120 



THE POWDER POST BEETLE 



JUST as we begin to congratulate ourselves on the 

 growing usefulness of our abundant hardwood 

 timber, a persistent little pest comes on the scene to 

 disturb our complacency. He does not attack the 

 forest trees nor the newly-cut logs, but waits till the 

 lumber is well seasoned in the yard or made up into 

 furniture, carriages, mouldings, and interior fittings. 

 Hickory, ask, and oak are his favourites, and, although 

 he does not like paint, varnish, or other finishes, he 

 is not always dissuaded by them. A little fine powder 

 scattered on the ground or the floor is often the only 

 warning, but it may indicate that the spoke of a 

 carriage or the leg of a chair is so completely bored 

 and riddled that it will scarcely sustain more than its 

 own weight. Perhaps there is no intimation until 

 some part of an apparently solid piece of furniture 

 is shattered into dust and splinters with a light blow. 

 The little beetle responsible for all this mischief has 

 long been a source of vexation and annoyance in 

 Britain, but his recent depredations on this continent 

 have been sufficient to prompt a vigorous pursuit 

 by the Washington authorities. Already he stands 

 convicted of occasioning a fatal railway accident by 



