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16 00
WILLIAM LEWIS,
VOL. XIII.
A t.t.e.ct tor g.
A. THRILLING ADVENTURE ;
0 R,.
THE ROBBER OF THE WABASH.
In the summer of 1832, I was engaged
with a young man named Lyman Kemp, in
locating land lots along the Wabash, in In
diana. I had gone out partly for my health
and partly to accommodate one who - had ever
been a noble friend to me, who had purchased
a great deal of government land. At Daven
port he was taken sick, and after watching
him a week, in hopes that he would soon re
cover, I found that he had a settled fever ;
and, as the physician said he would not be
able to move on under a month, I determined
to push on alone. So I obtained a good
nurse, and, having seen that my friend would
have everything necessary to his comfort,
which money could procure, I left him.
As good fortune would have it, I found a
party of . six men bound on the very route
that I was going, and I waited one day for
the sake of their company. At length we sat
out, with three pack-horses to carry our lug
gage, and I soon found I lost nothing by
waiting, for my companions were agreeable
and entertaining. They were going to St.
Joseph, where they had already located, and
where they had mills upon the river intend
ing to get out lumber the remainder of the
season.
On We third day from Logansport we
reached Walton's Settlement, on Little River
—having left the Wabash on the morning of
that day. It was well on into the evening
when we reached the little log built inn of
the settlement, and we were glad enough of
the shelter, for, ere we were fairly under cov
er, the rain commenced to fall in great drops,
and thickly, too. And more still I had to be
thankful, for my horse began to show a lame
ness in one of his hind legs, and when I
leaped from the saddle, I found that his foot
pained him very much, as I could tell by the
manner in which he lifted it from the ground.
I ordered the ostler to bathe it with cold wa
ter, and then went into the house, where we
found a good substantial supper, and com
fortable quarters for that country at that
time.
About ten o'clock, just after I had retired,
and just as I was falling into agrateful drowse,
I was startled by the shouts of men and bark
ing of dogs, directly under my window. As
the noise continued, I arose, threw on my
clothes, and went down. " What is it ?" I
asked of the landlord, who stood in the entry
way.
"Ah l don't you know, stranger ?" said
the host, returning, You've heard of Gustus
Karl, perhaps ?"
Who, in the west, at that time, had not
heard of him !—the most reckless, daring,
and murderous robber that had ever cursed a
country. I told the host that I had heard of
him often.
" Well," he resumed, " the infernal villain
was here only - this afternoon, and murdered
and robbed a man' just up the river. We've
been out after him ; but he's gin us the slip.
We tracked him as faras the upper creek,
and there he came out on the bank, fired at
us, and killed one of our horses, and then
drove into the woods. We set the dogs on,
but they lost him."
" And you've come back horseless," I said.
" Yies," the landlord growled. " But," he
added, with a knowing shake of his head,
"he can't run clear much longer. The coun
try is in arms, and he'll either ]eave these
huntins or be dropped."
" What sort of a man is he ?" I asked.
" The very last man in the world you - would
take for Gus Carl. He is small—not a bit
over five feet six, with light curly hair, a
smooth white face, and not very stout. But,
Lord love ye, he's quick as lightning, and his
eye's got lire in it. He dresses in all sorts of
shapes, but generally like a common hunter.
Oho ! he's the very devil, I do believe."
After the tub full of whiskey and water
which the host had provided, was all drank,
the crowd began to disperse, and shortly af
terwards I went up again to bed; and this
time I slept on uninterrupted till morning.
I had just eaten my breakfast, and had gone
out to the front door, - when a horseman came
dashing up the place, himself and animal all
covered with mud. It had been raining all
night. The first thing the new coiner did
was to inquire for me. I answered at once
to to the name, and he then informed me that
Lyman Kemp could not live, and that he
wished to see me as soon as possible.
"The doctor says he must die," said the
messenger, " and the poor fellow now only
asks for life long enough to sec you."
