I see no one above him, in the art of house-building, except man; and even man, before mixing mortar to hold stones together, before kneading clay to coat his hut of branches, fought with wild beasts for the possession of a refuge in the rocks or an underground cavern. Then how are the privileges of instinct distributed? Here is one of the humblest, able to lodge himself to perfection. He has a home, an advantage unknown to many civilized beings; he has a peaceful retreat, the first condition of comfort; and nobody around him is capable of settling down. He has no rivals until you come to ourselves. Whence does he derive this gift? Is he favoured with special tools? No, the Cricket is not an incomparable excavator; in fact, one is rather surprised at the result when one considers the feebleness of his resources. Can it be made necessary by the demands of an exceptionally delicate skin? No, among his near kinsmen, other skins, no less sensitive than his, do not dread the open air at all. Can it be a propensity inherent in the anatomical structure, a talent prescribed by the secret promptings of the organism? No, my neighbourhood boasts three other Crickets (Gryllus bimaculatus, de Geer; G. desertus, Pallas.; G. burdigalensis, Latr.), who are so like the Field Cricket in appearance, colour and structure that, at the first glance, one would take them for him. The first is as large as he is, or even larger. The second represents him reduced to about half his size. The third is smaller still. Well, of these faithful copies, these doubles of the Field Cricket, not one knows how to dig himself a burrow. The Double-spotted Cricket inhabits those heaps of grass left to rot in damp places; the Solitary Cricket roams about the crevices in the dry clods turned up by the gardener’s spade; the Bordeaux Cricket is not afraid to make his way into our houses, where he sings discreetly, during August and September, in some dark, cool spot. There is no object in continuing our questions: each would meet with no for an answer. Instinct, which stands revealed here and disappears there despite organisms alike in all respects, will never tell us its causes. It depends so little on an insect’s stock of tools that no anatomical detail can explain it to us and still less make us foresee it. The four almost identical Crickets, of whom one alone understands the art of burrowing, add their evidence to the manifold proofs already supplied; they confirm in a striking fashion our profound ignorance of the origin of instinct. Who does not know the Cricket’s abode! Who has not, as a child playing in the fields, stopped in front of the hermit’s cabin! However light your footfall, he has heard you coming and has abruptly withdrawn to the very bottom of his hiding-place. When you arrive, the threshold of the house is deserted.