The Capricorn 



the tunnel wrought by the larva. It is a 

 very long and very irregular maze, blocked 

 with great heaps of wormed wood. Its dia- 

 meter decreases progressively from the final 

 blind alley to the starting-point. The larva 

 entered the timber as slim as a tiny bit of 

 straw; it is to-day as thick as one's finger. 

 In its three years' wanderings, it always dug 

 its gallery according to the mould of its 

 body. Evidently, the road by which the 

 larva entered and moved about cannot be the 

 Capricorn's exit-way: his immoderate an- 

 tennae, his long legs, his inflexible armour- 

 plates would encounter an insuperable ob- 

 stacle in the narrow, winding corridor, which 

 would have to be cleared of its wormed wood 

 and, moreover, greatly enlarged. It would 

 be less fatiguing to attack the untouched tim- 

 ber and dig straight ahead. Is the insect 

 capable of doing so? We shall see. 



I make some chambers of suitable size in 

 oak logs chopped in two; and each of my 

 artificial cells receives a newly-transformed 

 Cerambyx, such as my provisions of firewood 

 supply, when split by the wedge, in October. 

 The two pieces are then joined and kept to- 

 gether with a few bands of wire. June 

 comes. I hear a scraping inside my billets. 

 Will the Capricorns come out, or not? The 

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