ABSTRACT
May 1st. —This forenoon, which was exceedingly hot, my attention was roused by a simultaneous shout from our servants and farm-labourers, while from the low ground a similar cry arose, accompanied by what sounded like the beating of native drums. On looking out, I saw apparently a thick cloud of dust coming down the hills and moving rapidly towards the town. It was a flight of locusts; not the green and black ones, which are yet too plentiful in our “bush,” but the real migratory locusts. I was not surprised at the looks of dismay with which this sudden appearance was greeted by our people, one of whom exclaimed in a truly pathetic tone—“Ah! day make hungry too much in dis country! hungry too much!” whilst he and his fellow-servants created the utmost possible din, jingling the lids of saucepans and kettles, beating upon large tin jars, and shouting to prevent, if possible, these destructive insects from settling on the grass or orange-trees near the house; thousands of them fell as if exhausted, and were speedily pounced upon by the fowls.
