THE PRAYING MANTIS 



In many ages the Mantis has been regarded with super- 

 stitious awe. In Provence its nest is held to be the best 

 remedy for chilblains. You cut the thing in two, squeeze 

 it, and rub the afflicted part with the juice that streams 

 out of it. The peasants declare that it works like a 

 charm. I have never felt any relief from it myself. 



Further, it is highly praised as a wonderful cure for 

 toothache. As long as you have it on you, you need 

 never fear that trouble. Our housewives gather it under 

 a favourable moon; they keep it carefully in the corner of 

 a cupboard, or sew it into their pocket. The neighbours 

 borrow it when tortured by a tooth. They call it a tigno. 



"Lend me your tigno ', I am in agony," says the sufferer 

 with the swollen face. 



The other hastens to unstitch and hand over the 

 precious thing. 



"Don't lose it, whatever you do," she says earnestly 

 to her friend, "It's the only one I have, and this isn't 

 the right time of moon." 



This simplicity of our peasants is surpassed by an 

 English physician and man of science who lived in the 

 sixteenth century. He tells us that, in those days, if a 

 child lost his way in the country, he would ask the 

 Mantis to put him on his road. "The Mantis," adds 

 the author, "will stretch out one of her feet and shew 

 him the right way and seldome or never misse." 



[53] 



