e books celebrate its virtues and never tire of its
praises; the naturalists hold it in high esteem and add to its
reputation daily; so true is it of animals, as of man, that of the
various means of living in history the most certain is to do harm to
others.

Every one knows the _Bousier_ (dung-beetle) and the Necrophorus, those
lively murderers; the gnat, the drinker of blood; the wasp, the
irascible bully with the poisoned dagger; and the ant, the maleficent
creature which in the villages of the South of France saps and imperils
the rafters and ceilings of a dwelling with the same energy it brings to
the eating of a fig. I need say no more; human history is full of
similar examples of the useful misunderstood and undervalued and the
calamitous glorified.

What with the ants and other exterminating forces, the massacre was so
great that the colonies of Crickets in my orchard, so numerous at the
outset, were so far decimated that I could not continue my observations,
but had to resort to the outside world for further information.

In August, among the detritus of decaying leaves, in little oases whose
turf is not burned by the sun, I find the young Cricket has already
grown to a considerable size; he is all black, like the adult, without a
vestige of the white cincture of the early days. He has no domicile. The
shelter of a dead leaf, the cover afforded by a flat stone is
sufficient; he is a nomad, and careless where he takes his repose.

[Illustration: 1. THE FIELD-CRICKET. A DUEL BETWEEN RIVALS.

2. THE FIELD-CRICKET. THE DEFEATED RIVAL RETIRES, INSULTED BY THE
VICTOR.]

Not until the end of October, when the first frosts are at hand, does
the work of burrowing commence. The operation is very simple, as far as
I can tell from what I have learned from the insect in captivity. The
burrow is never made at a bare or conspicuous point; it is always
commenced under the shelter of a faded leaf of lettuce, the remains of
the food provided. This takes the place of the curtain of grass so
necessary to preserve the mysterious privacy of the establishment.

The little miner scratches with his fore-claws, but also makes use of
the pincers of his mandibles in order to remove pieces of grit or gravel
of any size. I see him stamping with his powerful hinder limbs, which
are provided with a double row of spines; I see him raking and sweeping
backwards the excavated material, and spreading it out in an inclined
plane. This is h