Nappanee Advance-News, Volume 16, Number 42, Nappanee, Elkhart County, 2 January 1895 — Page 3

GOOD NIQHT. Me la the amber-flooded west, A horned moon dips low; And soft through silver silences The rose-winds faintly blow. Yet still the horned moon shall lend A lance of lingering light, To cross the wind, to cross the dusk,. And give my love good night. The long lake, rippling through its reed*. Hath lilies nil ablow;At fall of dew each sleepy flower Fpids up her leaves of snow. Yet one fair lily-bud shall wake, To smile all virgin-white, Across the dark, across the dew. And give my love good night. The light may fail, the lily fade, The lightning’s lurid glow Flame in the sky—the rose winds rise To storms that rudely blow. Yet constant still, as rose to June, This heart shall take delight, <? Across the dark, across the world, To give my love good night. —Martha McWilliams, in God&y’B.

CHAPTER Vl—Continued. “Oh, I am not complaining l about that, at all,” said the hammock, magnanimously. “Yotiare acquiring practical knowledge, Renny, that will be cf more use to you than all the learning taught at the schools. My only desire is that your education should he as complete as possible; and to this end I am willing to subordinate my own yearning desire for scullery-work. I should suggest that instead of going to the tDOuble of entirely removing the covering of the potato in that laborious way you should merely peel a belt around the greatest circumference of the potato. Then, rather than cook :them in the slow and. soggy manner jthat seems to delight you, you should Jboil them quickly, witty some salt placed in the water. The remaining coat would then curl outward, and the resulting potato would be white and dry and mealy, instead of being in the condition of a wet sponge.” “The beauty of a precept, Yates, is the illustrating of it. If you are not

“IS RICHARD YATES THERE'!” HAILED THE VOICE. satisfied with my way of boiling potatoes, givq,me a practical object-lesson.” The man in the hammock sighed reproachfully. ‘‘Of course an unimaginative person like you, Renmark, cannot realize the cruelty of suggesting that a man as deeply in love as I am should demean himself by attending to the prosaic details of household affairs. lam doubly in love, and much more, therefore, at that old bore Euclid used to' say, is your suggestion unkind and uncalled for.” “All.right; then don’t criticise.” “Yes, there is a certain sweet bleness in your curt suggestion. A man who is uiiable or unwilling to work in the vineyard should not find fault with the pickers. And now, Renny, for the hundredth time of asking, add to the many obligations already conferred, and tell me, like the good fellow you are, what you would do if you were in my place. To which of these two charming but totally unlike girls would you give the preference?” “Damn!” said the professor, quietly. “Hello, Renny!" cried Yates, raising his head., “Have you cht your finger? I should have warned you about using too sharp a knife.” But the professor had not cut his finger. His use of the word given above is not to be defended; still, as it was spoken by him, it seemed to lose all relationship witlj swearing. He said it quietly, mildly," and, in a certain sense, innocently. He was astonished at himself for using it, but there had been moments during the past few days when the ordinary expletives used in the learned volumes of higher mathematics did not fit the oc casion. Before anything more could be said there was a shout from the roadway near them. “Is Richard Yates there?” hailed the voice. “Yes. Who wants him?” cried Y’ates, springing out of the hammock. “I do,” said a young fellow on horseback. He threw himself off a tired horse, tied the animal to a sapling—which, judging by the horse’s condition, was an entirely unnecessary operation —jumped over the rail fence and approached through the trees. The young men saw coming towards them a tall lad in the uniform of the telegraph service. - “Well," said the Tad, “I’ve hadahunt and a half for you. Here's a telegram.” “How in the world did you find out ■where I was? Nobody has myaddress.” “That’s just the trouble. It would have saved somebody in New York a pile of money if you had left your address. No man ought to go to the woods without leaving his address at a telegraph office, anyhow.” The young man looked at the world from a telegraph point of view. People were good or bad, according to the trouble they ffave a telegraph messenger. Yates took the yellow envelope addressed in lead pencil, but," without opening it, repeated his question:

