MORSE: ORTHOPTERA OF NEW ENGLAND. 265 
have suffered repeated visitations. Scudder (Distribution of 
Insects in New Hampshire) quotes an interesting account of their 
ravages in Pownal, Cumberland Co., Maine, in the early part of 
the last century. This presents such a graphic picture of the 
destructive ability of certain of our native species that I give it 
here in full. 
"During the haying season the weather was dry and hot, and 
these hungry locusts stripped the leaves from the clover and 
herds-grass, leaving nothing but the naked stems. In conse- 
quence, the hay-crop was seriously diminished in value. So 
ravenous had they become that they would attack clover, eating 
it into shreds. Rake and pitchfork handles, made of white ash, 
and worn to a glossy smoothness by use, would be found nibbled 
over by them if left within their reach. 
"As soon as the hay was cut, and they had eaten every living 
thing from the ground, they removed to the adjacent crops of 
grain, completely stripping the leaves; climbing the naked stalks, 
they would eat off the stems of wheat and rye just below the head, 
and leave them to drop to the ground. I well remember assisting 
in sweeping a large cord over the heads of wheat after dark, caus- 
ing the insects to drop to the ground, where most of them would 
remain during the night. During harvest time it was my painful 
duty, with a younger brother, to pick up the fallen wheat heads 
for threshing; they amounted to several bushels. 
"Their next attack was upon the Indian corn and potatoes. 
They stripped the leaves and ate out the silk from the corn, so 
that it was rare to harvest a full ear. Among forty or fifty 
bushels of corn spread out in the corn-room, not an ear could be 
found not mottled with detached kernels. 
"While these insects were more than usually abundant in the 
town generally, it was in the field I have described that they 
appeared in the greatest intensity. After they had stripped 
everything from the field, they began to emigrate in countless 
numbers. They crossed the highway and attacked the vegetable 
garden. I remember the curious appearance of a large, flourish- 
ing bed of red onions, whose tops they first literally ate up, and, 
not content with that, devoured the interior of the bulbs, leaving 
the dry external covering in place. The provident care of my 
mother, who covered the bed with chaff from the stable floor, did 
