he cycle
starts afresh.

CHAPTER V. HEREDITY

Facts which I have set forth elsewhere prove that certain dung beetles'
make an exception to the rule of paternal indifference--a general rule
in the insect world--and know something of domestic cooperation. The
father works with almost the same zeal as the mother in providing for
the settlement of the family. Whence do these favored ones derive a gift
that borders on morality?

One might suggest the cost of installing the youngsters. Once they have
to be furnished with a lodging and to be left the wherewithal to live,
is it not an advantage, in the interests of the race, that the father
should come to the mother's assistance? Work divided between the two
will ensure the comfort which solitary work, its strength overtaxed,
would deny. This seems excellent reasoning; but it is much more often
contradicted than confirmed by the facts. Why is the Sisyphus a hard
working paterfamilias and the sacred beetle an idle vagabond? And yet
the two pill rollers practice the same industry and the same method
of rearing their young. Why does the Lunary Copris know what his near
kinsman, the Spanish Copris, does not? The first assists his mate, never
forsakes her. The second seeks a divorce at an early stage and leaves
the nuptial roof before the children's rations are massed and kneaded
into shape. Nevertheless, on both sides, there is the same big outlay
on a cellarful of egg-shaped pills, whose neat rows call for long and
watchful supervision. The similarity of the produce leads one to believe
in similarity of manners; and this is a mistake.

Let us turn elsewhere, to the wasps and bees, who unquestionably come
first in the laying up of a heritage for their offspring. Whether the
treasure hoarded for the benefit of the sons be a pot of honey or a bag
of game, the father never takes the smallest part in the work. He does
not so much as give a sweep of the broom when it comes to tidying the
outside of the dwelling. To do nothing is his invariable rule. The
bringing up of the family, therefore, however expensive it may be in
certain cases, has not given rise to the instinct of paternity. Then
where are we to look for a reply?

Let us make the question a wider one. Let us leave the animal, for a
moment, and occupy ourselves with man. We have our own instincts, some
of which take the name of genius when they attain a degree of might
that towers over the plain of mediocrity. We are