IN A GABBEN. 
173 
hour by the parent tits — those small tits that do 
the (gardener so much harm ! We know, on <iood 
authority, that the spider has a " nutty flavour ; " 
and most insects in the larval stage afford succulent 
and toothsome, or at all events beaksome, morsels. 
These are, just now, the crimson cherries, purple 
and yellow plums, currants — red, white, and black 
— and sun-painted peaches, asking in their luscious 
ripeness for a mouth to melt in, that fascinate 
finch and fly-catcher alike, and make the starlings 
smack their horny lips with a sound like a 
loving kiss. 
Nob that I care, or esteem birds for what they 
eat or do not eat. With all these creatures that 
are at strife among themselves, and that birds 
prey upon, I am at peace, even to the smallest that 
are visible — the red spider which is no spider ; and 
the minute gossamer clinging to the fine silvery 
hairs of the flying summer; and the coccus that 
fall from the fruit trees to float on their buoyant 
cottony down — a summer snow. Fils de la vierge 
are these, and sacred. The man who can needlessly 
set his foot on a worm is as strange to my soul 
as De Quincey's imaginary Malay, or even his 
"damned crocodile." The worm that one sees 
lying bruised and incapable on the gravel walk 
has fallen among thieves. These little lives do me 
good and not harm. I smell the acid ants to 
