The Hermit of Serlgnan 



large pink tufts. Its armour hardly yields before 

 that of the oyster-plant. Nor must we forget the 

 lesser thistle tribe, with, first of all, the prickly 

 or " cruel " thistle, which is so well armed that 

 the plant-collector knows not where to grasp it; 

 next, the spear-thistle, with its ample foliage, each 

 of its nervures ending in a spear-head; lastly, the 

 black knap-weed, which gathers itself into a spiky 

 knot. In among these, in long lines armed with 

 hooks, the shoots of the blue dewberry creep along 

 the ground. To visit the prickly thicket where the 

 Wasp goes foraging, you must wear boots that 

 come to mid-leg or else resign yourself to a smart- 

 ing in the calves. As long as the ground retains 

 some traces of the vernal rains, this rude vegeta- 

 tion does not lack a certain charm. But let the 

 droughs of summer come and we see but a desolate 

 waste, which the flame of a match would set ablaze 

 from one end to the other. Such is, or rather was, 

 when I took possession of it, the Eden of bliss 

 where I mean to live henceforth alone with the 

 insects. Forty years of desperate struggle have won 

 it for me. 



Eden, I said; and, from the point of view that 

 interests me, the expression is not out of place. 

 This accursed ground, which no one would have 

 had at a gift to sow with a pinch of turnip-seed, 

 IS an earthly paradise for the Bees and the Wasps. 

 Its mighty growth of thistles and centauries draws 

 them all to me from everywhere around. Never, 

 in my insect-hunting nriemories, have I seen so large 

 a population at a single spot; all the trades have 

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