But first let us dissipate an error current in books. In the magnificent work of M. Emile Blanchard, Metamorphoses, Habits, and Instincts of Animals, I find the following passage: “Sometimes our insect is stopped by an insurmountable obstacle: the ball has fallen into a hole. At such a time the Ateuchus [2] displays a really astonishing grasp of the situation, and a yet more astonishing power of communication between individuals of the same species. Recognising the impossibility of getting the ball over the obstacle, the Ateuchus seemingly abandons it, and flies away. If you are sufficiently endowed with that great and noble virtue called Patience, remain near this forsaken ball. After a while the Ateuchus will return, and not alone; it will be followed by two, three, or four companions who, alighting at the appointed spot, will join in trying to lift up the load. The Ateuchus has been to seek reinforcements, and this explains why several beetles uniting to transport a single ball is such a common sight in dry fields.” I also read in Illiger’s Entomological Magazine: “A Gymnopleurus pilularius, [3] while constructing the ball of dung destined to contain its eggs, let it roll into a hole, whence the insect tried long and vainly to extract it. Finding this only waste of time, he hastened to a neighbouring heap of manure to seek three of his kind, which, uniting their efforts to his, succeeded in getting out the ball, and then went back to their own work.” I humbly beg pardon of my illustrious master, M. Blanchard, but assuredly things do not happen thus. First, the two accounts are so much alike that they must have had a common origin. After observations not followed up closely enough to merit blind confidence, Illiger put forward the story of his Gymnopleurus, and the same fact has been attributed to the Scarabæus because it really is a common thing to find two of these insects busy rolling a ball, or getting it out of some difficult position. But the partnership does not at all prove that one went to ask help from the other in some difficulty. I have had a large measure of the patience recommended by M. Blanchard; I may claim to have spent long days in the intimacy of Scarabæus sacer; I have tried every means to comprehend its manners and customs, and to study them from life, and never did I see anything which suggested that one had called its companions to its aid. As I shall presently relate, I have put the dung-beetle to proofs far more serious than that of a ball fallen into a hole, and into far graver difficulties than having to climb a slope—a thing which is mere sport for the obstinate Sisyphus, who seems to enjoy the rough gymnastics required by steep places, as if the ball grew thereby firmer, and therefore more valuable. I have invented situations where the insect had extreme need of help, and never could I detect any proof of good offices between comrades. I have seen pillaged and pillagers, and nothing else. If a number of beetles