The Sacred Beetle and Others 



it has turned into a sort of brick baked in 

 the kiln of summer. 



I have, of course, made experiments on 

 the insect In these difficult circumstances. 

 I gather pear-shaped shells containing the 

 adult Beetle, who Is on the point of emer- 

 ging, in view of the lateness of the season. 

 These shells are already dry and very hard; 

 and I lay them in a box where they retain 

 their dryness. Sooner or later, I hear the 

 sharp grating of a rasp inside each cell. It 

 is the prisoner working to make himself an 

 outlet by scraping the wall with the rake of 

 his shield and fore-feet. Two or three days 

 elapse; and the process of deliverance seems 

 to be no further advanced. 



I come to the assistance of a pair of them 

 by myself opening a loop-hole with a knife. 

 My idea is that this first breach will help the 

 egress of the recluse by giving him a place 

 to start upon, an exit that will only need 

 widening. But not at all: these favoured 

 ones make no more progress with their work 

 than the others. 



In less than a fortnight, silence prevails 

 In all the shells. The prisoners, worn out 

 with vain endeavours, have perished. I 

 break the caskets containing the deceased. 

 A meagre pinch of dust, hardly as much as 

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