which almost from the beginning would be no more than a filthy putrescence.

This art of careful eating does not seem easy to practise: at least, the
larva, if ever so little diverted from its usual courses, is no longer able
to apply its talent as a capable trencherman. This will be proved by
experiment. I must begin by observing that, when I spoke of my larva which
turned putrid within twenty-four hours, I adopted an extreme case for the
sake of greater clearness. The Scolia, taking its first bite, does not and
cannot go to such lengths. Nevertheless it behooves us to enquire whether,
in the consumption of the victuals, the initial point of attack is a matter
of indifference and whether the rummaging through the entrails of the
victim entails a determined order, without which success is uncertain or
even impossible. To these delicate questions no one, I think, can reply.
Where science is silent, perhaps the grub will speak. We will try.

I move from its position a Scolia-grub which has attained a quarter or a
third of its full growth. The long neck plunged into the victim's belly is
rather difficult to extract, because of the need of molesting the creature
as little as possible. I succeed, by means of a little patience and
repeated strokes with the tip of a paint-brush. I now turn the Cetonia-
larva over, back uppermost, at the bottom of the little hollow made by
pressing my finger in the layer of mould. Lastly, I place the Scolia on its
victim's back. Here is my grub under the same conditions as just now, with
this difference, that the back and not the belly of its victim is presented
to its mandibles.

I watch it for a whole afternoon. It writhes about; it moves its little
head now in this direction, now in that, frequently laying it on the
Cetonia, but without fixing it anywhere. The day draws to a close; and
still it has accomplished nothing. There are restless movements, nothing