The grubs are hideous hunchbacks, but possessed of brains and stomach. They live in the same localities as their parents, the anxious mother, with wise precision, having carefully deposited her eggs where food would be readily attainable by her children. Have you a desire to examine a larva? There is a hole that has been made by one of these creatures. Place down into it a small straw or a bit of fine twig. The cranky little hermit, who is always wide-awake, resists most fiercely such unprovoked insolence, and instantly seeks, by the aid of his broad, expansive head, to eject the intruding object. Now is your time. When he shows himself, quickly seize him with your fingers. You will find him a perfect Daniel Quilp, with head enormous, flat, metallic in color and armed with long, curved jaws. His legs are six in number, and on the back, half-way between the legs and tail, are two curious, odd-looking tubercles, each terminating in a pair of recurved hooks. The head and first body-division are horny, the rest of the creature being soft and very sensitive. While the larval Cicindela has all the desire for slaughter which his parents manifest, yet his delicate skin, long body and stubby legs not only prevent him from chasing prey, but also from attempting a struggle with an insect of any size; nevertheless this imperfectly armed creature manages to secure his food without exposing himself to any serious risk. With his short, thick spiny legs he loosens the earth, and with his flat head, which he uses as a shovel, and turning himself into a z-shaped figure, hoists up the clay and upsets it around the mouth of his intended dwelling. With head and legs, and with a perseverance that is truly surprising, he sinks in a very short time a shaft a foot in length and as large in diameter as an ordinary lead-pencil. Especial pains are taken to see that the tunnel is sufficiently wide, so that the little creature can crawl in with ease. If he wishes to remain set fast, he sticks the back of his body against the sides and rests safely with the aid of his hooks. In this position he can poke his head out of the ground, thus closing the entrance of his burrow, while in patient waiting for some unsuspicious wayfarer to pass over. As soon, however, as the luckless insect touches the top of his head, he relinquishes his hold within the tunnel and descends with great precipitation to the bottom, and thus his victim falls into the hole, where it is seized by the powerful jaws and its juices absorbed in a quiet, leisurely manner. The loose earth around the opening of the tunnel gives way on the approach of an insect, and thus the success of the cunning Cicindela is doubly insured.