as nothing.

But the feasters are legion, and the feast is not abundant in
proportion. Those that have not are envious of those that have; the
hungry bare their teeth at the satisfied. Then follows the battle for
the right of possession. Man raises armies; to defend his harvests, his
granaries, and his cellars, he resorts to warfare. When shall we see the
end of it? Alas, and many times alas! As long as there are wolves in the
world there must be watch-dogs to defend the flock.

This train of thought has led us far away from our beetles. Let us
return to them. What was my motive in provoking the massacre of this
peaceful procession of caterpillars who were on the point of self-burial
when I gave them over to the butchers? Was it to enjoy the spectacle of
a frenzied massacre? By no means; I have always pitied the sufferings of
animals, and the smallest life is worthy of respect. To overcome this
pity there needed the exigencies of scientific research--exigencies
which are often cruel.

In this case the subject of research was the habits of the Carabus
auratus, the little vermin-killer of our gardens, who is therefore
vulgarly known as the Gardener Beetle. How far is this title deserved?
What game does the Gardener Beetle hunt? From what vermin does he free
our beds and borders? His dealings with the procession of
pine-caterpillars promise much. Let us continue our inquiry.

On various occasions about the end of April the gardens afford me the
sight of such processions, sometimes longer, sometimes shorter. I
capture them and place them in the vivarium. Bloodshed commences the
moment the banquet is served. The caterpillars are eviscerated; each by
a single beetle, or by several simultaneously. In less than fifteen
minutes the flock is completely exterminated. Nothing remains but a few
shapeless fragments, which are carried hither and thither, to be
consumed at leisure under the shelter of the wooden board. One well-fed
beetle decamps, his booty in his jaws, hoping to finish his feast in
peace. He is met by companions who are attracted by the morsel hanging
from the mandibles of the fugitive, and audaciously attempt to rob him.
First two, then three, they all endeavour to deprive the legitimate
owner of his prize. Each seizes the fragment, tugs at it, commences to
swallow it without further ado. There is no actual battle; no violent
assaults, as in the case of dogs disputing a bone. Their efforts are
confined to the at