72 LEAVES FROM THE BOOK OF NATURE. 



loud rattling of their armor, which sounds like the falling 

 of fierce hail, wakes old and young. During the day they 

 rest at least twice, and hide from the hot sun ; with the 

 cool of the evening they set out once more. Instinct 

 shows them the shortest way to the ocean ; nothing ar- 

 rests their march, and they never break their ranks. If 

 rocks or walls impede their way, they scale them with 

 untiring perseverance ; if a house blocks up their road, 

 they coolly enter at the open window, frighten for a mo- 

 ment the astonished inmates, but move peaceably out at 

 tjie other side and pursue their march. If men try to 

 arrest them, they rise with great indignation, stretch out 

 their huge claw, and open and shut it with a loud noise. 

 Only when they are violently frightened they show real 

 alarm, and hurry, in wild, reckless flight, in all directions ; 

 they recover, however, very soon, form again at a short 

 distance, and march bravely onward. The injury they do 

 arises much less from what they eat than from the de- 

 struction of fields and gardens, in which they trample down 

 and break with their claws everything that is in their 

 way. It is another strange provision of nature, that only 

 few, the strongest, return to their mountain home; by far 

 the largest number are so lean and weak, that they cannot 

 perform the long journey back, and serve to feed the 

 hungry on the sterile beach of the Antilles. 



As the liquid wave sustains the rapid fish, so . the still 

 lighter air bears the swift bird on broad wings. The 

 number of birds who always remain in the same region 

 is extremely small ; by far the most avail themselves of 

 their admirable means of locomotion to go to very great 



