The Life of J ean Henri Fabre 



These exercises in open-air geometry, 

 which had their charm, discounted before- 

 hand, had also their delightful surprises and 

 unexpected consequences which place them 

 among the happiest experiences of the life 

 which we are describing: 



Well, from the very first day, my attention was 

 attracted by something suspicious. If I sent one 

 of the boys to plant a stake, I would see him stop 

 frequently on his way, bend down, stand up again, 

 look about and stoop once more, neglecting his 

 straight line and his signals. Another, who was 

 told to pick up the arrows, would forget the iron 

 pin and take up a pebble instead ; and a third, 

 deaf to the measurements of angles, would crumble 

 a clod of earth between his fingers. Most of them 

 were caught licking a bit of straw. The polygon 

 came to a full stop, the diagonals suffered. What 

 could the mystery be? 



I inquired ; and everything was explained. A 

 born searcher and observer, the scholar had long 

 known what the master had not yet heard of, 

 namely, that there was a big black Bee who made 

 clay nests on the pebbles of the harmas. These 

 nests contained honey ; and my surveyors used to 

 open them and empty the cells with a straw. The 

 honey, although rather strong-flavoured, was most 

 acceptable. I acquired a taste for it myself and 

 joined the nest-hunters, putting off the polygon till 

 later. It was thus that I first saw Reaumur's 



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