THE CICADA 



stranger's egg, which will be the ruin of hers. A small 

 quick-hatching grub, one only to each cell, handsomely- 

 fed on a dozen raw eggs, will take the place of the 

 Cicada's family. 



This deplorable mother has learnt nothing from 

 centuries of experience. Her large and excellent eyes 

 cannot fail to see the terrible felons fluttering round her. 

 She must know they are at her heels, and yet she remains 

 unmoved, and lets herself be victimised. She could 

 easily crush the wicked atoms, but she is incapable of 

 altering her instincts, even to save her family from 

 destruction. 



Through my magnifying-glass I have seen the hatch- 

 ing of the Cicada's eggs. When the grub first appears 

 it has a marked likeness to an extremely small fish, with 

 large black eyes, and a curious sort of mock fin under 

 its body, formed of the two fore-legs joined together. 

 This fin has some power of movement, and helps the 

 grub to work its way out of the shell, and also — a much 

 more difficult matter — out of the fibrous stem in which 

 it is imprisoned. 



As soon as this fish-like object has made its way out 

 of the cell it sheds its skin. But the cast skin forms 

 itself into a thread, by which the grub remains fastened 

 to the twig or stem. Here, before dropping to the 

 ground, it treats itself to a sun-bath, kicking about and 



[37] 



