The Glow- Worm and Other Beetles 



fruitless endeavours, I do not think that I am 

 going too far when I deny the creature a 

 sense of smell. 



Taste is there, no doubt. But such taste ! 

 The food is without variety: oak, for three 

 years at a stretch, and nothing else. What 

 can the grub's palate appreciate in this mo- 

 notonous fare ? The tannic relish of a fresh 

 piece, oozing with sap; the uninteresting fla- 

 vour of an over-dry piece, robbed of its na- 

 tural condiment: these probably represent 

 the whole gustative scale. 



There remains touch, the far-spreading 

 passive sense common to all live flesh that 

 quivers under the goad of pain. The sensi- 

 tive schedule of the Cerambyx-grub, there- 

 fore, is limited to taste and touch, both ex- 

 ceedingly obtuse. This almost brings us to 

 Condillac's statue. The imaginary being of 

 the philosopher had one sense only, that of 

 smell, equal in delicacy to our own; the real 

 being, the ravager of the oak, has two, in- 

 ferior, even when put together, to the former, 

 which so plainly perceived the scent of a rose 

 and distinguished it so clearly from any other. 

 The real case will bear comparison with the 

 fictitious. 



What can be the psychology of a creature 

 possessing such a powerful digestive organ- 

 ise 



