CHAPTER IX. ON THE WAR- 

 PATH IN THE GARDEN 



ONCE upon a time a prize was 

 offered at a social gathering for 

 the most outrageous lie. It was 

 awarded to the man who said, 

 "There are no mosquitoes in New 

 Jersey." 



If I should say, "There were no Colorado beetles 

 in my potato patch last year," every reader who 

 has ever had a vegetable garden would cry out 

 that I deserve the first prize. But it is prac- 

 tically true. In six long rows in two weeks I 

 found no more than two dozen potato bugs! 

 The preceding year, in the same number of days, 

 I took over six hundred of these fellows off thirty 

 hills that had been planted a little early to serve 

 as decoys, and the total number of potato bugs 

 we gathered in tomato cans and burned (yes, 

 burned alive, and gleefully) amounted to several 

 thousand. 



It has been estimated that the killing of a 

 single Colorado beetle before it has laid its eggs 

 on the leaves saves the trouble of slaughtering 

 a thousand of its progeny later on. A thousand 

 times a thousand is a million, and we killed 

 several thousand that is, several potential 

 millions ! Against this rapacious enemy a potato 

 plant has about as much chance as a lamb would 

 have if it met a family of wolves in the forest. 

 I can imagine no more gruesome sight in nature 



