The Clythrae: The Egg 



droughtily under the merciless sun of the 

 dog-days, but which a bath in a glass of water 

 awakens at once. They now display their 

 ring of green leaflets, brightened up and re- 

 stored to life for a few hours. There are 

 leprous efflorescences, with their white or yel- 

 low dust; tiny lichens radiating in ash-grey 

 straps and covered with glaucous, white- 

 edged shields, great round eyes that seem 

 to gaze from the depths of the limbo in 

 which dead matter comes to life again. 

 There are collemas, which, after a shower, 

 become dark and bloated and shake like 

 jellies; sphaerias, whose pustules stand out 

 like ebony teats, full of myriads of tiny sacs, 

 each containing eight pretty seeds. A glance 

 through the microscope at the contents of one 

 of these teats, a speck only just visible to the 

 eye, reveals an astounding world: an infinity 

 of procreative wealth in an atom. Ah, what 

 a beautiful thing life is, even on a chip of 

 rotten bark no bigger than a finger-nail! 

 What a garden ! What a treasure-house ! 



This is the best pasture put to the test. 

 My Clythrse graze upon it, gathering in 

 dense herds at the most luxuriant spots. 

 One would take this heap for pinches of some 

 brown, modelled seed or other, the snap- 

 dragon's, for instance; but these particular 

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