"Poor Lyman !" I murmured to myself.—
"So young—so hopeful—with so many friends
and relatives in his far-off home—and taken
down to die in a strange land." I told the
man I would set out on my return as quick
as possible. Ho ate some breakfast and re
sumed his journey, being bound as far up as
the Pottawattomie border.
I settled my bill, and then sent for my
horse; but a bitter disappointment awaited
me. I found the animal's foot swollen very
badly, and it pained him so he could hardly
step upon it. Had the road been good I
should have been tempted to try him ; but I
knew that in some places the mud would be
deep. I went to the host and asked him if
he could lend or sell me a horse. He could
do neither. His only spare horse had been
shot by the Wabash robber. There was not
a horse in the place to be obtained for any
amount of money. I returned to the stable
and led out my horse, hut he could not even
walk with any degree of ease. I could not
use him. I was in despair.
" Look'e" said mine host, as I began to de
spond, " can't you manage a canoe."
" Yes—very well," I told him.
"Then that's your best way. The current
is strong this morning, an thout a stroke
of the paddle, 'twonld takatrm along as fast
as a horse could wade through the mud.—
You shall have one of my canoes for just
what it is worth, and ye can sell it again at
Logansport for as much."
I caught the proposition instantly, for I saw
. „ . ..,
..,,,.., . • • .
:i. . 1‘...,:'1,'.-;
--., -•", "• ' . : . : P' .?
••••• ...,... • -
'.•'..:.'
.......i.
it' was a good one.
"If you daren't shoot the rapids," added
the landlord, "ye can easily shoulder the ca
noe, and pack it around. Tisn't far."
I found the boat to be a well fashioned
" dugout," large enough to bear four men
with ease, and at once paid the owner the
price—ten dollars—and then had my lug
gage brought down. I gave directions about
the treatment of my horse, and then put off.
The current was quite rapid—say four or five
miles an hour—but not at all turbulent, and
I soon made up my mind that it was far bet
ter than riding on horseback. The banks of
the river were thickly covered with large
trees, and I saw game plenty, and more than
once I was tempted to fire the contents of my
pistols at the boldest of the " varmints," but
I had no time, so I kept on. Only one thing
seemed wanting, and that was a companion,
but I was destined to find one soon enough.
It was shortly after noon, and I had eaten
my dinner of bread and cold meat, when I
came to a place where the river made an ab
rupt bend to the right, and a little further on
I came to an abrupt basin where the current
formed a perfect whirlpool. I did not notice
it until my canoe got into it, and found my
self going round instead of going ahead. I
plied my wood paddle with all my power, and
soon succeeded in shooting out from the cur
rent ; but, in doing so, I ran myself upon the
low sandy shore. The effort had fatigued
me not a little, and as I found myself thus
suddenly moored, I resolved to rest a few
minutes.
I had been in this position some ten min
utes when I was startled by hearing a foot
fall close by me, and on looking up I saw a
man at that side of my boat. Ile was a young
looking person, not over two-and-thirty, and
seemed to be a hunter. Ile wore a wolf-skin
shirt, leggins of.red leather, and a cap of
bear-skin.
" Which way are you bound, stranger ?" ho
asked in a pleasing tone.
"Down the river. to Logansport," I replied.
That's fortunate. I wish to go there my
self," the stranger resumed. "What say you
to my taking the other paddle, and keeping
you company."
" I should like it," I told him frankly ;
" I've been wanting company."
"So have I," added the hunter. " And
I've been wanting some better mode of con
veyance than those worn out legs through
the deep forest."
" Come on," I said ; and as I spoke, he
leaped into the canoe, and having deposited
his rifle in the bow, he took one of the pad
dles and told me he was ready when I was.
So we pushed off, and were soon clear of the
whirlpool.
