Bring with you, for me to have, a spray of sweetâ€"olive, Or one of the leaves that fall from your fig tree by the door. There was a yucea tree by the door, I remember, M With flowers of moonlightâ€" You cannot pluck meonplight to bring in your pocket! And acorn would do, cr a burr, or a stone; 3 Or a pink leat from the wild grape. MHas the frost left my dablias unâ€" taken? MHave any new dahlias bloomed since that day? You gathered the dahlias for me that day and laid them in my arms As if heaped rainows were laid in my Bo I think are the colors of yourselft you have given me to hold. i â€"â€"Helen Hoyt, in "Leaves of Wid Grape." The best state of human nature is that in which while no one is poor, me one desires to be richer, nor has any reason to fear being thrust back by the efforts of others to push themselves _ forward.â€"John Stuart "Science speaks no one language and flles no single flag."â€"Nicholas Murray Butler. It‘s a dress that will answer many requirements for early fall. Style No. 3342 may be had in sizes 14, 16, 18, 20 years, 36, 38 and Wrte® your name and address plainly, giving number and size of such patterns as you want. Enclose 20¢ in stamps or coin (coin preâ€" ferred; wrap it carefully) for each number, and address your order to Wilson Pattern Service, 73 West Adelaide St.. Toronto. Size 16 requires 3% yards 39â€" inch, with 4 yard 39â€"inch contrasiâ€" ing. It‘s chie too for more dressy ocâ€" easions in black crepe satin with the little neckline trimming piece of eggshell crepe satin. An enirzely new sleeve treatment brings distinetion to this model, whose graceful skirt adds a peplum frill, emphasizing the flat slimness of the hips. It‘s a lovely interpretation of a sheer worsted print in dark wineâ€" Style No. 33 sizes 14, 16, 18, 40 inches bust. Dark green cantonâ€"faille crepe silk is mart. The neckline is youthfully beecmâ€" ing. HOW TO ORDER PATTERNS litustrated Dressmaking Lesson Furnishcd w‘‘h Every Pettern What New York Is Wearing BY ANNEBELLE WORTHINGTON ISSUE No. 43â€"‘31 Salada Green tea drinkers â€" October Letter THE BEST STATE GREEN TEA * ‘Fresh from the gardens‘ A kind of mouse which might earn its keep usefully around houses by killing cockrozches and cther obâ€" noxious insects is described by Dr. Vernon Bailey, Chief Naturalist of the United States Biological Survey in a recer. communication to the Amerâ€" ican Nature Association of Washingâ€" ton, D.C _ It is the grasshopper mouse or scorpion mouse, a variety of smail field mouse of the western part of the United States. The common names of this mouse com», as would be exâ€" pected, from the animal‘s habit of catâ€" ing insects, grasshoppers being preâ€" ferred, but scorpions, crickets, beetles or almost any other insect being acâ€" cepted if grasshoppers are scarce. On one occasion, Dr. Bailey states, his house was invaded by cockroaches which had got a foothold in the baseâ€" ment and kitchen. A pair of the grasshopper mice »appened to be on hand for seientific study, so Dr. Bailey placed the cage containing these mice in the kitcher one night, closed the kitchen doors and windows and openâ€" ed the cage. Next morning both mice were found fast asleep in their nest in the cage, with hundreds of loose cockâ€" roach legs seattered «round the edges of the kitchen to show that the night had not been idle. Repeating this for a few nights ridded the kitchen of the insects. The two mice were then left loose in the basement, provided with ample water and with vegetable food. Preferring insect food, however, the two mice soon cleaned up the cockâ€" r:ach invasion of the basement as they had that of the kitchen. Grasshopper mice are fearless fighters against inâ€" seets or other small animals. undone, Lend me your spill of morning tunes ~o> I‘ll flaunt my dream with any one. dayâ€" s « But there are waiting trysts to keep; Now when a bird will lift as high . Across the well from day to sleop, Why may 1 not forsake his song But listen as my pulses chimeâ€" If cheerful birds at twilight sing When shall I find my grieving time? â€"Eleanor O‘Rourke Koenig, in "Two On An Old Pathway." Now 1 will never chide a bird To wake from sleep with. ureams With echoes through the livelong A thing of beauty is a Its loveliness increases Pass into nothingness; keep A bower quiet for us, and a . sleen If religion is to interpret the world and man, it is of obvious importance that it should deal with the facts of the case. But science is always givâ€" ing us a new _ worldâ€"Copenican, Newtonian, Darwinian, Einsteinian, and