The Glow-Worm and Other Beetles 



ter, the animal. The Capricorn shall teach 

 urs that the problem is more obscure than the 

 abbe led me to believe. 



When wedge and mallet are at work, pre- 

 paring my provision of firewood under the 

 grey sky that heralds winter, a favourite re- 

 laxation creates a welcome break in my daily 

 output of prose. By my express orders, the 

 woodman has selected the oldest and most 

 ravaged trunks in his stack. My tastes 

 bring a smile to his lips; he wonders by what 

 whimsy I prefer wood that is worm-eaten, 

 chirouna, as he calls it, to sound wood, which 

 burns so much better. I have my views on 

 the subject; and the worthy man submits to 

 them. 



And now to us two, O my fine oak-trunk 

 seamed with scars, gashed with wounds 

 whence trickle the brown drops smelling of 

 the tan-yard. The mallet drives home, the 

 wedges bite, the wood splits. What do your 

 flanks contain? Real treasures for my 

 studies. In the dry and hollow parts, groups 

 of various insects, capable of living through 

 the bad season of the year, have taken up 

 their winter quarters : in the low-roofed gal- 

 leries, galleries built by some Buprestis Bee- 

 tle, Osmise, working their paste of masticated 

 leaves, have piled their cells one above the 

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