“Oh, father, it is dead—­eaten by the locusts—­I found a dozen on it.”

“What’s the matter, John?” said Mr. Harvey.  “What have the locusts eaten?”

“Our fig tree,” replied John.  “It is gone past all remedy.  Only come with me, and you’ll see it.”

They followed him down the garden walk.  On reaching the fig tree, Mr. Harvey saw that nearly all its leaves had been eaten off, with most of the bark and young branches.  Thomas and Samuel were very sorry, and John said he would kill every locust he met, from that day forward.  Mr. Harvey examined the tree, and found, that although much damage had been done to it, yet with proper care, it might be restored.  “We ought to have covered it with a net,” he said to the boys.

While his father was talking with Thomas and his cousin, John was stooping on the ground, hammering something with a stone.  At last Mr. Harvey turned round, and asked John what he was doing.

“I am killing these fine locusts that I have caught,” replied John.

“Stop, my son,” said Mr. Harvey, “that is foolish conduct, and very wicked.  You are giving way to anger and revenge, two of the worst passions that a youth can indulge.”

“But, father, they will eat more trees.”

“The damage that a few locusts can do, is not much,” answered his father; “and if we had taken proper care with the fig tree, they would not have reached it.  Let those under your hat go, and when we go into the house, I will tell you about the locusts of the Eastern countries, of which you might kill as many as you chose, if you were there.”  John did as his father bade him, and said he was sorry for having acted so foolishly.  Then Mr. Harvey trimmed the fig tree with his knife, and said he would send a servant to place a screen over it.  When they came to the house, John reminded his father of his promise concerning the locusts.  Mr. Harvey took from a shelf several large pictures of insects, and laying one on the table, asked his son what he thought it was.

“It looks like a large grasshopper,” said John.

“It is the locust of the East,” replied his father.  “These locusts are shaped almost exactly like the long-winged grasshoppers that fly about our fields; but they are two or three times larger.  What do you think this picture is?”

“It seems to be a great cloud of dust.”

“It is a swarm of Eastern locusts.  Hundreds of thousands fly thus together, darkening the air, and driving every thing before them.  When alighting they cover the earth for more than a mile round, and eat every green thing to the very roots.  The noise of their wings is like thunder.  They leave the country like a desert, so that the terrified people look forward to misery and famine.  Men, women, and children, turn out with guns and stones, to kill them; and sometimes large fires are kindled for the same purpose.  The dead ones are taken by cart loads to markets, and sold for food.”