During the rest of my experiment I can at least spare the larvæ the
worst difficulties of their first establishment underground. I take some
soil from the heath, which is very soft and almost black, and I pass it
through a fine sieve. Its colour will enable me more easily to find the
tiny fair-skinned larvæ when I wish to inform myself of passing events;
its lightness makes it a suitable refuge for such weak and fragile
beings. I pack it Pretty firmly in a glass vase; I plant in it a little
tuft of thyme; I sow in it a few grains of wheat. There is no hole at
the bottom of the vase, although there should be one for the benefit of
the thyme and the corn; but the captives would find it and escape by it.
The plantation and the crop will suffer from this lack of drainage, but
at least I am sure of recovering my larvæ with the help of patience and
a magnifying-glass. Moreover, I shall go gently in the matter of
irrigation, giving only just enough water to save the plants from
perishing.

When all is in order, and when the wheat is beginning to shoot, I place
six young larvæ of the Cigale on the surface of the soil. The tiny
creatures begin to pace hither and thither; they soon explore the
surface of their world, and some try vainly to climb the sides of the
vase. Not one of them seems inclined to bury itself; so that I ask
myself anxiously what can be the object of their prolonged and active
explorations. Two hours go by, but their wanderings continue.

What do they want? Food? I offer them some tiny bulbs with bundles of
sprouting roots, a few fragments of leaves and some fresh blades of
grass. Nothing tempts them; nothing brings them to a standstill.
Apparently they are seeking for a favourable point before descending
into the earth. But there is no need for this hesitating exploration on
the soil I have prepared for them; the whole area, or so it seems to me,