One morning as we flew across the open space which lay between the wood
and the wheat fields, we noticed two gentlemen in the orchard who were
carefully examining the trees, peering curiously into the cracks of the
rough bark or unfolding the curled leaves.

As we came nearer we discovered that one of them was the owner of the
place, the father of Miss Dorothy and Miss Katie. The other was a thin
gentleman in spectacles, who held a magnifying glass through which he
intently looked at a twig which he had broken off.

After a few minutes' inspection he said: "Colonel, your orchard is
somewhat affected. This is a specimen of the _chionaspis furfuris_."

"Is it anything like the scurfy-bark louse?" inquired the colonel.

"The same thing exactly. It occurs more commonly in the apple, but it
infects the pear and peach trees. You will find it on the mountain
ash, and sometimes on the currant bushes," he answered.

The colonel asked him if he would recommend spraying to get rid of the
pests, and was advised to begin immediately, using tobacco water or
whale-oil soap.

"By the way," said the colonel, "there is a beetle attacking my shade
trees. They are ruining that fine row of elms in front of the lawn."

"It is undoubtedly the _melolontha vulgaris_," said the professor. I
designate him in this way because he used such large words we did not
understand. My mother told us that she was positive he was president
of a college. "The _melolontha vulgaris_ is the most destructive of