THE COCKROACH. 115 



light. They will fearlessly perambulate his cabin, take up 

 their posts on the deck-beams over his head, will watch 

 him gravely with waving antennae, and the moment they 

 discover that he is asleep will run over his head and face, 

 entangle themselves in his beard and hair, and gently nibble 

 the skin on the tips of his fingers and toes. 



The cockroach is an admirable judge of the weather. On 

 board a ship the approach of a rain squall will bring them 

 up from the hold into the cabins in tens of thousands ; and 

 in vessels where they abound they will blacken the ceiling, 

 drop on to the tables, and drive nervous passengers for 

 refuge to the deck. Whether the British variety is equally 

 affected by the weather is a point at present undetermined, 

 for as he does not emerge from his hiding places until 

 the servants have gone upstairs and the lights are out, his 

 habits have never been examined very closely. 



The eccentricity in the movements of the cockroach has 

 doubtless had a share in producing the feeling with which 

 he is regarded. His ordinary pace is a fast though stealthy 

 walk, but he is given to sudden pauses, remaining immov- 

 able, save for the constant waving of his long antennas, 

 which show that he is deep in the meditation of past sins or 

 future wickedness. But when alarmed his speed is extra- 

 ordinary : he is gone in an instant like a flash, and it needs no 

 ordinary quickness of eye and action to bring the avenging 

 foot down upon him. Even in his death he acts upon the 

 human nerves, exploding with a sharp crack of so singularly 

 thrilling a description that many even of those who most 

 greatly dislike the cockroach cannot bring themselves to 

 slay it. 



It is on this account principally that nothing like an 



