g before my eyes. As for the skin accompanying
it, this has been so much spoilt by the moisture of the soil and by the
grassy roots that I cannot determine its origin exactly. The cranium,
however, which is better-preserved, the mandibles and certain details of
the general configuration lead me to suspect the larva of a Lamellicorn.

It is getting late. This is enough for to-day. I am worn out, but amply
repaid for my exertions by a broken cocoon and the puzzling skin of a
wretched grub. Young people who make a hobby of natural history, would
you like to discover whether the sacred fire flows in your veins?
Imagine yourselves returning from such an expedition. You are carrying
on your shoulder the peasant's heavy spade; your loins are stiff with
the laborious digging which you have just finished in a crouching
position; the heat of an August afternoon has set your brain simmering;
your eyelids are tired by the itch of an inflammation resulting from the
overpowering light in which you have been working; you have a devouring
thirst; and before you lies the dusty prospect of the miles that
divide you from your well-earned rest. Yet something stings within
you; forgetful of your present woes you are absolutely glad of your
excursion. Why? Because you have in your possession a shred of rotten
skin. If this is so, my young friends, you may go ahead, for you will
do something, though I warn you that this does not mean, by a long way,
that you will get on in the world.

I examined this shred of skin with all the care that it deserved. My
first suspicions were confirmed: a Lamellicorn, a Scarabaeid in the
larval state, is the first food of the Wasp whose cocoon I have just
unearthed. But which of the Scarabaeidae? And does this cocoon, my
precious booty, really belong to the Scoliae? The problem is beginning
to take shape. To attempt its solution we must go back to the Bois des
Issards.

I did go back and so often that my patience ended by being exhausted
before the problem of the Scoliae had received a satisfactory solution.
The difficulties are great indeed, under the conditions. Where am I
to dig in the indefinite stretch of sandy soil to light upon a spot
frequented by the Scoliae? The luchet is driven into the ground at
random; and almost invariably I find none of what I am seeking. To be
sure, the males, flying level with the ground, give me a hint, at the
outset, with their certainty of instinct, as to the spots where t