We will award a first good mark to the Gold Beetle, for exterminating any not too powerful caterpillar. The merit is spoilt by one flaw. The insect is not a climber: it hunts on the ground, not in the foliage overhead. I have never seen it explore the twigs of the smallest shrub. In my cages, it pays no attention to the most enticing quarry fixed to a tuft of thyme, a few inches high. This is a great pity. If the insect could only climb and undertake overhead raids, how quickly would a gang of three or four purge the cabbage of its scourge, the Pieris Caterpillar! The very best always have some defect. The Gold Beetle must be given another good mark with reference to Slugs. He feeds on all of them, including even the biggest, the Grey Slug, flecked with dark spots. The corpulent creature is soon disposed of, when attacked by three or four knackers. They make by choice for that part of the back which is protected by an inner shell, a sort of slab of mother-of-pearl that covers the region of the heart and lung. The stony particles of which the shell is constructed abound here rather than elsewhere; and the Carabus seems to like this mineral condiment. In the same way, the favourite morsel in the Snail is the mantle, speckled with chalky dots. Easily caught and highly appreciated in flavour, the Slug, crawling at night towards the tender lettuces, must often provide the Gold Beetles with a meal. Together with the caterpillar, he appears to be the Beetle’s usual fare. We must add the Earthworm, Lumbricus terrestris, often found outside its burrow in rainy weather. Even the biggest do not intimidate the aggressor. I dish up an Earthworm eight inches long and as thick as my little finger. The enormous annelid is attacked as soon as seen: six Carabi come hastening up together. As its only means of defence, the victim writhes forwards and backwards, wriggling and rolling upon itself. The monstrous worm drags with it, now on top and now below, the stubborn carvers, who do not let go and work alternately in their normal position or with upturned bellies. Constantly rolling and pitching, burying itself in the sand and reappearing, it does not succeed in discouraging them. It would be difficult to find a parallel to their tenacity. They continue to bite at the points once bitten; they hold tight and let the desperate worm flounder at will, until the tough, leathery skin ends by giving way. The contents pour forth in a blood-stained mess, into which the gluttons plunge their heads. Others hurry up to be in at the death; and soon the mighty worm is a ruin odious to look upon. I put an end to the orgy, lest the gormandizers, heavy with food, should for a long time resist the experiments which I am contemplating. Their frantic feasting tells me pretty clearly that they would finish the huge saveloy if I did not interfere.