For an hour we conversed freely. The
stranger told me his name was Adams, and
that his father lived at Columbus. lie was
out on a hunting and exploring expedition
with some companions, who had gone on to
Logansport by horse, and having got separa
ted from them in the night, and had lost his
horse into the bargain. He said that he had
a great sum of money about his person, and
that was one reason why he disliked to trav
el in the forest.
Thus he opened his affairs to me, and I
was fool enough to be equally frank ; I ad
mitted that I had some money, and told him
my business, and by a most unpresuming
course of remark, he drew from me the fact
that I had money enough to purchase forty
full lots.
Finally the conversation lagged, and I be
gan to give my companion a closer scrutiny.
I sat in the stern of the canoe, and he was
about midships, and facing me. His hair
was of a light, flaxen hue, and hung in long
curls about his neck; his features were regu
lar and handsome ; and his complexion very
light. But the color of his face was not what
one could call fair. It was a. cold, bloodless
color, like pale marble. And for the first
time, too, I now looked particularly at his
eyes. They were grey in color, and had the
brilliancy of glaring ice. Their light was in
tense, but cold and glittering like a snake,s.
When I thought of his :age - I
set him down
for not much over thirty.
Suddenly a sharp, cold shudder ran thro'
my frame, and my heart leaped with a wild
thrill. As sure as fate—l knew it—there
could be no doubt—l had taken into my ca
noe, and into my confidence, Gustus Karl,
the Wabash Robber. For a. few moments I
feared my emotions would betray me. I
looked carefully over his person again, and I
knew I was not mistaken. I could look back
now and see how cunningly he had led me
on to a confession of my circumstances—how
he made me tell my affairs, and reveal the
state of my finances. What a fool I had
been ! But it was too late to think of the
past. I had enough to do to look out for
what was evidently to come.
I at length managed to overcome all my
outward emotions, and then I began to watch
my companion more sharply and closely.—
My pistols were both handy, and I knew
they were in order, for I bad examined them
both in the forenoon, when I thought of
firing at some game.
They were in the breast pockets of my
coat, which pockets had been made on pur
pose for them, and I could reach them at
any instant. Another hour passed away,
and by that time 1 had become assured that
the robber would make no attempt upon me
until after nightfall. He said that it would
be convenient that we were together, for we
could run all night, as one could steer the
canoe while the other slept.
" Ay," I added, with a smile; "that is
good for me ; for every hour is valuable. I
would not miss meeting my friend for the
world."
Oh, you'll meet him, never fear," said
my companion.
Ah ! he spoke that with a meaning. I un
derstood it well. I knew what that sly tone,
and that strange gleaming of the eye meant.
He meant that he would put me on the road
to meet poor Kemp in the other world ! I
wondered only now that I had not detected
the robber when I first saw him, for the ex
pression of his faco was so heartless, so icy
—and then his eyes had such a wicked look
—that the most unpracticed physiognomist
.---PERSEVERE.--
HUNTINGDON, PA., MARCH 3, 1858.
could not have failed to detect the villain at
once.
During the rest of the afternoon we con
versed some, but not so freely as before. I
could see that the villain's eyes were not so
frankly bent upon mine as he spoke, and then
he seemed inclined to avoid my direct glances.
These movements on his part were not stud
ied, or even intentional; but they were in
stinctive, as though his very nature led him
thus. At length night came on. We ate
our supper, and then smoked our pipes, and
finally my companion proposed that I should
sleep before he did. At first I thought of ob
jecting, but a few minutes reflection told me
that I had better behave as though he was
an honest man : so I agreed to his preposi
tion. He took my seat at the stern, and I
moved further forward and having removed
the thwart upon which my companion had
been sitting, I spread my cloak in the bottom
of the canoe, and then having placed my va
lise for a pillow, I lay down. As soon as
possible I drew out one of my pistols, and
under the cover of a cough, I cocked it.—
Then I moved: my body so that my right arm
would be at liberty, and grasping my wea
pon firmly, with my finger on the guard, I
drew up my mantle, slouched my hat, and
then settled down for my watch.
