The other hastens to unstitch and hand over the precious thing. “Don’t lose it, whatever you do,” she says earnestly to her friend. “It’s the only one I have, and this isn’t the right time of moon.” This simplicity of our peasants is surpassed by an English physician and man of science who lived in the sixteenth century. He tells us that, in those days, if a child lost his way in the country, he would ask the Mantis to put him on his road. “The Mantis,” adds the author, “will stretch out one of her feet and shew him the right way and seldome or never misse.” CHAPTER V THE GLOW-WORM I HIS SURGICAL INSTRUMENT Few insects enjoy more fame than the Glow-worm, the curious little animal who celebrates the joy of life by lighting a lantern at its tail-end. We all know it, at least by name, even if we have not seen it roaming through the grass, like a spark fallen from the full moon. The Greeks of old called it the Bright-tailed, and modern science gives it the name Lampyris. As a matter of fact the Lampyris is not a worm at all, not even in general appearance. He has six short legs, which he well knows how to use, for he is a real gad-about. The male, when he is full-grown has wing-cases, like the true Beetle that he is. The female is an unattractive creature who knows nothing of the delights of flying and all her life remains in the larva, or incomplete form. Even at this stage the word “worm” is out of place. We French use the phrase “naked as a worm” to express the lack of any kind of protection. Now the Lampyris is clothed, that is to say he wears an outer skin that serves as a defence; and he is, moreover, rather richly coloured. He is dark brown, with pale pink on the chest; and each segment, or division, of his body is ornamented at the edge with two spots of fairly bright red. A costume like this was never worn by a worm! Nevertheless we will continue to call him the Glow-worm, since it is by that name that he is best known to the world. The two most interesting peculiarities about the Glow-worm are, first, the way he secures his food, and secondly, the lantern at his tail. A famous Frenchman, a master of the science of food, once said: “Show me what you eat, and I will tell you what you are.” A similar question should be addressed to every insect whose habits we propose to study; for the information supplied by food is the chief of all the documents of animal life. Well, in spite of his innocent appearance, the Glow-worm is an eater of flesh, a hunter of game; and he carries on his hunting with rare villainy. His regular prey is the Snail. This fact has long been known; but what is not so well known is his curious method of attack, of which I have seen no other example anywhere.