COMPANIONS OF MY SOLITUDE. 163 



that story. I wisli I could tell it to him. He ad- 

 dressed a confidential communication to me when 

 I met him. It was not a crow, but a sort of re- 

 mark, and I much wished to understand it. 



The red cow and her neighboring relatives are 

 helpers of beetles, did they but know it, for in 

 their droppings numerous black scavenger-beetles 

 find refuge, and, on that road yonder, underneath 

 such spots, perhaps one may find in early spring 

 the beautifully marked dark-brown-and-white lar- 

 vae of those nimble ground-beetles known as the 

 Garabidce. One must seize such larvae quickly, or 

 they will retreat into their holes. Thirteen divi- 

 sions mark the bodies of these larvaa, and to carry 

 so many parts there are six legs and a sort of 

 stumpy, white false leg as a prop at the end of 

 the abdomen. The head looks something like 

 that of the larva of the Water-tiger, being armed 

 with mandibles, while the posterior end of the 

 body finishes with two long hooks. Very eager 

 are these larva?, when caught, to get away and 

 make for themselves new holes in some clod of 

 earth. 



Very few beetles or beetle-larvae like to be han- 

 dled, and for that reason I could never more than 

 half believe that tale told of the artist, Buonamico 

 Buffalmacco. I cannot see how he could find 

 beetles that would submit to being treated in the 

 way the tale says his did. He must have been a 

 boy very patient in doing mischief. 



