SYNOPSIS
I—-APRIL.—General factotum in the
house of her sister Ina, wife of Herbert
Deacon, in the small town of Warbleton
Lulu Bett leads a dull, cramped existence,
with which she is constantly at enmity,
though apparently satisfied with her lot.
She has naturzl thoughts and aspirations
which neither her sister nor her brother-
in-law seemingly can comprehend. To Mr.
Deacon comes Bobby Larkin, recently
graduated high-school youth, secretly
enamored of Deacon’s elder daughter,
Diana, an applicant for a *“job” around
the Deacon house. Hp is engaged, his
occupation to be to keep the lawn in trim.
The family is excited over the news of an
approaching visit from Deacon’s brother
reanian, whom he had not seen for many
years. Deacon jokes with Lulu, with
subtle meaning, concerning the coming
meeeting.
Again he laughed. This laughter
was intoxicating to Lulu. No one ever
laughed at what she said save Her-
bert, who laughed at her. “Go it, old
girl!” Ninian was thinking, but this
did not appear.
The child Monona now arrived,
. banging the front gate and hurling
herself round the house on the board
walk, catching the toe of ome foot in
the heel of the other and blundering
forward, head down, her short.
straight hair flapping over her face.
She landed flat-footed on the porch.
She began to speak, using a ridiculous
perversion of words scarcely articu-
late, then in vogue in her group. And,
“Whose dog?’ she shrieked.
Ninian looked over his shoulder,
held out his hand, finished something
that he was saying to Lulu. Monona
came to him readily enough, staring,
loose-lipped.
“I'll bet I'm your uncle,” said Ninian.
Relationship being her highest
known form of romance, Monona was
thrilled by this intelligence.
‘Give us a kiss,” said Ninian, find-
ing in the plural some vague mitiga-
tion for some vague offense.
Monona, looking silly, complied. And
her uncle said, my stars, such a great
big tall girl—they would have to put
a board on her head.
“What's that?” inquired Monona.
She had spied his great diamond ring.
“This,” said her uncle, ‘was brought
to me by Santa Claus, who keeps a
Jewelry shop in heaven.”
The precision and speed of his im-
provisation revealed him. He had
twenty other diamonds like this one.
He kept them for those Sundays when
the sun comes up in the west. Of
course—often! Some day he was go-
ing to melt a diamond and eat it. Then
you sparkled all over in the dark, ever
after. Another diamond he was going
to plant. They say— He did it all
gravely, absorbedly. About it he was
as conscienceless as a savage. This
was no fancy spun to pleasure a child.
This was like lying, for its own sake,
He went on talking with Lulu, and
now again he was the tease, the brag-
gart, the unbridled, unmodified male.
Monona stood in the circle of his
arm. The little being was attentive,
softened, subdued. Some pretty, faint
Ught visited her. In her listening look,
she showed herself a charming child
“It strikes me,” said Ninian to Lulu,
“that you're going to do something
mighty interesting before you die.”
It was the clear conversational im-
pulse, born of the need to keep some-
thing going, but Lulu was all faith,
She closed the oven door on her pies
and stood brushing dour from her fin
gers. He was looking away from her,
and she looked at him. He was com-
pletely like his picture. She felt as
if she were looking at his picture and
she was abashed and turned away.
“Well, I hope =0,” she said, which
had certainly never been true, for her
old formless dreams were no intention
—nothing but a mush of discontent.
“I hope I can do something that’s nice
before I quit,” she said. Nor was this
hope now independently true, but only
surprising longing to appear interest-
ing in his eyes. To dance before him,
“What would the folks think of me,
going on so?” she suddenly said. Her
mild sense of disloyalty was delicious.
So was his understanding glance.
“You're the stuff,” he remarked ab-
sently.
She laughed happily.
The door opened. Ina appeared.
“Well!” said Ina. It was her re
motest tone. She took this man to be
8 peddler, beheld her child in his
clasp, made a quick forward step, chin
lifted. She had time for a very javelin
of a look at Lulu.
“Hello!” said Ninian. He had the
one formula. “I believe I’m your hus-
band’s brother. Ain’t this Ina?”
It had not crossed the mind of Lulu
to present him.
Beautiful it was to see Ina relax,
soften, warm, transform, humanize. It
gave one hope for the whole species.
“Ninian!” she cried. She lent a
faint impression of the double e to the
initial vowel, She slurred the rest,
until the y sound squinted in. Not
Neenyun, but nearly Neenyun.
He kissed her.
