74 
WISCONSIN HORTICULTURE 
January, 1918 
Estimates Nation’s Insecticide 
Needs, 
To procure for farmers an ample 
supply of insecticides at fair prices, 
the Division of Chemicals, U. S. 
Pood Administration, urges users 
to report indications of unreason- 
able prices or unwarranted at- 
tempts to force the placing of ord- 
ers on the plea of scarcity of ma- 
terials. 
By the President’s recent proc- 
lamation placing the arsenic insec- 
ticide industry under government 
control the Pood Administration 
now has general supervision over 
the market handling and distribu- 
tion of this class of chemical prod- 
ucts. The Administration is now 
taking stock of the Nation’s prob- 
able insecticide needs for 1918 as a 
preliminary step for out-maneuver- 
ing attacks of pests on the food 
products grown during the coming 
season. 
Officers of agricultural and hor- 
ticultural associations in all states 
are requested at once to make an 
estimate or census of their require- 
ments and those of the state and 
send these estimates to the Division 
of Chemicals, U. S. Food Admin- 
istration, Washington, D. C. 
“It is hoped” declares C. W. 
Merrill, head of this Division “that 
farmers’ organizations will take 
carload lots of insecticides from the 
manufacturers at a wholesale 
price. In the determination of 
this price, excessive profits will not 
be permitted. Such organizations 
are also urged to provide not only 
for immediate wants but also for 
the maintenance of a stock of in- 
secticides in order to insure against 
loss of crops through sudden in- 
sect plagues.” 
The Division of Chemicals will 
be glad to put officers of such or- 
ganizations in communication with 
the nearest wholesaler Avho is in a 
Yellow 
It wais a little yellow cur, with tat- 
tered hide and stumpy tail, 
Whose life path was a weary round 
from village dump to garbage pail. 
A mongrel, mangy, fleasome pup, the 
sort which men forbear to shoot, 
But frighten yelping up the street with 
stone or stick or lifted boot. 
And this same cur, one autumn morn, 
sat sadly down to scratch, and try 
To answer this soul-searching quiz: 
“ Lives there a creature low as I? 
Breathes there one living thing'” — so 
ran his pessimistic monologue — 
“Which, viewed apart by decent folk, 
is meaner than a yellow dog?” 
He thought and thought. “Suppose,” 
he mused, “ I were a man born o'er 
the sea, 
Who fled from hopeless, slavish toil to 
this bright country of the free; 
Where, lifted by that country's hand, 
reared 'neath her laivs, I rose to 
power 
And comfort, station, wealth — until to 
her, Columbia, came the hour 
When, fighting for her life, she asked 
my aid. and I refused, and tried 
To help her foe, because, forsooth, I 
hated one she fought beside. 
I am oi yellow dog.” his tail gave to 
the I'oad one earnest pat. 
“ Men call me mean and loiv; but still 
I think I'm not so mean as that! 
“Or shall we postulate this case? An 
editor am I, xvhose pen 
Writes, in an alien tongue, the words 
read by som e st ill hi Of -alien men 
Whose fathers came , as mine did. here, 
forswearing all they left behind, 
To sieze the chance she offered — she, 
America, the great and kind! 
All that I have and am I owe to her; 
but note, when foes attack. 
With venomed pen I lie in wait to 
slyly sft-ib her in the back. 
I’m sure,” the pup soliloquized, as in 
the roadside dust he sat, 
“No yellow dog of all I know has such 
a yellow streak as that! 
“Or let’s suppose ,” quoth he, “ I am a 
politician of the breed 
"Vhich, seeking place, cries shrilly, 
'Peace!' and strives the foolish mob 
to lead. 
I rail 'gaiinst duty, honor, truth, my 
country’s name and flag — and all 
That I my slimy self may drag a lit- 
tle higher up the wall. 
Suppose. I were a thing like that! 
Suppose in hall or senate I 
But no!” — the cur leaped to his feet — 
“I’ll not suppose it! . .No; nor try! 
I am ,thmk God, a yellow dog.” He 
trotted off with head erect. 
Compared to these, he felt he had 
abundant cause for self-respect. 
— Joseph C. Lincoln. 
Reprinted from the Saturday Even- 
ing Post, Philadelphia. Copyrighted 
1917 by the Cui'tis Publishing Com- 
pany, Philadelphia. 
position to supply their require 
ments. By such procedure, th( 
elimination of unreasonable profit, 1 
and the shortest route from the 
producer to the consumer can best 
be secured. 
Somewhere in France. 
Mr. Ernest Gonzenbach of She- 
boygan, one-time member of the 
executive committee, who is well 
known to many of our members is ( 
now “somewhere in France.” 
Mr. Gonzenbach, a civil engineer 
by profession with many years of 
successful experience in railway 
construction work, was manager of 
an electric line running out of She- 
boygan at the time of the declara- 
tion of war. 
Although far beyond the draft 
age, engaged in work suited to his I 
taste and talents, with a delightful 
home and family, a little farm and 
orchard where his hobby, fruit 
growing, might be indulged, with- : 
out hesitation he enlisted in the ' 
first corps of engineers organized 
for service and is now at or near 
the fighting front and for all we 
know was engaged in the Cam- ji 
brai offensive. ■ 
The following letter from Mr. 
Gonzenbach was received early in 
November : 
Somewhere in France, 
Sept. 8, 1917. 
My Dear Cranefield : — 
It may interest you to know that 
we are stationed in a rich farming 
section of France and the country 
looks much like that between Madi- I 
son and Baraboo. There is much 
fruit growing but no large orch- 
ards, the largest I have seen are 2 
to 3 acres and these mostly dwarf 
varieties of standard apples and 
pears. They seem to make a suc- 
cess here of dwarfs, and they are 
also used extensively as espaliers 
