A Little Maryland Garden 93 
lous insect had done this I could not discover, 
for none waited to be caught. I sprinkled 
them with that interesting mixture called 
‘“‘bug death,” but it was too late to save 
some of them. When it comes to dealing 
with insects I am something of a fatalist, 
—they always take toll of one’s best. 
I believe no form of devouring, crawling, 
destroying insect ever passed my garden by. 
I have tried tobacco water, Persian powder, 
sulpho-tobacco soap, and Bordeaux mixture, 
and still the merry work goes on and my 
plants are riddled and chewed, bored into 
and skeletonised. One would need to sit 
up all night and watch all day to keep up 
with the evil activities of these plagues. 
One morning last summer I looked out of an 
upper window and saw my feverfew, which I 
have loved for its cast-iron constitution, 
curiously brown. It had been fallen upon 
by an army of beautiful little red insects 
like lady-birds who were eating it at lightning 
speed. With ‘‘bug death’ and garden 
scissors I routed them, but not before fully 