Fortunately for me the moon was up, and
though the forrest threw a shadow upon me,
yet the beams fell upon Karl, and I could
see his every moment. We were well into
the Wabash, having entered at about three
o'clock.
"You will call at midnight." I said drow
sily.
"Yes," he returned.
"Good night."
Good night—and pleasent dreams.—l'll
have you farther on your way than you think
ere you wake up again."
" Perhaps so," thought Ito myself, as I
lowered my head, and pretended to lower
myself to sleep.
For half an hour my companion steered
the canoe very well, and seemed to take but
little notice of me ; but at the end of that
time I could see that he became more uneasy.
I commenced to snore with a long, regularly
drawn breath, and on the instant the villain
started as the hunter when he hears the tread
of game in the woods.
But bark I Aha,—there was before one lin
gering fear in my mind that I might shoot
the wrong man ; but it was gone now. As
the fellow stopped the motion of the paddle,
I distinctly heard him mutter :
"O-ho, my dear sheep—you little dreamed
that Gus Karl was your companion. But
he'll do you a good turn.—lf your friend is
dead, you shall follow him, and take your
traps to pay your passage to heaven !"
I think these were the very words. At
any rate, they were their drift. As he thus
spoke he noiselessly drew in the paddle, and
rose to his feet. I saw him reach up over
his left shoulder, and when he brought back
his hand lie had a huge bowie-knife in it. I
could see the blade gleam in the pale moon
light, and I saw Karl - run his thumb along the
edge, and then feel the point! My heart
beat fearfully, and my breathing was hard.
It was with the utmost exertion that I could
continue my snoring, but I managed to do it
without interruption. Slowly and noislessly
the foul wretch proceeded to approach me.
Oh ! his step would not have awakened a
hound—and his long, gleaming knife was
half raised. I could hear the grating of his
teeth as he nerved himself for the stroke.
The villain was by my side, and measured
the distance from his hand to my heart with
his eyes. In his left hand he held a thick
handkerchief all wadded up. That was to
stop my mouth with. Every nerve in my
body was now strung, and heart still as death.
Of course my snoring ceased, and at that in
stant the huge knife was raised above my
bosom! Quick as thought I brought my pis
tol up—the muzzle was within a foot of the
robber's heart—he uttered a quick cry—l
saw the bright blade quiver in the moonlight,
but it came not upon me. I pulled the trig
ger, and the last fear was past. I had tho't
that the weapon might miss fire but it did
not. There was a sharp report, and as I
sprang up and backed, I heard a fierce yell,
and at the same time the robber fell forward,
his head striking my knee as it came down.
Weak and faint I sank back, but a sudden
tip of the canoe brought me to my senses,
and I went aft and took the paddle. As
soon as the boat's head was once more right
I turned my eyes upon the form in the bot
tom of the canoe, and then I saw it quiver—
only a slight spasmodic movement—and then
alI was still.
All that night I sat there at my watch and
steered my little bark. I had my second pis
tol ready, for I knew not surely that the
wretch was dead. He might be waiting to
catch me off my guard, and then shoot me.
But the night passed slowly and dearily
away, and when the morning broke the form
had not moved. Then I stepped forward
and found that Gustus Karl was dead! He
had fallen with his knife true to its aim, for
it struck very near the spot where my heart
must have been, and the point was driven so
far into the solid wood that I had to work
hard to pull it out, and harder still to un
clasp the marble fingers that were closed
with dying madness about the handle.
Swiftly flowed the tide, and ere the sun
again sank to rest I had reached Loganspbrt
The authorities knew the face of Gustus
Karl at once, and when I had told them my
story, they poured out a thousand thanks up
on my head. A purse was raised, and the
offered reward put with it, and tendered to me.
I took the simple reward from the generous
.citiz ens, while the remainder I directed should
be distributed among those who had suffered
most from the Wabash robber's depredations.
