ernal duties demand
a degree of impressionability at least as great as that of the male, yet
the plumes of her antennae are extremely meagre, containing only six
narrow leaves.

What then is the use of the enormous fan-like structure of the male
antennae? The seven-leaved apparatus is for the Pine-chafer what his long
vibrating horns are to the Cerambyx and the panoply of the head to the
Onthophagus and the forked antlers of the mandibles to the Stag-beetle.
Each decks himself after his manner in these nuptial extravagances.

This handsome chafer appears towards the summer solstice, almost
simultaneously with the first Cigales. The punctuality of its appearance
gives it a place in the entomological calendar, which is no less
punctual than that of the seasons. When the longest days come, those
days which seem endless and gild the harvests, it never fails to hasten
to its tree. The fires of St. John, reminiscences of the festivals of
the Sun, which the children light in the village streets, are not more
punctual in their date.

At this season, in the hours of twilight, the Pine-chafer comes every
evening if the weather is fine, to visit the pine-trees in the garden. I
follow its evolutions with my eyes. With a silent flight, not without
spirit, the males especially wheel and wheel about, extending their
great antennary plumes; they go to and fro, to and fro, a procession of
flying shadows upon the pale blue of the sky in which the last light of
day is dying. They settle, take flight again, and once more resume their
busy rounds. What are they doing up there during the fortnight of their
festival?

The answer is evident: they are courting their mates, and they continue
to render their homage until the fall of night. In the morning both
males and females commonly occupy the lower branches. They lie there
isolated, motionless, indifferent to passing events. They do not avoid
the hand about to seize them. Most of them are hanging by their hind
legs and nibbling the pine-needles; they seem to be gently drowsing with
the needles at their mouths. When twilight returns they resume their
frolics.

To watch these frolics in the tops of the trees is hardly possible; let
us try to observe them in captivity. Four pairs are collected in the
morning and placed, with some twigs off the pine-tree, in a spacious;
cage. The sight is hardly worth my attention; deprived of the
possibility of flight, the insects cannot behave as in the o