so forth. _ Thus it is an unendâ€" ing task of religion to adjust its inâ€" terpretation to the new world; and it is often hazardous to put new wine into old skins. . .. Bcience seeks standing but it rectly, no doubt increase good. Grasshopper Science describes in terms of lowâ€" est common denominators, such as electrons and protons, _ protoplasm and mind but religion interprets in terms of the greatest common meaâ€" sure. Religion on its intellectual side is cognate to philosophyâ€"it is the layâ€" man‘s philosophy. It always imâ€" plies something spiritual, something beyond ordinary experience. It seeks after formulations or laws which enable us to say: "If this, then that." It never explains in terms of purpose, or deepâ€"down meanâ€" ing. _ Science is necessarily an abâ€" stract or partial kind of knowledge. Science gives empirical verifiable answers to the questions: What is this ? How does it persist in its state of being? Whence _ came it. Whither is it moving? What? How? Whence* â€" and, ~perbaps, Whither? But science never asks why? l Science Aims To Eradicate‘ Science aims at making the world â€"nature and â€" marâ€"intelligible, deâ€" clared Sir Arthur Thomson in a reâ€" cent address. Religion in its inâ€" tellectual aspects seeks to show that the world is reasonable. _ Science is descriptive, while religion is interâ€" pretive. To a Late Bird Singing and qulet ‘breathing. . â€" â€"Keats.. per Mice Devour Cockroaaches primarily for underâ€" also seeks, less diâ€" to remove evils and joy for ever; ; 1t will never but still will f { CHAPTER I.â€"â€"(Cont‘d.) | . What was he to do? The obvious "!d / thing, naturally, was to go down to deâ€" l the Hotel Office, make as good an exâ€" ‘¢ / planation as was possible, and then it | clear out. He would look no end of a ‘"t | fool, of course. And, although this s | would not be the first occasion of the ©**| kind, he felt that the day was too ble | auspicious a one to make such a con-‘ ._ ; fession. 99 "Yes, of course." Mumbling this conventjonal reply, he turned away to hide his face. C This thing was getting richer and richer. Where was it to end? He didn‘t care twoâ€"pence so long as the developments were interesting. So the real Philip Crane came from America; he remembered reading in the train that the "Aquitania‘" was due to berth at Southampton that morning. Amâ€" ericaâ€"and Truro. And yet, that great distance had been bridged; the widely divergent points of the compass had met at the Midâ€"Western Hotel!" "How long have you been keeping my rooms?" he asked. He could underâ€" stand now why so many boys wished to become detecrives in later life. The reply was prompt. "Immediately we received your wireless from the ‘Aquitania,‘ Mr. Crane." As he passed through the swingâ€" doors leading to the street, he smiled At th« office, he stopped for a 110â€" ment, to exchange a word with the clerk. This decision was so stimulating that he felt he must get out of doors. This room was too small. Besides, he wanted exerciseâ€"and a dinner at some swagger restaurant, where, howâ€" ever, there was no necessity to dress. He thought he‘d go to Vernay‘sâ€"or one of. those places in Scho. He would choose later. No, he‘d be dashed if he would! This was an opportunity too good to be missed. Life in his uncle‘s drawâ€" ing office was too dull to let a chance like this go by. He was on holidayâ€" and a touch cf adventure thrown in would be mors than welcome. He would sit tight and see what hapâ€" pened ! ' Caution and commonâ€"sense applied a cool douche. The management would understand when he told them how the mistake had occurred. At the worst, they could only charge him for a day‘s tenancy of the suite. He must get out. What decided him was the knowlâ€" edge that he had not acted dishonorâ€" ably. Those letters which belonged to someone else were completely uninâ€" telligible to him. Here was mystery. He tingled at the thought. By some extraordinary chance, he must have become involved in one of those sensaâ€" tional hcppenings that were to be read about occasionally in the newspapers. These things were always staged in London. « A red velvet evening frock deâ€" signed specially for the "Jeune fille" who liyes. todance. Simplicâ€" ity and charm in every line. Philip Crane, a young aeroplane deâ€" signer, comes to London on holiday. At Waterloo station he saves a girl, Marâ€" gery Ferguson, from death by snatching her from bene~th a large car. On arrival at the Midâ€"Western Hotel, here he has suddenly decided to stay, he is