I take the mother from her pit while she is engaged in filling it up. Delicately, with the tip of a camel-hair pencil, I move her a couple of inches. The Beetle does not return to her batch of eggs, does not even look for it. She climbs up the wire gauze and proceeds to graze among her companions on the bindweed or scabious, without troubling herself further about her eggs, whose hiding-place is only half-filled. A second mother, whom I move only one inch, is no longer able to return to her task, or rather does not think of doing so. I take a third, after shifting her just as slightly, and, while the forgetful creature is climbing up the trellis-work, bring her back to the pit. I replace her with her head at the opening. The mother stands motionless, looking thoroughly perplexed. She sways her head, passes her front tarsi through her mandibles, then moves away and climbs to the top of the dome without attempting anything. In each of these three cases I have to finish filling in the pit myself. What then are this maternity, which the touch of a brush causes to forget its duties, and this memory, which is lost at a distance of an inch from the spot? Compare with these shortcomings of the adult the expert machinations of the primary larva, which knows where its victuals are and as its first action introduces itself into the dwelling of the host that is to feed it. How can time and experience be factors of instinct? The newborn animalcule amazes us with its foresight; the adult insect astonishes us with its stupidity. With both Mylabres, the batch consists of some forty eggs, a very small number compared with those of the Oil-beetle and the Sitaris. This limited family was already foreseen, judging by the short space of time which the egg-layer spends in her underground lodging. The eggs of the Twelve-spotted Mylabris are white, cylindrical, rounded at both ends and measure a millimetre and a half in length by half a millimetre in width.[6] Those of the Four-spotted Mylabris are straw coloured and of an elongated oval, a trifle fuller at one end than at the other. Length, two millimetres; width, a little under one millimetre.[7] [Footnote 6: .058 x .019 inch.--_Translator's Note_.] [Footnote 7: .078 x .039 inch.--_Translator's Note_.] Of all the batches of eggs collected, one alone hatched. The rest were probably sterile, a suspicion corroborated by the lack of pairing in the breeding-cage. Laid at the end of July, the eggs of the Twelve-spotted Mylabris began to hatch on the 5th of September. The primary larva of this Meloid is still unknown, so far as I am aware; and I shall describe it in detail. It will be the starting-point of a chapter which perhaps will give us some fresh sidelights upon the history of the hypermetamorphosis.