242 FOOD OF INSECTS. 
which I allude, an inhabitant of the south of Europe, is the larva of a 
species of ant-lion (Myrmeleon), so called from its singular manners in this 
state. It belongs to a genus between the dragon-fly and the Hemerobius. 
When full grown its length is about half an inch: in shape it has a slight 
resemblance to a wood-louse, but the outline of the body is more triangular, 
the anterior part being considerably wider than the posterior; it has six 
legs, and the mouth is furnished with a forceps consisting of two incuryed 
jaws, which give it a formidable appearance. If we looked only at its external 
conformation and habits, we should be apt to. conclude it one of the most 
helpless animals in the creation. Its sole food is the juices of other insects, 
particularly ants; but at the first view it seems impossible that it should ever 
secure a single meal. Not only is its pace slow, but it can walk in no 
other direction than backwards ; you may judge, therefore, what would be 
such a hunter’s chance of seizing an active ant. Nor woulda stationary 
posture be more favourable ; for its grim aspect would infallibly impress 
upon all wanderers the prudence of keeping at a respectful distance. What 
then is to become of our poor ant-lion? In its appetite it is a perfect 
epicure, never, however great may be its hunger, deigning to taste of a 
carcass unless it has previously had the enjoyment of killing it; and then 
extracting only the finer juices. In what possible way can it contrive to 
supply such a succession of delicacies, when its ordinary habits seem to 
unfit it for obtaining even the coarsest provision? You shall hear. It 
accomplishes by artifice what all its open efforts would have been unequal 
to. It digs in loose sand a conical pit, in the bottom of which it conceals 
itself, and there seizes upon the insects which, chancing to stumble over 
the margin, are precipitated down the sides to the centre. ‘“ How won- 
derful!” you exclaim: but you will be still more surprised when I have 
described the whole process by which it excavates its trap, and the ingenious 
contrivances to which it has recourse. 
Its first concern is to find a soil of loose dry sand, in the neighbourhood 
of which, indeed, its provident mother has previously taken care to place 
it, and in a sheltered spot near an old wall, or at the foot of a tree. This 
is necessary on two accounts: the prey most acceptable to it abounds 
‘there, and no other soil would suit for the construction of its snare. _ Its 
next step is to trace in the sand a circle, which, like the furrow with which 
Romulus marked out the limits of his new city, is to determine the extent 
of its future abode. This being done, it proceeds to excavate the cavity 
by throwing out the sand in a mode not less singular than effective. Placing 
itself in the inside of the circle which it has traced, it thrusts the hind part 
of its body under the sand, and with one of its fore-legs, serving as a 
shovel, it charges its flat and square head with a load, which it immediately 
throws over the outside of the circle with a jerk strong enough to carry it 
to the distance of several inches. This little manceuvre is executed with 
surprising promptitude and address. A gardener does not operate so 
quickly or so well with his spade and his foot, as the ant-lion with is 
head and leg. Walking backwards, and constantly repeating the process, 
it soon arrives at the part of the circle from which it set out, It then 
traces a new one, excayates another furrow in a similar manner, and, by @ 
repetition of these operations, at length arrives at the centre of its cavity. 
One circumstance deserves remark,—that it never loads its head with the 
sand lying on the outside of the circle, though it would be as easy to do 
this with the outward leg, as to remoye the sand within the circle by the 
