FABRE'S BOOK OF INSECTS 



Little Paul has nimble legs, a ready hand, and a 

 piercing eye. He inspects the clumps of everlastings, 

 and peers closely into the bushes. Suddenly a big Grey 

 Locust flies out like a little bird. The hunter first makes 

 off at full speed, then stops and gazes in wonder at this 

 mock Swallow flying far away. He will have better 

 luck another time. We shall not go home without a few 

 of those magnificent prizes. 



Marie Pauline, who is younger than her brother, 

 watches patiently for the Italian Locust, with his pink 

 wings and carmine hind-legs; but she really prefers an- 

 other, the most ornamented of them* all. Her favourite 

 wears a St. Andrew's cross on the small of his back, which 

 is marked by four white, slanting stripes. He wears, 

 too, patches of green, the colour of verdigris on bronze. 

 With her hand raised in the air, ready to swoop down, 

 she approaches very softly, stooping low. Whoosh! 

 That's done it! The treasure is quickly thrust head- 

 first into a paper funnel, and plunges with one bound 

 to the bottom of it. 



One by one our boxes are filled. Before the heat be- 

 comes too great to bear we are in possession of a number 

 of specimens. Imprisoned in my cages, perhaps they 

 will teach us something. In any case the Locusts have 

 given pleasure to three people at a small cost. 



Locusts have a bad reputation, I know. The text- 

 books describe them as noxious. I take the liberty of 



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