s 
5 
common toad, with a swallow complexion 
and no intellect, can swallow up my sum¬ 
mer's work it is time to pause. 
Exterminating Winged Insects. 
BY MRS. M. J. SMITH. 
The seeds are all sown. The young shoo! s 
begin to peep from the mellow earth, and 
we are jubilant, for the baby cucumber 
and squash vines look thrifty and promise 
well. Already our mouths water at the 
prospect of melons to be eaten in the dusty 
late summer and autumn, and we begin to 
count cost and profit; the latter (in fancy) 
largely predominating. 
Tomatoes look thrifty, radishes show 
their scarlet roots, the cabbages grow 
finely. Was ever a garden so prosperous 
before, we ask. and go to bed with visions 
of crisp, tender vegetables to be served up 
for our future dinners, as well as juicy 
fruits to delight both palate and heart. 
Almost the first morning thought is our 
garden. How much has it grown since the 
suu set behind the western hills? 
We throw a light covering over our 
shoulders, and start on a tour of inspection. 
The leaves on the trees are sparkling with 
gems, and the little boughs nodding a 
cheery good morning. The Robin calls, 
and we whistle an answer, and pause on 
our way to talk to the pigeons that keep up 
a soft cooing. 
We are delighted with everything and 
feel that there is nothing created without 
a special purpose; so at peace with all the 
world, from man to the smallest insectoria, 
we walk inside the garden enclosure. 
How short the step from the highest 
round of hope to the depths of despair. I 
am human, only human, and lo, an army 
of bugs and worms had risen and entered 
into active operations before me, and the 
rear guard were still busy at the work of 
destruction. My cabbages spread their tat¬ 
tered banners abroad on the morning air. 
My radishes look as though riduled with 
miniature shot, while in some places, a 
half leaf is toin assunder as if struck by 
some larger missile. 
To say that I was nonplused and filled 
with dismay and for a moment angry, 
would be a mild way of expressing the 
sober facts. 
What could I do? I could not fight such 
an army on open ground, without weapons. 
Ririe, scimetar and sword seemed worse 
than useless in such an unequal contest. 
How should I exterminate the small pests 
that so successfully cut my vines, and trim 
my cabbages. There was no time to lose. 
I would smother them with ashes. So 
out came the old sieve and a vigorous 
shaking sent the alkaline mixture over the 
unresisting but energetic little workers, 
then I laid me down again and slept in 
peace; but lo, a re-inforcement arrived 
while t rested, morning came and I found 
my conquest only a temporary affair. 
Lime, soot, and other like mixtures 
followed, but I still found myself out-gen¬ 
eral led. Then I asked, is there no way to 
exterminate these foyers of my garden, 
and peace as well? 
I will light small bonfires around my 
future expectations, and if I cannot drive,, 
will stand guard over mine enemies. 
It was a bright thought for me so unini¬ 
tiated as myself. For this was my first 
attempt at farming, but while my neigh¬ 
bors were wondering at my illumination, 
my winged foes were investigating. The 
result was, not one of them escaped with¬ 
out being too much singed to be of future 
servise. Ashes and lime buried the rest. 
My garden was saved, and I had no more 
trouble. 
“Go thou and do likewise.” 
Small fruit culture is rapidly coming 
into favor among people who have hereto¬ 
fore given it little attention. The fact is, 
uo more profitable or pleasurable occupa¬ 
tion can be found in this country at present 
than growing berries, and every homestead 
which lacks a small fruit plot, misses a 
good treat. Less pork and more fruit is the 
order of the day. Will you fall into the 
grand march ? 
The cherry-tree is clad in white 
As though with clinging snow, 
The peach is pink with blossoming, 
The red-fringed maples glow, 
And brighter on the sunnier slopes 
The grass begins to grow. 
