THE LIBRARY

OF

THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA

PRESENTED BY

PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND
MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID

EGG-RAFTS OF THK GNAT.
Page 12.

THE

LIFE OF AN INSECT;

A HISTORY OP THE CHANGES OF INSECTS FROM THE
EGG TO THE PERFECT BEING.

PUBLISHED UNDER THE DIRECTION OF

THE COMMITTEE OF GENERAL LITERATURE AND EDUCATION,

APPOINTED BY THE SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING

CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE,

LONDON:

PRINTED FOR THE

SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE ;

SOLD AT THE DEPOSITORY,

GREAT QUEEN STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS,
AND 4, ROYAL EXCHANGE;

AND BY ALL BOOKSELLERS.

LONDON :
K. CLAY, PRINTER, BREAD STREET HILL.

CONTENTS.

PART I.— THE EGG.

PAGE

CHAPTER I. — The Nest. — The Microscope and Telescope — Terror
caused by Insects— Death-watch — Life-boat of Eggs — The Water
Beetle — Floating Ark of Eggs — The Gnat — her difficulties— her
Egg-raft — The Sand-boring Wasp — Towers of rubbish — Captive
Caterpillars — Wood-boring Bee — An Insect Nursery — Escape of the
young — Tapestry Bee — A Nest lined with Poppy-flower Petals —
Enchanted Leaf-tubes — The spell broken — The Insect Sorcerer —
Nest of Down made by a Moth— The Lackey Moth — The Ichneu-
mons— Their usefulness 1

CHAPTER II. — Structure and contents of the Egg. — Its Shape — Re-
markable mistake about an Insect — The Lace-wing Fly — Eggs
carved on their surface — Colours of Eggs — Changes of Colour —
Eggs of the Garden Spider— Pretty Nests —Anatomy of the Egg —
Contents of the Egg 43

IV CONTENTS.

PAGE

CHAPTER III. — Life begins in the Egg. — Spring Time — Influence of
Heat and Cold — Eggs resist great Cold — The time of Hatching —
Escape of the new Creature — Connexion between Plants and
Insects— Changes in the Egg — A Spider's Mother's love — Experi-
ment with two Spiders — Anecdote of an Earwig — Enormous
number of Eggs of different Insects 57

PAST II.— THE LARVA.

CHAPTER I The Young Larva. — Affection of a Field-Bug — An Ear-
wig Mother — Anecdote of a Spider — Ant-Nurses — Varieties of
Larvse— The Larva born— Forms of Larvae— Larvse of Butterflies-
Structure of a Larva 79

CHAPTER Tl.— Habits of the Larva. — The Lion of the Aphides— its
Courage— The Ant-Lion— The "Giant Grim" of Insects— For-
mation of its Trap — An Insect Excavator — The Den — A Stone in
it — A captive Ant — Principle of Compensation — The Sand- Wasp's
Den — A Warrior- Wasp — An Insect Duel — The Kakerlac and the
Bandit Wasp— The Corpse carried home— A Wasp clad in the
Wings and Limbs of Insects — The Tiger Beetle Larva — Dragon-
Ely Larva — its curious Mask — a ferocious creature — Ravages of
Cockchafer Larvse— Lamp Oil got from Larvse — " Old Father '
Long-legs " — The Gamma Moth and its Larva— Magical Origin of
—The excessive numbers of the Larvse — Destruction of Trees by
Larvae— Killed by rain — The Weevil— Insects on board Ship— Appe-
tite of Larvse — Silk-Worm Larva — Larvse enormous Eaters —
Growth of Larvse . . . §8

CONTENTS. V

PAGB

CHAPTER III. — Moulting of the Larva. — Escape of Larva from its
old Skin— Arrangement of the Hairs— Danger attending the Moult
—Colours of Larvae— Influence of Sun-light— Curious appearance of
the Coats of Larvae — Larvae like Twigs — Singularly coated Larva 146

CHAPTER IN .-—Respiration of the Larva.— -Experiment with Larvae-
Insects do not breathe by their Mouths— Breathing Mechanism of
Larvae — Spiracles — Aquatic Larvae — Inhabitants of the Ditch and
Pool — Rat-tailed Larvae — Remarkable Organ — Chameleon-Ely
Larva — Larva of the May-Ely — Their under-water Cells — Sin-
gular organs of Respiration — Complete Armour of Dragon-Ely
Larva 157

CHAPTER V. — Means of Defence of the Larva — Leaf-dwelling
Larvae— Larva clad in Rags—" Hickory-horned Devil" — Larva
with a Squirt— Shaggy-coated Larvae— Erozen Larvae— Dwellings of
Larvae — Remarkable Australian Larva cases — Larvae in Winter . 178

CHAPTER VI. — Preparation for a Change. — Age of the Larva — its
attempts at concealment — Cocoons of Larvae — Silk- Worm Cocoon
— Extraordinary precaution of a Larva — Case of Bark-skin — Anec-
dote of a Larva — Suspension of the Larva, horizontally and per-
pendicularly— Larva of Meat-Ely — Last action of the Larva. . .194

VI CONTENTS.

PART III.— THE PUPA.

PAGE

CHAPTER I The Transformation. — Meaning of the word Pupa —

Various names of Pupee — Process of the change — Remarkable
feat of a Pupa — Time occupied in the Change 213

CHAPTER II. — What is a Pupa ? — Characters of a Pupa — Active and
Inactive — Dissection of a Pupa— Contents of Pupa-case — Singular
Pupa — Goedart's strange Representations of Pupae — Pupae from
Surinam — Colours of Pupse — Aurelia and Chrysalis — Ground Pearl . 225

CHAPTER III. — Respiration of the Pupa. — Spiracles of Pupae —
Anecdote from De Geer — Air-Cell under Water— Difficulty of the
task — Pupae with an Air-tube 239

CHAPTER IN .— Varieties and Age of the Pupa. — Different kinds of
Pupse — Age of the Pupa — Pupae hatched in a Hot-house — Butter-
flies in Winter — Pupse hatched by a Hen — Glass Eggs — Influence
of Warmth and Cold — Dreams of Immortality — Reaumur's mis-
take— Varnishing Pupae — Preservation of Eggs — railing of the
"Manna" — [Final changes of the Pupa 251

CHAPTER V. — The Great Change. — An Insect Prisoner—Escape of
the Cossus— Escape of a Ply — A guide-line to the Captive— Cocoon
of Emperor Moth— Escape backwards— Chemical solvent— Escape
of Ants— Huber's Ant-hill— Assistant Ants—Aquatic Insects—

CONTENTS. Vll

PAGE

The Caddis-worm — Singular escape— The Gnat — A time of Peril —
Blood- Worms — A curious spectacle — The Dragon-Fly — Pheno-
mena of the Change — The Insect new-born — Curious facts about
Pupee 273

PART IV.— THE IMAGO.

CHAPTER I. — The New-lorn Perfect Insect.— The Eesurrection —
Meaning of the word Imago — Curious aspect of New-born Insect
— Conclusion of the Dragon-Fly's History — Structure of a Wing —
how expanded — Deformed Wings — Exception in the Ephemerae —
Dance of the Ephemerae — Insects without Wings — Showers and
Stains of Blood — Aphis-Lion Fly — Insects in the Imago state do not
increase in size 309

CHAPTER II. — The Structure and Organs of the Imago. — Anatomy
and Physiology — Insects have not Bones — Leather-coated Jack —
The Head and Thorax — The Eyes— simple and compound-
Wonders of an Eye— Anatomy of the Eye— Immense number of
Eyes — Remarkable Provision— Experiments on the Eyes of Bees-
Beauty of the Eyes — The Antenna — their Function, perhaps the
Nose— Insects Weather-wise— Insects in Rain— Organs of Speech —
Anecdote of Bees — Various Functions of Antennae — The Mouth
in Insects — Parts of the Mouth — Spiral Tube of the Butterfly —
Taste and Smell in Insects — The Trunk — Wings — Membranous —
Scale covered — Wing-Cases — Experiments on Flying — Painted
Wings — The glory of the Butterfly — The Legs of Insects — Clean-
liness of Insects — The Water Boatman — Kangaroo Beetle — The
Abdomen— The Sting of the Bee— Insect with a Leg in its Tail . 335

Vlll CONTENTS.

PAGE

CHAPTER III. — Respiration of the Imago. — Experiments upon the
Breathing of Insects — Chloroform — Coal-gas— their Effects —
Contest between a Spider and a Blue-Bottle Fly — Air-Pipes of
Insects— Multitude of Air-Tubes—Circulation of Blood in Insects
—An Insect's Pulse 398

CHAPTER IV.— Food and Death of the Imago.— Vegetable Eaters —
Carnivorous Insects — The Tigers to Insects — Fasts of Insects —
The Last Duty — Insect Forethought — The Creator's Wisdom and
Love — God does not despise Little Things 408

ILLUSTRATIONS.— DIRECTIONS TO BINDER.

EGG-RAFTS or THE GNAT 1

FEROCIOUS LARV^; or DRAGON-FLY 79

INSECTS ESCAPING FROM THE PUPA CONDITION ...... 213

EVENING FLIGHT OF EPHEMERA 307

THE

LIFE OF AN INSECT,

PART I. — THE EGG.

CHAPTER I.

THE NEST

To look at a house-fly as it performs its figure-of-
eight dances in the air of our rooms, or as it buzzes
against the window-pane, vainly endeavouring to
dash its tender body through the firm and clear
glassy wall — to mark how soon it comes into
existence, and how soon its little day of life is
gone — one would say it is a foolish and trifling
thing to write the history of an insect's life ; but
any one who would thus speak must be ignorant
of that which he declares to be folly and trifling.
He cannot know the miracles of skill that insects,

2 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

insignificant as they seem, are capable of per-
forming; nor the astonishing lessons of wisdom
which even man may learn from these minute and
short-lived beings. So long as we are ignorant of
any part of God's creation, we may very probably
think light of it; but when we come to inquire into
the things we have formerly despised, and will give
a patient attention to what we before thought
beneath our notice, the tone of our remarks will
greatly alter. Now, we shall find in the meanest
things formed by the Divine hand inexhaustible
themes for wonder and praise, and innumerable
proofs that the great Almighty power which built
our round world, and countless worlds besides,
which fixed them with a firm decree in an appointed
course, has not been less displayed even in the
formation of a tiny insect, which is this hour alive,
and the next lost to being.

The telescope shows us what God has created in
the innumerable millions of stars and suns which
every clear night look down with gentle beams
upon the earth ; it shows us that the earth on
which we dwell, compared to the worlds by which
it is surrounded, is as a grain of sand to a mighty
mountain. But the microscope, on the contrary,

THE MICROSCOPE AND THE TELESCOPE. 3

shows us what is almost more wonderful even than
this ; for it shows us that though the High and Lofty
One who inhabits eternity has created all these vast
systems of suns and stars, yet he has not thought-
it beneath Him to chisel the egg of an insect or to
adorn the coat of a tiny caterpillar. Well might we
pause and ask as we look now through the wonder-
revealing tube of the microscope and then through
that of the telescope— Was it not a greater evidence
of power and wisdom to create, clothe, organize,
and endow with the powers of life, a little atom
which we can detect only by means of a powerful
microscope, than to form even a great and mighty
world ? For our part, then, we think an insect's
history as much a display of the wisdom and
infinite power of the Creator as the history of
such an enormous body as is the sun, or any of
the large planets belonging to our system. How-
ever humble be the object wrhich God has seen
fit to create, let not any one think it beneath
him to examine. The poet Thomson has written
some pretty lines which we shall venture to tran-
scribe, which, with far greater beauty of language
than we can pretend to, set before us the same
train of thought : —

4 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

" Let no presuming impious railer tax
Creative wisdom, as if aught was formed
In vain, or not for admirable ends.
Shall little haughty ignorance pronounce
His works unwise, of which the smallest part
Exceeds the narrow vision of her mind ]"

Animals, birds, reptiles, fish, and plants, have
had their biographers^ and ponderous books have
been written to give us an introduction to their
various families : so also have insects ; although
despised by many, they have been highly esteemed
by a few ; and if honours went by the size of books
written about them, it might perhaps be shown
that the insects can boast of great and closely-
printed books taken up with nothing else but an
account of them and their doings.

Perhaps there is another feeling about insects
which ought to be mentioned beside the feeling of
contempt ; that is, the feeling of aversion. A great
many people, ought we to write ? a great many
ladies and children, are ready to scream, and
take to their heels if they see a poor "black
beetle," racing in terror of his life for fear of them,
and as both parties are equally frightened of one
another it becomes very difficult to manage a
reconciliation between them. At the sight of

FRIGHT CAUSED BY INSECTS. 5

spiders some people are ready to faint away, and
to see a little caterpillar creeping along with his
magnificent coat of parti-coloured hairs, and with
that funny gait which it is quite ludicrous to behold
as he binds himself into a loop and walks after a
fashion like no other earthly being, is enough to
make their hair stand on end and their flesh to creep !
Sometimes insects are the innocent causes of
alarm even to nations. Thus there is a peculiar
kind of moth, upon the back of which there is
very distinctly marked the appearance of what is

vulgarly called a "death's head," its name being
the death's-head hawk moth, represented in the
adjoining cut, which was once the cause of the

6 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

greatest terror to a number of persons. It was in
Bretagne that a large flight of them suddenly made
their appearance ; at the same time a dangerous
epidemic disease fell upon the inhabitants ; the
awful look of the poor insect, together with its
strange supernatural noise, filled the ignorant
people with alarm, and the disease was considered
to be actually caused by the moths. Another
insect, the church-yard beetle, which is of a jet
black colour, is related by the great Linnaeus as
producing the most alarming feelings upon the
minds of the superstitious and ignorant among the
peasantry of Sweden.

