arate and single thing has
its particular and well-defined purpose. Without attempting to dispute a
proposition so emphatically and dogmatically brought forward, it will be
sufficient for me to say that men have asked in shuddering horror, and
must still continue to ask, what part in the economy of creation is the
sphere of duty or usefulness of that malignant thing we call the
KAURI-BUG.[5]

We do not know whether this insect is known to naturalists or not. That
is a slight matter, and not particularly pertinent to the question of
its interest for us. We believe, however, that no naturalist has yet
been found of sufficiently ardent temperament, and of sufficiently hardy
nerves, to attempt to classify or examine this most infamous of bugs.

Appearances are deceptive very often; they are so in this instance.
Nothing could look more innocent and inoffensive than the kauri-bug, yet
few insects rival it in crime. It is an oval shape, anything under and
up to the size of a crown piece. It is flat, black, hard, and shiny, and
resembles a cross between the English black-beetle and the woodlouse or
slater. It stinks. That is all it does, but it is enough. Look at it,
and it is harmless enough. But tread on it, touch it, disturb it never
so slightly, and instantly the whole surrounding atmosphere is permeated
with a stench more infernally and awfully horrible than anything else
this side of the Styx!

The kauri-bug inhabits dead-wood of various kinds, but chiefly does it
love that of the tree from which it derives its name. It invades houses
built with open joints like ours in regiments and battalions, bringing
all its family and luggage with it. The best class of houses are here
built in a fashion styled bug-proof, but even they cannot wholly exclude
this fearful thing. It comes in hidden in the firewood, and once in the
house it stops there, since no one is courageous enough to turn it out.
It appears to be indifferent as to whether the house is new or old,
well-built or ruinous. If the structure is of kauri timber the kauri-bug
will be there, and it will put up with any other wood if kauri timber
is not available. It is one of the peculiar products indigenous to
Northern New Zealand, and it is the least attractive of all.

Dandy Jack, who has been in North America, is my authority for stating
that the celebrated odour of the skunk is mild and refreshing, compared
to the unutterable loathsomeness of that of the kauri-bug. I