I found Kemp sick.and miserable. He
was burning with fever, and the doctors had
shut him up in a room where a well man
must soon have suffocated.
"Water—water! In God's name, give . me
water !" be gasped.
"Haven't you had any 2" I asked.
Ile told me no. I threw open the win
dows, sent for a pail of ice-water, and was
on the point of administering it when the old
I.i: , ':' :- ? .. .
1
I . .
...
'". • !: ::::
-':°•:' '-: T., t. ,. .:, , , , , •
doctor came in. He held up his hands in
horror, and told me it would kill the sick
man, But I forced him back and Kemp
drank the grateful beverage. He drank
deeply and then slept, The perspiration
poured. from him like rain, and when he
awoke, the skin was moist, and the fever was
turned. In eight days he sat in his saddle
by my side, and. started for Little River.--
At Walton's settlement I found my horse
wholly recovred, and when I offered to pay
for his keeping the host would take nothing.
The story of my adventure on the river had
reached there ahead of me, and this was the
landlord's gratitude.
" Please to help me a minute, sister."
"0, don't disturb me, I'm reading," was
the answer.
"But just hold this stick, won't you,
while I drive this pin through ?"
" I can't now, I want to finish this story,"
said I, emphatically; and my little brother
turned away with a disappointed look, in
search of somebody else to assist him. He
was a bright boy of ten years, and my only
brother. He had been visiting a young friend,
and had seen a wind-mill, and as soon as he
came home, his energies were all employed
in making a small one ; for he was always
trying to make tops, wheelbarrows, kites,
and all sorts of things, such as boys delight
in. He had worked patiently all the morn
ing with a saw and jack-knife, and now it
only needed putting together to complete it
—and his only sister had refused to assist
him, and be had gone away with his young
heart saddened. I thought of all this in the
fifteen minutes after he left me, and my
book gave me no pleasure. It was not inten
tional unkindness, - only thoughtlessness, for
I loved my brother, and was generally kind
to him ; still, I had refused to help him ; I
would have gone after him and offered him
the assistance he needed, but I knew he had
found seine one else. But I had neglected
an opportunity of gladdening a childish
heart.
In half an hour he came bounding into
the house, exclaiming, " Come, Mary, I've
got it up ; just see how it goes." Ills tones
were joyous, and I saw that he had forgotten
my petulance, so I determined to atone by
unusual kindness. I went with him, and
sure enough, upon the roof of the wood
house was fastened a miniature wind-mill,
and the arms were whirling around fast
enough to suit any boy. I praised the wind
mill, and my little brother's ingenuity, and
he seemed happy and entirely forgetful of
of my unkindness, and I resolved, as I had
many times before, to be always loving and
gentle.
A few days passed by, and the shadow of
a great sorrow darkened our dwelling. The
joyous laugh and noisy glee were hushed,
and our merry boy lay in a darkened room,
with anxious faces around him, his cheeks
flushed, and his eyes unnaturally bright.—
Sometimes his temples would moisten, and
his muscles relax, and then hope would come
into our heart, and our eyes would fill with '
thankful tears. It was. in one of these de
ceitful claims in his disease, that he heard
the noise of his little wheel, and said, "I
hear my wind-mill."
"Does it make your head ache?" I asked.
" Sahll we take it down?"
"0 I no," replied he, "it seems as if I were
out doors, and it makes me feel better."
He mused a moment, and then added,
" Don't you remember, Mary, that I wanted
you to help me to fix it, and you was read
ing, and told me you couldn't? But it didn't
make any difference, for mamma helped me."