The death-tick beetle has also a terrible repu-
tation for frightening people. This little creature
takes up its abode in decayed wood, and thus
frequently makes the bed-post its dwelling-place,
or ensconces itself in the wainscot of an old room.
Now, when, as some entomologists tell us, it wants
to give a signal to its mate, the insect begins ham-
mering with all its might at the side of the wall,
or knocks upon its little floor until the noise is
heard, and the mate then begins to hammer, both
producing for their size a tremendous noise, but
in human ears not sounding louder than the tick

THE DEATH-WATCH BEETLE. 7

of a large watch. The poor invalid, as he lies in
bed perhaps very nervous and unable to bear loud
conversation, hears the noisy insects knocking one
to the other, and immediately
his mind is filled with fears of
the most groundless kind, which
the nurse, if she is one of the
old school, is sure to confirm by
telling him that this ticking is

. 1 i , i , i Death-watch Beetle.

the death-watch.

All this is not only very weak and foolish, but
when it reaches the degree to which we have here
referred, it is also very wrong. As to the death's
head hawk moth producing disease or foretelling
death and famine, as it has been said to do, how
weak and credulous must they be who draw such
omens from a mark on an insect's head ; and how
dishonouring is it to the all- wise providence of God
to imagine that he would suffer such a ridiculous
emblem to have any such actual signification !
The little beetle which produces the ticking sounds
was caught by Dr. Derham one fine sunshiny
day, tapping as loudly as it could on a piece of
paper in a window ; he examined the little creatures
and kept them carefully, and he states that during

8 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

the whole of one summer they scarcely ever ceased
tapping night and day. Birds have their calls to
their companions, and animals have theirs, yet we
do not draw from these the wild supposition that
they foretell death or such like disasters. Why,
then, should the love-tap of an insignificant beetle
have received such an interpretation ? It is hard
indeed to tell.

Now all these feelings about insects, contempt,
abhorrence, and terror, arise in one common cause,
and that is ignorance. A very small acquaintance
with the contents of the little work upon which
we are now entering, would suffice to dispel them
all. It may be, perhaps, difficult to overcome
what is called a " natural aversion " to any object,
especially to an unfortunate insect ; but when it is
overcome, and when we learn, for the first time,
all the extraordinary actions, habits, and instincts,
of this portion of the great creation, admiration
will take the place of contempt, and even a
humble sort of affection that of the terror and
aversion produced by them before.

With the readers permission, then, we will
proceed to take him with us as we describe the
various stages of the Life of an Insect, from the

LIFE-BOAT OF EGGS.

egg up to the perfect being. It may be, however,
just necessary to premise that in so doing we shall
not give anything like the history of an individual
insect, such, for example, as a fly or a bee : but
shall describe in order some of the most interest-
ing phenomena connected with insect-history and
transformations generally. Whither, then, must
we go to watch the awakening of life in the insect?
We might ask the reader's company to

" where the pool

Stands mantled o'er with green, invisible
Amid the floating verdure, millions stray."

Here might we point to him that wondrous and
exquisite structure, the life-boat of eggs, floating *
securely on its silent surface, or anchored, perhaps,
to the side of some pond-plant's slimy stem ; and
lingering here we might in a few days see the
little eggs become burst and give exit to a number
of minute creatures of great activity. Some of them
would be seen twisting themselves about in a most
extraordinary manner, and swimming here and
there through the still waters. Or we might take
him to the depths of the forest, and now, under the
bark of some of the trees, now upon their branches,

* Tide Frontispiece to this Chapter.

10 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

now in little tents of leaves, we could point out
many a colony of eggs only waiting for the life-
giving influence of spring to burst into life and
activity.

But it is better for us to proceed more sys-
tematically, and to notice shortly the interesting
facts which the science of entomology reveals to
us as to the egg-cradles, so to speak, of insects,
by which is meant the various localities selected
by them for the deposition of their eggs, some of
them, as we have mentioned, in the water, some in
the earth, some upon plants and trees, and some
in mansions made by the insects themselves for the
purpose of hatching their eggs.

Let us come, then, and watch the great water-
beetle, at the time when the mother-insect is
about to commit her future offspring to the care
of the waters. She is to be found on fine days,
when the sun is going down into a bed of gold,
enjoying herself and delighting in the pleasant air
of the evening, as she sits upon a plant close by
the water's edge ; or she may even have taken up
her position on a floating leaf of the plant, the clear
waters flowing gently beneath her. She has been
in the water all day long, and is now just emerged.

FLOATING ARK OF WATER-BEETLE. 11

On other evenings she will take wing, and speed
her way whither no eye can follow ; but now, she
has another and the most important duty of her
existence to perform, and her customary evening
ramble is not permitted to interfere with its fulfil-
ment. On watching her closely we find her busy
at some self-imposed occupation; what is its
nature? To discover that, she must be closely and
patiently watched. At her tail are a couple of
spinning organs, which move from right to left
and up and down with great swiftness, all the
while a glutinous fluid, which hardens into a
thread, being discharged from each of them.
With this apparatus the industrious insect is spin-
ning a pouch not unlike the purses which were in
fashion before the long ones that ladies knit came
to be adopted. This purse is three quarters of
an inch long ; it consists outside of a tissue, like
parchment, which is quite impervious to water,
but is lined inside with the most beautiful, light,
downy material possible, which is as white as
snow. There is a sort of little horn to this pouch,
which admits the air, but the opening to which is
protected by a layer of cross threads, which ex-
cludes the wet. In three hours of patient toil

12 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

this beautiful cradle is completed. The water-
beetle then safely secures it from being carried away
by the waters on which it floats so buoyantly, by
fastening it by cables to the neighbouring plants.
Here safely moored it rests until the eggs are
hatched, soon after which the little creatures with-
in escape into the waters out of the ark, which has,
during the period of their infancy, safely preserved
them from every danger, both of water and wind.
The proceedings of the common gnat, our
summer tormentor, are no less interesting and
instructive. Her actions have been closely watched
by the great Reaumur, and are detailed by him with
very striking accuracy. They require, perhaps,
sharper scrutiny than most of our readers are in
the habit of bestowing upon the actions of insects,
but they well repay a patient and attentive ob-
servation, and subjects for the examination may
easily be found at the side of any pool in summer.
The following is an outline of the difficulties the
insect has to contend with in depositing her eggs.
First, they must be hatched on the water ; but,
2d, her eggs are heavier than water, and will
therefore sink if dropped into it one by one ; and,
3d, the eggs are so small and of so peculiar a shape

THE EGG-RAFT OF THE GNAT. 13

that it would be difficult to make them stand up-
right on a solid surface ; far more so then, on the
water. A human ship-builder would be probably
sorely puzzled to find out how to overcome these
difficulties, and of such materials how to construct
a floating raft ; nay, a raft which cannot by any
means be made to sink. The insect has, however,
been instructed by a Greater and Wiser than man,
and she solves the problem in a manner well calcu-
lated to excite our admiration and praise. Fixing
herself by her four front legs upon a leaf or twig
floating on the surface of the water, she stretches
out behind her the two hind legs, and crosses them
over one another somewhat in this manner y. In
the triangular space thus formed she purposes to
construct her boat of eggs. Now, all things being
ready, just where the crossed legs meet she places
her first egg, which is covered over with a thick
glue. By the side of this she places another, and
again another, so that the three are, by means of
the glue which covers them, united together, and
will, consequently, preserve the upright position,
as there is now a sufficiently broad base of support
for them to rest upon. To these she diligently
adds egg to egg until she has sufficiently formed

14 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

the shape of her boat ; after which she uncrosses
her legs and places them quite straight, so as to
shape the sides of the boat. When a sufficient
number of eggs have been thus glued together,
the number varying from two to three hundred,
the gnat considers her task as ended, and wings
her way from the pool, abandoning her ingenious
structure to the mercy of wind and wave, although
not without the security of knowing that neither
wind nor wave could commit serious injury upon it.
" In shape," write Messrs. Kirby and Spence,
" this little boat pretty accurately resembles a
London wherry, being sharper and higher, to use
a nautical phrase, fore and aft ; convex below and
concave above ; floating, moreover, constantly on
the keel or convex part. But this," they add, " is
not all ; it is, besides, a life-boat, more buoyant than
even Mr. Greathead's. The most violent agitation
of the water cannot sink it; and what is more
extraordinary, and a property still a desideratum
in our life-boats, though hollow it never becomes
filled with water, even though exposed to the
torrents that often accompany a thunder-storm.
To put this to the test I yesterday placed half a
dozen of these boats upon the surface of a tumbler

PROCEEDINGS OF THE SAND-WASP. 15

half full of water. I then poured upon them a
stream of that element from the mouth of a great
bottle held a foot above them, yet, after this
treatment, which was so rough as actually to
project one out of the glass, I found them floating
as before upon their bottoms, and not a drop of
water within their cavity."

Some insects make the homes of their young
in the earth. Of these, the insect called the sand-
wasp forms, perhaps, one of the most interesting
examples. This insect selects generally a hard
sunny sand-bank for the excavation it is about to
accomplish. Armed with a pair of powerful jaws,
by means of which the insect can break off good-
sized fragments of the rock she is about to mine,
she sets to her arduous undertaking with a bold
heart, and it is not long before a tolerable cavity
is scooped out. Many of our readers have seen
the manner in which human miners proceed when
they are forming a hole in a lime or other rock,
for the purpose of blasting, and must have noticed
that they are in the habit of using a little water,
in order to facilitate the boring operation. We
are all, also, familiar with the tale of Hannibal
chemically softening the Alpine rocks by means

16

THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

of vinegar. The little insect in question has
been instructed by the great Creator also to
adopt a means of shortening her labour, for it
has been observed that she moistens the rock
by letting fall a drop or two of fluid upon it
from her mouth. By this means her work goes
on rapidly. The rubbish soon begins to accu-
mulate. It will be scarcely conjectured what
this patient labourer does with it. Were we to
look narrowly at the sand-bank which such wasps

Towers of the Sand H'asp.

frequent, we should find on its surface a number
of curious little projections like horns, rising from

IMPRISONED CATERPILLARS. 17

the surface. These are towers built by the sand-
wasp of the pieces of rubbish which she scoops
out of her mine. She cements them together, and,
instead of throwing them away, she lays the masses
in regular order until they have assumed the ap-
pearance here shown. It has been supposed she
does this with a view to keep out enemies and to
keep her progeny cool ; just as in a tall house the
cellar is its coolest apartment, so the height of the
tower in question seems to be an additional protec-
tion against the rays of the scorching sun. After
it has deposited its egg at the bottom of the exca-
vation, the sand-wasp sets out on a foraging
expedition, and hunts about until she finds certain
green caterpillars. Seizing upon one of these she
flies with it to her mine, and then returns for
more prey. After collecting about a dozen of
these helpless beings, fixing them so that they
are hopeless captives inside her dark prison, she
bids farewell to the egg, for the future well-being
of which she has thus assiduously provided. She
takes down her tower of stones, and, with the
materials wrhich composed it, fills up the entrance
to the cell, thus shutting in both the prisoners
and their future devourer in a common dungeoa,
c

18 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

there to await the changes which time will in-
evitably bring about.

Let us speak now of eggs carefully de-
posited by other insects in galleries and excava-
tions made into timber. The insects which thus
act have been called by the fanciful title of car-
penter-bees, in allusion to the drilling process
by which they penetrate the wood. A highly
interesting spectacle it is, in truth, to see one
of these pigmy carpenters at her work, and, for-
tunately, some of the species are not very un-
common in our gardens. Spring is the season
when she commences her labours. She recon-
noitres about for a proper piece of timber for some
time, and exhibits great discrimination in the
selection of a suitable place for establishing herself
and for the nurture of her progeny. Strange to
say, she will not select living wood, such as the
trunk of a tree, but generally prefers wood which
has already begun to decay, as if fully aware that
such wood was likely to give her much less
trouble in boring than any other. She also selects
a piece of wood placed in some sunny and genial
position, with a view to the development and
comfort of her progeny. This important point

THE VIOLET CARPENTER-BEE.

