140 SOCIAL LIFE IN THE INSECT WORLD 



lodge in a place of security that crushing burden, my 

 daily bread ; and hardly was the load balanced but it 

 once more slipped downwards, fell, and was engulfed. 

 Begin again, poor Sisyphus ; begin again, until your 

 burden, falling for the last time, shall crush your head 

 and set you free at length. 



The Sisyphus of the naturahsts knows nothing of these 

 tribulations. Agile and lively, careless of slope or preci- 

 pice, he trundles his load, which is sometimes food for 

 himself, sometimes for his offspring. He is very rare 

 hereabouts ; I should never have succeeded in obtaining 

 a sufficient number of specimens for my purpose but for 

 an assistant whom I may opportunely present to the 

 reader, for he will be mentioned again in these recitals. 



This is my son, little Paul, aged seven. An assiduous 

 companion of the chase, he knows better than any one 

 of his age the secrets of the Cigale, the Cricket, and 

 especially of the dung-beetle, his great delight. At a 

 distance of twenty yards his clear sight distinguishes 

 the refuse-tip of a beetle's burrow from a chance lump 

 of earth ; his fine ear will catch the chirping of a grass- 

 hopper inaudible to me. He lends me his sight and 

 hearing, and I in return make him free of my thoughts, 

 which he welcomes attentively, raising his wide blue eyes 

 questioningly to mine. 



What an adorable thing is the first blossoming of the 

 intellect ! Best of all ages is that when the candid 

 curiosity awakens and commences to acquire know- 

 ledge of every kind. Little Paul has his own insec- 

 torium, in which the Scarabaeus makes his balls ; his 

 garden, the size of a handkerchief, in which he grows 

 haricot beans, which are often dug up to see if the little 



