Gypsies Travel in Auto.
Nomads of the old days would probably have refused to believe their eyes if they had seen a gypsy caravan which has just arrived at Worcester, Mass., from Denver, Col. Instead of traveling in the familiar wagons, drawn by worn horses, the tribe mounted the wagon tops on big automobile trucks. On the top, sides, and rear of the two wagons were the tents, pots, and others things inseparable to gypsy camps, and the dogs followed as best they could. Needless to say, the journey was made in record time.
Mother’s Appeal Granted.
Mrs. Mathilda Zoll, of Washington, D. C., is happy in the thought that when she dies, her final resting place will be beside the body of her son in a soldier grave in Arlington National Cemetery. Her earnest plea that permission to this effect be given was granted by Secretary Garrison, although it is a rule that only the widows of army men may be buried in Arlington. Mrs. Zoll’s son died a few weeks ago and was laid at rest in the national cemetery.
When Mrs. Zoll first made her request, it was refused, but her friends told Secretary Garrison she did not ask that her name be placed on the headstone, but would be satisfied to have her body cremated and the ashes placed in an urn in her son’s grave. The secretary then issued the necessary orders.
Devil Worm Has Eight Horns.
Mrs. J. B. Lamb brought to the Leader office, at Fulton, Ky., a formidable-looking worm which she captured on a tree in the back yard of her home on Carr Street. This monster worm is nearly six inches in length and longer when in motion. It has eight horns on its head, curving backward, and is a scary-looking object. It is more than one and one-half inches in circumference, and is green in color. A little boy called it a “devil worm,” and, for the lack of a better name, we will let it go at that.
Rancher Bags Bird Maimed in June.
While mowing hay last June, Abe Bruger, a Cathcart, Wash., rancher, surprised a mother pheasant and her brood in the tall grass. One of the flock was overtaken by the mower, which amputated both of its legs. It escaped to an alder thicket.
While hunting recently, Bruger winged a pheasant. When he recovered the bird, both of its legs were missing, a fact which recalled the accident of the early summer. The bird had become full grown, was in perfect condition, plump, and, in fact, larger than the average of this year’s birds taken in the locality.