The Locusts: their Function 



old age and childhood alike, it is Locust- 

 hunting. Oh, what dehcious mornings we 

 owe to it! What happy moments when the 

 mulberries are black and allow my assistants 

 to go pilfering here and there in the bushes I 

 What memorable excursions on the slopes 

 covered with sparse grass, tough and burnt 

 yellow by the sun ! I retain a vivid recollec- 

 tion of all this; and my children will do the 

 same. 



Little Paul has nimble legs, a ready hand 

 and a piercing eye. He inspects the clumps 

 of everlastings where the Tryxalis solemnly 

 nods his sugar-loaf head; he scrutinizes the 

 bushes out of which the big Grey Locust 

 suddenly flies like a little bird surprised by 

 the hunter. Great disappointment on the 

 part of the latter, who, after first rushing off 

 at full speed, stops and gazes in wonder at 

 this mock Swallow flying far away. He will 

 have better luck another time. We shall not 

 go home without a few of those magnificent 

 prizes. 



Younger than her brother, Marie Pauline 

 patiently watches for the Italian Locust, with 

 his pink wings and carmine hind-legs; but 

 she really prefers another jumper, the most 

 elegantly attired of all. Her favourite wears 



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