r r ~ • “fiat how on earth did yon find me?” “Well, it wasn’t easy,” said the boy. “My horse is about done out. I’m from Buffalo. They telegraphed from New York that we were to spare no expense) and we haven’t. There are seven other fellows scouring the country on horseback with duplicates of that dispatch, and some more have gone along the lake shore on the American side. Say, no other messenger has been here be"fore me, has he?” asked the boy, with a touch of anxiety in his voice. , “No; you are the first.” “I’m glad of that. I’ve been ’most all over Canada. I got on your trail about two hours ago, and the folks at the farm house down below said you were up here. Is there any answer?” Yates tore open the envelope. The dispatch was long and he read it with a deepening frown. It was to this effect: “Fenians crossing into Canada at Buffalo. You are near the spot; get there quick as possible. Five of our men leave for Buffalo to-night. Gen. O'Neill is iri command of Fenian army, lie will give you every facility when you tell him who you are. When five arrive they will report to you. Place one or two with Canadian troops. Get one to hold the telegraph wire, and send over all .the stuff the wire will carry. Draw on us for cash you need; and don't spare expense.” When Yates finished the reading of th is he broke forth into a line Os language that astonished Denmark and drew forth the envious admiration of'' the Buffalo telegraph boy. *3 “Heavens anil earth and the lower regions! I’m here on my vacation. I’m not going to jump into work for all the papers in New York. Why couldn’t those fools of Fenians stay at home? The idiots don’t know when they're well off. The Fenians be hanged!” * __ “Guess that's what they will be,” said the telegraph boy. “Any answer, sir?” “No. Tell ’em you couldn’t find me.” “Don’t expect the boy to tell a lie,” said the professor, speaking for the first time. ' v ~ “Oh, I don’t mind a lie,” exclaimed the boy, “but not that one. No, sir. I’ve had too much trouble finding you. I'm not going to pretend I’m no good. I started out for to find you, and I have. But I’ll tell any other lie you like, Mr, Yates, if it will oblige you.” Yates recognized in the boy the same emulous desire to outstrip his fellows that had influenced himself when he was a young reporter, and he at once admitted the injustice of attempting to deprive him of the fruits of his enterprise. “No,” he said, “that won't do. No; you have found me, an 4 you're a young fellow who will be president of the Telegraph company some day, or per: haps hold the less important office of the United States presidency. Who knows? Have you a telegraph blank?” *‘Of course,” said the boy, fishing out a bundle from the leathern wallet by his side. Yates took the, paper and flung himself down under tile tree. “Here's a pencil,” said the messenger. “A newspaper man is never without a pencil, thank you,” replied Yates, talcing one out of his inside pocket. “Now, Renmark, I'm not going to tell a lie on this occasion,” continued Yates. “I think the truth is better on all occasions.I’’ 1 ’’ “Right you are. So here goes for the solid truth.” Yates, as he lay on the ground, wrote rapidly on the telegraph blank. Suddenly he looked up and said to the professor: “Say, Renmark, ere you a doctor?” “Os laws,” replied his friend. “Oh, thaf will do just as well.” And he finished his writing. “How-is this?” he cried, holding the paper at arm’s length: “Jobs A. Bei.lington, Managing Editor Argus, New York: ruHfat.onmy.back. Haven’t done, a hand’s turn for a week. Am under the constant care, night and day. of one of Hyp most eminent doctors In Canada, who even preJSffres my food for me. Since I left New York trouble of the heart has complicated matters, and at present baffles the doctor. Consultations dally. It Is impossible for me to move from here un- . til prosent complications have yielded to treatment, "Blnmore would be agood man totakecharge In my absence. Yates." “There,” said Yates, with a tone of satisfaction, when he had finished the reading. "What do you think of that?” ■ The professor frowned, but did not answer. The boy, who partly saw

“NO, TELL ’EM YOU COULDN’T FIND ME." through it, but not quite, grinned, and said; “Is it true?" “Os course it's true!” cried Yatos, indignant at the unjust suspicion. “It is a great deal more true than you have any idea of. Ask the doctor there if it isn’t true. Now, my boy, will you give in this when you get back to the office? Tell ’em to rush it through to New York. I would mark it ‘rush,’ only that never does any good and Always makes the operator mad.” The boy took the paper and put it In his wallet. “It’s to be paid for at the other end,” continued Yates. “Oh, that's all right,” answered the messenger, with a certain condescension, as if he were giving credit on behalf of the company. “Well, so long," he added. “Fliope you’ll won be better, Mr. Yates."

