Zurich Herald, 1933-11-16, Page 2A Malty Which Is
Incomparable
11
"Fres, from the Gardeng"
Dr. W. T. Macoun, Horticulturist
13 Prof. C. T. Currelly, in the
Toronto Mail and Empire
Some years ago a brilliant writer,
the late Peter McArthur, said, "Isn't
It time that we Canadians stopped
Baying, 'isn't it good for Mary Anne'?
I suppose this habit is a bang -over
from ourearly days of struggle to pro-
vide the simple necessities of life;
but it is certainly time that we looked
at Canadian affairs from a world
standpoint and said, "Isn't it good for
anybody in any country?"
This Habit would perhaps not have
done us quite so much harm if we had
been isolated, but we have been de-
Iuged with newspapers, magazines and
books that are partly propaganda for
the greatness of other peoples and the
wonderful men the they' have Pro-
duced. I suppose, for instance, that
all upper school children in Canada
know something about "the American
wizard of horticulture," Burbank;
of the things they know about him are
untrue, How many know about the
late Dr. W. T. Macoun, Canadian hor-
ticulturist, who without question has
done more for horticulture than Bur-
bank? But Macoun was a hard-work-
ing Government official on a small
salary and never thought of advertis-
ing himself, and unfortunately we
have not yet reached that stage of our
national development in which there
is full recognition of outstanding
scientific work done at home.
One reason why our achievements
in horticulture have not gained more
publicity Is that many of the big
things have been done by men gener-
sue enough to share thoroughly with
,heir associates, The important fruits
aroduced at Vineland have never been
seized upon by the head of the station
as his production. Among those who
know of thein they are always spoken
of as, "by Palmer and his associates,"
or more commonly stili, simply as
'produced at Vineland."
Predictions are risky but I should
likes to chance a statement that the
Melba apple will be grown and valued
long after nearly every other recent
prbduction in horticulture will be for-
gotten—and the Melba is only one of
Macoun's great apples. The best col-
lection of hardy apples in America was
brought together by him at the Ex-
perimental Station at Morden, Mani-
toba; he was a servant of the whole
Dominion and worked as much for the
Prairie Provinces as he did for the
best fruit lands of the country.
Vegetables, fruits and flowers all re-
sponded to the touch of his genius in
breeding. His wonderful develop-
ments of peas are known to the few
who are scientifically 'Interested, as is
his ,incredible development of lilies in
respect to the number of flowers borne
upon them.
In the profession, of course, Dr. Ma-
coun's pc -]tion was very high. Qne
of the greatest honors accorded him
was that the New York State Fruit
Testing Association named its choice
apple the Macoun. Many medals were
awarded to his productions, including
the Grande Medaille de Vermeil from
the National Society of France, a gold
medal struck by the International Ex-
position of horticulture at Brussels for
the Melba apple alone, medals struck
by the American Pomological Society
to commemorate the Melba apple and
the Lobo apple, another of Dr. Ma-
coun's productions. The first award
of the Carter Gold Medal of Honor for
the Advancement of Horticulture was
to Dr. Macoun, and many other similar
honors showed the appreciation of the
scientific world of his work,
I feel sorry that Dr. Macoun's name
is not known to every Canadian school
child. Some years ago I was very
much interested to hear a Tepanese
student speak of a certain compatriot
as the greatest blacksmith in Japanese
history, and to find that the children
of Japan are taught about their great
workers. I sincerely hope that the
movement now on foot in preparing
some of our school books will develop,
so that through these books Canadian
children will know about those Cana-
dian men of science who have merited
world recognition.
"Changing Stations"
In British .Arany
Now is the Time When South'
ampton Witnesses
Many Farewells
This is the busiest time of year at
Southampton. From now until the end
of April His Majesty's Transports will
be conveying thousands of soldiers
and hundreds of families from one
part of the Empire to another "on
change of station," writes Major J.
Baronby in the London Evening
News.
Some transport ships are filled to
capacity with drafts and details —
the former bodies of men and the
latter individuals—needed to fill gaps
in battalions, batteries and other un-
its stationed overseas, gaps caused
by transfers to the Reserve, sickness,
and other routine casualties.
In ill -concealed corner trim khaki-
clad officers are making the most of
snatched moments with the girl they
Teave behind. In some eases the girl
will be the wife, for the authorities
provide no accommodation, rations,
quarters or pay in respect of wives
of officers under thirty years of age.
(In other ranks the age is 26). In
six years' time the husband will be
entitled to apply for transfer to the
home establishment, Until then, un-
less he reaches the required age in.
the meantime or is lucky enough to
be sent home on promotion or in
some "exigency of the Service", he
and his young wife must, if they lack
7private means, live thousands of
;miles apart, A severe test, this, of
the solidity of the foundations upon
'which their marriage was built.
