If it is true, as some one has said, that posterity begins at the frontier, these numerous and flattering distinctions, coming from all points of the horizon, are full of promise for the immortality of his work. It is undoubtedly the case that foreigners benefit by a degree of remoteness which is favourable to sane judgment. For that matter, as far as Fabre is concerned, the favourable verdict of his peers is surrounded by hardly fewer guarantees of impartiality in France than abroad, for this worthy son of the Rouergue has never been of those who seek to obtain honours by any of the means that achieve success through intrigue or influence, and we may without paradox say that it is farther from his village to Paris than from Paris to London; from obscurity in his village to fame in Paris than from fame in Paris to fame in London and other capitals. Nevertheless, legitimately acquired and well founded though it might be, Fabre’s great scientific reputation had hardly extended beyond the limits of the academies and the somewhat restricted circle of professional biologists and naturalists, or that of a few amateurs who were better informed than their fellows, or more perspicacious in the choice of their reading. Was it not just to exhibit, beyond this circle of initiates, achievements that belonged to all and had all the qualities requisite for popularity? Was it not right to draw this great man out of the obscurity in which he had so long shut himself up, and at last to place this distinguished figure on the magnificent pedestal built up by half a century’s work of the highest value, and the greater part of a century of a poor and laborious life? So thought the friends and admirers of the hermit of Sérignan, who organised, last year, the celebration of his jubilee, and, in the Press, cited him in the order of the day. These celebrations took place in the familiar rustic setting so dear to the aged scientist. It was a morning of April, in the little village of Vaucluse which we need not name, at the edge of the enclosure where for more than forty years he has kept rendezvous with his insects, on the threshold of the house that shelters his studious retirement. The venerable naturalist was there, surrounded by the members of his beloved family, his constant collaborators, with whose names he loved to sprinkle the pages of his books. To greet him came the worthy folk of Sérignan, justly proud of him, his friends from far and near, and the delegates of the learned societies of France and foreign countries, with whom the representatives of the State, the Sub-prefect of Orange and the Prefect of Avignon, had the good taste to associate themselves.