The Spotted Larinus 
Nevertheless, nothing in the grub of the 
Spotted Larinus reveals the skilful builder 
of thatched huts. It is a little sausage of a 
creature, a rusty yellow in colour and bent 
into a hook. There is not a vestige of legs; 
the whole equipment consists of the mouth 
and the opposite end, an active auxiliary. 
What can this little roll of rancid butter be 
capable of doing? To observe it at work is 
easy enough at the propitious moment. 
In the middle of August, when the larva, 
having achieved its full growth, is busy 
strengthening and plastering its abode in view 
of the approaching nymphosis, I half-open a 
few cells. The hulls opened, but still adher- 
ing to the natal blossom, are arranged in a 
row in a glass tube which will enable me to 
watch the work without disturbing the 
worker. I have not long to wait for the 
result. 
In a state of repose, the grub is a hook 
with the extremities very near together. 
From time to time I see it bring the two 
ends into intimate contact and close the cir- 
cuit. ‘Then—do not let us be shocked by the 
grub’s procedure: this would mean mis- 
conceiving life’s sacred simplicities—then 
39 
