The Mantis: her Hatching 



them out of their sheaths, cut them up. You 

 see a piteous fray between tender babes 

 gesticulating as their only means of defence 

 and ferocious brigands carrying their spolia 

 opima at the end of their mandibles. In less 

 than no time the massacre of the innocents is 

 consummated; and all that remains of the 

 flourishing family is a few scattered survivors 

 who have escaped by accident. 



The future assassin, the scourge of the 

 insect race, the terror of the Locust on the 

 brushwood, the dread devourer of fresh 

 meat, is herself devoured, from her birth, by 

 one of the least of that race, the Ant. The 

 ogress, prolific to excess, sees her family 

 thinned by the dwarf. But the slaughter is 

 not long continued. So soon as she has ac- 

 quired a little firmness from the air and 

 strengthened her legs, the Mantis ceases to 

 be attacked. She trots about briskly among 

 the Ants, who fall back as she passes, no 

 longer daring to tackle her. With her 

 grappling-legs brought close to her chest, like 

 arms ready for self-defence, already she 

 strikes awe into them by her proud bearing. 



A second connoisseur in tender meats pays 

 no heed to these threats. This is the little 

 Grey Lizard, the lover of sunny walls. Ap- 



1/7 



