There is nothing regular, however, about these alternations, which depend upon circumstances known to the animal alone. Perhaps they merely afford a means of resting for a little while without stopping a work that does not allow of interruption. In the same way, our two hands mutually relieve each other by taking it in turns to carry the burden. It is impossible to form an exact image of the difficulty overcome, without watching, for hours on end, the obstinate straining of the legs, which tremble with exhaustion and threaten to spoil everything if one of them let go at the wrong moment, or without seeing with what prudence the roller never releases one claw until the five others are firmly fixed. On the one side are three points of support, on the other three points of traction; and the six are shifted, one by one, little by little, without for a moment allowing their connected mechanical system to flag. A single instant of forgetfulness or weariness would cause the rebellious piece to unroll its scroll and escape from the manipulator’s grasp. The work is accomplished, moreover, in an uncomfortable position. The leaf hangs very much on the slant or even vertically. Its surface is varnished, is smooth as glass. But the worker is shod accordingly. With her tufted soles, she scales the polished perpendicular; with her twelve meat-hooks, she tackles the slippery floor. Yet this fine set of tools does not rid the operation of all its difficulties. I find it no easy matter to follow the progress of the rolling with the magnifying-glass. The hands of a watch do not move more slowly. The insect stands for a long time, at the same point, with its claws firmly fixed; it is waiting for the leaf to be mastered and to cease resistance. Here, of course, there is no gumming-process to catch hold and keep the fresh surfaces glued together. The stability depends purely upon the flexion acquired. And so it is not unusual for the elasticity of the piece to overcome the efforts of the worker and partly to unroll the more or less forward work. Stubbornly, with the same impassive slowness, the insect begins all over again, replaces the insubordinate piece. No, the Weevil is not one to allow herself to be upset by failure: she knows too well what patience and time will do.