19

Carptnter-Bee.

being settled to her mind, she next sets about the
work. Well may Reaumur exclaim, " Truly the
labour she has undertaken demands strength,
courage, and patience ! "

The violet carpenter-bee is,
perhaps, the most interesting
example we can select. She be-
gins by cutting out with her
strong jaws small portions of the
timber, and soon forms a little
hole, which looks downwards and
inwards into the wood. She then
alters the direction of her drilling,
and now perforates the timber Mandibles of the Carpenter,
perpendicularly downwards, and
in a parallel direction to the
wood. Long and hard does she thus labour,
until she has actually scooped out a tunnel in
the timber a foot or so in length, and half
an inch in diameter. Sometimes she will drill
several of these beautiful galleries in the wood.
The task, however arduous, never seems to
weary her; impelled by a heaven-bestowed in
fluence, she works strenuously and cheerfully for
weeks, or even sometimes for months. Our

sides of the

20 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

readers may be interested to know what she does
with the saw-dust. If they can but get an op-
portunity of watching her they will soon see her
mode of dealing with it. Standing by the side of
the wood she is drilling, and keeping our eyes sted-
fastly fixed on the hole, we shall presently observe
her head emerging from it, and immediately after
she is seen to shovel out a little heap of the dust,
which accumulates on the ground beneath into a
pile. When her galleries are finished her labour is
yet far from accomplished. She has now to deposit
her eggs, and make provision for the prospective
wants of her young ones. Now, her eggs must
not be piled together, nor be scattered about in
the same cavity. The larvaB which are to be pro-
duced by them must each live in separation from
the others. How is this fresh difficulty to be
overcome ? The insect soon supplies us with the
answer. She has not forgotten her heap of saw-
dust. She first deposits an egg at the bottom of
the tunnel, and then away she flies to the fields
for a load of the fine yellow dust of flowers, called
pollen, and also for honey. She mixes these up
into a nice little mass of pollen-bread, or cake,
which is intended for the food of the larva, when it

SECTION OF A WOODEN NURSERY.

21

comes out of the egg, and then piles it up in the

gallery just over

the first egg. She

then, at a height

of about three

quarters of an

inch, plaisters a

layer or ring of

saw-dust made by

her into a sort of

mortar, and adds

to this another and

another ring Of the

same material until the ceiling is quite complete,
and the cell thus formed is shut off from the rest of
the excavation by a circular plate of this substance,
which effectually excludes all intercourse be-
tween the occupants of this
wooden nursery. Having
completed this cell she pro-

1-1 i

ceeds in the same way to lay
an egg, and to provide a store
of food, and, finally, to close

*

in the rest of the gallery,

until she has subdivided it into ten or twelve

Cells °f Carpenter-Bee.

/.

//:/ "

Ks

Ceiling -plate

22

THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

separate apartments. The appearance of the
circular ceilings formed on these ingenious prin-
ciples is exhibited in the engraving annexed.

One of the most striking facts
in connexion with the proceed-
ings of this little creature has
yet to be brought under our
notice. It will be readily ad-
mitted that the first egg depo-
sited at the bottom of the gallery
will be the first, in point of time,
that will be hatched, and, conse-
quently, the first to require to
make its escape from the wooden
prison-house of its birth. How
is it possible for this to take
place, when above the poor pri-
soner's head are ten or twelve
cells full of other occupants,
and each shut in with a hard
ceiling and floor ? By referring
to the figure, we obtain a clue
to this enigma. It is here
holes which communicate
The uppermost of these

Section of Cells, show
ways ofescap<

seen that there are
with the tunnel within.

ESCAPE OF THE YOUNG OUT OF PRISON. 23

holes was the one by means of which the tunnel
was first formed, but the two lower ones have
been expressly formed by the carpenter-bee to
provide against the dilemma in which her young
would otherwise have been placed. They form
as it were posterns or back doors by which, when
the insect is perfected, it is easily enabled to
make its escape. Singular, indeed, it is, that the
insects, previous to passing into their last trans-
formation, arrange themselves with their heads
downwards, so that every one of them generally
emerges at the so-called back-door of the mansion.
There are many similar instances in natural
history of the manifest wisdom and forethought of
the Creator of all things, visible and invisible,
but we may safely say there are not many which
show it in so clear and striking a point of view as
this. It is to be remembered this industrious
insect in the arrangements in question does not act
from past experience. She never saw her young
brood, nor could learn of herself their wants and
dispositions, yet her plans for their welfare are
as admirably contrived as if she had brought up
generation after generation under her own eye,
and had learnt wisdom by the lapse of years.

24 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

Plainly, therefore, her actions are all directed by
an impulse given her from God, and we may well
exclaim with the wise king of old, it is God who
" doth instruct her to discretion, and doth teach
her." Altogether, what an example of patience
and cheerfulness in her labours, and of admirable
wisdom in their performance, is presented to
us by this little sketch of the history of the
carpenter-bee's nest !

Among the birds discovered in Australia, is one
called the Bower-bird, from its fondness for making
a bower, which it ornaments in a very pretty
manner. Other instances of a somewhat similar
kind could be mentioned, tending to show that
some of the lower animals are as fond of decorating
their dwellings as we are ourselves. There is, how-
ever, in the insect world, a little creature which has
been called the tapestry-bee, which adorns the
place where its progeny is to be born with a tapestry
as novel as it is elegant. The great entomologist
whom we have before quoted, thus describes his
first discovery of this interesting fact : — <f In one
of my rambles, which had led me through several
lanes, and in the course of which I had frequently
stopped to examine the little tunnels pierced in

THE TAPESTRY- BEE.

25

the earth by various insects, my companions began
to engage in the same occupation with myself;
one of them at length perceived, and pointed out
to my notice, a tunnel which had some peculiarities
of appearance not possessed by the others we had

The Tapestry -Bee audits Cell.

seen ; its interior seemed to be painted with ver-
milion. A small twig was immediately gently
pushed into it, and with a knife we carefully
removed the earth which surrounded it, taking
great care not to injure the walls of the tunnel.
When we had uncovered it sufficiently, it was
found that the little stick was buried in a tube
made of the leaves of the field poppy.

" I need scarcely say, that during the remainder

26 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

of our ramble we were exclusively occupied in
searching for similar holes. It is a common obser-
vation, that when a fact, which has not hitherto
been recognised among those presented to us in
nature, is once caught sight of, we are almost sure
to see it again and again, until we wonder how it
could have been that it was never noticed before.
We therefore now found other holes, leading to
similar tubes, formed in the same manner of the
flowers of the red poppy. Altogether, before re-
turning home, we found seven or eight of them ;
and since that time, I have found them in all their
different stages." These elegantly decorated
apartments w ere subsequently found to belong to
the tapestry-bee.

This bee, in forming the future abode of her
young, begins by scooping out a burrow in some
pathway, which she bores to the depth of two or
three inches. She then smooths the walls of this
cavity, and all being now ready for putting up
the hangings, she betakes herself to the fields, and
alights upon some fresh-expanded poppy flower,
just displaying its crimson cheeks to the light of
day. Here she quickly plies the scissors which
she has been armed with for this purpose, and in a

DECORATION OF HER NEST.

27

very short time cuts out of the bright petal on
which she rests, a smooth portion of a definite size.
She then returns home, and, by means of the
scissors and her legs, she
cuts and smooths the
piece until it lays quite
flat upon the bottom of
her cell. This done, she
flies for more, and in a
short time, could we
peep in, we might find
her mansion all over-
spread with tapestry,
more bright in colour,
and more delicate in
point of finish and tex-
ture, than human art
can by possibility pro-
duce. The apartment
being thus not only de-
corated, but rendered,
both to the eye and senses, warm and comfort-
able, she then stores up in it a quantity of pollen
and honey, until she has filled it to the height of
half an inch, when she deposits the egg, for whose

Poppy-flower cut by the Bee.

28

THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

wants and, as we might say, even luxuries, she
has thus elegantly provided, folding some of the
hangings carefully over it. The remainder of the
cavity is filled with loose earth.
We have taken it for granted,
in this account, that the in-
sect really takes a pleasure in
the brilliant colours with which
she ornaments her cell ; but it
is only right to say, in addi-
tion, that we have, of course,
no positive proof that such is
really the case. For aught we
know, her motives may be very
different; it is, however, an
amusing way to consider these actions, be the ex-
planation of them what it may.

We fear, however, we dare not promise our
readers the same success as that which attended
M. Reaumur and his companions. It has been
thought, that this interesting insect is not a native
of our island, and it is certain it has not been
commonly observed amongst us ; but Mr. Eennie,
in his work on Insect Architecture, says, that at a
beautiful sea-bathing village in Ayrshire, he once

THE ENCHANTED LEAF-TUBES. 29

found in a footpath a great number of the perfo-
rations of the tapestry-bee. At all events, they
deserve looking for.

Although we have, perhaps, lingered long enough
over the insect cradle, we must spare room for one
or two more remarks on this subject, and it were
almost a shame, while speaking thereon, to omit
a notice of one of the most elegant cradles of all —
one made with rose-leaves ! As Reaumur's account
of the manner in which he first became acquainted
with these egg depositories is very pleasantly
written, we shall extract the substance of it from
his work. It was one day in July, 1736, that a
gentleman of rank, accompanied by his suite and
his gardener, who was in a state of great alarm,
waited upon an eminent naturalist in Paris. The
gardener had left his master's country-seat, near
Rouen, to proceed with all haste to the metropolis,
in order to communicate to his master the terrible
tidings, that his ground was bewitched ! He had
the courage, however, to pick up the spells, or
charms, which the sorcerer had placed in the earth,
and to carry them to his master, in full belief that
they were sufficient to convince all the world of
the reality of the enchantment. He had, indeed,

30

THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

in the first instance, taken them to the parish
priest, begging his counsel, and both came to the
same conclusion — that, without doubt, the garden
was now enchanted ground ! When the gentleman
saw the little things his gardener called charms, —

which are here
represented, —
he was much
perplexed, al-
though his
good sense led
him to ridicule
the idea of the
Leaf tubes- bewitchment of

his property by such means. He applied to his
medical adviser for a solution of this problem ;
but, alas ! he was no entomologist, and could
not enlighten him ; but he directed him to the
naturalist of whom mention has been made, and
whose name was M. Nollet. On being admitted to
the presence of this gentleman, the terror-stricken
gardener hastily put on the table the little rolls
of leaves he considered to be spells, and which
had been made, with some evil design, as he
doubted not, by the malevolent hands of some

THE SPELL BROKEN. 31

sorcerer. Fortunately, M. Nollet had in his mu-
seum some rolls of leaves formed with equal art
by beetles; he produced them, and showed them
to the affrighted man, assuring him, that, without
doubt, they had been formed by insects, and that
it was therefore highly probable that the rolls in
question were the productions of some other insects
of a different species. The gardener looked incre-
dulous, being apparently unwilling to give up his
alarm, until M. Nollet, greatly to his horror, took
up one of those little leaf-rolls which had caused
him so much uneasiness, and carefully unfolding
it, drew from thence a fat little larva. The
moment the gardener saw the little creature, his
fears and troubled aspect vanished, and an air of
cheerfulness spread over his face, such as one
might imagine as the result of deliverance from
some fearful peril. The only reward M. Nollet
would receive from the poor man for thus dissi-
pating his cares and fears was, that he should leave
the leaf-rolls with him, and, collecting more of
them, should send them to M. Reaumur's address,
for him to examine. This little anecdote affords
us a good illustration of the connexion of super-
stitious fears with ignorance on points of natural

32 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

history, and sets before us, in well-relieved contrast,
the foolish terrors of the unlearned gardener with
the collected bearing of the learned naturalist.
Would that this anecdote stood alone in the
records of natural history ! We have already seen
that it does not; and that the most groundless
apprehensions have taken their rise in the most in-
nocent and trifling of natural causes.

By and by, after a little careful investigation,
the true artificer of these spells was discovered,
and proved to be a lowly insect, which has been
since called the rose-leaf-cutter bee. On closer
examination, these rolls of leaves, — which are
almost as long and as large as a tooth-pick case, —
were found to be made up of six or seven cells,
each separate from the rest, placed end to end,
and covered with a common coating of leaves.
The manner in which the roll is formed is as
follows : — The insect sometimes makes a perfora-
tion in decayed wood, sometimes in the well-
trodden earth of a footpath; this she drives to
the depth of, perhaps, nine inches, and she then
proceeds to hang this apartment with its green
tapestry, — for it must be understood, it is not the
leaves of the flower, but of the stem of the rose-

MODE OF FORMING THE LEAF-TUBE. 33

tree, — or, in other words, the green leaves, that
she selects for this purpose. The insect alights
upon what she considers to be a suitable leaf, and
begins with her sharp jaws to cut out a piece of a
crescent form from its edge. When she has cut,
perhaps, half-way round, or rather more, she sets
her wings in motion, so as to keep her balanced in
the air, lest she should drag away the half-cut
piece before it was properly divided
from the leaf. When cut, she places
it in a perpendicular position be-
tween her legs, and flies away with
it to her cell. She then simply
folds it into a proper form, and
overlays the cell walls with this leafy covering,
not using any cement to make it retain its form,
but relying upon the natural elasticity of the leaf
to keep it close pressed against the wall in the
manner in which she places it. Repeating this
process several times, she finally completes each
cell with exquisite art and care, and taking the
precaution of arranging all her joints and seams so
that they shall not present themselves in the same
place, but covering them over with pieces of leaf,
so as to strengthen them, and in many other

D

34 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

respects exibiting an amount of mechanical and
mathematical skill never sufficiently to be admired,
she now deposits the minute egg in it which is to
become the toilsome, busy, patient, and clever being,
— the full-grown insect of her own species. Mind-
ful of its future wants, she then compounds a
delicate mass of pink conserve, which she collects
from thistles, and subsequently stops up each cell
with thin pieces of leaf, as exactly round as if
they had been cut out with a punch, or by means
of some mathematical instrument.

