The Locusts: the last Moult 



catch a glimpse of the inconceivable dex- 

 terity with which life does its work has but 

 to go to the great Locust of the vines. The 

 insect will show him that which, with their 

 extreme slowness, the sprouting seed, the 

 budding leaf and the blossoming flower hide 

 from our curiosity. We cannot see a blade 

 of grass grow; but we can easily witness the 

 growth of a Locust's wings and wing-cases. 

 We stand astounded at this sublime phan- 

 tasmagoria of a grain of hemp-seed which in 

 a few hours becomes a superb piece of linen. 

 What a proud artist is life, driving its shuttle 

 to weave the wings of a Locust, one of those 

 insignificant insects of which Pliny, long ago 

 said: 



"In his tarn parvis, fere nullis, qua vis, 

 quce sapientia, quam inextricabilis per- 

 fects/ " 



How well the old naturalist was inspired 

 on this occasion! Let us repeat after him: 



" What power, what wisdom, what inde- 

 scribable perfection in the tiny corner of life 

 which the Locust of the vines has shown us ! ' 



I have heard that a learned enquirer, to 

 whom life was but a conflict of physical and 



421 