surprised to find a letter addressed to him there, although no one could have known of his intention to stay there. He is further mystified by finding the letter is written in code, . Youtiful Dancee Frock ~ADMIT ONE °â€" SsYNOPSIS *BÂ¥Y SIDNEY HORLER ONTARIO ARCHIVES f TORoNnto | Very gratifying, this deference to a | mere engineer‘sâ€"draughtsman, and unâ€" | consciously, Philip preened himself. iThis was undoubtedly the Life. A private suiteâ€"letters in cypherâ€"unâ€" known women calling. . . . { He walked to the lift briskly. to the ordinary world; there was a langoroms grace about her which beâ€" wildered him. She was dressed on a fashion which he knew must denots wealth and what he couid only scribe as "cosmopolitanism." Ins. }â€" He was ready for a surprise. But the woman who rose to meet him fairâ€" ly took his breath away. At first he did not think she could possibly belong to the ordinary world: thera war a Going to the office for his key, he was greeted with an announcement from the night clerk. "Mr. Crane?" asked the man. ltYes?" "A lady has called to see you, Mr. Crane." "A lady?" Here was another stagâ€" gering surprise. He didn‘t know a single woman in London. .But he must play up. This was only another inciâ€" dent in the strange chain of circumâ€" staces in which he had become inâ€" volved. "Did she mention any name?" "No, sir; she merely said that you were expecting ner." ‘"Where is she now?" "She was shown up to your suite, sir." It was strangely stimulating for a "yokel" like himself to walk through tLose thronged streets, dazzling to the eye with beautiful women and wellâ€" dressed men. Truro after this! Crane walked on, and on, too abâ€" sorbed to bother about the distance; and he wes only agreeably tired upon arrival back at the Midâ€"Western Hotel. With this, Crane was tempted to pal up with the man, but before be could make any advance, his companâ€" ion had turned abruptly and walked quickly away. Had Crane followed him in turn, he would have seen the man go into the nearest Underground Station telephone booth and make a call. The message he sent was reâ€" ceived at Scotland Yard. The speaker had a stern, hard face, but it contained a . certain likeable quality. Crane was instantly apoloâ€" getic. "Following you?" repeated the other man; "I‘m afraid you‘ve made a misâ€" take, sir. If I have been going in the same direction as yourself, 1 assure you it is purely coinc.Gence. 1 am a stranger to London, and just wanderâ€" ing around to kill time." "Sorry if I‘m wrong," he said; "but, honestly, I imagined you were followâ€" ing me all about the place. Weren‘t you at Vernay‘s tonight?" "Yes, I was," admitted the other. "But, once again, let me assure you that you are entirely wrong in your surmise." "I should like to know why you‘re following me," said Crane. It was when he had gone about a dozen yards from the theatre that he suddenly turned. A man following immediately at his heels was unable to avoid the contact, and the two colâ€" lided. . With so many other places to choose from, the thought of another show, however, seemed flat in comparison. He wou.d have a wander through the streets, fascinating at that time of night to a provincial like himself, and return to the hotel where, possibly, in the smoking room, he might get a rubber of bridge. The savour of Lonâ€" don wa. too fine to be gulped. To get its full relish, he must digest it by degrees "I can give you a stall for +toâ€" morrow night," suggested the boxâ€" office clerk. y "Oh, can you?â€"thanks." He paid his money, took his ticket, and turned away. This was a blow. He had been lookâ€" ing forward to seeing the drama, ‘‘Wandering Men," ever since its firstâ€" night performance which had received such maptuous notice from the criti‘s. But, of course, he had only hilmself to blame in this, as in the matter of the hotel, he had not troubled to write Leforehand. A taxi to St. James‘ Theatre brought him his first disappointment. "Sorry, sir, but there‘s not a seat left." Lighting a cigar at the match which the maitre d‘hotel himself struck, Crane felt that life could searcely hold a better moment than this. He was on top of the world. He had dined well at Vernay‘s. The head. waiter had seemed to make a special point of treating him as a distinguished customer, and the food and wine had been beyond reproach. to himsel{ at the thought of his uncle‘s face when, returning kome from that holiday, he narrated his experience in the modern Babylon. Sir Timothy Padden‘s adventures were confined to the designing