The Green Grasshopper 



rocket spreads its sheaf of sparks for the 

 public enemy of yesterday, who has become 

 the idol of to-day. To-morrow it will go up 

 for somebody else. 



In a century or two, will any one, outside 

 the historians, give a thought to the taking 

 of the Bastille? It is very doubtful. We 

 shall have other joys and also other cares. 



Let us look a little farther ahead. A day 

 will come, so everything seems to tell us, 

 when, after making progress upon progress, 

 man will succumb, destroyed by the excess of 

 what he calls civilization. Too eager to 

 play the god, he cannot hope for the animal's 

 placid longevity; he will have disappeared 

 when the little Toad is still saying his litany, 

 in company with the Grasshopper, the Scops- 

 owl and the others. They were singing on 

 this planet before us; they will sing after us, 

 celebrating what can never change, the fiery 

 glory of the sun. 



I will dwell no longer on this festival and 

 will become once more the naturalist, anxious 

 to obtain information concerning the private 

 life of the insect. The Green Grasshopper 

 (Locusta viridissima, LIN.) does not appear 

 to be common in my neighbourhood. Last 

 year, intending to make a study of this in- 

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