“Since Dwight isn't here!” she cried,
Copyright by D.APPLETON AND COMPANY.
pe
MISS LULUBETT
Si Zona Gale
Iust Le 3Y
IrwinMvers
and shook her finger at him. Ina’s
conception of hostessship was defi
nite: A volley of questions—was his
train on time? He had found the
house all right? Of course! Anyone
could direct him, she should hope. Ans
he hadn’t seen Dwight? She must
telephone him. But then she arrested
herself with a sharp, curved fling of
her starched skirts. No! They would
surprise him at tea—she stood taut,
lips compressed. Oh, the Plows were
coming to tea, How unfortunate, she
thought. How fortunate, she said.
The child Monona made her knees
and elbows stiff and dapced up and
down. She must, she must participate.
“Aunt Lulu made three pies!” she
screamed, and shook her straight hair.
“Gracious sakes” said Ninian. “I
brought her a pup, and if I didn’t for-
get to give it to her.”
They adjourned to the porch—Nin-
ian, Ina, Monona. The puppy was
presented, and yawned. The party
kept on about “the place.” Ina de-
lightedly exhibited the tomatoes, the
two apple trees, the mew shed, the
Bird bath. Ninian said the unspell-
able “m—m,” rising inflection, and the
“1 see,” prolonging the verb as was ex-
pected of him. Ina said that they
meant te build a summer house, only,
dear me, when you have a family—but
there, he didn’t know anything about
that. Ina was using her eyes, she was
arch, she was coquettish, she was flir-
tatiows, and she believed herself
to he merely matronly, sisterly, wom-
any... i. ie
She screamed, Dwight was at the
gate. Now the meeting, exclamation,
banality, guffaw . . . good will
And Lulu, peeping through the
blind.
* * * * * * *
When “tea” had been experienced
that evening, it was found that a light
rain was falling and the Deacons and
their guests, the Plows, were con-
strained to remain in the parlor. The
Plows were gentle, faintly lustrous
folk, sketched into life rather lightly,
as if they were, say, looking in from
some other level.
“The only thing,” said Dwight
Herbert, “that reconciles me to rain is
that I'm let off croquet.” He rolled
his r's, a favorite device of his to in-
duce humor. He called it “croquette.”
He had never been more irrepressible
The advent of his brother was partly
accountable, the need to show himself
a fine family man and host in a pros-
perous little home—simple and pa-
thetic desire.
“Tell you what well do!” sald
Dwight. “Nin and I'll reminisce a lit-
tle.”
“Do!” cried Mr. Plow. This gentle
fellow was always excited by life, so
faintly excited by him, and enjoyed its
presentation in any real form.
Ninian had unerringly selected a
dwarf rocker, and he was overflowing
it and rocking.
“Take this chair, do!” Ina begged.
“A big chair for a big man.” She
spoke as if he were about the age of
Monona.
Ninian refused, insisted on his re-
fusal. A few years more, and human
relationships would have spread san-
ity even to Ina’s estate and she would
have told him why be should exchange
chairs. As it was she forebore, and
kept glancing anxiously at the over-
burdened little beast beneath him.
The child Monona entered the room.
She had been driven down by Di and
Jenny Plow, who had vanished up-
stairs and, through the ventilator.
might be heard in a lift and fall of
giggling. Monona had aiso been driven
from the kitchen where Lulu was, for
some reason, hurrying through the
dishes. Monona now ran to Mrs, Bett,
stood beside her and stared about re-
sentfully. Mrs. Bett was in best black
and ruches, and she seized upon Mo-
nona and patted her, as her.own form
of social expression; and Monona
wriggled like a puppy, as hers.
“Quiet, pettie,” said Ina, eyebrows
un. She caught her lower lip in her
tooth,
“Well, sir,” said Dwight,
wouldn't think it to look at us, but
mother had her hands pretty full, bring-
ing us up.”
Into Dwight’s face came another
look. It was always so when he spoke
of this foster-mother who had taken
these two boys and seen them through
the graded schools. This woman
Dwight adored, and when he spoke of
her he became his inner self.
“yan
“We must run up-state and see her
while you're here, Nin,” he said.
To this Ninian gave a casual assent,
lacking his brother's really tender ar-
dor.
“Little,” Dwight pursued, “little did
she think I'd settle down into a nice,
quiet, married dentist and magistrate
in my town. And Nin into—say, Nin,
what are you, anyway?’
They laughed.
“That’s the question,” said Ninian.
They laughed.
