with a formal gait." Already he sighed regretfully; he was bored; he was on
the rack, and for nothing in the world would he have repeated the
experience. He did not even feel the least desire to visit the vaunted
collections of the Museum. He longed to return; to find himself once more
among his dear insects; to see his grey olive-trees, full of the frolicsome
cicadae, his wastes and commons, which smelt so sweet of thyme and cypress;
above all, to return to his furnace and retorts, in order to complete his
discovery as quickly as possible.

But others profited by his happy conceptions. Like the cicada, the Cigale
of his fable (See "Social Life in the Insect World," by Jean-Henri Fabre
(T. Fisher Unwin, 1912).), which makes a "honeyed reek" flow from--

"the bark
Tender and juicy, of the bough,"

on which it is quickly supplanted by

"Fly, drone, wasp, beetle too with hornèd head" (4/24.),

who

"Now lick their honey'd lips, and feed at leisure,"

so, after he had painfully laboured for twelve years in his well, he saw
others, more cunning than he, come to his perch, who by dint of "stamping
on his toe," succeeded in ousting him. Pending the appearance of artificial
alizarine, which was presently to turn the whole madder industry upside
down, these more sophisticated persons were able to benefit at leisure by
the ingenious processes discovered by Fabre, so that the practical result