Among the crowd on board it is not
difficult to spot the women -folk who
are sailing with the ship. They, in
]reaction to the upheaval of the pack-
ing -up at home, seem to have begun
ililready to enjoy the lazy respite the
voyage affords before they will have
to make similar efforts at the other
lend in starting a new home.
Most of them have had import-
ant decisions to make—the decision,
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in so many_ cases, between separa-
tion for an indefinite period from
either husband or children; for chi!.
dren cannot go to a place where suit-
able schools do not exist.. The wives
of N.C.O.'s and men are spared this
problem, for good education is pro-
vided at Army stations abroad for
their offspring,
A few yards away some animated
Young wife may be heard speculating
about the house, furniture and serv-
ants which she has taken on "blind"
from the wife of an officer Who is
leaving the station for which our bat-
talion is bound, She bas few misgiv-
ings, for Service ladies do not let
each other down.
In due course the last kit bag is
on board. The gangways are rais-
ed, the band strikes up "Auld Lang
Syne," and the ship steals away, with
every man, woman and child on board
waving, craning and cheering, their
excited faces reflecting the spirit of
high adventure. ..
Now walk a few yards to another
quay, and into a later chapter of
this never-ending romance, and you
will see a transport bringing a bat-
talion home on the completion of its
tour of overseas service. Possibly not
an officer or man who went abroad
with it will be on the strength now,
but it is still the battalion, There
are no partings here, only re -unions
and grateful relief at being back in
the Old Country again.—London
Evening News.
Letter to Santa Claus
on Discovering that Christmas
Comes on a Wednesday
I'd Iike a Mediterranean cruise
And a sable coat
And some velvet shoes.
I'd love a couple of million dollars
And some silk nightgowns
With real lace collars,
I'd. Iike a touch of spring in the air
And a brand-new face
And coal -black hair,
But most of all a convincing cough
That will get me Monday 1
And Tuesday off! � p
—From "Out of My Head," by Mar• Ib
garet Fishback, 1 B
The average family of the profes-
sional and middle classes in Gt. Bri-
tain consists of .just over two child-
ren.
.. r
¥U'AN NEI SEI LAUCMS
by Sox Rohmer
CHAPTER. L
"Good-bye, then, Eileen, And take
great care of yourself. I've probably
missed the train and everything ---but
I don't give a hoot. Be sure to write
from Marseilles and cable when you
get in, And don't forget I'm conning
out in March."
The girl clung desperately to her
brother, her soft arms locked about
him. Matt Kearney could feel that
she was trembling and:
"What's the natter with Kid Sis-
ter?" he asked, squeezing her.
"Kid Sister's miserable!"
"Because you don't want to go
back?"
' No. But because somehow, Matt
dear," she whispered very close to his
ear, "I feel frightened about this
journey. Don't be mad with me, I
know it's silly, and I ought to be used
to travelling by now. But I've got a
wobbly, funny feeling."
Kearney looked down at the tangled
curls nestling upon his shoulder; and.
in the light shining out from the cosy
stateroom they gleamed and shimmer-
ed like burnished bronze. He hugged
her affectionately and told himself
that a chill suddenly experienced and
resembling cold water trickling down
his spine was due physically to the
clammy quality of the night, and men-
tally to the girl's overwrought con-
dition.
But he was used to Eileen's moods,
to the odd streak of superstition—a
legacy from their Irish -American fa-
ther• --which sometimes he distrusted
but always understood.
"Kid dear," he said, and stroked her
hair, "play fair, Seeing little girls
off is bad enough anyway, without giv-
ing a fellow the breeze up,"
"I'ni sorry, Matt. It was utterly
Big Pig of me."
She glanced up; and her blue -grey
eyes were calm, except that he had a
fleeting, odd impression that some-
thing—a shadow—had been banished
at that very moment from them.
f'No—only Little Pig," he said play-
fully. "I only wish I were coming
with you."
"It wasn't fair, and I shouldn't have
said it. It's just this beastly fog and
having to Iet you go ashore in it. Give
me a kiss, Matt, and we'll go and hunt
Jack Rattray—although I really don't
know how you're going to get hone."
Wisps of mist floated under the
lights. Not another soul was in sight
on that deck, but there was activity
on: the deck belorw, and a tremendous
clamor: on the dockside. The R.M.S.
Wallaroo was going, out in the morn-
ing—sixteen hours late, thanks to one
of those fogs, London Special,. wlech
sometimes hold up Thames traffic for
whole days. All the other passengers
seemed to have retired, with the pos-
sible exception of . a few stragglers
who might have been found in the
smokeroonn."
