TURNER 



A POTATO BEETLE CHRONICAL 



361 



The Eggs 



3:00 p. m. 



I went to town and did considerable shopping, but the eggs 

 remain the same, as fixed as the pyramids. 



4:00 p. m. 



Still no change. I have watched 

 them very closely for over an hour. 

 Now I am going to dine with my 

 Algerian friend, Miss Mege, who is 

 much more entertaining than bugs' 

 eggs that refuse to hatch. But it may 

 be that the poor things are poached, 

 for it is 106 in the shade. 



11:25 p. m. 



No change. They may have T. B. 

 A student told me to-day that lack 

 of "pep" was one of the first symp- 

 toms. 

 7:30 a. m., July 9. 



No change. This history is going to be dull. Could it be 

 possible that these young beetles are defectives and lack the in- 

 telligence to find their way out of the shells? 



10:30 a. m. 



I have searched the library to find information on the incu- 

 bation of the potato beetle, but was unsuccessful. I learned, 

 however, that this beetle is a native of America. It was first 

 discovered in the Rocky Mountain region, where it fed upon the 

 sand burr or Solanum rostratum. 



In 1 859 it acquired a liking for potatoes and began to be a pest 

 in the potato fields of Colorado. From there it traveled east- 

 ward advancing, at first, about fifty miles a year but later more 

 rapidly, and in 1874 the insects reached the Atlantic Coast. 



3:43 p. m. 



No change. I put several moist leaves into the box. The air 

 may be too dry for the eggs. 



4:00 p. m. 



I had the misfortune to upset the eggs on the floor. Perhaps 

 that would addle them. If it were not for this cruel blister on 

 my heel I would go to the field and get a new setting of eggs. 



