The Life of the Grasshopper 



crying famine at the doors of the Ant-hills, 

 promising honestly to repay principal and 

 interest; on the contrary, it is the Ant who, 

 driven by hunger, begs and entreats the 

 singer. Entreats, do I say? Borrowing and 

 repaying form no part of the pillager's 

 habits. She despoils the Cicada, brazenly 

 robs him of his possessions. Let us describe 

 this theft, a curious point in natural history 

 and, as yet, unknown. 



In July, during the stifling heat of the 

 afternoon, when the insect populace, parched 

 with thirst, vainly wanders around the limp 

 and withered flowers in search of refresh- 

 ment, the Cicada laughs at the general need. 

 With that delicate gimlet, his rostrum, he 

 broaches a cask in his inexhaustible cellar. 

 Sitting, always singing, on the branch of a 

 shrub, he bores through the firm, smooth 

 bark swollen with sap ripened by the sun. 

 Driving his sucker through the bung-hole, he 

 drinks luxuriously, motionless and rapt in 

 contemplation, absorbed in the charms of 

 syrup and song. 



Watch him for a little while. We 



shall perhaps witness unexpected tribulation. 



There are many thirsty ones prowling 



around, in fact; they discover the well be- 



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