Tate* sprang to his feet, with a laugh, and followed him to the fence. “Now, youngster, you are up to anuff, I can see that. They’ll perhaps question you when you get back. What will you Bay?” “Oh, I’ll tell ’em what a*ha.rd job I had to find you, and let 'emtnow nobody else could ’a’ done it, and I’ll say you’re a pretty sick man. I won’t tell ’em you gave me a dollar.” “Right you are, sonny; you’ll get along. Here’s five dollars, all in one bill. If you meet any other of the messengers, take them back with you. There’s no use of their wasting valuable time in this little neck of the woods.” The bay stuffed the bill into his vest pocket as carelessly as if it represented cents instead of dollars, mounted his tired horse, and waved his hand in farewell to the newspaper man. Yates turned and walked slowly back to the” tent, lie threw himself once more into the hammock. As he expected, the professor was more taciturn than ever, and, although he had been prepared for silence, the silence irritated him. He felt ill used at having so unsympathetic a companion. “Look here, Renmark, why don't you say something?” ' "There is nothing to say.” “Oh, yes, there is. Y'ou don’t approve of me, do you?” “I don’t suppose it makes any difference whether I approve or not.” “Oh, yes, it does. A man likes to have the approval of-even the humblest of his fellow creatures. Say, what will you take in cash to approve of me? People talk of the tortures of conscience, but you are more uncomfortable than the most cast-iron conscience any man ever had. One’s own conscience one can deal with, but a conscience in the person of another man is beyond one’s control. Now, it is like this. lam here for quiet and rest. I have earned both, and I think I am justified in—” . , “Now, Mr. Yates, please spare me any cheap philosophy on the question. I am tired of it.” “And of me too, I suppose?” “Well, yes, rather—if you want to know.” Yates sprang out of the hammock. For the first time since the encounter with Bartlett on the road, Renmark saw that he was thoroughly angry. The reporter stood with clinched fist and flashing eye, hesitating. The other, his heavy brows drawn down, whi 1 e not in an aggressive attitude, was plainly ready for an attack. Yates concluded to speak and not strike. This was not because he was afraid, for he was not a coward. The reporter realized that ho had forced the conversation, and remembered he had invited Renmark to accompany him. Although this j’ecoHection stayed his hand, it had no effect on his tongue. “I believe,” he said, slov'ly, “that it would do you good for once to hear a' straight, square, unbiased opinion of yoiirsc! f. You have associated so long with pupils, to whom your word is law, that it may interest you to know what a man of the world thinkspaqf you. A few years of schoolmastermg is enough to spoil a Gladstone. Now, I I think, of all the—” The sentence was interrupted by a ■ cry from the fence: “Say, do you gentlemen know where Ia fellow named Yates lives?” | The reporter's hand dropped to his side. A look of dismay ’came over bis | face, and his truculent manner changed with a suddenness that forced j a smile even to the stern lips of Renmark. Y'ates backed towards the hammock like a man who had received an unexpected blow. “I say, Renny,” he wailed,“it’s another of those cursed telegraph messengers. , Go, like a good fellow, and sign for the I dispatch. Sign it ‘Dr. Renmark, forß. I Yates.’ That will give it a sort of official medical bulletin look. I wish I had thought of that when the other i boy was here. Tell him I’m lying ; down.” He flung himself into the , hammock, and Renmark, after a mo- \ ment’s hesitation, walked towards the boy at the fence, who had repeated his question in a louder voice, in a short time he returned with the yellow envelope, which he tossed to the man in the hammock. Yates seized it savagely, tore it into a score of pieces, and scattered the fluttering bits around him on the ground. The professor stood there for a few moments in silence. “Perhaps,” he said at last, “you'll be good enough to go on with your remarks.” \ “I was merely going to say,” answered Yates, wearily, “that you are a mighty good fellow, Renny. Pei t jo who camp out always have rows. This is our first; suppose we let it be the last. Camping out is something like marrieddife, I guess, and requires some forbearance on all sides. That philosophy may be cheap, but I think it is accurate. I am really very worried about this newspaper business. I ought, of course, to fling myself into the chasm like that Roman fellow, but, hang It, I’ve been flinging myself into chasms for fifteen years, and what good has it done? There's always r crisis in a daily newspaper office. I want them to understand in the Argus office that I am on my vacation." jThey will be more apt to understand from the telegram that you're on your death-bed.” Yates laughed. “That’s so,” he said; “but, you see, Renny, we New Yorkers live in such an atmosphere of exaggeration, and if I did not put it strongly it wouldn’t have any effeot. You’ve got to give a big dose to a man who lias been taking poison all his life. They will take off ninety per cent from any statement I make, anyhow, so you see I up pretty high befortfthe remaining ten per cent, amounts to anything.” Thj conversation was interrupted by the crackling of the dry twigs behind them, and Yates, who had been keeping his eyo nervously on the fenee, turned around. Young Bartlett pushed his way through the underbrush. His face was red; ha had evidently been running.

