The Dung-Beetles of the Pampas 



less rich in extract of meat than the other. 



The pastry-cook gives his work an ele- 

 gant shape; he decorates it with rosettes, 

 with twists, with scrolls. Phanaus Milan 

 is no stranger to these culinary aesthetics. 

 She turns the crust of her meat-pie into a 

 splendid gourd, with a finger-print orna- 

 mentation. 



The outer covering, an unprofitable crust, 

 insufficiently steeped in savoury juices, is not, 

 we can easily guess, intended for consumpt- 

 ion. It is possible that, somewhat later, 

 when the stomach becomes robust and is not 

 repelled by coarse fare, the grub scrapes a 

 little from the sides of its pasty walls; but, 

 until the adult insect emerges, the calabash 

 as a whole remains intact, having acted at 

 first as a safeguard of the freshness of the 

 force-meat and all the while as a protecting 

 casket for the recluse. 



Above the cold pastry, right at the base 

 of the neck of the gourd, is contrived a round 

 cell with a clay wall continuing the general 

 wall. A fairly thick floor, made of the same 

 material, separates it from the store-room. 

 This is the hatching-chamber. Here is laid 

 the egg, which I find in its place but dried up; 

 here is hatched the grub, which, to reach the 

 ball of food, must first open a trap-door 

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