A second is hanging on behind the Cricket, of whom the mother is munching the front. He nibbles, he pulls, eager for a bit. His perseverance comes to nothing: the fare is too tough. I have seen it pretty often: the appetite awakens; the young would gladly accept food, if the mother took the least care to offer them any, especially food adjusted to the weakness of their stomachs; but she just eats for herself and that is all. What do you want, O my pretty little Scorpions, who have provided me with such delightful moments? You want to go away, to some distant place, in search of victuals, of the tiniest of tiny beasties. I can see it by your restless roving. You run away from the mother, who, on her side, ceases to know you. You are strong enough; the hour has come to disperse. If I knew exactly the infinitesimal game that suited you and if I had sufficient time to procure it for you, I should love to continue your upbringing; but not among the potsherds of the native cage, in the company of your elders. I know their intolerant spirit. The ogres would eat you up, my children. Your own mothers would not spare you. You are strangers to them henceforth. Next year, at the wedding-season, they would eat you, the jealous creatures! You had better go; prudence demands it. Where could I lodge you and how could I feed you? The best thing is to say good-bye, not without a certain regret on my part. One of these days, I will take you and scatter you in your territory, the rock-strewn slope where the sun is so hot. There you will find brothers and sisters who, hardly larger than yourselves, are already leading solitary lives, under their little stones, sometimes no bigger than a thumb-nail. There you will learn the hard struggle for life better than you would with me. THE END NOTES [1] “When you and I start housekeeping, alas, what shall we do? You in front and I behind, we’ll shove the tub along!” [2] Jean Baptiste Victor Proudhon (1758–1838), author of De la distinction des biens, Traité du domaine public, etc.—Translator’s Note. [3] A light opera, with music by Victor Masse and libretto by Jules Barbier and Michel Carré (1852).—Translator’s Note. [4] “Ah, how sweet is far niente, When round us throbs the busy world!” [5] ·11 to ·15 inches.—Translator’s Note. [6] Close upon 9½ feet.—Translator’s Note. [7] 1·8 × 1·4 inches.—Translator’s Note. [8] 1·4 × 1·1 inches.—Translator’s Note. [9] ·4 × ·2 inches.—Translator’s Note. [10] 3·9 inches.—Translator’s Note. [11] ·39 inch.—Translator’s Note. [12] Pierre André Latreille (1762–1833), one of the founders of entomological science.—Translator’s Note. [13] Mémoires du Muséum d’histoire naturelle, vol. v., p. 249.—Author’s Note. [14] About eight inches.—Translator’s Note. [15] An egg-shaped cake baked in Provence at Easter.—Translator’s Note. [16] 3·93 inches.—Translator’s Note. [17] Four to five inches.—Translator’s Note.