Reaumur says he often, in the month of May,
on looking at his rose-trees, detected these insects
at their work ; all he had to do was, to stand and
patiently watch by the side of a tree, the leaves of
which exhibited the singular marks made by this
insect. Many times have the same appearances
arrested our attention, and without doubt that of
the reader. The spectacle of insect ingenuity
which it affords well promises to repay a little
exertion in endeavouring to find out the nest to
which the pieces are conveyed, and some neigh-
bouring post or footpath will probably discover it
to us after a sharp scrutiny. Sometimes the insect
makes a bad choice of a leaf; it may be, perhaps,

NEST OF DOWN MADE BY A MOTH. 35

too tough for her; but she soon discovers her
mistake, and leaves it, half cut, to seek a better on
the same branch.

A Rose-branch cut by the Bee.

The nest formed by a species of moth for depo-
siting her eggs in, is one equally interesting to

36 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

describe. From the resemblance of her actions to
the well-known account of those of the eider-duck,
whose maternal love strips her breast of down for the
purpose of protecting her eggs, we might almost
venture to call this moth the eider-moth, were it not
that it is known under another and far less appro-
priate name — the gipsy-moth. Indeed, in the care
of the insect the mother's love is, as we might say,
even more powerful than in the bird; for, while
the latter has the pride and pleasure of seeing her
little ones grow up around her, the poor insect, after
stripping herself of her own soft, warm down, thus
testifying her love to her offspring even to death,
presently expires. The insect in forming her nest
first plucks off, by means of a singular instrument,
like a pair of tweezers, with which she is provided,
a little portion of down from her body ; seated
upon a tree, she attaches this to its trunk, and then
deposits an egg in it, which immediately adheres
to the down, and becomes coated with it. The
remainder of her operations, until she has depo-
sited the entire number of eggs, are but repetitions
of the same actions. When the process is at an
end, she begins to form a regular tile or covering
to her nest, and this she effects with a degree

THE GIPSY- MOTH.

of skill not unworthy of the most consummate
thatcher. She arranges the hairs of the down
just as the thatcher does his stems of straw
for the cottage roof, so that they all slope down-

The Nr.st fo the Gipsy -moth.

wards, resembling much the smooth pile of a hat.
By this arrangement of the down, it is next to

38

THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

impossible that in the most drenching shower the
eggs, warmly wrapped up within, should be wetted
or otherwise injured, and the down itself, being a
material which, as we all know, is a non-conductor,
preserves the eggs from the influence of the most
severe frosts. In shape, this nest of eggs resembles
a skittle, or a truncated cone, the broad end down-
wards. The engraving represents this form, and
also shows the insect at work constructing the nest.
Let us now pass on, to mention, that many eggs
are deposited without any special protection of the
kind we have described, and without what would

be with propriety termed
a nest. A moth, called
the lackey - moth, fre-
quently ornaments the
young twigs of trees
in our gardens with
exquisite bracelets of
glistening white eggs,
looking like beads. From

tWO t0 thre6 hundred Of

(Natural size, and magnified.)

CggS are glued

by the insect around the twig, by means of a
tenacious waterproof cement, and are arranged

THE LACKEY-MOTH. 39

with an accuracy of the most marvellous cha-
racter, in a close spiral line upon the twig.
The cement employed by the insect in uniting
her eggs, and in varnishing them over, is so
hard as to serve the purpose of a covering,
which admirably casts off the rain, and preserves
the eggs free from injury by the elements all the
winter long. Many eggs are simply glued on
irregularly upon the stems and leaves of plants,
their shells or outer coating, together with the
protecting varnish, being sufficient to preserve
them from the inclemencies of the weather ; but
some are piled together with the most striking
regularity, in regular columns of eggs.

In addition to these, it is proper to state, that
some insects lay their eggs in the body of the
young of others. Of these, those which are most
dreaded by the insect tribe are the little but
terrible flies, called Ichneumons. They are so
called because in their actions they agree with the
popular account of those of the ichneumons of
Egypt, which were venerated as the destroyers of
the eggs of serpents and crocodiles. " Such," say
Messrs. Kirby and Spence, " is the activity and
address of the ichneumons, that scarcely any con-

40 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

cealment, except perhaps the waters, can secure
their prey from them ; and neither bulk, courage,
nor ferocity, avail to terrify them from effecting
their purpose. They attack the ruthless spider in
his toils ; they discover the retreat of the little
bee, that for safety bores deep into timber; and
though its enemy, the ichneumon, cannot enter its
cell, by means of her long ovipositor (organ for
depositing the egg), she reaches the helpless grub,
which its parent vainly thought secured from
every foe, and deposits in it an egg, which pro-
duces a larva that destroys it. In vain does the
destructive cecidomia of the wheat conceal its larvae
within the glumes that so closely cover the grain ;
three species of these minute benefactors of our
race, sent in mercy by Heaven, know how to in-
troduce their eggs into them, thus preventing the
mischief they would otherwise occasion, and saving
mankind from the horrors of famine. In vain,
also, the cynips, by its magic touch, produces the
curious excrescences on various trees and plants,
called gulls, for the nutriment and defence of its
progeny. This parasite insect discovers its secret
chamber, pierces its wall, however thick, and
commits the destroying egg to its offspring." In

BENEFITS CONFERRED BY THEM. 41

vain, also, might we add, does the sand-wasp
excavate her deep cell for her young ones ; for
when once the ichneumon has discovered the
retreat, the destruction of the young larvae is
inevitable. She pierces through the defences
piled over the mouth of the cavity, with all the
precision and patience of a higher creature, and
rests not until she has thrust down her long
ovipositor, and placed the egg in the body of the
helpless prisoner below, when she flies away, con-
fident that the days of her victim are numbered,
and having thus doomed him to be eaten up alive !
The common caterpillar, which, by its ravages in
our cabbage rows, makes itself a little too familiar
to us, has a fierce enemy in these flies; they dart
upon it, pierce its body in many places, laying an
egg in each wound; these in due time become
hatched, and eat their way out of the body of the
poor caterpillar, who soon dies, while the Iarva3,
after undergoing their proper transformations,
become perfect insects themselves, fully equipped
to proceed to the same wrork in some other indi-
vidual of the caterpillar kind.

To man, this ordinance of the Creator, that
some insects should lay their eggs in the bodies

42 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

of others, and so destroy them, is of inestimable
benefit. It is quite impossible to imagine what
would be the result, were weevils, caterpillars,
and such like insects, to be permitted to multiply
without a check. Produce of all kinds would soon
be consumed, and the desolations of an universal
famine would overwhelm man and beast. But
God has been pleased to ordain it otherwise. In
proportion to the increase of the destroyers is the
increase of those that prey upon and destroy them.
Thus, what has been well called the balance of
creation is preserved, and by means of the insects
in question, conjoined to other causes, is the
command to the destroying powers enforced —
" Hitherto shall ye come, but no farther."

CHAPTER IT.

STRUCTURE AND CONTENTS OF THE EGG.

IN the past pages we have now considered
shortly the various methods of depositing the eggs
of insects, and have seen that the nursing place
where the young being is produced, differs widely
both in point of its position, and of the external
circumstances which variously affect it. For some
are the deep-bored galleries in timber; for some,
the hard-wrought tunnel, scooped by an insect out
of a rock ; for some, the ingeniously-formed boat or
raft, which is to carry its cargo of life buoyant on
the dancing waters " all the days of its appointed
time, waiting until its change come;" for some,
the cell of earth lined with painted hangings,
exquisite in make and colour ; for some, the little
leaf-case, curiously folded together ; but for others,
none of those works of insect art are provided;
they, hid in a rain-proof covering of varnish, lie
open to every eye, or scattered here and there on

44 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

all and every kind of flower and herbage, lie at
the mercy of every wandering foot. While, lastly,
others are buried with a cruel yet merciful art,
in the bodies of myriads of unsuspecting members
of the insect community, lying, like the seeds of
evil in the heart of the infant, dormant awhile,
but destined to grow with its growth and to
strengthen with its strength.

The time has, therefore, now come that we
should speak a little more particularly upon the
nature and character of the eggs of insects. The
shape of an insect's egg, although frequently
something of an oval in its outline, is very various ;
in fact, were the egg of some peculiar species
placed in the field of a microscope, probably not
one general observer out of a hundred could in
the least imagine what the object at which he was
looking really was. Sometimes they are oval and
exactly resemble the form of the egg of the bird ;
but in other instances they are of the most irre-
gular and fantastic appearance. Some look like
pill-boxes tied over and down their sides with
string; others look like tiny flasks, with many
raised ribs upon their surface; others have
lids and springs. The gnat's egg resembles a

SHAPE OF AN INSECT S EGG. 45

chemist's phial, or one of the new bottles for
holding aerated waters ; and those of the dung-fly

Vat ions forms of Eggs.

have two little pieces sticking out at the top on
each side to prevent them sinking too deep into
the matter upon which they are deposited.

The eggs of some insects strikingly resemble
the little shells like turbans with which we are
most of us familiar. A very singular variety of
egg which has often caused much perplexity to
naturalists is the egg of the lace- winged fly. Reau-
mer says, " I had observed them several years
without actually knowing what they were. Others
as well as myself had noticed that on the leaves
and twigs of many trees were a number of minute

46

THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

stalks placed together, scarcely as thick as a hair,
their colour was nearly white, and they were
about an inch in length ; there were sometimes
ten or twelve placed in a bunch ; the end of each
stalk bore a small head of an egg-like or oblong

figure. They ap-
peared to me to be
fungi, the little head
precisely resem-
bling the appear-
ance of moulds as
seen under the mi-
croscope ; but they
werelarger in size."
They were, in fact,
the eggs of the fly
in question. When
the larva escapes
from them they
have much the ap-
pearance of little
vases; and the same
author assures

Eggs of Lace-winged Fly.

US

that they were once described and engraved by a
naturalist as some curious minute flower growing

MANNER OF DEPOSITING THE EGG. 47

on the leaves of the elder, for which he was unable
to account. The representation of them in the
cut will enable the reader to form his own opinion
as to the difficulty of ascertaining whether they
were flowers or the nests of an insect.

The manner in which these eggs are thus regu-
larly placed by the insect is interesting. Placing
herself upon the
leaf in the atti-
tude represent-
ed, she fastens a
thread to the
leaf, draws it out
in the same way
as a spider does
her lines, and
when it has got
sufficiently firm
the wise insect
then puts forth
the egg, glueing

Manner of depositing the Egg.

it to the extre-
mity of the stalk; this done, she quits it and begins
to form another, repeating the same actions until
the proper number is laid. Poised on the summit

48 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

of these slender pillars the eggs are secure from
every invader but man himself, and in time there
comes from them the larva which is to become the
beautiful insect, the " lace-winged fly," in all the
elegance of its form.

From what has been already stated, the surface
of the eggs of insects, it will be perceived, is by
no means in all cases smooth and polished as in
the case of birds. Far otherwise. To look at
some of them by the help of a magnifying glass
we should imagine that they were covered with
very fine lace net, others appear as if some clever
engraver had been chasing some intricate design
upon their surface. The eggs of a species of
butterfly are studded over with an infinite number
of little knots or tubercles ; and those of another
are capped at the top with sculptured work dis-
posed in the form of a circular tiling or roof to
the egg. Some also closely resemble embossed
buttons.

He who has thus adorned these minute objects
with beauty of form and carving, has likewise
bestowed upon them the most beautiful and
variegated colours — colours such as no human
art can imitate. But from the small size of the

EXQUISITELY CARVED AND COLOURED EGGS. 49

eggs it is difficult to appreciate this beauty in
them except when they occur in a mass. The
most common tints are white, yellow, and green,
but the richer and rarer hues are also to be found
among them. Thus, the eggs of a moth are of a
beautiful blue colour, banded in the most delicate
manner by three zones or rings of brown, the
contrast being very pleasing. Another moth, which
loves to deposit its eggs in the bark of the willow,
produces them tinged with a purple more delicate
than ever Tyrian lady wore as the finest produce
of the dyer's art. In the deep crevices of the bark of
the elm, and only, therefore, to be found by sharp
scrutiny, another moth lays eggs of a lovely pink.
Messrs. Kirby and Spence write, " We remember
once being much surprised at seeing the water at
one end of a canal in our garden as red as blood ;
upon examining it further we found it discoloured
by an infinite number of minute red eggs." Some-
times eggs are spotted, and thus resemble the eggs
of many birds ; and, strange to say, sometimes
they change colour in a very remarkable manner ;
so that, as far as colour is concerned, an observer
could scarcely believe that the egg was the same
he beheld, perhaps, a few days previously. The

50 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

eggs of the chameleon fly, as we are told by the
gentlemen last quoted, are at first pure white ;
then change to green, and finally turn to a deep
olive-green. Others are at first mouse-coloured,
then reddish, and, lastly, black. The eggs of a
kind of moth we have seen first of the colour of
sulphur, then becoming green, after that rose-
colour, and lastly, black. In the instances of the
common gnat and silk-worm, similar changes
of colour take place. The eggs of the gnat are
first white, then green, and finally gray ; and those
of the silk-worm are in the first instance of a
pale yellow, and ultimately take on a violet tint.
Having thus noticed these points in connexion
with the Life of an Insect, we are led to that
most important of all periods, the dawn of life
in the egg, or, in common terms, the period of
hatching. But before proceeding to the sub-
ject, may we not pause and wonder as we behold
the varied manifestations of the Creator's wisdom
in the actions of the minute, and, as we often call
them, insignificant creatures of whom we have
spoken ? Should David say, when he beheld the
sun, moon, and stars, as the work of a Divine
hand, " Lord, what is man, that thou considerest

THE CREATOR'S SKILL. 51

him, or the son of man, that thou regardest
him ! " And shall not we, as we contemplate the
few particulars here set down of the wonders of
insect-life, exclaim, with even greater astonish-
ment, " What are these, that thou considerest
them ?" Let no one then say, that entomology, or
any other natural science whose field of study lies
chiefly among the minute portions of creation, are
profitless sciences, when they can reveal to us such
a display of the power, wisdom, and love of God,
as is exhibited even in this small portion of the
Life of an Insect.