0, how sadly these words fell upon my ear,
and what bitter memories they awakened.—
How I repented, as I kissed little Frank's
forehead,. that I had ever spoken unkindly to
him. Hours of sorrow went by, and we
watched by his couch, hope growing fainter,
and anguish deeper, until, one week from
the morning in which we spoke of his child
ish sports, we closed the eyes once so spar
kling, and folded the hands over his pulseless
heart. Ho sleeps now in the grave, and
home is desolate; but the little wind-mill, the
work of his busy hands, is still swinging in
the breeze, just where he placed it, upon the
roof of the old wood-shed—and every time I
see the tiny arms revolving, I remember the
lost little Frank; and I remember, also, the
thoughtless, the unkind words ! Brothers
and sisters, be kind to each other! Be gen
tle, considerate, and loving. —N. Y. ESCM
incr.
A Mormon Elder in the Calaboose.
The Keokuk Journal says a man named
Maylet was picked up in the street lately,
while laboring under a heavy pressure of
liquor, and confined in the calaboose. He
represents himself as being a Mormon preach
er, and has in his possession an Elder's cer
tificate, from His Highness, Brigham Young,
of which the following is a true copy:—
To all Persons to whom, this Letter shall come:
This certifies that the bearer, Elder Wm.
F. Maylet, is in full faith and fellowship with
the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day
Saints ; and by the general authorities of
said Church, has been duly appointed a mes
senger to the Eastern States, to preach the
Gospel and administer in all the ordinances
thereof pertaining to his office ; and we invite
all men to give heed to his teaching and
counsel as a man of God, sent to open to
them the door of life and salvation, and assist
him in his travels in whatsoever things he
may need, and we pray God, the Eternal
Father, to bless Elder Maylet, and all who
receive him and minister to his comforts,
with blessings of Heaven and Earth for time
and for all eternity, in the name of Jesus
Christ. Amen.
Signed at Great Salt Lake, in the Territory
of Utah, in behalf of said Church.
BRIGHAM YOUNG, 1
Ist Presidency,
HEBER C. KIMBALL,
DANIEL 11. WELLS, Sccrelarli.
April 22, 1857.
Editor and Proprietor.
Speak Gently to each other.
ELDER'S CERTIFICATE.
%rad him Right.
Some years ago, before Pittsburg, the din
gy city of Western Pennsylvania was reached
by railroads from the East, the wagon was a
great institution. The well-tired wheels
untiringly toiled over mountains and vales
making long journeys, sloe* but sure. Dave
Stewart was a. noted wag wagoner. He was
always wagging his tounge in boasting of
his great feats which had been performed in
his expeditions teaming over the Alleghan
les. Some of those mountain passes are very
narrow cut into the side of cliffs, and on the
outside of a pokerish precipice admonishes
the driver to hug the rock close as he goes.
When teamsters meet in such places the rule
of the road. was sat aside, and the stoutest
man keeps to the wall. Dave was six feet
high, and well-proportioned=-like Frank Gran
ger of anti-mason memory—and when, one
day, he met an old gentleman driving ong
leisurely in his gig, Dave determined to have
some fun at his expense. High above their
heads was an over-hanging table-rock, and as
the horses stood head to head, Dave said to
the old gentleman.
"Iwant you to do me a favor."
" Certainly," said the gentleman. What
can I do for you ?"
"I want you to climb up on that, and
dance while I whistle I"
NO. 37.
" I shall do no such thing, and I trust you
do not intend to take advantage of and old
man in such a place as this,"
Dave stepped forward with his heavy
horse-whip in his hand, and, raising it, threat
ened to lay it on him if he did not mount the
rock and do as he was told. Seeing Dave
was in earnest, the gentleman made a virtue
of necesity, and scrambled up. Dave whis
tled and he danced till both were tired, and
the fun was soon stale; when Dave told him
to come down, to back out of the pass, and
let him go on.
"But," said the gentleman, as he came
down, "Iwant you to do me a favor now."
"And what is it that ?"
"I want you to go up there and dance
while I whistle."
Dave refused, intimatinz that he would
see the man in a very bad place first.
"You won't eh ?" said the stranger, draw
ing a pistol suddenly, and planting it at
Dave's breast; "I'll make daylight shino
through you in less than two sconds, if you
don't move."
