This long and tedious though important task over, they gave themselves up to the examination of that portion of the country on which they had settled; this was overgrown with small trees and shrubs, the foliage, as well as the grass, being a strange golden yellow, twinkling with green. This might be the effect of the peculiar light, but be that as it may, all were amazed to see so strange a sight under circumstances so entirely at variance, for in the absence of sunshine, how was it possible for the vegetation to have such glinting, gleaming lights? On closer inspection, they were surprised beyond measure to find that what they had taken to be long tendrils were, in reality, festoons of insects, clinging together in such numbers as to obliterate every living thing above the ground. There were millions of them, and their golden, horny bodies, with brilliant green elytra, or wing-cases, which their movements caused to be in a state of constant agitation, produced a shimmering as of a myriad gems. On the bushes being shaken they arose in a golden cloud, as of cut and sparkling precious stones, to settle a moment later, hiding every living thing of vegetable growth, clinging to each other in some places like swarming bees, and in others they formed strings, festoons and tendrils, binding bush to bush with living, jewelled cords, and the combined sound of their movements rose in a faint hum like a distant, swiftly revolving fan. It was a fairy-land. Examination of the plants was scarcely possible, for no sooner had the little creatures been disturbed and their resting-places exposed than they were back again, and so persistent were they in this that though some of the shrubs were cut down and taken into the vessel, thousands followed and rested on them. How they lived was a miracle, for they did not appear to eat the vegetation, yet it was necessary to their existence, for of all the thousands Godfrey and his entomological colleagues collected and kept apart, not one survived, yet those allowed to remain on or near the shrubs lived and multiplied exceedingly, although, like some of the ephemera—the may-fly, for instance—they possessed no mouth organs, or indeed any digestive organs, even of a rudimentary nature. And strange to say, the shrubs and plants (which, in common with all other vegetable growth on this world, when divested of the insects, were of a pale green colour) neither grew nor faded, losing none of their suppleness, and when carefully weighed it was found that after they had given support to scores of generations of thousands of insects, their weight had not varied in the least. Neither ordinary heat nor moisture affects them, but if an actual light is put to them or they are burned, they then prove highly inflammable, burning furiously till consumed, when they leave no ash or residue; they are, however, perfectly safe at any temperature not exceeding 200° F.