Let us then take up one of these eggs, so
minute, but containing within it the rudiments of
a being which is in time to assume a form of con-
siderable magnitude, by comparison, and to be
adorned with colours richer than art can boast of,
and let us examine it on the field of a tolerably
powerful microscope. We need not look far for a
specimen. In the dark corner of the ceiling in a
neglected room, after removing the mass of dust-
filled webs that have accumulated there for months,
we may find without difficulty a spider's nest of
eggs. A more pleasant place to search for insects'
eggs is, perhaps, the garden ; and if in the crevices
of the bark of the trees, or attached to twigs

52 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

or branches, none can be found, we can almost
certainly promise success if the reader will care-
fully and patiently
search the angles of
the garden walls, par-
ticularly if he has
noticed in the pre-
ceding autumn many
^ °f tne beautiful webs

of the garden-spider.
There, in some shel-
tered recess, where
the pattering rain-
drops may be heard,

Nestsof Garden-Spider. ^ ^^ venture j^

and where few eyes would detect them, may be
found little round yellow balls, of the size of a
small cherry, made of the most beautiful golden-
coloured silk, and attached by a slender stalk to
the wall, or perhaps, to a twig. Sometimes they
exhibit the more elegant and curious appearance
shown in the figure on the next page, resembling
an inverted wine-glass or pear.

On taking our prize in-doors, by the aid of a
very sharp penknife we may succeed in cutting it
smoothly open, and in turning out some of the deli-

NESTS OF SPIDERS. 53

cate eggs which lie warmly covered up at the bottom.
Taking one of them up on the point of the knife, and
laying it on the microscope-field, we shall be able to
see something of the anatomy of an insect's egg.

First, we may notice what seems
to be the shell; that is, the outer
covering of the egg. This is very dif-
ferent to the hard, calcareous egg-
shell of birds. It is stated not to con-
tain any lime in its composition as
the shells of birds do ; for when the
eggs of insects are put into very
weak sulphuric acid and water, which
would act on the lime if it were pre-
sent in their composition, they are not
affected by it. Although, therefore
some eggs of insects are very hard:
so hard indeed as to resist severe pres-
sure with the nail, they do not owe
their hardness, as do the eggs of
birds, to any lime in their chemical
composition. The outer coat or shell is Nests ofspiders,
apparently simply membraneous, frequently vary-
ing greatly in thickness, being sometimes as dense
and horny as we have mentioned, and at others, so
delicate as to burst with the gentlest toiich.

54 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

Could we now do, what it is so easy to do with
the egg of a fowl, — carefully take off a little portion
of this outer shell, we should be able to inspect
its contents more accurately. But in the case of
most who read this book, this extremely delicate
task will prove after many trials probably a hope-
less failure, Let us state, therefore, what some
expert and talented observers have found within
the insect's egg. It appears, then, that although
there is both a " yolk " and a " white" in the
tiny egg before us, that they are not quite so
distinct as in the bird. Yet, they are sufficiently
separate from one another to make their differ-
ences complete. Probably the reader has noticed
in the hen's egg a little round spot in the middle
of the " yolk" or yellow portion ; from this the
future bird is produced. Although from their ex-
treme minuteness it is difficult to detect anything
of this kind in the eggs of insects, some observers
state they have seen a similar little spot in them
also. Thus, M. Herold says, that in the eggs of
the very insect whose nest we have robbed, the gar-
den spider, " this little spot can be seen as a minute
white point immediately under the shell, and
in the middle of its circumference." This was seen
by holding it up to the light, and the spot was

SIMPLE STRUCTURE OF INSECTS* EGGS. 55

more carefully examined by gently pressing the
contents of a spider's egg upon a watch-glass.
Mr. Kennie says, that " the point where the cater-
pillar originates, answering to the scar in the eggs
of birds, we can readily distinguish even by the
naked eye in the larger species of eggs, as it lies
always immediately under the shell." But it may
be doubted whether, without the assistance of
some one versed in entomology, many who make
the same attempt, will succeed. So much depends
in looking at any object upon whether we know
what to look for or not, so that things which are
as clearly seen as possible by the eyes of the
initiated, are not seen at all by any others. To
perceive some things in natural history, and many
in science, the senses of sight, hearing, and touch,
require to be well educated, and they then become
apparent enough.

And is this all that we can mention about the
structure of an egg ? This indeed is all. Can it
be possible? Is there no striking and broad differ-
ence to mark the nature of the future insect ? Is
the egg of a spider the same in the number and
nature of its parts as that of a butterfly, or the
egg of a gnat as that of a beetle ? Surely, as we
should imagine, there must be some important

56 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

differences between these, otherwise why such
immense differences in the perfect insect? Could
any one imagine that a grasshopper and a house-
fly, so strangely unlike each other in their perfect
forms, originated in eggs to either of which the
same description of an insect's egg would accu-
rately answer, and leave nothing out ? However
great our amazement, the fact is unquestionable.
The egg of every insect at first consists of an outer
covering, a white, a yolk, and the little spot we
have alluded to. We might have thought that in
creating so many different species of insects, which
differ so surprisingly in form as the insect tribes
do, the great Creator would have formed their
eggs essentially different too. But, except in the
matter of shape, all are originally alike ; and the
wisest philosopher is unable to inform us of any
essential difference in the eggs of insects at first.
The eye of God, who knows the end from the
beginning, sees some difference inappreciable to
the eye of man. He said to this kind, " Be thou
thus," and to that, " Be thou different ;" but until
the time comes when the young insect is much
more advanced, it is not possible for us to recog-
nise those marks of variety which His hand has
laid upon them from the beginning.

CHAPTER III.

LIFE BEGINS IN THE EGG.

THE eggs of birds are, in most instances, hatched
by the warmth of the mother, who sits for a cer-
tain time covering them with her wings and
downy breast. But the exception to the rule in
insects is that the mother has anything to do with
rearing her young brood ; the cases in which this
takes place will be noticed in our next chapter.
Generally speaking, the eggs of insects are hatched
by the increasing temperature of the air in spring.
The following sketch, extracted from Mr. Darwin's
interesting Journal of the Voyage of the Beagle,
sets before us, in a very pleasing manner, the
awakening influence of this season to all nature : —
"When we first arrived at Bahia Blanca, Sep-
tember 7th, 1832, we thought nature had granted
scarcely a living creature to this dry and sandy
country. By digging, however, in the ground,

58 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

several insects, large spiders, and lizards, were
found, in a half-torpid state. On the 15th a few
animals began to appear, and, by the 18th, (three
days from the equinox,) everything announced the
commencement of spring ; the plains were orna-
mented by the flowers of a pink wood-sorrel, wild
peas, mnoiherce, and geraniums; and the birds
began to lay their eggs. Numerous beetles were
crawling about, while the saurian tribe, the con-
stant inhabitants of a sandy soil, darted in every
direction."

As to the torpid animal and buried seed, so to
the carefully laid up egg, the returning warmth of
the air is the signal for the commencement of life.
The winter-clouds roll reluctantly back, as the
genial days of spring advance, and the changes
which are to have their accomplishment in the
production of a living being out of the minute
object before us, are set in movement as the days
grow bright and pleasant. That the hatching of
the egg, in most cases, is due chiefly to the stimu-
lating influence of heat, is now well ascertained.
The school-boy who has ever amused himself with
silk-worms can well assure us of this fact, for he
is in the habit of hatching the insect's eggs by

INFLUENCE OF HEAT AND COLD. 59

carefully wrapping them in paper, and keeping
them in his waistcoat-pocket, where they have all
the comfort and warmth of his body to bring them
forward. In countries where the silk-worm is
reared, women carry them in their bosom, and by
this means cause the young larva to come forth
from the egg in much less time than it would
naturally occupy. By removing a twig of a plant
upon which in the preceding autumn an insect
may have been found to have deposited its eggs,
into a warm room, an opportunity will be had of
putting this operation practically to the test. In
a short time it will be found that the eggs are all
hatched, and that a number of minute Iarva3 are
crawling actively about, while their brethren in
the snow-covered fields are yet safely asleep in the
shell.

On the other hand, eggs which would otherwise
be hatched the same year are arrested by the ad-
vancing cold of the winter season, and are now
compelled to wait until the ensuing spring, before
their time of hatching arrives. Evidently, there-
fore, to the commencement of the life of an insect
the condition of the external temperature is an all-
important consideration. Before proceeding imme-

60 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

diately to consider the nature of the changes, it
may be mentioned as an interesting fact, that
although the eggs of insects are very quickly
sensible of a slight increase of heat, and in con-
sequence of its application to them very soon
begin to live, yet they will endure the most
severe degrees of cold almost without injury. As
an illustration of this point we may transcribe a
few sentences from a paper by the great Spallan-
zani upon this subject: —

"The year 1709, when the thermometer fell
to 1° Fahrenheit/' or thirty-one degrees below
freezing point, " is celebrated for its rigour and its
fatal effects on plants and animals. cWho can
believe/ exclaims Boerhaave, c that the severity
of this winter did riot destroy the eggs of insects,
especially those exposed to its influence in the
open fields, on the naked earth, or on the branches
of trees? Yet, when the spring had tempered
the air, these eggs produced as they usually did
after the mildest winters.' " He adds further on, " I
have exposed eggs to a more rigorous trial than
the winter of 1709 — those of several insects, and
among others the silk-worm, moth, and elm-but-
terfly, were enclosed in a glass vessel, and buried

EGGS RESIST THE SEVEREST COLD. 61

five hours in a mixture of ice and rock-salt, the
thermometer falling 6° below zero. In the middle
of the following spring, however, caterpillars
came from all the eggs, and at the same time as
from those which had suffered no cold. In the
following year, I submitted them to an experiment
still more hazardous. A mixture of ice and rock-
salt, with the burning spirit of nitre, reduced the
thermometer 22° below zero, that is, 23° lower
than the cold of 1709, or 52° lower than the
point at which water freezes. They were not
injured, as I had evident proof — by their being
hatched."

When it is known that many seeds will not
endure these degrees of cold without injury, and
those even of some tolerably hardy plants, it is the
more surprising to find such apparently delicate
and readily damaged objects as the eggs of these
members of the insect tribe thus resisting an in-
tensity of cold to which, in a state of nature, they
are scarcely ever exposed. It is impossible to
assign any rational explanation of these singular
facts. It is undoubtedly owing to this power of
resisting the generally deadly influence of extreme
cold that we find insects reappear in spring, even

62 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

in countries where the winter is much prolonged,
and is of extreme severity. Thus, in Lapland we
should have probably thought that the rigour of
the climate would have been fatal to all insects in
winter, in any condition, whether in the egg, or
in other forms ; but, as the poor inhabitants know
to their cost, it is far different. The mosquitoes
swarm in that country in numbers so prodigious
that they have been compared to a fall of snow, or
to the dust of the earth. The wretched natives
cannot take a mouthful of food, or lie down to
sleep in their cabins, unless they are fumigated to
a degree almost dangerous to life. They fill the
mouth and nostrils, and, minute though they are,
render existence almost a burden by their blood-
thirsty propensities. Not even thick plasters of
the most offensive compounds, — tar, oil, and grease,
are sufficient to shield the Laplander's skin from
their attacks. The great John Hunter considered
that this power of resisting cold was, in some un-
explained manner, connected with the existence of
a living principle in the egg, which had the effect
of withstanding a degree of cold that would other-
wise have been fatal to it ; but, after all, this is
only an apology for an explanation. When we

APPEARANCE OF SPRING. 63

are unable to clear up the difficulties of a natural
history question like this, although we cannot
explain, we are not prohibited from admiring, and
can clearly perceive, that in thus endowing the
eggs of insects with a self-preservative power,
God has manifested his wisdom and forethought ;
for had it been otherwise, the lapse of a few seasons
would have depopulated the insect world, leaving
us, it is true, without a gnat or a mosquito to
annoy us, but also without a silk-worm, or a bee,
to supply us with the precious products of insect
industry.

The frosts have disappeared, the air brightens,
the sun loses its pale aspect, and glows with a
more golden face. The days lengthen, the breeze
has lost its penetrating chilliness, gentle showers
descend and water the earth, and there is a general
voice heard all over creation, — " Spring has come!"
The eggs of a thousand insect species have already
perceived its presence, and the newly-awakened
beings within hasten to welcome it by bursting
from the shell, their long occupied, but now for ever
forsaken dwelling-place. Sometimes the young
larva bursts through the thin walls of the shell
by main force, or eats its way through by means

64 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

of its jaws, which is occasionally a task of many
hours' duration. " In many instances, however,"
write Messrs. Kirby and Spence, "the larva is
spared this trouble, one end of the egg being fur-
nished with a little lid, or trap-door, which it has
but to force up, and it can then emerge at pleasure.
Such lids are to be found in the eggs of several
butterflies and moths. The eggs of a species of
bug, besides a convex lid, are furnished with a
very curious machine, as it would seem, for throw-
ing it off. This machine is dark brown, of a
horny substance, and of the shape of a crossbow ;
the bow-part being attached to the lid, or pushing
against it, and the handle, by means of a mem-
brane, to the upper end of the side of the egg."

