THE SACRED BEETLE 45 



stroke of the trowel, the grub turns round : it comes and 

 bangs and pushes the work with its wide forehead and im- 

 proves it with the tip of its mandibles. Wait a quarter 

 of an hour and the repaired portion will be as firm as the 

 rest of the shell, so quickly does the cement set. Out- 

 side, the repairs are betrayed by the rough prominence 

 of the material forced outwards, which remains in- 

 accessible to the trowel ; but, inside, there is no trace 

 of the breakage : the usual polish has been restored 

 at the injured spot. A plasterer stopping a hole in 

 a wall in our rooms could produce no better piece of 

 work. 



Nor do the worm's talents end here. With its cement, 

 it becomes a mender of pots and pans. Let me explain. 

 I have compared the outside of the pear, which, when 

 pressed and dried, becomes a strong shell, with a jar 

 containing fresh food. In the course of my excavations, 

 sometimes made on difficult soil, I have happened occa- 

 sionally to break this jar with an ill-directed blow of the 

 trowel. I have collected the potsherds, pieced them 

 together, after restoring the worm to its place, and 

 kept the whole thing in one by wrapping it in a bit 

 of old newspaper. 



On reaching home, I have found the pear put out of 

 shape, no doubt, and seamed with scars, but just as solid 

 as ever. During the walk, the grub had restored its 

 ruined dwelling to condition. Cement injected into the 

 cracks joined the pieces together ; inside, a thick plaster- 

 ing strengthened the inner wall, so much so that the 

 repaired shell was quite as good as the untouched shell, 

 but for the irregularity of the outside. In its artistically- 

 mended stronghold, the worm found the peace essential 

 to its existence. 



