aten into it; it is the patrimony of the sons, not the
provision of the parents, who, in order to sustain themselves, levy at
most a few mouthfuls of the ooze of putrid humours.

Beside the dish which they are kneading and protecting are two
Necrophori; a couple, no more. Four collaborated in the burial. What
has become of the other two, both males? I find them hidden in the
soil, at a distance, almost at the surface.

This observation is not an isolated one. Whenever I am present at a
burial undertaken by a squad in which the males, zealous one and all,
predominate, I find presently, when the burial is completed, only one
couple in the mortuary cellar. Having lent their assistance, the rest
have discreetly retired.

These grave-diggers, in truth, are remarkable fathers. They have
nothing of the happy-go-lucky paternal carelessness that is the general
rule among insects, which plague and pester the mother for a moment
with their attentions and thereupon leave her to care for the
offspring! But those who in the other races are unemployed in this case
labour valiantly, now in the interest of their own family, now for the
sake of another's, without distinction. If a couple is in difficulties,
helpers arrive, attracted by the odour of carrion; anxious to serve a
lady, they creep under the body, work at it with back and claw, bury it
and then go their ways, leaving the householders to their happiness.

For some time longer these latter manipulate the morsel in concert,
stripping it of fur or feather, trussing it and allowing it to simmer
to the taste of the larvae. When all is in order, the couple go forth,
dissolving their partnership, and each, following his fancy,
recommences elsewhere, even if only as a mere auxiliary.

Twice and no oftener hitherto have I found the father preoccupied by
the future of his sons and labouring in order to leave them rich: it
happens with certain Dung-beetles and with the Necrophori, who bury
dead bodies. Scavengers and undertakers both have exemplary morals. Who
would look for virtue in such a quarter?

What follows--the larval existence and the metamorphosis--is a
secondary detail and, for that matter, familiar. It is a dry subject
and I shall deal with it briefly. About the end of May, I exhume a
Brown Rat, buried by the grave-diggers a fortnight earlier. Transformed
into a black, sticky jelly, the horrible dish provides me with fifteen
larvae, already, for the most part, of the nor