Next to the Coxey tramp comes the buffalo beetle, demanding free maintenance and the best parlors. Like the Coxey vag, the buffalo beetle isa hollow mockery. Though he fiercely chews and destnys the carpets, he is in realty a thin shell, covered with coarse hair along the ridge of his ugly spine. Crack hirn with a hammer and not enough is left of him to make a spot. Seen under a microscope, his resemblance to a buffalo is so striking that none will dispute the fitness of his name. There are millions of him in Ann Arbor. He is here with his wife, chüdren and mother-in-law, to spend the summer, and the destruction of carpets and cloth coverings of chairs is appalling. The endurance of the buffalo beetle is something wonderful. Hit him an ordinary whack and he flattens out like a rubber ball, to spring back unhurt and take another mouthful out of your carpet. Roast him under a hot flat iron and he will grin and bear it like a salamander. Subject him to the torrid vapor of a carpet steamer and he comes out refreshed like a customer of a Turkish bath. The buffalo beetle is as nearly indestructable as any pest that ever seized upon the domestic economy of a housewife.