of aeroplane engines; his out‘ook on life »therwise was amusingly restricted. Still, he was a genius in his own lineâ€"dear old chap. CHAPTER I1. ly, a.phrase which he imagined he must have borrowed subâ€"consciously from a film title flashed into his mind. There was only one apt description for this mysterious visitorâ€"‘*"The Red Madonna." "I‘m most awfully sorry," he reâ€" plied in a tone of contrition. Nothing else appeared to matter for the moâ€" ment; he was i man speaking to a very beautiful woman. "I cannot accept any excuse‘ You were given definite instructionsâ€"you received the letters?" she broke off sharply to enquire. At this early stage in the proceedâ€" ings, Crane came to the conclusion that beauty, standing alone, could be rated too highly; this woman had sufâ€" She was a person of striking conâ€" trasts; her deeply red chestnut hair showed off the exquisite:yâ€"fair skin of neck and shoulders visible beneath the flungâ€"back opera cloak. Her face was arrestingly beautiful, the features beâ€" ing classical and the sine from ear to chin finely moulded. She was in her prime; he imagined her age to i about twentyâ€"six. A glorious creature! So vivid was the personality of this unexpected caller that he was unable to speak: and it was the woman who In June males and females begin making a mound, sometimes nearly 50 feet in circumference and 3 feet high, in which the eggs are to be deâ€" posited five months later. Using both The mallee henâ€" is about two feet long from head to tail tip and bas dotâ€" ted plumage of black, brown, white and gray, strong legs, large feet and a short crest. Unlike turtles and cerâ€" tain bird species that lay eggs in hastiâ€" ly scratched hboles, it builds its incuâ€" bator with a constructive skill apâ€" proaching that of a beaver. The leipoa, the bird that is credited with having invented the incubator, is becoming rare. _ Once widespread through Southern Australia, where it is known as the mallee hen, it has dwindled in numbers as its eggs have been devoured by foxes, iguanas and aborigines. In Victoria its only re fuge is the sanctuary known as Wonga Park. (The N.Y. Times) A Hen With Its Own Incubator _ Delicious! OMd Jashioned Boiled Salad Dressing Made in Canada by the Makers Cheese and Velvecta r'wmu,chtgeuomainxlh&xmly 25 sents, oneâ€"halt the price you re ased to paying for this standard of quality. Try After the field is ploughed then come the harrowin# details. Art is a human activity having for its purpose the transmission to others of the highest rnd best feelâ€" ings to which men have risen â€" Count Leo Tolstoy. He remembered the cypher comâ€" munications. ficient good looks to,lead an army corps to destruction, but behind the classical features flamed a devil. She was a virago. "Answer me!" she cried; "did you receive the letters which were sent to this hotel?" In November the warm mound is scratched open and the ben deposits her eggs, placed upright on the smallâ€" er end, in pyramid layers separated by sand. She lays every third day, opening and closing the mound each time, until from eight to twentyâ€"three eggs have been deposited. The new chicks, emerging from the top of the eggs, are strong enough to scratch their way through the sand to the surface on their first day; they can even run and fly a little. Thus the mallee hen avoids not only the necesâ€" gity of sitting on its ezgs but also the need of guiding its young in its first contact with the world. feet and wings for scraping, the birds clear out a depression, deepen it someâ€" what and line it with sand. Then they fill it with leaves and rubbish, leaving this to be saturated hy the Spring rains of October. Later they cover the heap with sand, #so that the tomperature within may rise as the vegetable matâ€" ter decays. Teacherâ€"*"What do you know «bout Ceres?" Tommy Fanâ€""Well, it will be played between Philadelphia and St. Louis." «wature and cevel in its reamy (To be continued.) "For nerves m â€"~ sdom, the . best med:cis :. â€"Roy 4 his voice again sends the call of the cow moose out over wae forest world. Then, if luck is good, a snap and crackle sound through the frostâ€"crispâ€" ed air from far away. A bull moose has heard the wail and is coming. Because it is Fall anc the mating season, and beca se his great fighting antlers are keenâ€"edged for battle, he is careless of commotion and noise. If any one wants to dispute with him, he welcomes battle as eagerly as did the mailâ€"clad knights of the Middle Ages. smm <f rrmmnnsme God‘s House The