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tl>* Walrus said ...
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I am a patient soul. (He who tooteth not his own horn getteth it not tooffed.) I listened to Bill Lyne scream and bellow about Japanese bean beetles (I refuse to write it with capital betters) and I was real patient with Lord William H. I let him howl and I sympathized, but I didn’t bother about the little critters. What ihavfe I against those tiny junebugs, anyway? They gotta eat, ain’t they?
I repeat; I’m a patient soul. I let the little beetles eat the althea bushes. (Never thought they were pretty, anyhow.) I let (them nibble he roses to their little green stomachs’ content^ (Rose bushes belong to my sister, anyway.) I didn’t care when they ate the grape vines. (The grapes were no good.) But—just like their yellow-spined human counterpart—they went too far. I found two of the ’onery vilecolored misbegotten offspring of the kennel on the white pine tree and they started eating the crepe myrtles!
Those evil little critters are now good bugs. I gave them a drink. It was a fancy drink. It was mixed with water and the package said dichloro diphonyl trichloroethane with a 50% tag on it. The bugs were very happy after they had their drink. They lay right down and went to sleep. They ain’t et since.
— 0\ O O
One of the county’s housewives would enjoy nothing more, right now than feeling “soap-and-water”
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