One last lingering- glance Kearney
cast into the cosy stateroom which
Eileen was to occupy tc Colombo. He
would cheerfully have resigned six
months' pay to be going too. The ward-
robe trunk, which he had labelled him-
self, a green hat on the rack above the
bed, a camera hung on the back of a
chair, a dressing case open on the
table. The box of a hundred cigar-
ettes which Dawson Haig had brought
down to the steamer that morning lay
on the turned -back coverlet, and a pile
of magazines on top of an unopened
cabin trunk; three novels which Matt
had brought for Eileen in the rack
beside the green hat.
"Ah, well!" he sighed, "you'll be a
comfortable Little Pig. Winter, the
purser, is a star turn. You're at his
table, and he'll see that everything's
right. Jack Rattray is an old pal,
so that you won't lack company."
"I shan't lack company," said Eileen
archly.
Her mood changed, and she smiled
-mischievously. But Kearney welcom-
ed the change, and:
"You little devill" he said, and
squeezed her hard. "Don't forget
there's a spy aboard:'
"I might buy him over!" said Eileen.
"I'll tell ,Billy Haig!"
"Oh, don't please do that!". Eileen'.
exclaimed in mock horror. "He !night
never run out to Colombo to have a
cup of tea with me as he promised!"
But really her heart. was very sad.
Becaase she didn't expect ever to see
Dawson Haig again.
• She made a charming figure in; the
light streaming from the cabin door,
simply, dressed though she was in a
jumper and tweed skirt. And Matt.
Kearney felt affectionately proud of
his dainty sister. However:
"Come on," said he. "Let's go and
dig old Rattray out. I :trust positively
beat it. I've got at least a quarter of
an hour's walk through dockland, and
failing divine luck, a long voyage by
motor bus."
Jack Rattray, chief officer of the
Wallaroo, was exchanging a few
leasantries with the boss stevedore
y the hatch of Number Three hold.
ut he broke off this not too parlia
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mentary debate when the clamming
passenger, now wrapped in a warm
Cu:- coat, appeared beside him with
Kearney,
"What about a final?" asked Rat-
tz ay.
"No final for me," ICearney replied,
'Just think, old lad. Fortunately, I
know the way, but even so, the pros-
pect isn't cheering," He grasped Rat -
tray's hand. "Good night, and all eh;
best. I know you'll look after her."
Rattray, tall, leisurely, taciturn,
smiled his slow smile. His teeth were
very white and his coloring very fresh,
and:
"Sure thing, Bo'!" said he.
"You're mocking me!" Eileen cried,
and punched the speaker forcibly in
the ribs, "I don't have an accent like
that. I speak better English than
you do, anyway!"
"You speak more English," Rattray
drawled provocatively.
"Very Big Pig," said Eileen,
But Kearney left the ship in a hap-
pier mood and experienced no return
of that unpleasant chill. Eileen was
in good company, and the voyage
would pass like three days.
"Thank you, sir," said the man on
the gangway, as he slipped half-a-
crown into his hand. "Good night."
"Good night," Kearney called, and
picked his way through litter on the
dockside. Just under an arc he Paus-
ed, turned, and looked back.. Jack
Rattray. and Eileen were standing on
the deck by the gangway. Already a
eurtain of mist obscured the ship from
his view, making their figures oddly
dine. But he knew they could see him;
and standing there he waved his hat
and shouted:
"Good-bye until March, and good
luck!"
"Good-bye, Matt," came the girl's
voice, and:
"Cherri-ho, old boy." '
That was Rattray.
The fascinating activity of those
dicks claimed Kearney. Hera East
meets West; produce of ''she Spice Is-
lands, team of Ceylon, the timbers of
Burma, jostle ironmongery from Bir-
mingham, lie cheek by jowl with chem-
ical products of Silvertewn. At night,
especially,, under dockland floodlights,
aniid river noises and the hoarse voices
of workers, the mystery of the Port
of London, type of a vast and ever -
teaming wheel of empire, touched the
poetry which was part of -him. At
times he thought of it as -a strange,
grand song; which. he improperly
understood, to which he lu'tew that
even Kipling had failed to give its true
color; which must elude the highest
genius, because, although it was the
worri- of man, it transcended man, be -
trig a god which man had created but
no longer. controlled.
He gave up his card to the police-
man on duty, and ten paces beyond,
looking back, could see merely a dim
blur, making the site of the boa which
that official occupied.
"If this damn fog continues," he re-
flected, "my prospects a -'e indifferent."
He stood there for a momene look-
ing about him and failing to notice a
man who, ten paces away, seemed to
be 'watching the dock gates—a tallish
man wearing a white raincoat, collar
turned up, and a soft brown hat with
the brim pulled down. But th. other
man had seen Kearney—and the sight
of Kearney had set him dreaming...
