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PARK AND CEMETERY. 
struction caused by the “Rocky Mountain Locust,” a 
small species like our little red-legged one, only having 
longer wings and an appetite that was insatiable. It was 
during one of the great invasions. The sun’s face was 
darkened with the swarms, the green fields were con- 
verted into a desolate waste of bare stalks and hard 
woody fiber that was proof against their jaws. On up 
grades the train ran with great difficulty, owing to the 
piled up myriads on the track. Millions were crushed 
beneath the wheels. They came into the cars-and ate 
holes in our clothing and gnawed at straw hats. The 
rivers and c-eeks were a floating mass of their dead 
bodies, and every bit of water was tainted with them. 
When they alight they circle in swarms about you, 
dashing into open doors and windows. Fortunately 
these visitations are now rare, owing to the improved 
methods employed for their destruction and a better un- 
derstanding of their habits. In Spring Grove early in 
August, while listening to the song of a Cicada, com- 
monly but erroneously called “Locust,” I suddenly 
heard the contented song changed to a scream of agony! 
Looking for the cause of this, I saw the Cicada come 
tumbling to the ground with a huge wasp clasping its 
body. Having often seen this tragedy enacted before, 
I watched its termination. The Cicada was paralyzed 
and unable to move, the wasp quickly dragged its vic- 
tim to a circular hole in the ground and plunged down 
out of sight. Since then I have excavated several bur- 
rows and found the larva and cocoons of the wasp. 
The wasp digs its burrow and makes cells of suita- 
ble size at the end of each gallery. When all is ready 
the wasp sallies fourth in search of a victim, which it 
quickly attacks. One thrust of its fearful sting and the 
victim is helpless. It is then dragged or carried into the 
burrow. An egg is placed on the breast of the Cicada. 
This egg hatches into a white larva, which perforates a 
hole in the body of its victim and feeds on the juices 
and soft parts. Growing rapidly, by the time the Cicada 
has been consumed the larva spins its cocoons, in which 
it remains through the winter to emerge next season a 
perfect wasp. 
The marvelous part of this tragic history is the cu- 
rious property of the sting of these wasps. It does not 
kill its victim, but only paralyzes and renders it coma- 
tose, preserving it indefinitely so the larva will have 
fresh food as long as it requires it. It has been proven 
that a Cicada stung by one of these wasps will keep per- 
fectly for over a year if the burrow be not too damp. 
Another curious fact is that the wasp will provide two 
or more Cicadas for a female egg, that sex being much 
the largest, and only one for the male, which is the 
smallest, and consequently requires the least food. The 
most pleasing and beautiful insects are the Butterflies, 
or as entomologists call them, Lepidoptera, and except- 
ing perhaps the cabbage butterfly, our butterflies are not 
very injurious. This cabbage butterfly was introduced 
from Europe, and first made its appearance in this 
vicinity along Mill Creek Valley many years ago, near 
Spring Grove Cemetery. I captured some one day while 
out collecting, when they first appeared, thinking I had 
a prize. I hurried home with them, but to my dismay 
discovered on comparing that I had Pieris rapes, the 
European cabbage butterfly. It has devastated the State. 
How it came here no one seems to know exactly, al- 
though Mr. Scudder has published such facts as he was 
able to obtain in regard to it. 
Some of the butterflies are such beautiful and grace- 
ful creatures that they add much to one’s pleasure dur- 
ing a stroll in field or woods, and nature’s open page 
would be robbed of its chief ornament without them. 
Some of the tropical butterflies are clothed in tints un- 
surpassed by any of nature’s lovely gems. Certain spe- 
cies mimic dry leaves for protection, and they present 
such a variety of pattern, marking and lovely bits of 
color that they may well excite our wonder and admira- 
tion, and their very interesting transformations are 
to many emblematical of beautiful and poetic thoughts. 
“Child of the Sun, pursue thy rapturous flight, 
Mingling with her thou lov’st in field of light, 
And where the flowers of paradise unfold 
Quaff fragrant nectar from their cups of gold; 
There shall thy wings, rich as an evening sky, 
Expand and shut with silent exstacy. 
Yet, wert thou once a worm, a thing that crept 
On the bare earth, then wrought a tomb and slept; 
And such is man soon from his cell of clay 
To burst a seraph in the blaze of day.’' 
An American visiting England, in a recent interview 
speaking of the lawns, says: From Southampton to Lon- 
don the express train “whirls through the loveliest 
country I ever saw. Through green fields and across 
picturesque stone bridges, alongside grand old country 
seats, with their mighty oaks, and past lawns, oh, such 
lawns! There’s nothing like those lawns in all the world 
outside of England, and when I saw them first I recalled 
the story of the Harvard professor who was visiting 
Canterbury and asked the old white-headed gardener 
how they made these lawns so thick and velvety. The 
gardener said they simply mowed them regularly and 
took care of them in winter, and occasionally seeded 
them down. ‘Ah, is that all?’ cried the American, de- 
lighted with the idea of having just such a lawn for the 
campus at Cambridge. ‘Yes, that’s all,’ said the old 
man, ‘and when you’ve done that for six or eight centu- 
ies you have a very decent lawn.’ ” 
* * * 
A big s’ab of redwood, a cross section cut from a 
log 14 feet 4 inches in diameter, with the bark peeled off, 
was recently shipped at San Francisco consigned to 
William Waldorf Astor, London, England, to decide a 
wager that a table big enough to accommodate forty at 
dinner could be made from a cross section of one of 
California’s trees. The wager was accepted. The piece 
of redwood was cut from one of the many giant trees of 
Humboldt County. There is not a knot or blemish in 
the whole piece. It is about three feet thick, and weighs 
about nineteen tons, and is thoroughly protected to pre- 
vent warping or damage. Apropos, of the above the 
Hartford Courant says: The really great American tree 
of to-day is a big tree at Tule in Mexico, in the State of 
Oaxaca. That tree, cypress, still in full vigor and active 
growth, is 154 feet in circumference. If a section of this 
tree were taken for a table there is no house that it 
could be taken into. Mr. Astor proposes to put forty of 
his fellow Englishmen at forty-five front feet of table. 
That’s the very tight squeeze of a foot and an eighth 
apiece. Similarly jammed you could put 136 people at 
the Tule tree table. Since the publication of the above, 
reports of a number of immense trees are finding their 
way into print. 
