The Life of Jean Henri Fabre 



drawn thither by the mossy carpets or the 

 twilight of lofty forest trees which form the 

 charm of our woodlands. The burning plains 

 where the Cicada shrilled and the olive flour- 

 ished know nothing of these delightful re- 

 treats, so full of shadow and coolness. Here 

 is Fabre's own description: 



The Bols des Issarts is a coppice of holm-oaks no 

 higher than one's head and sparingly distributed in 

 scanty clumps which, even at their feet, hardly 

 temper the force of the sun's rays. When I used 

 to settle myself in some part of the coppice suit- 

 able for my observations, on certain afternoons in 

 the dog-days of July and August, I had the shelter 

 of a large umbrella. If I neglected to furnish 

 myself with this embarrassing adjunct to a long 

 walk, my only resource against sunstroke was to 

 lie down at full length behind some sandy knoll; 

 and, when the veins in my temples were throbbing 

 to bursting point, my last hope lay in putting my 

 head down a rabbit-burrow. Such are one's means 

 of keeping cool in the Bois des Issarts. 



What was there to draw him and retain 

 him in such places, so unpropltlous for the 

 holiday of a professor on vacation? Ah! 

 they are the favourite resort of the Bem- 

 bex, one of his favourite insects. *' A blaz- 

 ing sun, a sky magnificently blue, sandy slopes 

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