“Maybe,” Ina ventured, “maybe
Ninian will tell us something about his
| monplace.
travels. He Is quite a traveler, yon
know,” she said to the Plows. “A reg-
ular Gulliver.”
They laughed respectfully.
“How we should love it, Mr. Dea-
con,” Mrs. Plow said. “You knew
we've never seen very much.”
Goaded on, Ninian launched upon
his foreign countries as he had seen
them: Population, exports, imports,
soil, irrigation, business. For the pop-
ulations Ninian had no respect. Crops
could not touch ours. Soil mighty poor
pickings. And the business—say!
Those fellows don’t know—and, say,
the hotels! Don’t say foreign hotel to
Ninian. :
He regarded all the alien earth as
barbarian, and he stoned it. He was
equipped for absolutely no intensive
observation. His contacts were negli-
gible. Mrs. Plow was more excited by
the Deacons’ party than Ninian had
been wrought upon by all his voyag-
ing.
“Tell you,” said Dwight. “When we
ran away that time and went to the
state fair, little did we think—" He
told about running away to the state
fair. “I thought,” he wound up, ir-
reievantly, “Ina and I might get over
to the other side this year, but I guess
not. I guess not.”
The words give no conception of
| their effect, spoken thus. For there in
Warbleton these words are not com-
In Warbleton, Europe is
never so casually spoken of. “Take a
trip abroad” is the phrase, or “Go to
Eurcpe” at the very least, and hoth
with empressement. Dwight had some-
where noted and deliberately picked
up that “other side” effect, and his |
Ina knew this, and was proud. Her
covert glance about pensively covered
her soft triumph.
Mrs. Bett, her arm still circling the
child Monona, now made her first ob-
servation.
“Pity not to have went while the
going was good,” she said, and said
no more.
Nobody knew quite what she meant,
and everybody hoped for the best. But
Ina frowned. Mamma did these things
occasionally when there was company,
and she dared. She never sauced
Dwight in private. And it wasn’t fair,
it wasn’t fair—
Abruptly Ninian rose and left the
room.
* * » * * * *
The dishes were washed. Lulu had
washed them at breakneck speed—she
could not, or would not, have told why.
But no sooner were they finished and
set away than Lulu had been attacked
by an unconquerable inhibition. And
And Instead of Going to the Parlor
She Sat Down by the Kitchen Win-
dow.
instead of going to the parlor, she sat
down by the kitchen window. She was
in her chally gown, with her cameo
pin and her string of coral.
Laughter from the parlor mingled
with the laughter of Di and Jenny up-
stairs. Lulu was now rather shy of
Di. A night or two before, coming
home with “extra” cream, she had
gone round to the stde door and had
come full upon Di and Bobby, seated
on the steps. And Di was saying:
“Well, if I marry you, you've simply
got to be a great man. I could never
marry just anybody. I'd smother.”
Lulu had heard, stricken. She
passed them by, responding only faint-
iy to their greeting. Di was far less
taken aback than Lulu,
Later Di had said to Lulu: “I s'pese
You heard what we were saying.”
Lulu, much shaken, had withdrawn
from the whole matter by a flat “no.”
“Because,” she said to herself, “I
couldn't have heard right.”
But since then she had looked at Di
as if Di were some one else. Had not
Lalu taught her to make buttonholes
and to hem-—oh, no! Lulu could not
nave heard properly.
“Bverybody’s got somebody to be
nice to them,” she thought now, sit-
ting by the kitchen window, adult yet
Cinderella.
She thought that some one would
come for her—her mother or even
Ina. Perhaps they would send Mo-
nona. She waited at first hopefully,
then resentfully., The gray ralo
wrapped the air,
“Nobody cares what becomes of me
after they're fed,” she thought, and
derived an obscure satisfaction from
her phrasing, and thought it again,
Ninian Deacon came {into the
kitchen.
Her first impression was that he
had come to see whether the dog had
been fed.
“I fed him,” she said, and wished
that she had been busy when Ninian
entered.
“Who, me?’ he asked. “You dfd
that all right. Say, why in time don’t
you come in the other room?”
“Oh, I don’t know.”
“Well, neither do I. I've kept think-
ing, ‘Why don’t she come along.’ Then
I remembered the dishes.” He glanced
about.
“Oh!” she laughed so delicately, so
delightfully, one wondered where sne
got it. “They're washed—” she caught
herself at “long ago.”
“Well then, what are you doing
here?”
“Resting.”
