tempted theft. If the legitimate owner retains his
hold they consume his booty in common, mandibles to mandibles, until the
fragment is torn or bitten through, and each retires with his mouthful.

As I found to my cost in bygone experiments, the pine-caterpillar wields
a violently corrosive poison, which produces a painful rash upon the
hands. It must therefore, one would think, form a somewhat highly
seasoned diet. The beetles, however, delight in it. No matter how many
flocks I provide them with, they are all consumed. But no one, that I
know of, has ever found the Golden Gardener and its larva in the silken
cocoons of the Bombyx. I do not expect ever to make such a discovery.
These cocoons are inhabited only in winter, when the Gardener is
indifferent to food, and lies torpid in the earth. In April, however,
when the processions of larvae are seeking a suitable site for burial and
metamorphosis, the Gardener should profit largely by its good fortune
should it by any chance encounter them.

The furry nature of the victim does not in the least incommode the
beetle; but the hairiest of all our caterpillars, the Hedgehog
Caterpillar, with its undulating mane, partly red and partly black, does
seem to be too much for the beetle. Day after day it wanders about the
vivarium in company with the assassins. The latter apparently ignore its
presence. From time to time one of them will halt, stroll round the
hairy creature, examine it, and try to penetrate the tangled fleece.
Immediately repulsed by the long, dense palisade of hairs, he retires
without inflicting a wound, and the caterpillar proceeds upon its way
with undulating mane, in pride and security.

But this state of things cannot last. In a hungry moment, emboldened
moreover by the presence of his fellows, the cowardly creature decides
upon a serious attack. There are four of them; they industriously attack
the caterpillar, which finally succumbs, assaulted before and behind. It
is eviscerated and swallowed as greedily as though it were a defenceless
grub.

According to the hazard of discovery, I provision my menagerie with
various caterpillars, some smooth and others hairy. All are accepted
with the utmost eagerness, so long as they are of average size as
compared with the beetles themselves. If too small they are despised, as
they would not yield a sufficient mouthful. If they are too large the
beetle is unable to handle them. The caterpillars of the Sphinx moth a