was incessantly raising its arms as if towards heaven and clasping
them together； as though it were wrestling in prayer。
Do look at this creature；I said to the Master； he seems to be very
hard at work at his devotions。
Mantas religiosa；said the Master；I know the praying rogue。
Mighty devout and mighty cruel； crushes everything he can master； or
impales it on his spiny shanks and feeds upon it； like a gluttonous
wretch as he is。 I have seen the Mantis religiosa on a larger scale
than this； now and then。 A sacred insect； sir；sacred to many
tribes of men； to the Hottentots； to the Turks； yes； sir； and to the
Frenchmen； who call the rascal prie dieu； and believe him to have
special charge of children that have lost their way。
Doesn't it seem as if there was a vein of satire as well as of fun
that ran through the solemn manifestations of creative wisdom？ And
of deception toodo you see how nearly those dried leaves resemble
an insect？
They do； indeed；I answered；but not so closely as to deceive me。
They remind me of an insect； but I could not mistake them for one。
Oh； you couldn't mistake those dried leaves for an insect； hey？
Well； how can you mistake that insect for dried leaves？ That is the
question； for insect it is；phyllum siccifolium； the 〃walking leaf；〃
as some have called it。 The Master had a hearty laugh at my
expense。
The Scarabee did not seem to be amused at the Master's remarks or at
my blunder。 Science is always perfectly serious to him； and he would
no more laugh over anything connected with his study； than a
clergyman would laugh at a funeral。
They send me all sorts of trumpery；he said； Orthoptera and
Lepidoptera； as if a coleopterista scarabeeistcared for such
things。 This business is no boy's play to me。 The insect population
of the world is not even catalogued yet； and a lifetime given to the
scarabees is a small contribution enough to their study。 I like your
men of general intelligence well enough；your Linnwuses and your
Buffons and your Cuviers； but Cuvier had to go to Latreille for his
insects； and if Latreille had been able to consult me；yes； me；
gentlemen！he would n't have made the blunders he did about some of
the coleoptera。
The old Master； as I think you must have found out by this time；
you； Beloved； I mean； who read every word；has a reasonably good
opinion； as perhaps he has a right to have； of his own intelligence
and acquirements。 The Scarabee's exultation and glow as he spoke of
the errors of the great entomologist which he himself could have
corrected； had the effect on the old Master which a lusty crow has
upon the feathered champion of the neighboring barnyard。 He too knew
something about insects。 Had he not discovered a； new tabanus？ Had
he not made preparations of the very coleoptera the Scarabee studied
so exclusively；preparations which the illustrious Swammerdam would
not have been ashamed of； and dissected a melolontha as exquisitely
as Strauss Durckheim himself ever did it？ So the Master； recalling
these studies of his and certain difficult and disputed points at
which he had labored in one of his entomological paroxysms； put a
question which there can be little doubt was intended to puzzle the
Scarabee； and perhaps；for the best of us is human （I am beginning
to love the old Master； but he has his little weaknesses； thank
Heaven； like the rest of us）；I say perhaps； was meant to show that
some folks knew as much about some things as some other folks。
The little dried…up specialist did not dilate into fighting
dimensions asperhaps； againthe Master may have thought he would。
He looked a mild surprise； but remained as quiet as one of his own
beetles when you touch him and he makes believe he is dead。 The
blank silence became oppressive。 Was the Scarabee crushed； as so
many of his namesakes are crushed； under the heel of this trampling
omniscient？
At last the Scarabee creaked out very slowly； 〃Did I understand you
to ask the following question； to wit？〃 and so forth； for I was quite
out of my depth； and only know that he repeated the Master's somewhat
complex inquiry； word for word。
That was exactly my question；said the Master；and I hope it is
not uncivil to ask one which seems to me to be a puzzler。
Not uncivil in the least；said the Scarabee； with something as much
like a look of triumph as his dry face permitted；not uncivil at
all； but a rather extraordinary question to ask at this date of
entomological history。 I settled that question some years ago； by a
series of dissections； six…and…thirty in number； reported in an essay
I can show you and would give you a copy of； but that I am a little
restricted in my revenue； and our Society has to be economical； so I
have but this one。 You see； sir；and he went on with elytra and
antennae and tarsi and metatarsi and tracheae and stomata and wing…
muscles and leg…muscles and ganglions；all plain enough； I do not
doubt； to those accustomed to handling dor…bugs and squash…bugs and
such undesirable objects of affection to all but naturalists。
He paused when he got through； not for an answer； for there evidently