Misty, wet streets faded f_om ken
with their din of rumbling lorries,
and the watcher of the dock gates was
transported to Colombo—Colombo a
year before. A year! It seemed only
like a week! The mist dispersed be-
fore the eyes of the dreamer by the
gates. He saw Mount Lavhda Hotel,
and a petite, slender girl in a blue
frock crossing the deserted mahogany
dance floor. She had been a sort of
revelation, opening his eyes to all
that had been lacking. He was among
the stars again, could see the winking
light house callously stabbing the
tropical night, hear the plaintive tre-
molo of a Tamil love chant floating
up from the village....
From these haunting memories he
was abruptly jerked back to reality.
He withdrew into shadow. .
A man was coming out of the gates
—so muffled up in a heavy fur -collar-
ed coat that his features were indis-
tinguishable. This man turned sharp-
ly left, passed Kearney, 'and was
swallowed up in the fog.
And as he vanished, something
an instinct perhaps; or was it a faint
odor suggestive of musk?—suddenly
brought Kearney an unaccountable
return of hat sensation as though
colawater trickled down his spine.
He stared into the -2 og. Had someone
passed him—or had he irnagined it?
He hated this sensation -as of an
indefinable dread -which twice, now,
had oppressed him.
A hand rested on his shoulder.
Kearney twisted about with a cry.
The man in the white raincoat stood
jest behind him. And, stock still,
.
the other'slac :
peering into e
"Goof] Lord!" Rearncy exclaimed
joyfully, "it's Dawson Haig!"
h .
Eileen watdhed from the ]'ail until
fog hanging over the dockside swat-;
ed up Matt's figure. She turned
and looked at Jack Rattray, Seeing
her expression:
"Whatever's the matte', Mimi?"
said he.
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"Oh, I don't know, Jack!" she re-
plied, and swept her hair back from
her forehead irritably. She was angry
with herself, "I'm behaving like a
perfect little idiot tonight. And :f you
ask me why, I can't tell you, It's
just jird -jams. Except that I think
it began with a horrible looking man
wearing a fur -collared overcoat!"
(To be continued.)
Printed Where You
Used to Live
'Tisn't filled with cuts and pictures,
nor the latest news dispatches,
And the paper's often dampened and
the print is sometimes blurred;
There is only one edition, and the eye
quits often catches,
Traces of a missing letter and at
times a misspelled word.
No cablegrams nor "specials', any-
where the eye engages,
The make-up is maybe a trifle crude
and primitive.
But an atmosphere of home life fills
and permeates the pages,
Of the little country paper printed
where you used to live.
Now the heart grows soft and tender
while its columns you're perusing
Every item is familiar, every name
you know full well.
And a flood of recollections passes
o'er you as you're musing
On the past and weaves about you
an imaginative spell.
You can see the old home village,
once again in fancy, seeming,
To be clasping hand of neighbor, or
friend and relative;
And their faces rise before you, as
you're idly, fondly dreaming
O'er the little country paper printed
where you used to live.
And you note a vine -clad cottage,
with the roses nestling round it;
Hear the voice of mother calling for
the long -gone fugitive.
Like the echo of her pleading, me-
mories repeat and sound it
Through the little country paper
printed where you used to live.
Every printed line reminds you of the
days long since departed;
Here a boyhood's chum is mentioned,
there a schoolmate's name appears;
And the eye grows moist in reading,
while the soul grows heavy-heart-
ed
O'er the changes time has wrought
throughout the swiftly passing
years.
Memory's scroll has deep impressions
stamped upon its face forever,
Of sweet pleasure which the busy city
lige can never give;
.hard in fancy you are roaming
through the quiet town whenever
You peruse the country paper printed
where you used to live.
—Nova Scotia Spectator,
Because the Central London Rail-
way station at Chancery Lane is being
rebuilt, one hundred telephone cables,
carrying 70,000 lines, will have to be
diverted and replaced. The work will
take nearly a year to complete, alter-
native lines being used meanwhile.
Only one continent is uninhabited
and that is the antarctic continent,
where no race of man liven -continu-
ously.
•�T
ai
4'Why was Tom's engagement td
Helen broken."
"She brole him!
Saskatchewan Indians
Predict Short. Winter
Regina. •–• In spite of October bliz-
zards which have swept Saskatchee
wan prairies, Indians of this district
predict a short winter. Their pre
dictions last year, based on musk-
rats and berries, proved correct. The
winter was long, and muskrats need-
ed their big houses, while frozen
berries furnished food for birds,
This year the signs are opposite,
they say.
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