The Glow-Worm and Other Beetles 



this time is a Mole. The machine is planted 

 by its three feet in the soil of the cage, level 

 with the surface. A little sand conceals the 

 ropes. The Mole is placed in the centre; 

 and my bands of sextons are let loose upon 

 the body. 



The burial is performed without a hitch 

 in the course of an afternoon. The raffia 

 hammock, almost the equivalent of the na- 

 tural network of the couch-grass, scarcely dis- 

 turbs the burying-process. Matters do not 

 proceed quite so quickly; and that is all. No 

 attempt is made to shift the Mole, who sinks 

 into the ground where he lies. When the 

 operation is finished, I remove the trivet. 

 The network is broken at the spot where the 

 corpse was lying. A few strips have been 

 gnawed through; a small number, only as 

 many as were strictly necessary to permit the 

 passage of the body. 



Well done, my undertakers! I expected 

 no less of your skill and tact. You foiled 

 the experimenter's wiles by employing the re- 

 sources which you use against natural ob- 

 stacles. With mandibles for shears, you pa- 

 tiently cut my strings as you would have 

 gnawed the threads of the grass-roots. This 

 is meritorious, if not deserving of excep- 

 tional glorification. The shallowest of the 

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