But if, in our account of the various attendants
on the opening of spring, we had mentioned every
circumstance that takes place at that time, alas !
for any poor insects, or, at least, for a large
number of them, who should be hatched at that
time. The warm air and gentle shower, and
brighter sky, would ill satisfy them in the absence
of all food9 and they would be born, by a cruel
destiny, only to starve and die. We well know
this is not the case ; but there are, probably, few

CONNEXION BETWEEN PLANTS AND INSECTS. 65

persons who have ever thought much upon the
admirable arrangement by which the occurrence
of such a calamity to many of the insect tribes is
avoided. We need scarcely remind the reader
that in the opening sentence of the last paragraph
there is one most important omission in the sketch
of the phenomena of returning spring ; that is, that
there is no mention of what takes place in plants,
— of the putting forth of their young and tender
leaves. Now, as a majority of insects in the larva
state are vegetable-feeders, we can easily under-
stand that the unfortunate little beings if hatched
before the appearance of leaves would, without
doubt, quickly perish for lack of proper food. Yet
the returning warmth of the air is all that is re-
quisite to call the insect into existence, and if by the
time it is ready to burst from the shell there is not
food all prepared for it, it must die. The difficulty
has been beautifully provided for ; and perhaps,
few other instances of the wisdom of the Creator
in forming the insect world are so full of instruc-
tive thought as this. It has been ordained, then,
that soon as winter is over, the plant is first to
obey the voice of spring, and to awake ; and the
bursting buds on its lower boughs are already full

F

66 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

charged with sap long before the young insect
being that is to be fed therewith has left the
shelter of the egg.

One of the talented authors of the Introduction
to Entomology relates a pleasing anecdote in re-
ference to this simple, yet admirable arrangement,
and mutual adjustment of these two events, — the
awakening of life in the plant and in the insect.
"On the 20th of February, 1816, observing the
twigs of the birches in the Hull Botanic Garden
to be thickly set, especially about the buds, with
minute oval black eggs of some insect with which
I was unacquainted, I brought home a small
branch, and set it in my study, in which is a fire
daily, to watch their exclusion. On the 28th of
March I observed that a numerous brood of
aphides had been hatched from them, and that two
or three of the lower buds had expanded into
leaves, upon the sap of which they were greedily
feasting. This was full a month before either a
leaf of the birch appeared, or the egg of an aphis
was disclosed in the open air." Thus showing that
the coming to life of the branch and of the insects
resting on it, was beautifully arranged to take
place each at the proper time.

WONDERFUL ARRANGEMENT. 67

It is very singular to add, that as some trees
acquire their leaves earlier or later than others,
the eggs of insects which are deposited on them,
never are hatched before the leaves appear, even
while some of their companion eggs of a different
species, and placed, therefore, on different trees,
may have long since sent their young into the
world. Thus, we learn that not only has God
been pleased to arrange generally the hatching of
the eggs of insects, and the putting forth of the
leaves of trees, so that the latter shall precede the
former, but it has also been ordered that the eggs
deposited on each particular plant shall be hatched
just when the time of that plant's putting forth its
leaves shall arrive, at whatever period that may
be. This may be more readily comprehended by
an example : thus, there is no difference, so far
as we can perceive, between the eggs of the little
insects just mentioned as feasting on the leaves
of the birch, and those whose food is the leaf
of the ash ; yet the birch will be in leaf nearly
a month before the ash-tree, and the eggs depo-
sited on it will therefore be hatched a month
before those placed upon the ash, although both
trees are in the same position with regard to

68 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

warmth, and may even, perhaps, be within a yard
or two of one another. What a beautiful and
mysterious link is this, between events so dispro-
portionately important as the clothing of a great
tree with its leafy garments and the coining to life
of a little throng of beings, whose dwelling-place
is a small twig, and whose world a green leaf!
Yet it was not too insignificant a matter for Him to
arrange whose dwelling-place is eternity, and who
takes up the islands as a very little thing. Does
God take thought for these, and will He not
much more care for and arrange well every event
in the lives of his faithful children ? Surely, yes.
Speaking generally, the time taken up in
hatching the eggs of insects is very variable. It is
a general rule that the eggs which are laid in the
autumn must abide the return of spring before
they will be hatched. But when eggs are de-
posited in the summer, they are often hatched in a
very short time. The eggs of the painted-lady
butterfly are hatched in about eight days, those of
the lady-bird in a little less, from five to six days ;
the eggs of another species of butterfly occupy a
month, those of spiders three weeks, those of bees
only three days, and those of the meat-fly shorter

CHANGES IN THE EGG. 69

than any — only a few hours; it has even been stated
that in very warm weather the eggs of the meat-
fly will be hatched in about two hours ! In most
of these cases much depends upon the weather ;
but even this does not operate beyond certain
limits, for it has been said that in the month of
June, even if silk-worm's eggs were placed in
an ice-house, they would be hatched in spite of the
cold, but this observation deserves to be repeated.
It would be impossible to make the exact nature
of the changes which take place in the egg from
first to last easily understood in a work of this
kind. They have occupied the laborious in-
vestigation of talented observers with the highest
powers of the microscope, and although much is
now known on the subject, it is of a nature too
abstruse to be dwelt upon in our unpretending
volume. As we may well imagine, the changes
are wonderful indeed which from a little drop of
fluid matter, contained perhaps in a shell not
larger than a pin's head, end in the development
of the living and active larva, who makes his
speedy escape out of his shell-cradle. But they
must be studied in the scientific treatises which
are written upon this subject, and they are so

70 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

interesting as amply to repay the task of investi-
gation. It may be added, however, as a curious
fact, that contrary to the general rule in the egg
of birds, some of the eggs of insects actually grow
larger before they are hatched, and frequently the
shape alters also.

In our account of the nests made by insects
for their eggs, the examples quoted, although they
furnished us with many proofs of a mother's care
and forethought on the part of the insect, yet there
was no instance given of anything like the so-
licitude displayed by the hen over her eggs. Are
there then no anxious mothers concerned in the
well-being of their eggs among insects also ? In
the next chapter some instances of a mother's care
over the young larva? will be given ; and before
we conclude the present, mention may be made of
some interesting observations upon this subject
made by the eminent naturalist M. Bonnet. The
insect upon which his observations were made was
the spider, so commonly found on turning up a
log of wood in the fields, or a clod of earth. She
carries her eggs about with her in a little round
white pouch of silk attached to her body. Well
has it been said, " Never miser clung to his

A SPIDER'S MOTHER'S LOVE. 71

treasure with more tenacious solicitude than this
spider to her bag. Though apparently a con-
siderable incumbrance, she carries it with her
everywhere." M. Bonnet found that he could
not beat away the affectionate creature from her
treasure, and on forcibly removing it from her she
instantly lost her ferocious aspect and became tame.
In this emergency she stops to look around her,
and begins to walk at a slow pace, and searches dili-
gently on every side for her lost eggs, nor will she
fly if threatened by the bystander. If, however,
out of compassion, the bag is restored to her, she
darts forward, catches it up with all the intensity
of a mother's love, and runs away with it as fast
as possible to some secret place where she may
again have the opportunity of attaching it to her
body. In order to put this insect's affection for
her eggs to a test, M. Bonnet threw a spider with
her bag into the den of a ferocious insect, called
an ant-lion, who lurks at the bottom, like the
Giant in the " Pilgrim's Progress," waiting for
poor insect-travellers to drop into the pit which
it forms, and then, rushing out, devours them.
" The spider endeavoured to escape, and wras
eagerly remounting the side of the pit, when I

72 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

again tumbled her to the bottom, and the ant-
lion, more nimble than the first time, seized the
bag of eggs with his jaws, and attempted to drag
it under the sand. The spider, on the other hand,
made the most strenuous efforts to keep her hold,
and struggled hard to defeat the aim of the con-
cealed depredator; but the gum which fastened
her bag not being calculated to withstand such
violence, at length gave way, and the ant-lion was
about to carry off the prize in triumph. The
spider, however, instantly regained it with her
jaws, and redoubled her efforts to snatch the bag
from the enemy; but her efforts were vain, for
the ant-lion being the stronger, succeeded in
dragging it under the sand. The unfortunate
mother, now robbed of her eggs, might at least
have saved her own life, as she could easily have
escaped out of the pitfall ; but wonderful to tell,
she chose rather to be buried alive along with her
eggs. As the sand concealed from my view what
was passing below, I laid hold of the spider,
leaving the bag in the power of the ant-lion. But
the affectionate mother, deprived of her bag,
would not quit the spot where she had lost it,
though I repeatedly pushed her with a twig. Life

EXPERIMENT WITH TWO SPIDERS. 73

itself seemed to have become a burden to her
since all her hopes and pleasures were gone for
ever."

As this spider may be easily found in the lo-
calities we have mentioned, it may interest some
of our readers to make trial of the mother's care
for her eggs ; but, let us hope, only in a gentle
spirit. Never let us be guilty of the cruelty
above narrated, and leave the disconsolate mother,
after her hard struggle for her treasure, without
restoring it back to her. Even in an insect, a
mother's love, so faithful, self-devoted, and con-
stant, is a sacred thing ; and while, as an illustra-
tion of the care it has pleased the Creator to
implant in it for its offspring, it may be lawful to
put it to the trial, it is wrong and cruel to do
more. Never let us, for our own amusement,
give even to an insect that depth of anguish and
despair so beautifully expressed in the words of
Jacob, as translated in the margin of our Bibles :
ee And I, as I am bereaved of my children, — I am
bereaved."

" In order to prove," says the author of Insect
Architecture, " whether a spider of this species
could distinguish her own egg-bag from that of a

74 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

stranger, we interchanged the bags of two in-
dividuals which we had put under inverted wine-
glasses; but both manifested great uneasiness,
and would not touch the strange bags. We then
introduced one of the mothers into the glass con-
taining her own eggs and the other spider ; but
even then she did not take to them, which we
attributed to the presence of the other, as all
spiders nourish mutual enmity. Upon removing
the stranger, however, she showed the same in-
difference to her eggs as before, and we concluded
that, after having lost sight of them for a short
time, she was no longer able to recognise them."

The common earwig, a name at which some,
who little know the beautiful traits in her character,
are apt to shudder, still more closely resembles the
affection of a higher animal than does the spider
just mentioned. The following most interesting
notice of her proceedings was published by a
writer* in the Penny Magazine some time since.
He says : " About the end of March I found an
earwig brooding over her eggs in a small cell
scooped out in a garden border ; and in order to
observe her proceedings, I removed the eggs into
* Mr. Rennie.

ANECDOTE OF AN EARWIG. 75

my study, placing them upon fresh earth under a
bell glass. The careful mother soon scooped out
a fresh cell, and collected the scattered eggs with
great care to the little nest, placing herself over
them — not so much, as it afterwards appeared, to
keep them warm, as to prevent the too rapid
evaporation of their moisture. When the earth
began to dry up, she dug the cell gradually deeper,
till at length she got almost out of view ; and
whenever the interior became too dry, she with-
drew the eggs from the cell altogether, and placed
them round the rim of the glass, where some of
the evaporated moisture had condensed. Upon
observing this, I dropped some water into the
abandoned cell, and the mother soon afterwards re-
placed her eggs there. When the water which had
been dropped had nearly evaporated, I moistened
the outside of the earth opposite the bottom of the
cell, and the mother, perceiving this, actually dug
a gallery right through to the spot where she found
the best supply of moisture. Having neglected to
moisten the earth for some days, it again became
dry, and there was none even round the rim of
the glass as before. Under these circumstances,
the mother earwig found a little remaining mois-

76 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

ture quite under the clod of earth, upon the board
of the mantel-piece, and thither she forthwith
carried her eggs. The subsequent proceedings
were not less interesting ; for though I carefully
moistened the earth every day, she regularly
changed the situation of the eggs morning and
evening, placing them in the original cell at
night, and on the board under the clod during the
day, as if she understood the evaporation to be so
great when the sun was up, that her eggs might
be left dry before night. I regret to add, that
during my absence the glass had been removed
and the mother escaped, having carried away all
her eggs but one or t\vo, which soon shrivelled up."
Our diligent little exemplars, the ants, are
equally careful about their eggs. So soon as
they are produced, the ants catch them up and
convey them to a separate chamber, moisten-
ing them with their tongues, and incessantly
turning them backwards and forwards. They are
the objects of constant solicitude until they are
hatched; they are carried hither and thither
according as the temperature of the nest varies.
On a sunny morning they are brought out and
laid to bask in the warm air; but if the sky

ENORMOUS PRODUCTIVENESS OF INSECTS. 77

becomes overcast,, and heavy clouds threaten
rain, the careful nurses whip up the eggs and
hasten with them down to the deepest recesses
of the nest. They even appear to imitate the
brooding of the hen, and sit upon the eggs to
impart to them some of the warmth of their own
bodies.