“Rest in there. He bowed, crooked
his arm. “Senora,” he said—his Span-
ish matched his other assimilations of
travel— “Senora, allow me.”
Lulu rose. On his arm she entered
the parlor. Dwight was narrating and
did not observe that entrance. To the
Plows it was sufficiently normal. But
Ina looked up and said:
“Well "’—in two notes, descending,
curving.
Lulu did not look at her.
in a low rocker. Her starched white
skift, throwing her chally in ugly
lines, revealed a peeping rim of white
embroidery. Her lace front wrinkled
when she sat, and perpetually she ag-
justed it. She curled her feet side-
wise beneath her chair, her long
wrists and veined hands lay along her
lap in no relation to her. She was
tense. She rocked.
When Dwight had finished his nar-
ration, there was a pause, broken at
last by Mrs. Bett:
“You tell that better than you used
to when you started in telling it,” she
observed. “You got in some things I
guess you used to clean forget about.
Monona, get off my rocker.”
Monona made a little whimpering
sound, in pretense to tears. Ina said,
“Darling—quiet !”"—chin a little lifted,
lower lip revealing lower teeth for
the word's completion; and she held
it.
The Plows were asking something
about Mexico. Dwight was wondering
if it would let up raining at all. Di
and Jenny came whispering into the
room. But all these distractions Nin-
ian Deacon swept aside.
“Miss Lulu,” he said, “I wanted you
to hear about my trip up the Amazon,
because I knew how inter-ested you
are in travels.”
He talked, according ta his lights,
about the Amazon. But the person
who most enjoyed the recital could
not afterward have told two words
that he said. Lulu kept the position
which she had taken at first, and she
dare not change. She saw the blood
in the veins of her hands and wanted
to hide them. She wondered if she
might fold her arms, or have one hand
to support her chin, gave it all up and
sat motionless, save for the rocking.
Then she forgot everything.
Lulu sat
talking and looking not only at Ina
and Dwight and their guests, but at
her.
I.
June,
On a June morning Dwight Herbert
Deacon looked at the sky, and said
with his manner of originating it:
“How about a picnic this after-
noon?”
Ina, with her blank, upward look,
exclaimed: “Today?”
“First class day, it looks like to
me.”
Come to think of it, Ina didn’t know
that there was anything to prevent,
but mercy, Herbert was so sudden.
Lulu began to recite the resources of
the house for a lunch. Meanwhile,
since the first mention of picnic, the
child Monona had been dancing stiffly
about the room, knees stiff, elbows
stiff, shoulders immovable, her straight
hair flapping about her face. The sad
dance of the child who cannot dance
bece se she never has danced. Di
gave a conservative assent—she was
at that age—and then took advantage
of the family softness incident to a
guest and demanded that Bobby go
too. Ina hesitated, partly because she
always hesitated, partly because she
was tribal in the extreme. “Just our
little family and Uncle Ninian would
have been so nice,” she sighed, with
ther consent,
When, at six o'clock, Ina and Dwight
and Ninian assembled on the porch
and Lulu came out with the basket, it
was seen that she was in a blue cot-
tan house gown. ?
“Look here,” said Ninian, “aren't
you going?’
“Me?” said Lulu.
“Why not?”
“Oh, I haven’t been to a picnic since
I can remember.”
“But why not?”
“Oh, I never think of such a thing*
Ninian waited for the family to
speak. They did speak. Dwight said:
“Lulu’s a regular home body.”
And Ina advanced kindly with:
“Come with us, Lulu, If you like.”
“No,” said Lulu, and flushed
“Thank you,” she added, formally.
Mrs. Bett's voice shrilled from with.
in the house, startlingly close—just
beyond the window blind, in fact?
“Go on, Lulle. ItM do you good.
You mind me and go on.”
“Well,” said Ninian, “that's what 1
say. You hustle for your hat and you
come along.”
For the first time this course pre-
sented itself to Lulu as a possibility.
She stared up at Ninian.
“You can slip on my linen duster,
over,” Ina said graciously.
“Your new one?” Dwight incredu-
lously wished to know.
“Oh, no!” Ina laughed at the idea.
“The old one.”
They were having to wait for Di in
any case—they always had to wait for
Di—and at last, hardly believing in
“Oh, no.”
her own motions, Lulu was running to
“I come to help wipe dishes.” |
For |
the first time in years some one was
My: RS:
“Look Here,”
You Going?”
“Oh, No.”
Said Ninian, “Aren't
“Me?” Said Lulu.
make ready. Mrs. Betts hurried to
help her, but she took down the wrong
things and they were both irritated.
