I take the Beetles born in my study and install them, in isolated couples, under spacious wire-gauze dish-covers placed over stacks of refuse from the decayed pine-stumps. By way of food, I serve them with pears cut into quarters, small bunches of grapes and slices of melon, all favourite dainties of the Great Capricorn. The captives rarely show themselves by day; they remain concealed under the heap of chips. They come out at night and solemnly stroll to and fro, now on the wire trellis, now on the pile of wood that represents the pine-stump to which they must hasten when the egg-laying season arrives. Never do they touch the provisions, though these are kept fresh by almost daily renewals; never do they nibble at the fruit, at the dainties in which the Capricorn delights. They scorn to eat. Worse still: apparently they disdain to pair. I watch them every evening for nearly a month. What melancholy lovers! There is no eagerness on the part of the male, no impetuous hurry to woo his mate; no teasing on the part of the female to stimulate her backward swain. Each shuns the other’s company; and, when they do meet, they merely maim each other. Under all my wire covers, five in number, sooner or later I find either the male or the female, sometimes both, the poorer by a few legs or one or both antennæ. The cut is so clean that it might be the work of a pruning-shears. The sharp edge of the mandibles, which are shaped like cleavers, explains this hacking. I myself, if I get my fingers caught, am bitten till the blood comes. What kind of creatures are these, among whom the sexes cannot meet without mutilating each other, these savages with their ferocious embraces, whose caresses are sheer mangling! For blows to be exchanged between males, in the fierce brawl for the possession of the bride, is an everyday occurrence: it is the rule among the greater part of the animal creation. But here the female herself is sorely ill-treated, perhaps after having been the first to begin. “Ah, you’ve damaged my plume!” says the journeyman blacksmith. “All right, I’ll break your leg for you. Take that!” More reprisals follow. The shears are brought into action on either side, and the fight produces a pair of cripples.