THE SACRED BEETLE 57 



him is the delicious restlessness of an approaching liberty. 

 He, hitherto the son of the darkness, foresees the glad- 

 ness of the light. His longing is great to burst the shell, 

 to emerge from below ground and come into the sun ; 

 but the difficulty of liberating himself is far from small. 

 Will he escape from the natal cradle, now become an 

 odious prison ? Or will he not escape ? It depends. 



It is generally in August that the Sacred Beetle is 

 ripe for the delivery : in August, save for rare exceptions, 

 the most torrid, dry and scorching month of the year. 

 Should there not then come, from time to time, a shower 

 that to some slight extent assuages the panting earth, 

 then the cell to be burst and the wall to be broken through 

 defy the strength and patience of the insect, which is 

 powerless against all that hardness. By dint of a pro- 

 longed desiccation, the soft original matter has become 

 an insuperable rampart ; it has turned into a sort of brick 

 baked in the oven of the dog-days. 



I need hardly say that I have not failed to experi- 

 ment with the insect in these difficult circumstances. 

 Pear-shaped shells are gathered containing the full- 

 grown Scarab, who is on the point of issuing, in view of 

 the lateness of the season. These shells, already dry and 

 very hard, are laid in a box where they retain their 

 aridity. A little earlier in one case, a little later in the 

 other, I hear the sharp grating of a rasp inside each shell. 

 It is the prisoner working to make himself an outlet by 

 scraping the wall with the rake of his shield and fore-feet. 

 Two or three days elapse and the delivery seems to make 

 no progress. 



I come to the assistance of a pair of them by myself 

 opening a loop-hole with the point of a knife. According 

 to my idea, this first breach will help the egress of the 