Lulu reappeared in the linen duster
and a wide hat. There had Been no
time to “tighten up” her hair; she
was flushed at the adventure; she had
| never looked so well.
They started. Lulu, falling in with
Monona, heard for the first time in
her life, the step of the pursuing male,
choosing to walk beside her and the
little girl. Oh, would Ina like, that?
And what did Lulu care what Ina |
liked? Monona, making a silly, semi-
articulate ebservation, was enchanted
to have Lulu burst into laughter and
squeeze her hand.
Di contributed her bright presence,
and Bobby Larkin appeared from no-
where, running, with a gigantic bag
of fruit.
“Bullylujah !” he shouted, and Lulu
could have shouted with him.
She sought for some utterance. She
wanted to talk with Ninian.
“l do hope we've brought sand-
wiches enough,” was all that she could
get to say.
They chose a spot, that is to say,
Dwight Herbert chose a spot, across
the river and up the shore where
there was at that season a strip of
warm beach. Dwight Herbert declared |
himself the builder of incomparable
fires, and made a bad smudge. Nin-
ian, who was a camper neither by birth
nor by adoption, kept offering bright-
ly to help, could think of nothing to
do, and presently, bethinking himself
of skipping stones, went and tried to
skip them on the flowing river. Ina
cut her hand opening the condensed
milk and was obliged to sit under a
tree and nurse the wound. Monona
spilled all the salt and sought diligent-
ly to recover it. So Lulu did all the
work. As for Di and Bobby, they had
taken the pail and gone for water, dis-
couraging her to the point of tears.
But the two were gone for so leng
that, on their return, Dwight was hun-
gry and cross and majestic.
“Those who disregard the comfort of
other people,” he enunciated, “cannot
expect consideration for themselvesin
the future.”
He did not say on what ethical tenet
this dictum was based, but he deliv-
ered it with extreme authority. Ina
caught her lower lip with her teeth,
dipped her head and looked at Di. And
Monona laughed like a little demon.
As soon as Lulu had all in readiness,
and cold corned beef and salad had be-
gun their orderly progression, Dwight
became the immemorial dweller in
green fastnesses. He began:
“This is ideal. I tell you, people
don’t half know life if they don’t get
out and eat in the open. It’s better
than any tonic at a dollar the bottle.
Nature’s tonic—eh? Free as the air.
Look at that sky. See that water.
Could anything be more pleasant?”
He smiled at his wife. This man’s
face was glowing with simple pleasure.
He loved the out-of-doors with a love
which could not explain itself. But he
now lost a definite climax when his
wife's comment was heard to be:
“Monona! Now it’s all over both
ruffles. And mamma €oes try so
hard. oO
After supper some boys arrived with
a boat which they beached, and
Dwight, with enthusiasm, gave the
boys ten cents for a half hour's use of
that boat and invited to the waters his
wife, his brother and his younger
daughter. Ina was timid—not be-
cause she was afraid, but because she
was congenitally timid—with her this
was not a belief or an emotion, it was
a disease. :
(Continued next week).
——————— pe —————
Not His Hard Luck.
The Colonel had heard of two re-
cent disasters in the family of his col-
ored orderly and was surprised to find
him apparently as cheerful as ever
when he returned to duty after a brief
furlough home.
“Well, Sam,” said the Colonel sym-
pathetically, “I hear you have had
some hard luck.” :
“What me, suh? Nossuh, Ah ain’t
had no hahd luck.”
“Why, wasn’t that your brother who
was killed in a railroad wreck recent-
ly, and wasn’t that your wife that was
hurt in an automobile accident?”
“Oh, yassuh, yassuh—but dat’s deir
hahd luck—not mine.”
| ture,
FARM NOTES.
| —When tomatoes are very cheap
tand do not sell easily, try grading
them. Dessert tomatoes are usually
in demand when ordinary field run
| goes begging.
i —Bees do not injure fruits of any
i kind. There is an erroneous idea that
i they puncture the skins of grapes and
{ other fruits because they are found
| feeding upon such broken fruits.
—Raspberry and blackberry planta-
tions that have not been trimmed out
‘by this time, should be given careful
‘attention at the first opportunity.
, The old canes are frequently diseased
and should be removed. This practice
also gives the young growth a chance
. to develop.
| —The farmer would do well to in-
! spect his field of corn at this time,
noting all low, wet areas that have
failed to produce on a par with the
rest of the field. Plans should be
made now for draining these wet
| Spots after the crop has been harvest-
ed and before cold weather sets in.
