FABRE'S BOOK OF INSECTS 



thing is done: the creature is free, pale in colouring as 

 yet, but possessing its final form as a larva. 



Immediately the hind-legs, hitherto stretched in a 

 straight line, fall into the correct position. The legs 

 fold under the great thighs, and the spring is ready to 

 work. It works. Little Locust makes his entrance into 

 the world, and hops for the first time. I offer him a 

 bit of lettuce the size of my fingernail. He refuses 

 it. Before taking nourishment he must first mature 

 and grow in the sun. 



IV 

 THEIR FINAL CHANGE 



I have just beheld a stirring sight: the last change 

 of a Locust, the full-grown insect emerging from his 

 larval skin. It is magnificent. The object of my 

 enthusiasm is the Grey Locust, the giant who is so 

 common on the vines at vintage-time, in September. 

 On account of his size — he is as long as my finger — he 

 is easier to observe than any other of his tribe. The 

 event took place in one of my cages. 



The fat, ungraceful larva, a rough sketch of the per- 

 fect insect, is usually pale green; but some are blue- 

 green, dirty yellow, red-brown, or even ashen-grey, like 

 the grey of the full-grown Locust. The hind-legs, 

 which are as powerful as those of mature age, have a 



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