universeâ€" is God‘s house. This world is not only the only habitat for the living. In His house are many rooms. Death is only pushing iside the portieres and passing from one room to another. If, however, no farâ€"of crackle comes to the straining ear of the men erouched in the shadow of shrub or tree, the guide climbs up in the granches And with a greater range for After th echoes ~ away in the night one hardly da es breathe for fear oOf breaking the silence that setâ€" tles again over the woods. is sthe spirit of the Northlandâ€"wild, fearful, primeval, One hearing it the first time feels a chill creeping along the spine. Immediately through the forest, perâ€" haps acrors a lake to a mountain half a mile away, rolls the harsh, yet pleadâ€" ing call of the cow moose. In that call All is hushed and dim in the woodâ€" land, except for the occasional snapâ€" ping of a twig by frost or the falling of a branch, The hunters pick out hidâ€" ing places while the guide prepares to call. The horn is a delicate affair, rolled from the thin, lisht brown inner bark of the birch tree. The thinner the bark of the horn, th. better call can be sounded. ‘The guide picks his position, looks around to see that everything is all right, then places the horn to his lips. From the middle of October to midâ€" Decemer is the season for moose callâ€" ing. It is usually attempted in the evening, though some guides contend the time just before dawn is better, The best spot is near water, or at the edge of a moonlit clearing. Through the flaming red aisles of the great northern hardwood forests there reverberates in Autumn the call of the moose, It is the mating season, The massive antlers of the bull moose are hard and glistening; the "velvet" that protected them from injury alB Summer, during their growth, has been rubbed of against pliant birch trees and willow bushes. Now in this full war regalia, the monarch of the Northland answers the mating call. Hunters, taking advantage of this instinct, imitate the mate‘s cry to lure the bu!l moose to them. "Moose callâ€" ing" is a mysterious art in which few guides are skillful enough to delude the moose. Calling the Moose In Autumn Woods "When allowance is made for the shorter period of he second as comâ€" pared vith the first investigation, & general similarity is observable in the rate of increase in caries between the group receiving cod liver oli (vite» mins A and D) and that receiving radiostol (vitamin D). There was no significant difference in the rate of increase of caries between the chilâ€" dren receivinz olive »il and those reâ€" ceiving treacle in the first investigaâ€" tion." as c:;nplred with the group which received olivs oil as the only addiâ€" tion. each receiving as an addition to the standard dietary a measured ration of olive oil, to whica, in the case of one group, a solution of vitamin D was added, over a period of one year and a half, the progress of caries in the permanent teeth was also signiâ€" ficantly retarded in the vitamin group --"‘lâ€";_iwo groups,; numbering 82 and 79 respectively, living in the same inâ€" stitution under identical conditions, "In groups, numbering lrom vo 10 86," state the Committee, "living under similar institutional conditions, each receiving a certain specific adâ€" dition to the standard dietary over a period of two years, the progress of caries in the permanent tecth has been significantly retarded in those children receiving an added ratio of fatâ€"soluble vitamis, as compared with those whose additions consisted of treacle and olive oil respectively; the increase of caries in the vitamin group, whether measured by its inci« dence or its extent, being approxiâ€" mately oneâ€"third of that in the vther groups. London.â€"The Committee on Tental Disease, who have been investigating the influenc» of diet on caries n chil. dren‘s teeth, bave prey. red an intecim report, which was iesued receitly by the Medicai Researâ€"h Council. lanby and Dr. H. C. T. Langdon, at three residential institutions Yor chil. dren in Birmingham. | e "l he investigation was carried out under the supervision of l_lrs. M Melâ€" aunci! Issues Report ‘For Good Tegth numbering from 65 to Research 1. LIBERTY rog IL tar amoee II V my no threat« must * sin, or halp h the man November 1, Temperance 13â€"26, Soigen with wine, w be filled with 5: 18. that is nc to it canno sponsi The some breal itself wh for all 1. tm ality then gives a J common one of + th in In t t] t} Ar 1 Chris Chris for la Tt the law n IV. wORk TV 14 th T4 th ab A wa b n U M M