was none； but to see how the Master would take it。 The Scarabee had
had it all his own way。
The Master was loyal to his own generous nature。 He felt as a
peaceful citizen might feel who had squared off at a stranger for
some supposed wrong； and suddenly discovered that he was undertaking
to chastise Mr。 Dick Curtis； 〃the pet of the Fancy；〃 or Mr。 Joshua
Hudson； 〃the John Bull fighter。〃
He felt the absurdity of his discomfiture； for he turned to me good…
naturedly； and said；
〃Poor Johnny Raw！ What madness could impel
So rum a flat to face so prime a swell？〃
To tell the truth； I rather think the Master enjoyed his own defeat。
The Scarabee had a right to his victory； a man does not give his life
to the study of a single limited subject for nothing； and the moment
we come across a first…class expert we begin to take a pride in his
superiority。 It cannot offend us； who have no right at all to be his
match on his own ground。 Besides； there is a very curious sense of
satisfaction in getting a fair chance to sneer at ourselves and scoff
at our own pretensions。 The first person of our dual consciousness
has been smirking and rubbing his hands and felicitating himself on
his innumerable superiorities； until we have grown a little tired of
him。 Then； when the other fellow； the critic； the cynic； the Shimei；
who has been quiet； letting self…love and self…glorification have
their perfect work； opens fire upon the first half of our personality
and overwhelms it with that wonderful vocabulary of abuse of which he
is the unrivalled master； there is no denying that he enjoys it
immensely； and as he is ourself for the moment； or at least the chief
portion of ourself （the other half…self retiring into a dim corner of
semiconsciousness and cowering under the storm of sneers and
contumely；you follow me perfectly； Beloved；the way is as plain as
the path of the babe to the maternal fount）； as； I say； the abusive
fellow is the chief part of us for the time； and he likes to exercise
his slanderous vocabulary； we on the whole enjoy a brief season of
self…depreciation and self…scolding very heartily。
It is quite certain that both of us； the Master and myself； conceived
on the instant a respect for the Scarabee which we had not before
felt。 He had grappled with one difficulty at any rate and mastered
it。 He had settled one thing； at least； so it appeared； in such a
way that it was not to be brought up again。 And now he was
determined； if it cost him the effort of all his remaining days； to
close another discussion and put forever to rest the anxious doubts
about the larva of meloe。
Your thirty…six dissections must have cost you a deal of time and
labor；the Master said。
What have I to do with time； but to fill it up with labor？
answered the Scarabee。…It is my meat and drink to work over my
beetles。 My holidays are when I get a rare specimen。 My rest is to
watch the habits of insects； those that I do not pretend to study。
Here is my muscarium； my home for house…flies； very interesting
creatures； here they breed and buzz and feed and enjoy themselves；
and die in a good old age of a few months。 My favorite insect lives
in this other case； she is at home； but in her private…chamber； you
shall see her。
He tapped on the glass lightly； and a large； gray； hairy spider came
forth from the hollow of a funnel…like web。
And this is all the friend you have to love？ said the Master； with
a tenderness in his voice which made the question very significant。
Nothing else loves me better than she does； that I know of；he
answered。
To think of it！ Not even a dog to lick his hand； or a cat to purr
and rub her fur against him！ Oh； these boarding…houses； these
boarding…houses！ What forlorn people one sees stranded on their
desolate shores！ Decayed gentlewomen with the poor wrecks of what
once made their households beautiful； disposed around them in narrow
chambers as they best may be； coming down day after day； poor souls！
to sit at the board with strangers； their hearts full of sad memories
which have no language but a sigh； no record but the lines of sorrow
on their features； orphans； creatures with growing tendrils and
nothing to cling to； lonely rich men； casting about them what to do
with the wealth they never knew how to enjoy； when they shall no
longer worry over keeping and increasing it； young men and young
women； left to their instincts； unguarded； unwatched； save by
malicious eyes； which are sure to be found and to find occupation in
these miscellaneous collections of human beings； and now and then a
shred of humanity like this little adust specialist； with just the
resources needed to keep the 〃radical moisture〃 from entirely
exhaling from his attenuated organism； and busying himself over a
point of science； or compiling a hymn…book； or editing a grammar or a
dictionary；such are the tenants of boarding…houses whom we cannot
think of without feeling how sad it is when the wind is not tempered
to the shorn lamb； when the solitary； whose hearts are shrivelling；