and the hedges thought it necessary to dissemble and consequently
to dye his pearl-embroidered coat, how comes it that the denizen of the
sun-blistered rocks persists in his blue-and-green colouring, which at
once betrays him against the whity-grey stone? Indifferent to mimicry,
is he the less skilful Beetle-hunter on that account, is his race
degenerating? I have studied him sufficiently to be able to declare with
positive certainty that he continues to thrive both in numbers and in
vigour.

Why has the Spurge-caterpillar adopted for its dress the gaudiest
colours and those which contrast most with the green of the leaves which
it frequents? Why does it flaunt its red, black and white in patches
clashing violently with one another? Would it not be worth its while to
follow the example of the Cabbage-caterpillar and imitate the verdure of
the plant that feeds it? Has it no enemies? Of course it has: which of
us, animals and men, has not?

A string of these whys could be extended indefinitely. It would give me
amusement, did my time permit me, to counter each example of protective
mimicry with a host of examples to the contrary. What manner of law is
this which has at least ninety-nine exceptions in a hundred cases? Poor
human nature! There is a deceptive agreement between a few actual
facts and the theory which we are so foolishly ready to believe; and
straightway we interpret the facts in the light of the theory. In a
speck of the immense unknown we catch a glimpse of a phantom truth, a
shadow, a will-o'-the-wisp; once the atom is explained, for better or
worse, we imagine that we hold the explanation of the universe and all
that it contains; and we forthwith shout:

'The great law of Nature! Behold the infallible law!'

Meanwhile, the discordant facts, an innumerable host, clamour at the
gates of the law, being unable to gain admittance.

At the door of that infinitely restricted law clamour the great tribe
of Golden Wasps, whose dazzling splendour, worthy of the wealth of
Golconda, clashes with the dingy colour of their haunts. To deceive the
eyes of their bird-tyrants, the Swift, the Swallow, the Chat and the
others, these Chrysis-wasps, who glow like a carbuncle, like a nugget
in the midst of its dark veinstone, certainly do not adapt themselves
to the sand and the clay of their downs. The Green Grasshopper, we are
told, thought out a plan for gulling his enemies by identifying himself
in colour with the gras