"Two telegrams for yon, Mr. Ystesf” he panted. “The fellows that brought ’em said they were important, so I ran out with them myself, for fear they wouldn’t find you. One of them’s from Port Colborne. the other’s from Buffalo.” Telegrams were rare on the farm, and young Bartlett looked on the receipt of one as an event in a man’s life. He was astonished to see Yates receive the double event with a listlessness that ho could not help thinking was merely assumed for effect. Y’ates held his hand, and did not tear them up at once, out of consideration for the feelings of the young man who had had a race to deliver them. “Here’s two books they wanted you to sign. They’re tired out, and mother's giving them something to eat.” “ Professor, you sign for me, won’t you?" said Yates. Bartlett lingered a m'oment, hoping that he would hear something of the contents of the important messages; but Yates did not even tear open the

“here's two nooks they wanted you TO SION." envelopes, although he thanked the young man heartily for bringing them. "Stuck-up cuss!” muttered young Bartlett to himself as he shoved the signed hooks into his pocket and pushed his way through the underbrush again. Y'ates slowly and methodically tore the envelopes and their contents into little pieces and scattered them as before. “Begins to look like autumn,” he said, “with the yellow leaves strewing the ground.” . [to be continued.] A SELF-IMPORTANT OFFICIAL. On© of These Fussy Xoboilies Calls Up a Good Old Story. There are offichJJSirin charge of some of the bureaus in tlie government departments who cannot disabuse-their minds of their own importance to save them, and consequently they conduct themselves so as to impress every one who happens to come near them with a proper conception of their dignity. A few days ago a gentleman in business in Washington happened to have something to transact with the rather youthful chief of a treasury division, and was treated to a display of almost regal arrogance by the official. The poor, humble civilian was telling some friends about his experience. “If he had been the Ahkoond of Swat,” he said, “and I the lowliest of bis subjects, he couldn't have been more awful and mighty. He reminded me of a story I once heard about a young man who lived Mississippi before the war. Hd' was not very well off in worldly goods, but made up in assumption what he lacked in solidity. A neighbor of his happened to become bankrupt and was forced to sell all his property at auction. Among his possessions was an ancient and decrepit darkey, who could barely walk, ne was bent and misshapen and local gossip put hijrjt down as being over a hundred years old. The auctioneer put him up as one of the chattels when all the rest of the chattels were disposed of, and the young man I spoKe of hid the old creature in for a dollar. The former owner couldn't understand the fellow’s reason for buying the darkey, and approached the auctioneer. “ ‘Say, Tom,’ he queried, ‘I wonder what made young Jones buy did Dick?* “ ‘Pshaw,’ answered the auctioneer, ‘that's easy to tell. Jones was just dying to hear somebody call him marster.’ ” —Washington Star, v Better Lawyer Than Judge. If a story told of Richard Prendergast Is true he must be a better lawyer than he is judge. Ho took a case on one occasion, so the tale runs, that promised well except for one thing. There was a precedent that was directly against him. “That other case will surely be brought up,” said the client. . “Never mind,” replied the ex-judge. “I can get arohhd that. It's a fool decision. Who rendered it?” “You'dld.” “I did?” “Yes; when you were on the bench.’' “Well, that doesn’t make any difference,” returned the lawyer, camly, "I can beat it, anyway.” And he did. lie went into '.he county court and showed that the previous decision was not according to law and i could not be held to establish a precedent. lie was successful in practically overruling his own decision and won the case.—Chicago Post. A Bad Guess. It was a sunshiny morning antt all nature was a-smile. The birds were singing in the budding trees and the flowers were filling the air with their fragrance. There was a joyousness in all the world and the tramp ambled up to the kitchen door with a heart full of hope and a stomach full of room for breakfast. He banged away at the upper panel'in the door and the cook made her appearance. “Well, what do you want?” she Inquired, in a tone slightly off the general pitch. “Guess,” he responded, eoquettlshly. “Guess not,” she retorted, slamming the door in his face, and he went outoi there as if he had been hit lit the bach with a bag of railroad spikta.-—Detroit Free Pres*.

