a time, Uncle Bill was clear daffy on the subject of mosquitoes.

   He invented more kerosene tablets to poison 'em and set more traps to catch 'em than any pest-remover in the business.

   I must tell you about the time he was one of a committee of three appointed by Budweiser College or Anheuser University, or some such concern, to study the mosquito at close range in its native jungles.

   The committee consisted of Professor Kenneth Glueface, Professor Oscar Soupnoodle, a German gentleman with thistles in his conversation, and my Uncle, Mr. William Gray.

   The committee decided that the best way to study the New Jersey mosquito would be to live in their gloomy haunts and forsake civilization for the time being.

   In accordance with this idea they had the Carnegie Steel Company build for them a steel cage, which was placed in the depths of the Hackensack jungles, and thither they went.

   Dr. Soupnoodle was of the opinion that a Jersey mosquito has a language, and the other two members of the committee agreed to help him to settle this point.

   "My idea is," said Dr. Soupnoodle, "dot der beasts haf a speech vich dey use, uddervise how can dey find our fairst families in der blue book und go after deir blue blood?"

   "Do you hold, Doctor, that the mosquito speaks with a guttural inflection on the vowels?" inquired Uncle William.

   "More likely with a stringency on the last syllable of the diphthong," suggested Dr. Glueface.

   "Ve vill sprinkle near der cage a little Wienerwurst und a cubble of smoked hams," explained the Dutch doctor. "Ve vill den retire behind der bars of der steel cage, und mit our repitition rifles on our knees avait der cameing of der enemies of cifilization."

   This plan was carried into effect.

   The minutes passed by and they sat there, three determined men, trying to drag from reluctant New Jersey the terrible secrets of its most popular industry.

   "We must not talk," whispered Professor Glueface, "because if the mosquito suspects the presence of a human being he will not talk."

   "No," replied Uncle William, pale but calm; "the battle cry of the 

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