The Bear Larinus 
and presses them by rolling them with its 
rump. Without further manipulation, this 
would remain a crazy protection, constantly 
collapsing and forcing the recluse to make 
continual repairs. But the builder is 
thoroughly acquainted with the eccentric 
ways of its fellow-craftsmen on the echinops; 
it possesses a cement-factory in the end of its 
intestine. 
If I rear it in a glass tube with a piece of 
its native artichoke, I see it from time to 
time curving itself into a ring and gathering 
with its teeth a drop of a whitish, sticky 
substance which the hinder part of the grub 
sparingly provides. The glue is instantly 
spread hither and thither, swiftly, for it sets 
quickly. Thus the hairy particles are bound 
together and what was flimsy felt becomes a 
solid fabric. 
When completed, the work is a sort of 
turret, the base of which is contained in the 
little pit of the receptacle, from which the 
grub obtained part of its nourishment. 
The dense mane of untouched hairs forms a 
rampart above and at the sides. It is a 
somewhat clumsy edifice without, shored up 
by the adjacent fur; but it is nicely smoothed 
65 
