One last word upon the tiny insect which, for days on end, fights away with its cervical rammer. It is outside at last and rests for a moment, to recover from all that fatigue. Then, suddenly, under the thrust of the throbbing blister, the temporary jacket splits. The rags are pushed back by the hind-legs, which are the last to strip. The thing is done: the creature is free, pale in colouring as yet, but possessing the final larval form. Then and there, the hind-legs, hitherto stretched in a straight line, adopt the regulation position; the legs fold under the great thighs; and the spring is ready to work. It works. Little Locust makes his entrance into the world and hops for the first time. I offer him a bit of lettuce the size of my finger-nail. He refuses. Before taking nourishment, he must first mature and develop for a while in the sun. CHAPTER XIX THE LOCUSTS: THE LAST MOULT I have just beheld a stirring sight: the last moult of a Locust, the extraction of the adult from his larval wrapper. It is magnificent. The object of my enthusiasm is the Grey Locust, the giant among our Acridians, who is common on the vines at vintage-time, in September. On account of his size—he is as long as my finger—he is a better subject for observation than any other of his tribe. The fat, ungraceful larva, a rough draft of the perfect insect, is usually pale-green; but some also are bluish-green, dirty-yellow, red-brown or even ashen-grey, like the grey of the adult. The corselet is strongly keeled and notched, with a sprinkling of fine white worm-holes. The hind-legs, powerful as those of mature age, have a great haunch striped with red and a long shank shaped like a two-edged saw. The wing-cases, which in a few days will project well beyond the tip of the abdomen, are in their present state two skimpy, triangular pinions, touching back to back along their upper edges and continuing the keel of the corselet. Their free ends stand up like a pointed gable. These two coat-tails, of which the material seems to have been clipped short with ridiculous meanness, just cover the creature’s nakedness at the small of the back. They shelter two lean strips, the germs of the wings, which are even more exiguous. In brief, the sumptuous, slender sails of the near future are at present sheer rags, of such meagre dimensions as to be grotesque. What will come out of these miserable envelopes? A marvel of stately elegance.