The Cricket: the Eggs 



set you at liberty, my little dears; I will 

 entrust you to nature, the sovran nurse. 



Thus it comes to pass. I release my 

 legions in the enclosure, here, there and 

 everywhere, in the best places. What a con- 

 cert I shall have outside my door next year, 

 if they all turn out well! But no, the sym- 

 phony will probably be one of silence, for the 

 savage pruning due to the mother's fertility 

 is bound to come. All that I can hope for is 

 that a few couples may survive extermina- 

 tion. 



As in the case of the young Praying 

 Mantes, the first that hasten to this manna 

 and the most eager for the slaughter are 

 the little Grey Lizard and the Ant. The 

 latter, loathsome freebooter that she is, will, 

 I fear, not leave me a single Cricket in the 

 garden. She snaps up the poor little crea- 

 tures, eviscerates them and gobbles them 

 down at frantic speed. 



Oh, the execrable wretch! And to think 

 that we place the Ant in the front rank of 

 insects! Books are written in her honour 

 and the stream of eulogy never ceases; the 

 naturalists hold her in the greatest esteem 

 and add daily to her reputation, so true is it, 

 among animals as among men, that of the 

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