THE FARMING WORLD. ' PROPER CULTIVATION. In It the Farmer Will Find Good Crop* and Good Dollars. It is probably a fact that it would always pay to harrow wheat after it comes up. A neighbor of mine once harrowed his wheat and rolled it after it came up. I thought he had ruined it, but he had a better crop than I had on land of similar character. I have seen corn harrowed after it had attained considerable size; The process seemed to tear the corn to pieces, but time that to all appearances the^harrotfihg was beneficial. In harrowing wheat after it comes up, if it has been sown broadcast sortie of’ it will naturally be torn up, but the crop will be better. The soil cannot be stirred too much in o the earlier stages of . plant growth. Crops that can be drilled, such as wheat or peas, may be drilled deep enough so that the harrow will not touch the roots. Not only does cultivation rid the soil of weeds, but it puts it into the best possible shape to enable the plants to take up their food and also enables the soil better to hold moisture; and the earlier and more thorough the cultivation the easier it will be to destroy the weeds. Weeds at first are shallow rooted, and even if they have not yet appeared above the surface they will be so disturbed as to prevent their growth. After heavy rains crusts when they form on the surface should always be broken by the harrow. If grain that is sown in the fall is harrowed in the spring the result will be very satisfactory.—Farmers’ Voice. MOVABLE PLATFORM. Just the Thins; for Farmers Who Wish to * Drive Posts. In driving fence posts a platform of some kind is required for the operator to stand upon when manipulating the sledge. This is usually a cumbersome box that is rolled and tumbled from one post to another as the work progresses, and if the ground is uneven the support is very unsteady, rendering the work unnecessarily tiresome for the operator. It takes but a little while to construct a wheeled platform

MOVABLE farm platform.

like the on£ illustrated herewith. The top or platform is three feet iu length and two and a half feet wide and twenty-eight inches from the ground. The wheels should be six or eight inches in diameter and may be of wood or iron; the handles are four and a half feet long with a step nailed on top of them, as shown in the sketch. This arrangement will prove handy in gathering apples from the lower branches of trees, and for manyother purposes about the farm. It can be made from Ntys of boards and is easily moved about—American Agriculturist. Progress In the Dairy. There is probably no branch of farming that has made such rapid strides as dairying during the past five years. It is now possible to estimate the annual profit of each cow and to discard all animals falling below an established standard. Butter-making, is now reduced to such fine proportions that churning is varied so as to control water in the finished product. The water content varies with the quantity of salt used, used; thus, fresh or lightsalted butter requires less vatjr. Butter-making will soon be a science that few farmers can afford. Milk And cream will be sold to the city or jreamery, where aroma in the form of bacteria for ripening will be cultivated and used. Economy in dairying will then fall back on the fanner, who will be required to study and know the actual value of the food consumed by each cow and its value returned in the formf of milk or fertilizer.—Farm and Home. Protecting Boggles and Wagons. Unless the wood work of a wagon is thoroughly protected by paint or varnish it will swell whenever it is wet, causing “springing” of the spokes, splitting of the hub and felloe, and perhaps the dishing of the whole wheel. When wheels are long exposed to the sun’s rays there is likely to be a shrinkage of the wood that opens the joints, readily admitting moisture. When it is necessary to leave a cart or wagon out of doors, let some old blankets or pieces of carpeting be thrown over the wheels, or, better still, have on hand a piece of cheap cloth large enough to cover body, wheels and aIL A light carriage or wagon that is frequently driven on the road should have its rim painted and the whole thing varnished at least once a year. That will go a long way toward 'protecting it from the weather.—Column's Rural World. The Irrigation Movement. The irrigation movement is accumulating a tremendous impetus, which is visible not alone in the west, but throughout the country. The work of organizing and agitating, through national, interstate, state and county associations, will go forward with renewed energy from now until the next great international congress assembles at Albuquerque. New Mexico, in the autumn of 1895. That this movement is the hope of prosperity for millions and that it will ssfe-gnard our institutions with anew bulwark of liberty, in the form <SI small landed proprietors, is the confident expectation of western men. Their appeal is to patriotism and the best spirit of human Ity. They seek to' build to the credit of their country, to the good of their race, to the glory of God. —Review of Reviews.