—Get rid of the surplus cockerels
as soon as possible. About ten days
' before marketing, separate them froi%
the pullets, confine them and feed the
following mash twice daily, all they
will clean up in twenty minutes: two
pound corn meal, one pound ground
oats, one pound wheat shorts, eight
pounds buttermilk.
—The safest kind of catle to feed
under average conditions are calves
that are to be fattened and marketed
as baby beef. They bring a higher
price per pound because they are in
greater demand than heavier cattle.
"The initial investment is less for baby
beet, and they require less feed per
hundred pounds gain.
—Salt is required by all animals.
The United States Department of Ag-
riculture says that the dairy cow re-
quires an ounce or more a day, and,
while she should be given all she
needs, she should not be forced to
take more than she wants. It is best,
therefore, to place salt in the boxes
in the yard, where the stock can lick
it at will.
—Reports to the Bureau of Drug
Control, State Department of Health,
that certain race track men are pro-
curing heroin and arsenic for the pur-
pose of doping race horses and put-
ting them in “condition” have resuit-
ed in a notice that veterinary sur-
' geons may prescribe or dispense her-
;oin and other narcotic drugs as the
| law provides, “in the course of profes-
sional practice only.”
Dr. Thomas S. Blair, chief of the
1 division of drug control, asks that per-
| sons who may secure evidence of the
| above practice communicate with the
| State Health Department, Harrisburg,
and prosecutions will follow. He said,
“This practice of doping horses, aside
from the violation of the narcotic
laws, constitutes cruelty to animals
and procedure can also be taken on
those grounds.”
‘It was long the custom in Austria
to give arsenic to horses to improve
! their wind and make them appear
{ plump and spirited. It became an in-
| tolerable abuse in Europe and the
| practice was suppressed on the basis
{of fraud. These horses, unless kept
ion arsenic regularly, lose health and
| are apt to die; the arsenic habit, also,
! may shorten life and bring on disease.
| —Serious ravages causing almost
complete destruction of the bee-keep-.
(ing industry in parts of Europe by
| the “Isle of Wight” disease has start-
‘ed determined action by American
i bee-keepers to save their business
from similar losses. Thus far the dis-
i ease has not gained a foothold in this
{country or ‘in Canada, and it is be-
lieved that should the disease become
| established here bee-keeprs, queen
breeders and manufacturers of bee
supplies would quickly be ruined and
horticultural interests would be ser-
iously damaged. ;
As a first step toward preventing
this, a meeting was held recenly at
the bureau of entomology of the
United States Department of Agri-
culture, which was attended by spe-
cialists from several States and Can-
ada who are inerested in protective
measures.
The meeting decided to use all feas-
ible efforts to prevent the introduc-
; tion of queen bees from all foreign
{ countries except Canada, and to dis-
courage the introduction of adult bees
into the United States except for ex-
perimental and scientific purposes by
the United States Department of Ag-
riculture. Since there is no known
Isle of Wight disease in Canada and
since it is hoped and exepected that
the Dominion of Canada will establish
the same safeguards to the bee-keep-
ing industry, it is planned not to es-
tablish any quarantines or prohibi-
tions against shipments of bees from
and to Canada.
All importation of queen bees
should be stopped, they believed.
Pending full legislation in this mat-
ter, the conferees are hopeful that
bee-keepers in both countries will co-
operate to the fullest extent by mak-
ing no attempt to introduce adult
bees. Any queen breeder who intro-
duced this disease into the country
would be doing a great damage to the
bee-keeper industry that would be a
serious drawback to future business,
it was said.
Bee-keepers who see any outbreak of
any disease of adult bees are urged to
send at once samples for examination
and diagnosis to the bureau of ento-
mology, Washington. More detailed
information concerning the disease
may be obtained by writing to the
United States Department of Agricul-
Washington, for a copy of De-
partment Circular 218, entitled “The
Occurrence of Diseases of Adult
Bees,” which is available for free dis-
tribution. :
Isle of Wight disease is caused by a
parasitic mite in adult bees, and is
easily transported by bees shipped
from Europe to America as was
| proved during the past summer when
live bees carrying living mites arriv-
ed in Washington from Scotland. The
disease is evidently a serious source
of loss to bee-keepers of the British
Isles. It was first observed in 1904
in the Isle of Wight, whence came the
name, and in succeeding years it has
spread with considerable rapidity to
all paris of Great Britain.