. 
A Well Guarded Pear Tree. 
The Reverend Dr. Barney of the 
First Congregational Church of Sound 
Beach tells with a good deal of glee and 
with the spirit of a real naturalist how 
he found policemen guarding his pears 
this year. Down at the rear of a long 
yard is a pear tree that in season has 
always been heavily loaded, but nearly 
every year almost all the pears have 
been stolen before they were ripe. This 
year, in the intervals between the 
preparation of his Sunday sermons, he 
has been philosophizing, trying to as- 
certain why this year’s crop, which is 
fully up to that of any previous year, 
has not been stolen. So far as he has 
observed not a pear has disappeared. 
Recently in a spirit of self-congratu- 
lation he w*ent to pick some of those 
pears, dreaming dreams of dishes of 
delicious pears stewed and otherwise. 
Probably there came to him visions of 
the Biblical trees of the Garden of 
Eden and of Zacchaeus and his tree as 
with basket and stepladder he arrived 
on the scene of action. And indeed 
that expression is literally appropriate 
for on that pear tree was the liveliest 
action that ever took hold of a member 
of the clergy. The police were right 
there on guard, and for several days 
Dr. Barney consulted his son as to 
what the colleges teach about remedies 
for hornet stings, and he has inquired 
of all the naturalists in the vicinity as 
to the general habits of hornets. With- 
in a few days after the active demon- 
stration by those faithful guards he was 
able to put on his coat and began to be 
able to see a little. 
He knows those pears are perfectly 
safe for the rest of the season, and that 
any one of thieving habits will very 
dearly pay for any pear that he does 
or does not get. Dr. Barney states that 
he has heard much of newfangled war 
appliances, but if this country wishes 
to be perfectly safe from attack the 
War Department should at once em- 
ploy all the naturalists in securing a 
liberal supply of hornets. 
We walked through a commonplace 
country lane, 
Unadorned by bird or flower: 
But the summer wizards of sun and rain, 
Transformed it, ere we went again, 
Into a wild-rose bower. 
— Emma Peirce. 
