The Sacred Beetle and Others 



from Tournon by my daughter Aglae. 

 When April comes, she conducts an in- 

 defatigable search at my request. Seldom 

 have so many Cow-claps been lifted with the 

 point of the sun-shade; seldom have delicate 

 fingers with so much affection broken the 

 cakes on the pastures. I thank the heroine 

 in the name of science! 



Her zeal meets with due rew^ard. I be- 

 come the proud possessor of six couples, 

 which are immediately installed in the insect- 

 house where the Spanish Copris used to work 

 last year. I serve up the national dish, the 

 superlative bun furnished by my neighbour's 

 Cow. There is not a sign of home-sickness 

 among the exiles, who bravely begin their 

 labours under the mysterious shelter of the 

 cake. 



I make my first excavation In the middle 

 of June and am delighted with what my knife 

 gradually lays bare as it cuts up the soil in 

 thin slices. Each couple has dug itself a 

 splendid vaulted room In the sand, more 

 spacious than any that the Sacred Beetle or 

 the Spanish Copris ever showed me and with 

 a bolder arch. The greatest breadth is fully 

 six inches; but the ceiling is very low, rising 

 to hardly two inches. 



The contents correspond with the extrava- 



356 



