Sooner or later, as we have seen, it falls to the ground, either by accident or intention.

The tiny creature, no bigger than a flea, has preserved its tender newly-hatched flesh from contact with the rough earth by hanging in the air until its tissues have hardened.

Now it plunges into the troubles of life.
I foresee a thousand dangers ahead.

A mere breath of wind may carry this atom away, and cast it on that inaccessible rock in the midst of a rut in the road which still contains a little water; or on the sand, the region of famine where nothing grows; or upon a soil of clay, too tenacious to be tunnelled.

These mortal accidents are frequent, for gusts of wind are frequent in the windy and already severe weather of the end of October.
This delicate organism requires a very soft soil, which can easily be entered, so that it may immediately obtain a suitable shelter.