esumed
too much upon its ingenuity. Instead of imitating the Hedgehog and
remaining contracted, it flees, belly in air; it foolishly adopts the
very posture which allows the Scolia to mount to the assault and to
reach the spot for the fatal stroke. The silly beast reminds me of
the giddy Bee who comes and flings herself into the clutches of the
Philanthus. Yet another who has learnt no lesson from the struggle for
life.

Let us proceed to further examples. I have just captured an Interrupted
Scolia (Colpa interrupta, LATR.), exploring the sand, doubtless in
search of game. It is a matter of making the earliest possible use of
her, before her spirit is chilled by the tedium of captivity. I know her
prey, the larva of Anoxia australis (The Anoxia are a genus of Beetles
akin to the Cockchafers.--Translator's Note.); I know, from my past
excavations, the points favoured by the grub: the mounds of sand
heaped up by the wind at the foot of the rosemaries on the neighbouring
hill-sides. It will be a hard job to find it, for nothing is rarer than
the common if one wants it then and there. I appeal for assistance to my
father, an old man of ninety, still straight as a capital I. Under a sun
hot enough to broil an egg, we set off, shouldering a navvy's shovel
and a three-pronged luchet. (The local pitchfork of southern
France.--Translator's Note.) Employing our feeble energies in turns, we
dig a trench in the sand where I hope to find the Anoxia. My hopes are
not disappointed. After having by the sweat of our brow--never was the
expression more justified--removed and sifted two cubic yards at least
of sandy soil with our fingers, we find ourselves in possession of two
larvae. If I had not wanted any, I should have turned them up by the
handful. But my poor and costly harvest is sufficient for the moment.
To-morrow I will send more vigorous arms to continue the work of
excavation.

And now let us reward ourselves for our trouble by studying the tragedy
in the bell-glass. Clumsy, awkward in her movements, the Scolia slowly
goes the round of the circus. At the sight of the game, her attention
is aroused. The struggle is announced by the same preparations as those
displayed by the Two-banded Scolia: the Wasp polishes her wings and taps
the table with the tips of her antennae. And view, halloo! The attack
begins. Unable to move on a flat surface, because of its short and
feeble legs, deprived moreover of the Cetonia-larva's eccentri