Before concluding this chapter, and entering
upon the more striking manifestation of life in the
form of the insect which will next come under
our observation, it will be useful just to allude to
the comparative number of eggs which some in-
sects produce, which we shall place in the form of
a table: —

The Noon-day Fly 2

The Flea 12

May Flies 100

Silk- worm Moth 500

Other Moths 1000 to 1600

Wasps 40,000

Bees 50,000

The most enormous number of all is produced by
the queen of the white warrior ants. She de-
posits sixty eggs every minute, which is at the
rate of 31,557,600 eggs in the course of a year,
if we allow that she goes on laying at the same
rate constantly, which is, perhaps, scarcely correct.

78 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

Were all the eggs produced by insects to be
hatched and to bring forth living progeny, we
may well ask what would become of mankind ?
Unquestionably in a short time their numbers
would multiply so excessively as to sweep every
green thing off the face of the earth, and man and
beast would experience all the horrors of famine.
But they are the sport of a thousand accidents,
which destroy them and keep down the threatened
excess of population in this world of busy crea-
tures. And when the young larva has been put
forth, this check upon their tendency to over mul-
tiplication is still more prominently displayed, as
we may presently have occasion to remark.

FEROCIOUS LARVJE OF DRA~.ON-FLY.
Pa^e 120.

PART II.— THE LARVA.

CHAPTER I.

THE YOUNG LARVA.

THE generality of insects, as has been before
mentioned, are destined never to behold the birth
of their progeny, nor to experience either the
pleasures or the cares of parents surrounded by
their families. Their anxieties cease when they
have carefully stored up their eggs, and their exist-
ence is generally soon afterwards at an end. The
insect world, therefore, presents us with but few
opportunities of witnessing the display of a pa-
rental affection on the part of its members ; but,
as was mentioned in the conclusion of the last
chapter, a few examples of the kind do exist,

80

THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

and, perhaps, the very fact of their being few in
number contributes to make them the more inter-
esting to us, We have seen a noble instance of
self-devotion on the part of a poor spider in defence
of her eggs. Let us now turn to some examples
of the love of an insect mother for her young
larva. If the reader will carefully search the
twigs and leaves of the birch-tree in the month of
July he may possibly succeed in finding the little
insect, the field-bug, of which mention is about
being made, and witness for himself the strange
spectacle described in the following account from
the great work on insects by De Greer. In order
that it may be recognised, we have
here adjoined a representation of
the insect. Its colour is a greenish
gray on the back, dotted all over
with very minute black spots; the
under portion of the insect is
greenish yellow, with black spots.
It lives upon the sap of the birch-

The Field-bug. trCC

" The mother," says De Geer, " was accompa-
nied by a troop of little ones, sometimes as many
as forty in number. She remained constantly

AFFECTION OF A FIELD-BUG. 81

with them, generally on a twig or leaf. I noticed
that the little ones and their mother did not always
remain in the same place, and that as soon as the
mother began to move to another position, all the
little ones began to run after her, and stopped
whenever the mother halted. She used to take
them, as it were, for a walk from twig to twig, or
from one leaf to another, parading up and down
the branches of the tree, and she conducted them
wherever she pleased, just as a hen does her
chickens. It frequently afforded me great pleasure
to observe their movements. One day I cut a
young branch of the birch-tree inhabited by such
an insect family, and I immediately saw the
mother, apparently in great anxiety, begin to flap
her wings violently, but without attempting to fly
away, as though she would frighten away her
enemy. At another time she would have imme-
diately made her escape, thus plainly showing that
she remained only in order to defend her young
brood."

As if to furnish an instance of precisely the
opposite import, the cruel and murderous father of
this interesting little family is one of the greatest
enemies the poor mother has to contend against.

G

82 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

This hard-hearted parent does not hesitate when-
ever he falls in with one of his children to seize
him and eat him up I If the mother spies him at
this horrible feast she immediately attacks him in
the manner described ; and does her utmost to deter
him from his cannibal propensities, by placing
herself in an attitude of determined resistance
before him. Was ever mother's love more plainly
manifested than this love ? No other instance of
an affection so strange and strong is to be found in
the tribe to which she belongs.

The care of the earwig not only extends to
her eggs, but also to her young larvae. " In the
beginning of June/' writes the author last quoted,
" I found under a stone a female earwig, sur-
rounded by a number of little creatures which I
discovered to be her tiny family. She did not
attempt to leave them, and they frequently ran
and crouched under her, just as chickens under the
wing of a hen. I took them up and placed them
under a sand-glass, under which I had put a little
fresh earth. They did not bore into the earth ;
and it was most curious to see them running for
shelter under the mother, and pushing about
between her feet, while she remained perfectly

AN EARWIG MOTHER. 83

quiet. I fed them with pieces of ripe apple,
which the mother seized and ate with great avidity,
detaching morsels of it by means of her teeth, and
swallowing them. The young ones also ate a
little of it, but with less avidity."

When the eggs of the spider mentioned in the
last chapter as so devotedly attached to its trea-
sure as to prefer death to parting with them, are
hatched, they make their way out of the bag by an
opening in it, being assisted by the mother in this
difficult task. De Geer indeed states that this is
the reason why the mother clings so tenaciously to
the bag of eggs, as if she knew that her assistance
in extricating her young from it was necessary.
But this is not altogether correct, as they are able
to make their way out by themselves in due time.
When the young larvae have come forth from the
shell they run towards the mother, and climb upon
her body ; some get on her head, some on her
back, and some on her limbs. In this manner she
carries them about, and is said to feed them until
they become strong enough to shift for themselves.
" I have more than once been gratified," (writes
one of the authors of the Introduction to Ento-
mology,) " by a sight of this interesting -spectacle ;

84 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

and when I nearly touched the mother, thus
covered by hundreds of progeny, it was most
amusing to see them all leap from her back, and
run away in all directions."

For another instance of affection almost mater-
nal for the young and helpless larvae, let us take a
peep into an ant's nest. So soon as ever the young
larvae emerge from the eggs they require the unre-
mitting attention of the best and most careful
nurses in order to rear them. They must be kept
clean, fed, and taken for an airing as regularly as
the day returns. By means of their tongues, which
are incessantly used in licking them, their coats
are kept of the most snowy white. They are fed
three or four times a day by their nurses, who take
care to masticate the food for them, and thus pre-
pare it for their tender mouths. But the most
strange part is their regularly being taken out for
the benefit of the air and warmth. Some of the ants
at the top of the nest watch for the first beams of
the welcome sun, and, as soon as they pour upon
the nest, they hasten down below in a great bustle
to wake up the nurses, and bid them take the
young ones out of their chambers and bring them
up to the light, which these indefatigable ants

ANT-NURSES. 85

quickly set about to do. After basking there all
day long the nurses take care not to expose the
delicate constitutions of the larvae to the chill
evening air ; and soon as the sun begins to sink
towards the horizon they carefully take them up
and carry them to the warm deep cell below.
For fear, perhaps, of their taking cold, they never
allow them to be taken out in raw, damp, or frosty
weather. It must not be forgotten, however, that
these ants are not the parents of the larvce ; they
are only the nurses.

But it becomes us now to pursue the more
immediate subject of these remarks, and ask the
reader's attention to a few particulars about the
larva. It is a great pity, for the sake of a clear per-
ception of the facts of insect history, that there is
a sad confusion of names in use among the majority
of persons in speaking of the different forms and
changes of insects. Who would imagine that
caterpillar, grub, maggot, and larva, signified one
and the same stage of the life of an insect?
This abuse of terms cannot but render the know-
ledge of any science less easily retained than it
would otherwise be, for the question is continually
arising in the mind — If these all mean the same,

86 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

why is not one term enough to express them ?
Let us then renounce those of uncertain meaning,
and when we wish to give a name to the insect
just emerged from its eggshell, let us call it by
its proper name, the Larva.*

The larva, then, is the first form assumed by
the insect on quitting its shell. No more a little
inactive object lies before us, as in the egg and its
slumbering tenant, but a sharp fellow, full of life,
and soon walking off the field of the microscope,
should we happen to be looking at it in that way,
or from our book or table, should it be there placed
by us for observation. By what hidden and mys-
terious power this has been effected who can tell ?
It was not heat alone that could animate the con-
tents of the shell, nor could all a mother's care do
more than preserve it from injury. It is very
possible that chemistry had some share in it, and
when the tiny being first awoke in the shell the

* The definition of the words Caterpillar, Grub, Maggot, as
popularly understood, is as follows : —

A Caterpillar is the larva of a butterfly, moth, or saw-fly,
often hairy, and always provided with a larger or smaller number
of legs.

A Grub is the larva of a beetle, having six feet and a smooth
body.

A Maggot is the larva of a bee, wasp, or fly, and has no legs.

THE LARVA BORN. 87

oxygen of the air undoubtedly was necessary to its
health^ and the fulfilment of its early functions,
but no more. Not chemistry, nor electricity, nor
heat, nor any other known force could effect this
wonderful change of apparently inanimate fluid
into a lively, active, and well-organized being ;
much less could either of these give it its definite
form, causing one larva to differ from another
in its characters. No, we cannot tell how it has
taken place, nor what has wrought the change ;
but we know the author of it — even Him who
from the beginning created all things, and esta-
blished those principles which, though hidden
from our eyes, work out the marvels of the
created world. It is enough for us to know and
to remember this. Should we attempt more, we
should probably fall under the Scripture reproof,
" Professing themselves to be wise, they became
fools."

Speaking generally, insects in the larva form
appear as fleshy worms, having long and round
bodies, marked with rings, and provided with a
head and a certain number of legs, mostly six.
How different in this condition, from the ball-
room gaiety of the butterfly, or the elegant robes

88

THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

of the lace-wing flies. To look at a number of
larvae, all crawling over one another, and bearing
perhaps not the most loving behaviour to each
other as they scramble about, who would dream
that, in a little while, those slowly moving
bodies will be whirled through the air faster
than our feet can pursue, or even than the eye
can follow ? Who also, but one well versed in
the knowledge of insects, could venture to say
what insect could be formed by this or that
larva, now so little resembling winged insects at
all?

In studying the forms and appearances of
various larvae, we shall find that some of them bear
a tolerably close resemblance to the future insect ;

Larvce unlike the future Insects. Larvce like the future Insects.

while others, on the contrary, do not resemble
their future condition at all ; and had we to decide

VARIOUS FORMS OF LARV^. 89

to what tribe of insects they belonged, merely
judging by their shape and character, we should
be sorely perplexed to do so, and if we did, we
should often in all probability be very far wrong.
We need not go far for an illustration, first, of a
larva like the perfect insect, and next, for one
totally unlike it. Taking a candle and exploring
into some snug hole near the kitchen fire-place, we
shall not be long, probably, before we extricate a
number of the larvse of the cricket. Those of the
bug also are very like the perfect insect ; so also
are young spiders, cockroaches and grasshoppers.
These all resemble more or less perfectly the in-
sect in its complete form.

Even amongst the larvse not resembling the
perfect insect, a little attention will enable us to
perceive a sort of general resemblance between
those of different genera and species, which we
may call the Larva family likeness. This consists
in the form of the body, in a number of instances;
but in all in the ring-like marks or segments of
the body, as they are called, which are thirteen in
number. If the reader will take the trouble to
count the rings in the Iarva3 of different insects, he
will generally find that they are thirteen in num-

90

THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

ber. The 'general resemblance of larvae to one
another may also be noticed. The larva is, in

every instance, destitute of
wings. In many cases, larvae
are provided with feet, in
many others they have none.
And in some instances,
they have no distinct head, )]
as in the larva of the blow

fly-

By far the larger num-
ber of larvse belong to this
class; that is, they do not
resemble the perfect insect.
Do not resemble ! could
any one believe that these
strange, and some of them
awful looking larvae ever

Larva of Butterflies.

STRUCTURE OF A LARVA.

91

became butterflies ? yet they all belong to that
tribe of insects.

In order to give a clear conception of the
structure of a larva, we may briefly mention the
names of its various parts. First then, there is
a head of various shapes, sometimes of the shape
of a heart, sometimes round or triangular. At-
tached to the head are the two antennae ; or, as
they are commonly called, feelers, most probably
an incorrect expression, as it appears that insects
may possibly hear as well as feel by their means.
At the side of the head are the
eyes, which are formed much more
simply than those of the per-
fect insect. Next is the mouth,
provided with its upper and lower
pair of jaws. Then there is the
body and its legs; and lastly, there
is in many Iarva3, living in the
water, a tail, which, strange to
say, is provided with a delicate
tube, through which the larva
breathes. A beautiful instance of
such an appendage to the body
of the larva, is represented in the adjoining cut ;

92

THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

Diagram of a Larva.

the various parts of the larva are
also represented in the accompany-
ing figure.

We may now enter upon a few
particulars connected with the ge-
neral history of insects in the larva
form.

CHAPTER II.

HABITS OF THE LARVA.