Dave told me the story himself, and said,
"What else could I do! The old fellow
was in earnest; up I bad to climb, and there
I had to dance while the old fellow whistled,
and laughed, and threatened to shoot if I stop
ped a minute; and he kept me a going, full
jump, two hours and more, till I was in a
lather worse than my horses in July. When
I was just ready to fall of he let me come•
down, made me back out of the pass, and as
he drove by, advised me never to ask any
unnecessary favors of strangers again. And.
I don't mean to."
This destructive insect is one of the great
est drawbacks on the fruit culture of Penn
sylvania. Its stealthy habits are such, that.
it requires the greatest care to enable one to
change its progress, which could neverthe
less be accomplished, if a simulaneons effort
were made by all the fruit growers in a
large district. Such an underta.king,hy di
minishing its emigration from neighboring
farms, would materially prevent its injurious
effects; and if the proper attention was paid
to the subject all over the country, its final
destruction would be more than probable.
The eggs are deposited by the perfect in
sect close to the ground, about the latter part
of June or beginning of July, during the
night, and the grass around the trees protects
the eggs from being found by the birds. In
a very few days, the sun hatches the young
larvae, which soon work their way into the
trunk, where-they can be discovered by the
plugs of woody fibers ejected through the•
hole.
In the second year, the insect assumes its
perfect form, leaving the trunk during the
night, about the latter part of May or begin
ning of trun, when it goes forth to lay eggs
for a new generation.
The nocturnal habits of this insect, make it
the more difficult for the common farmer or
orchardist to secure that full acquaintance
with it, which is necessary to be able to stop
its ravages. The only sure way to destroy
these insects, is to attack them in the larvae
state. During Summer, they must be hun
ted up, and cut out with a gouge,. so thor
oughly that none remain.
To guard orchards from further depreda
tions, procure thick hardware paper and cov
er the trunk to the height of one foot above
the ground, and one or two inches below it.
Young orchards protected in this way, can be
kept clear of this troublesome and destruc
tive pest. The paper covers must be renew
ed annually, and no later than the beginning
of May. This can be best accomplished by
removing the earth from the trunk with a.
garden trowel, and winding the paper and
tying it close to the trunk to prevent the bec
tie from getting behind it.lf the paper be
coated with tar, as far as it is in contact with'
the ground, so much the better. After the
paper is thus applied, the ground ought to be
leveled around the trunk. If the perfect in
sect deposites its eggs on this paper they will
dry up when hatched, for want of nourishment
since the larvae live on the soft bark of the
tree first, while young, and on the soft wood:
when older. Should theybe capable of loco
motion at this stage, they must go above the
paper to enter the tree—which I have not
found to be the case in three years' close ob
servation—or starve; and should any enter
above the paper unprotected by the grass,
the birds would soon devour them. In case'
any escaped from them, the eyes of the care-.
ful fruit-grower would detect them at a
glance in passing the trees, when with a knife
the mischief could soon be remedied,. and the
trifling wound would soon heal over again.
With these paper covers, I protected a
young orchard for the last three years.—
With a single exception only, not a borer
gained foothold, and he secreted himself un
der the straw band by which the tree was se
cured to a, stake three or four feet from the
ground, where the fruit-grower should fre
quently look during Summer.
If any one considers all this.' too much
trouble, he ought to make up his mind not to
eat fruit of his own growing in a compara
tively short time.—Cor. of American Agri
culturist.
A BEAUTIFUL TRUTlL—Benjamin P. Tay
lor, the author of " January and June," once
said that " she who has been a good daugh
ter, a loving wife and an old-fashioned mo
ther, is pretty near ready for an entrance into
the Kingdom of Heaven. A home without a
girl in it is only half blest ; it is an orchard
without blossoms, and a Spring without Song.
A house full of sons is like Lebanon with its
cedars, but daughters by the fireside, are like
the roses in Sharon."
The Apple Tree Borer