The Cricket: the Burrow 



the fields, stopped in front of the hermit's 

 cabin ! However light your footfall, he has 

 heard you coming and has abruptly with- 

 drawn to the very bottom of his hiding- 

 place. When you arrive, the threshold of 

 the house is deserted. 



Everybody knows the way to bring the 

 skulker out. You insert a straw and move 

 it gently about the burrow. Surprised at 

 what is happening above, tickled and teased, 

 the Cricket ascends from his secret apart- 

 ment; he stops in the passage, hesitates and 

 enquires into things by waving his delicate 

 antennae; he comes to the light and, once 

 outside, he is easy to catch, so greatly have 

 events puzzled his poor head. Should he be 

 missed at the first attempt, he may become 

 more suspicious and obstinately resist the 

 titillation of the straw. In that case, we 

 can flood him out with a glass of water. 



O those adorable times when we used to 

 cage our Crickets and feed them on a leaf 

 of lettuce, those childish hunting-trips along 

 the grassy paths ! They all come back to me 

 to-day, as I explore the burrows in search of 

 subjects for my studies; they appear to me 

 almost in their pristine freshness when my 

 companion, little Paul, already an expert in 



3" 



