OUR RIVALS 141 



The hornets ate uncountable millions of the little in- 

 sects. It was a poem altogether, and although we 

 alone would have stood a poor chance against the 

 silly psylla, with our insect allies we came off fairly 

 well. 



The worst pest, however, that I can remember, 

 and the most awful fight that I was ever compelled 

 to put up, was with the forest worm about ten 

 years ago. This abominable pest comes about once 

 in thirty-three years, three times in a century, or once 

 in a generation of human beings. It marches over 

 vast territories with astonishing speed and eats pretty 

 nearly everything in its way. Gardens disappear; 

 orchards are utterly defoliated; and a very large part 

 of our lawn trees bared to the bone. 



I am happy to be able to place right here the name 

 of one tree that is largely exempt. The Norway 

 maple has a milky juice that is acrid. It is so un- 

 pleasant to worms that even the forest worm skipped 

 it. Yet the Norway maple is the grandest of our 

 Acer family, growing faster than the sugar maple 

 and with a foliage and a spread of foliage unequaled. 

 You can bear this in mind when planting your streets 

 or lawns. The forest worm is a caterpillar, about 

 two inches in length, and a bushel to a tree would be 

 a very small estimate. 



You must fight with fire, circling your trees with 

 wraps that will prevent their climbing after having 

 thoroughly jarred them out of the tree, and you must 

 not let up for church on Sunday. I am sure that 



