CHAPTER X 



THE VEGETARIAN INSECTS 



ALONE of living creatures, civilized man 

 knows how to eat, by which I mean to 

 say that he treats the affairs of the stomach 

 with a certain pomp and circumstance. He 

 is an expert cook and an artist in delicate 

 sauces. He celebrates his meals with luxu- 

 rious plate and crockery. He officiates at 

 table like a high-priest; he practises rites and 

 ceremonies. At his banquets he calls for 

 music and flowers, that he may masticate his 

 portion of dead flesh in splendour. 



Animals do not display these eccentricities. 

 They merely feed, which, after all, may very 

 well be the true means of avoiding deterio- 

 ration. They take nourishment; and that, 

 for them, is enough. They eat to live, 

 whereas many of us live, above all, to eat. 



Man's stomach is a pit in which all things 

 edible are engulfed. The stomach of the 

 vegetarian insect is a fastidious laboratory to 

 which nothing but appointed mouthfuls are 

 allowed to find their way. Each guest at the 

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