The journey was effected without damage: when I reached home, the larva was placidly eating its Flies as though nothing had happened.

The wing-cases and wings now emerge. These are four narrow strips, faintly grooved and looking like bits of paper ribbon.

The logarithmic spiral describes an endless number of circuits around its pole, to which it constantly draws nearer without ever being able to reach it.

I was not the only one to profit by its shade; I was generally surrounded by numerous companions.

The bubbles are small and even, being all of the same dimensions.

The Onthophagus is a very indifferent artist: his nest is a rudimentary piece of work, hardly fit to be acknowledged.

The cocoon is still incomplete, wide open at the big end; it wants the spherical cap that is to close it.

If similarity of shape implied parity of work, we ought unhesitatingly to attribute to Phanæus Milo short, thick puddings like those made by Olivier’s Onitis.

The antennæ have often been suggested as the seat of a special sense able to guide insects.

It is not unpleasant to find an echo of these old fables in the history of animals.