I follow its movements under the magnifying-glass. It buckles itself, closes the circuit of the digestive apparatus, brings the two poles into contact and, with the end of its mandibles, seizes a pellet of dung ejaculated at that moment. This pellet, moulded and measured to perfection, is very neatly gathered. A slight bend of the neck sets the rubble-stone in place. Others follow, laid one above the other in minutely regular courses. Giving a tap here and there with its feelers, the grub makes sure of the stability of the parts, their accurate binding, their orderly arrangement. It turns round in the centre of the work as the edifice rises, even as a mason does when building a tower. Sometimes, the laid stone becomes loose, because the cement has given way. The worm takes it up again with its mandibles, but, before replacing it, coats it with an adhesive moisture. It holds it to its anus, whence trickles, on the moment, almost imperceptibly, a gummy consolidating extract. The hump supplies the materials; the intestines give, if necessary, the connecting glue. In this way, a nice house is produced, ovoid in shape, polished as stucco within and adorned on the outside with slightly projecting scales, similar to those on a cedar-cone. Each of these scales is one of the rubble-stones out of the hump. The casket is not large: a cherry-stone would about represent its dimensions; but it is so accurate, so prettily fashioned that it will bear comparison with the finest products of entomological industry. CHAPTER VII A BARREN PROMISE In the nymph of Onthophagus Taurus there rises, on the front edge of the corselet, a single horn, as strong as the two others and shaped like a cylinder ending in a conical knob. It points forward and is fixed in the middle of the frontal crescent, projecting a little beyond it. The arrangement is gloriously original. The carvers of hieroglyphics would have beheld in it the crescent of Isis wherein dips the edge of the world. Other singularities complete the curious nymph. To right and left, the stomach is armed, on either side, with four little horns resembling crystal spikes. Total, eleven pieces on the harness: two on the forehead; one on the thorax; eight on the abdomen. The beast of yore delighted in queer horns: certain reptiles of the geological period stuck a pointed spur on their upper eyelids. The Onthophagus, more daring, sports eight on the sides of his belly, in addition to the spear which he plants upon his back. The frontal horns may be excused: they are pretty generally worn; but what does he propose to do with the others? Nothing. They are passing fancies, jewels of early youth; the adult insect will not retain the least trace of them.