MODEL HENHOUSE. It Presents a Good Appearance But Does Not Cost Very Mach. ’* There seems to be, writes George E. Scott in the Ohio Farmer, a great demand, for cheap, comfortable, roomy henhouses, both on farms and suburban places, and especially among the daughters of farmers aud business men living out of cities in comfortable country homea The cheapness of building, the small expense of stocking up with a good flock of hens, aud the rapidity with which an increase is obtained, are some of the attractive features of the business, By close attention, properly protecting, feeding and providing good sanitary conditions, a handsome income can be got out of the business. Without experience or knowledge no person can expect to succeed. It is the better part

A MODEL HENHOUSE. of wisdom to start slow, or rather on a small scale, acquiring knowledge by observation, reading and experience. The other day a fashionable young lady stopped me on the road and told me she was about to embark in the poultry business, and wanted to talk poultry. This lady, belonging to one of the oldest and wealthiest families in our township, was making actual preparations to take up the chicken business for profit and occupation, no ,doubt fearing she might.come to want some day. But admiring her genuine Anglo-Saxon grit, I bid her God-speed told her she' had better go out to “Maple Valley- Farm,” my boarding house, and talk to a certain lady of my acquaintance residing there, and get chuck full of chicken enthusiasm. And out she went I learned later that eggs, this winter, are to be plentier, if not cheaper, from an overdose of hen enthusiasm. landlady of whom I speak is, and always has been, an excellent poultry-raiser. lam fully persuaded that women are better adapted to poultry raising than we men folks are. I have watched this particular woman at the business, and she has often told me that I was “too awkward for anything” about the henhouse, and was better calculated to build henhouses, chicken-coops and raise feed for the hens and chicks, than to care for them* When a woman says a thing she means it, and I toon her at her word. Since that hour I have only watched the modus operandi as a sort of chief executive of the hen department I built a henhouse, and have reproduced it on paper. What is wanted nowadays is a respectable appearing house, roomy and not expensive and at the same time comfortably warm. I would start my building with eight locust posts set 2/1 feet in ground, with about; 0 inches above surface. On these posts lay edgewise four 2xß hemlock joists, spiked and toe-nailed tP posts in rectangular shape, 10x24 feet, with an upright 2x4 studding at eaca post, of height to make the building 8 feet to square from top of post to plate. A plate of 2x4 studding should run around the structure. The frame, after being squared up, plumbed and braced, should be weather-boarded with surface hemlock and welt battened on outside. Door and windows should be placed as indicated, with one window just opposite the entrance door and either wired or latticed for protection. The overhead platforms for catching droppings from roost should also be made of cheap hemlock, and roosting bars conveniently adjusted above the boards so a scraper can be worked handily. The partitions are made of ordinary lath, latticed together, with doors to allow entrance to either tide apartment or left ajar for laying room or closed for hatching. I should prefer single roof or slate to avoid excessive heat during summer. Slate cools quickly after the heat of the sun leaves-it. A lining of some good vermin-proof material adds some to expense but very greatly to the comfort and profit of the fowls. The interior of the house should be raised by filling at least six inches above the outside ground with tightly-fitting boards on outer edge at base of building. , Nests can be distributed • over the house to suit the needs of the fowls, and convenient climbers adjusted at back part of center room, as Indicated in the illustration. One of the rooms can be left off where less room and expense are required, leaving a building of 10x16, which wonld be large enough for a flock of fifty hens or even more. My reason for constructing out of hemlock is that that material can be purchased at from >l2 to >l4 per M, which would make the oostof construction at least one-third less than out of the cheapest pine, and last just as long and look equally as well. A Bint from tbs Arabs. It is said that the Arabs have two methods of estimating what will be the height of horses. By the first a cord is stretched from the nostril over the ears and down along the neek; this distance is compared with that from the withers to the feet The colt will grow as much taller as the first distance exceeds the second. By the other method the distance between the knee and the withers it compared with that from the knee to the coronet If it had reached the proportion of two to one the horse will grow no taller. Bitter by far is -a peroh in a tree than one in a house with ventilation down over the heads of the oocupanta.