The Aristocrat of the Kitchen. 1 1 1 



its ancient type has been of very great service to the 

 entomologist, for many other insects have found it neces- 

 sary in their business to modify various parts of their 

 bodies so much that their origin is often completely dis- 

 guised. Particularly is this the case in the mouth-parts. 

 By comparing the corresponding parts of the cockroach's 

 mouth it is plain that that very complex organ, the 

 labium, was once a pair of jaws that became fused to- 

 g-ether, and from that have been diversified in the most 



o 



interesting fashion. The cockroach, being of noble 

 lineage, is in a way a sort of standard insect, and by de- 

 scribing its anatomy I practically describe that of all 

 other insects. It has no lungs, but breathes through ten 

 tubes on each side of its body, the little tubes being 

 spirals like those on a door-spring. It pants for breath 

 with its abdomen. The heart is a long, soft, banana- 

 shaped purse of a tube, under the shell on the top side of 

 its body. There are no veins or arteries. The watery 

 blood circulates around loose. 



Six-legged or two-legged, the true aristocrat has no 

 desire to mix with the mob. He believes in sticking to 

 his own set. He holds the others off. For, in the strug- 

 gle for existence, to have too many fond of you is dis- 

 tinctly to lessen your chance of survival. For instance, 

 what is it makes the existence of the vanilla grower one 

 ceaseless vigil? \Yhat but the fact that from root tip to 

 flower bud the vanilla plant is popular with all kinds of 

 creatures, with backbones and without them, shelled and 

 unshelled, furred, feathered and fuzzy, winged, w r alking 

 and crawling? That is why at all hours of the day and 

 night the vanilla grower must be eternally saying, 

 "Shoo, there!" 



The cockroach is no vanilla plant. Nothing like it. 

 He has a flavor, though, that defends him as well as if he 



