rs. All of them are acquainted with the nice secret of the felt
stopper as a means of ventilating the egg in a water-tight enclosure.

Your name is not an attractive one, my pretty Dung-beetle of the
pampas, but your industrial methods are most remarkable. I know some
among your fellow-countrymen, however, who surpass you in ingenuity.
One of these is _Phanaeus Milon_, a magnificent insect, blue-black all
over.

The male's corselet juts forward. On the head is a short, broad,
flattened horn, ending in a trident. The female replaces this ornament
by simple folds. Both carry on the forehead two spikes which form a
trusty digging-implement and also a scalpel for dissecting. The
insect's squat, sturdy, four-cornered build resembles that of _Onitis
Olivieri_, one of the rarities of the neighbourhood of Montpellier.

If similarity of shape implied purity of work, we ought unhesitatingly
to attribute to _Phanaeus Milon_ short, thick puddings like those made
by Olivier's Onitis.[16] Alas, structure is a bad guide where instinct
is concerned! The square-chined, short-legged Dung-beetle excels in
the art of manufacturing gourds. The Sacred Beetle herself supplies
none that are more correctly shaped nor, above all, more capacious.

[Footnote 16: I owe this detail on the work of Olivier's Onitis to a
note and a sketch communicated by Professor Valery-Mayer, of the
Montpellier School of Agriculture.--_Author's Note_.]

The thickset insect astonishes me with the elegance of its work, which
is irreproachable in its geometry: the neck is shorter, but
nevertheless combines grace with strength. The model seems derived
from some Indian calabash, the more so as it has an open mouth and the
belly is engraved with an elegant engine-turned pattern, produced by
the insect's tarsi. One seems to see a pitcher protected by a
wickerwork covering. The whole attains and even exceeds the size of a
Hen's egg.

It is a very curious piece of work and of a rare perfection,
especially when we consider the artist's clumsy and massive build. No,
once again, the tool does not make the workman, among Dung-beetles any
more than among ourselves. To guide the modeller there is something
better than a set of tools: there is what I have called the bump, the
genius of the animal.

_Phanaeus Milon_ scoffs at difficulties. He does much more than that:
he laughs at our classifications. The word Dung-beetle implies a lover
of dung. He sets no value on it, eithe