see hopping along the edge the Midwife Toad, the
male, who carries a cluster of eggs, the size of peppercorns, wrapped
round his hind-legs: the genial paterfamilias has brought his precious
packet from afar, to leave it in the water and afterwards retire under
some flat stone, whence he will emit a sound like a tinkling bell.
Lastly, when not croaking amid the foliage, the Tree-frogs indulge in
the most graceful dives. And so, in May, as soon as it is dark, the
pond becomes a deafening orchestra: it is impossible to talk at table,
impossible to sleep. We had to remedy this by means perhaps a little
too rigorous. What could we do? He who tries to sleep and cannot needs
become ruthless.

Bolder still, the Wasp has taken possession of the dwelling-house. On
my door-sill, in a soil of rubbish, nestles the White-banded Sphex:
when I go indoors, I must be careful not to damage her burrows, not to
tread upon the miner absorbed in her work. It is quite a quarter of a
century since I last saw the saucy Cricket-hunter. When I made her
acquaintance, I used to visit her at a few miles' distance: each time,
it meant an expedition under the blazing August sun. To-day I find her
at my door; we are intimate neighbours. The embrasure of the closed
window provides an apartment of a mild temperature for the Pelopaeus.
(A species of Mason-wasp--Translator's Note.) The earth-built nest is
fixed against the freestone wall. To enter her home, the
Spider-huntress uses a little hole left open by accident in the
shutters. On the mouldings of the Venetian blinds, a few stray
Mason-bees build their group of cells; inside the outer shutters, left
ajar, a Eumenes (Another Mason-wasp--Translator's Note.) constructs her
little earthen dome, surmounted by a short, bell-mouthed neck. The
Common Wasp and the Polistes (A Wasp that builds her nest in
trees--Translator's Note.) are my dinner-guests: they visit my table to
see if the grapes served are as ripe as they look.

Here surely--and the list is far from complete--is a company both
numerous and select, whose conversation will not fail to charm my
solitude, if I succeed in drawing it out, my dear beasts of former
days, my old friends, and others, more recent acquaintances, all are
here, hunting, foraging, building in close proximity. Besides, should
we wish to vary the scene of observation, the mountain (Mont Ventoux,
an outlying summit of the Alps, 6,270 feet high.--Translator's Note.)
is but a few