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All of the mantids, in color and form, more or less resemble 
the foliage and stems of the plants among which they habitually 
lurk while waiting for their prey. Their usual attitude of resting 
with knees bent and the front legs clasped together and held for- 
ward has suggested such popular names as “ praying mantis ” and 
“ soothsayer,” or “ Prie Dieu” in France, and “ Gottesanbeterin ” 
in Germany. But these names are misleading, for the only prayer 
that could interest the mantis would be that some unwary insect 
might approach near enough to be grasped and eaten. “ Johnny 
Cockhorse,”’ as they are called in England, and “ Rearhorse” in 
the South, certainly are more fitting names than those suggesting 
piety. They are bloodthirsty creatures, forever quarreling among 
themselves, and many a fierce battle is fought by the males in 
which the victor makes a feast off the body of the vanquished. 
The females, which are larger and stronger than the males, after 
accepting the attentions of courtship are quite likely to end it by 
seizing and devouring their mates. 
After this preamble on the Mantidae in general, let us consider 
the probability as well as the desirability of our newcomer, 
Paratenodera sinensis, establishing a permanent residence in the 
Brooklyn Botanic Garden. The presence of this mantis in scat- 
tered localities in Brooklyn has been known to entomologists for 
some time. In the fall of 1917 an adult specimen was collected 
in a garden on the Park Slope and brought to the Museum. In the 
Ridgewood section of Brooklyn a colony originating from egg 
clusters placed in his garden by Dr. Felix Metzner, of 142 Wood- 
bine Street, about fifteen years ago, has maintained itself ever 
since. The most flourishing colony, however, has established it- 
self in the suburban district of Middle Village, where Charles Rose, 
a collector of insects, has taken hundreds of the egg masses, 
season after season, finding them among blackberry and catbriar 
brambles on waste lands. Eggs from this source planted along 
the Wild Flower Path in the spring of 1925 by Jacob Doll, curator 
of Lepidoptera of the Brooklyn Museum, no doubt have started 
the colony in the Botanic Garden, which is now entering upon 
its second generation. Just how it will flourish remains to be 
seen. So far, only one egg cluster (Fig. 11) has come under 
observation, but probably there are more, as no diligent search 
has been made. 
