IN OCTOBER 



193 



peeled off all the 

 bark that I could 

 loosen, thinking 

 what a fine thing 

 it was to find an 

 engraved foot- 

 bridge. The work was com- 

 plete. Hardly an inch of space 

 A COIL OF was left uncarved. But the 

 WAXWORK j^ggj.jgg were not there. They 

 evidently have no interest in their work 

 from a purely artistic standpoint. I will 

 supply that lack and will invite others to 

 visit the foot-bridge and see the results of 

 their labors. The Professor tells me that 

 the female beetle digs the main tunnel 

 and leaves a row of tiny eggs behind her 

 as she progresses. As each young one 

 hatches he starts out for himself, making 

 his ever-widening and lengthening tunnel 

 at right angles to the central one. The 

 creatures are extremely small, even the adults be- 

 ing scarcely a quarter of an inch long. 



I went home by another path, which brought 

 me through a pasture and over the most adorable 

 of stump fences. Festoons of orange berries hung 

 from a young tree in the fence-roW; and I felt 

 justified in helping myself to a coil of waxwork 

 or false bittersweet. In the warmth of my study, 

 the capsules would reveal their scarlet hearts and 

 give color to our Hallowe'en "doings." 



M 