GENERALLY, for a little while after the larva
has emerged from the shell, it is in a very weak
and languid condition. The effort of extricating
itself from its little prison-house, seems to leave
it almost without strength ; and for a period
which varies in different insects, it lies help-
less and almost motionless at the mercy of any
wandering adversary, and might be demolished
without resistance. But this hour of weakness,
except in a few cases, is not prolonged. In the
course of an hour or two, or even much less in
some instances, the larva revives, takes heart, and
begins by eating whatever food may happen to
lie in its way; and now the larva becomes a
terror to the world of insects, or even, indirectly,
to man and to nations. Instead of simply eating,
in order to live, like most other beings, it only lives

94 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

to eat ; it has no other duty to perform at present
but to eat as fast and as much as it possibly can
in a certain time ; and it must be confessed, the
larva, generally speaking, leaves little to be de-
sired on the score of a sharp appetite. Unlike
other creatures who allow themselves a certain
period between their meals, the larva sets to its
feast and does not leave the table until it has
devoured all its contents, — upon which it imme-
diately begins again elsewhere. No gourmand in
the world, whether among human beings or brutes,
can compare with the insect in this form for the
amount of food consumed. Morning, noon, and
night, is to it only a continued round of feasting ;
and, as may well be imagined, the larva grows
very rapidly accordingly. Some Iarva3 consume
animal, others vegetable food ; or, in the language
of science, some are carnivorous, some are grami-
nivorous or herbivorous, and some will eat anything
almost that comes before them — these would be
called, and very appropriately so, omnivorous.

Let us speak of carnivorous larvae first. The
larvae which have carnivorous propensities render
themselves often truly terrible to the insect world
around them. The most mighty warrior that ever

THE APHIS LION. 95

lived in his whole career never slew half so many
of his own species as the larva of a beautiful fly
does of aphides in a few hours. Well does Reaumur
call them the " lions of the aphides/' and thus does
he describe their method of proceeding : —

" There is no beast of prey in nature who hunts
so entirely at his ease as does this larva. Resting
upon a twig or a leaf, he is surrounded on every
side by the insects on which he feeds ; often,
indeed, they touch his sides, and he is able to catch
hundreds of them without changing his position.
Not only do the poor little aphides not fly from
him, but they may be often seen creeping over
the body of their enemy. It is only after the
larva has eaten up the greater number of his prey
around him, that he has any need to remove to a
spot as thickly inhabited by them as that in which
he has been making his cruel ravages. In order
to observe the manner in which he attacks them,
the best plan is to take him, put him between
two leaves, and shut him up in a box for ten or
twelve hours to sharpen his appetite. After this
fast he must be placed on some spot where the
aphides are found in abundance. Immediately he
begins exploring around for prey, which he does

96 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

simply by the sense of touch, as he does not appear
to be able to see. At length an unhappy insect

comes within his reach.
Brandishing a trident with
which he is armed, he im-
mediately transfixes the
insect, just as we take up
a morsel of food upon a
fork!" The little creature
is then sucked into a sort
of cavity like the neck of
a bottle, where it is re-
tained by a couple of
pins until its juices are
Lion of the Aphides. emptied by the destroyer,

when he casts it away, now nothing more of it
being left but a dry, shrivelled, empty skin. The
aphis-lion, however, loses no time, and presently
seizes another, which he pierces and sucks dry as
quickly as the last.* When very hungry he will
devour one a minute. Reaumur says, "I have
seen him eat twenty of these insects one after

* One of these insects which fell under the writer's notice
pierced and sucked dry aphides of several different species quite
indifferently.

COURAGE OF A LARVA. 97

another in twenty minutes ; nor did this satisfy
him : for in the course of two hours he devoured
more than a hundred insects with which I sup-
plied him !" These larvae do repose a little, but
never for long, for they are seldom without some
prey in hand. " I have seen," adds the last author,
" twigs of the elder seven or eight inches in length
entirely covered with these insects, (the aphides,)
and in four days' time there remained not one
alive."

This larva is a rare specimen of courage, as
well as of destructive powers ; for when it is quite
young it often seizes upon an insect twice as big as
itself. It is very amusing to see the unequal con-
test between the little but courageous foe, and his
great, bulky, and stupid adversary. Immediately
the larva thrusts its trident into the body of the
enemy, who, stupid as he is, does not like the
sensation of the wound in his side, and makes off
as fast as he can. The lion-hearted larva follows
him up and wrestles with him, and at length ac-
tually boards him, to use a sailor's term, clamber-
ing up his sides, and, in triumph, piercing him
through and slaying him. What is perhaps most
singular of all, the larvae of some species of these

H

98 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

flies not only slay their victims, but actually clothe
themselves, after the manner of Hercules on his
victory over the Nemaean lion, with the skins of
their prey !

It is almost to be regretted that the insect
world has not had the privilege of having its
combats sung by the poets. Who can forget the
animated scenes, painted in such life-like colours
by Homer and Virgil, of the conflicts, hand to
hand, of the heroes of their verse ? But the history
of insects supplies us with more singular and
more interesting deeds of fight than have ever yet
been fabled by poets, or commemorated in song.
In the instance we are about to quote, the larva of
the ant-lion is the crafty Giant Grim, who lives by
entrapping, as we have before said, poor wayfaring
travellers. Like those giants of old, of whom we
read in books a little more wonderful than true, this
subtle and powerful enemy lies deeply ensconced
in his subterraneous cavern, patiently abiding the
time when his unsuspecting prey shall fall into his
power. His trap is depicted on the opposite page.

This insect is naturally a very helpless being, it
can only walk at a slow pace, and strange to add,
it can only walk backwards, and not forwards !

THE " GIANT GRIM*' OF INSECTS.

99

Yet its food is the juice of insect bodies. How,
then, is it to seize upon them circumstanced so
unfavourably as it is, having neither swiftness nor
ability to direct its motions sufficiently actively to

An Ant-lion in its Trap.

fit it for such a task ? It succeeds by an artifice of
the most refined character. Nothing daunted by
what we might call its natural disadvantages, the
insect sets bravely to work to construct a trap for its-
prey ; and the manner in which this is performed
may well strike us with wonder, and raise our
admiration up to Him who has so marvellously
endowed this humble being with wisdom and skill.
It first takes care to choose out a proper site for

100 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

the work it is about, and in this always selects a
soil composed of fine, loose, and dry sand, well aware
that, as we shall presently see, no other would be
fit for its purpose. Generally it chooses such a soil
under the shelter of an old wall, where the rain
cannot easily penetrate and ruin its work. In so
doing it shows its wisdom ; for thither, when the
heat of the sun is great, or when the rain-drops fall
heavily, crowds of insects come for shelter, and
fall into its cruel embrace.

The site being chosen, the next important step
is to mark out the bounds of its habitation, and
with this view the insect begins digging a circular
ditch, walking backwards until it has completed
the circle. This defines the outer limits of its

Circular Ditch of the Ant-lion.

trap, and is a sort of guide line to it in its future
operations. Then it sets about the more proper
task of excavating its trap. Would that our readers
could see this insect at work ! Of all the wonder-

AN INSECT EXCAVATOR. 101

ful sights presented to us in the insect world there
is none to equal it in interest, none so calculated
to enlist our sympathies on the part of the patient,
skilful, and unwearied little labourers of this
kingdom of nature. Guided by the line it has
marked out, the workman steps into the circle,
and sets to work with a hearty good will, and
with a degree of diligence and excavating skill
that would put our railroad " navigators " to the
blush. Shower after shower of sand is seen flying
up and beyond the boundary described, with the
most unintermitting diligence, until the insect has
completed the circle again; arrived there, it turns
round and excavates back again until it arrives at
the same point. But it may perhaps be asked,
where are its tools, and by what means does it
succeed in casting up these loads of earth ? We
fear that at best any written description will
hardly do justice to our ingenious labourer; its
method, however, is as follows : — It uses the head
as the spade, or rather shovel, and in the strangest
manner it fills the shovel with one of its feet with
a load of sand, and then by a quick movement of
the head tosses it out of the cavity. By working
in alternate directions it manages so as never to

102 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

over-fatigue one leg, for on its return the leg
previously in use is at rest, while the one on the
opposite side is now called into duty. The insect
thus works on until its trap is completely exca-
vated, the task occupying a variable time ; some-
times being finished in half an hour, sometimes
even in less, but occasionally occupying several
hours, the little labourer being obliged to rest a
certain time. Reaumur, who has given a fasci-
nating account of these insects, writes, u I have
had at times hundreds of ant-lions in a large box,
and I have often been amused with filling up their
traps. Some of them would immediately begin
to form another; but the greater number in the
warm long days of summer deferred executing the
work until the sun began to go down. They
seldom worked in the heat of the day ; but in cold
or cloudy weather they would excavate at any
hour."

We well know what perplexity a chain of rocky
hills causes to a railroad engineer, and what vast
outlays of money, labour, and time are necessary
in order to overcome the obstacle thus presented
to the path of the engine and its train. But it
may be safely said that we can furnish a parallel in-

THE TRAP A STONE IN IT. 103

stance of difficulty and of patient, all-surmounting
exertion from the history of the insect before us.
M. Bonnet was curious to know what it would do
if a stone or some such obstacle were met with
in the process of its excavations, and one day had
the gratification of observing the behaviour of the
insect under these trying circumstances. Not
being able to cast it out with its head, the insect
determined to carry it out, if possible, on its back.
With this view it contrived by various manoeuvres
to place the stone upon its back and to balance it
there. This was the least difficult part of the un-
dertaking. The insect had to climb up an inclined
plane upon soil, chosen with other views purposely
by itself, as shifting and unsteady as possible, and
not only so, but to preserve the balance of the stone
with which it was encumbered. Undaunted by
these difficulties it made the attempt, but the first
step brought down a shower of sand, and tumbled
the little rock to the bottom. Again and again did
the heroic insect attempt the same feat, and with the
same ill success, and we might have thought we
beheld a realization of the fable of Sisyphus and
the rolling-stone, in the vain endeavours of the
insect to get rid of its encumbrance. Five or six

104 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

times did the insect repeat its endeavours, and at
last, after one or two narrow escapes, the stone
was fairly lodged on the outside of the trap, and
the insect returned to its subterraneous recess at
the bottom of the cell in triumph.

The traps vary in size in proportion to the age
of the insects which construct them. The young
insects only form very small ones ; but as even
from the moment of their birth they are destined
to toil for their food, they do not wait in idleness
and hunger because they cannot make large efforts,
but are content to make little traps not more than
a few parts of an inch in diameter. Thus they set
us the needful example of not despising to do
small things because our strength is not yet equal
to the performance of as much as we could
desire. The diameter of the trap formed by a full-
grown insect is about three inches ; the depth
about two.

When its labours are over, it has been well
remarked, the insect now only requires patience —
but it must have a good deal of it ! It generally
buries itself, all but its jaws, in the sand at the bot-
tom, and here awaits its victims. If it requires much
patience, surely it also needs to have much power

AN ANT ENTRAPPED. 105

of endurance of hunger, for it may wait for days
sometimes without catching any prey. Frequently,
when this is the case, it marches out of its trap,
and tries its fortune in some more favourable spot.
But see ! an ant who has been out foraging for
the young ants at home is hastening back laden
with sweet treasures, when suddenly she finds her
path arrested by what appears to her to be a deep
but smooth precipice. To plunge down and rise
on the opposite side is a shorter cut, in her estima-
tion, than to go round ; or perhaps she is led by
curiosity to wish to explore this singular cavity,
and she plants her feet on its treacherous edge,
causing a few grains of sand to roll down and give
notice to the wary giant below that a victim is at
hand. A step back, and her life would be saved ;
but no, she leaves the bank, trusts herself to the
unfaithful soil of the sides of the precipice, and in-
stantly rolls down in a cloud of dust to the bottom.
Terror has now laid hold of her, and with all speed
she strives to clamber up the unsteady sides. For
a moment escape appears possible, but the Argus-
eyed monster below starts up into activity, and
piling upon his head a huge load of sand, he shoots
it after the escaping ant, and once more brings her

106 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

down covered with dust into his embrace. The
terrible jaws are instantly closed upon the un-
happy insect, and in a few minutes her existence
is at an end, the savage enemy shaking her
violently, or dashing her quivering frame against
the earth.

Singular to add, the ant-lion loves not dead
prey, and will indignantly cast it out of its trap.
Says Reaumur, " They appear so much to delight
in the glory of a victory, that they disdain to touch
an insect who is not, to say the least, in a con-
dition to contend with them ! " It certainly is not
that the food when offered to it dead is not' fresh
enough that it is thus treated ; for if only killed
an instant before the insect still refuses to touch
it. Eeaumur is disposed to believe that, like our
sportsmen, these interesting but cruel insects
destroy prey more for the pleasure of exhibiting
their superior skill, than to appease their hunger.
But it is rather uncharitable even to the ant-lion,
to say so much as this. When the insect has
sucked all the juices out of its victim's body, it
casts it out of its trap, and the earth around, strewed
with dead bodies, is thus the silent witness to the
destroying powers of the giant within.

COMPENSATION PRINCIPLE. 107

This singular insect, whose exploits have de-
tained us so long, remains in its larva form two
years, growing daily in size until it has completed
its existence as a larva, and must then enter upon
another condition of life. It is to be regretted
that it is not to be found in England, or at least
it has not been for some time discovered in our
island; but it is common in France and other
parts of the continent, and would well repay the
trouble of being brought over. As the insect is
very patient of hunger, it might easily be conveyed
in a little wooden box, half filled with fine sand,
and its proceedings could be readily watched by
placing it under a bell-glass, or in a little glass
case, introducing a few ants or spiders for its food
from time to time.

The insect exhibits to us a wonderful instance
of what we may call, after the example of Dr.
Paley, the principle of compensation in nature.
It can neither run nor fly with the speed neces-
sary to overtake its prey who are swifter of
foot than itself. But God never created it to
starve, and has endowed it with a rare com-
bination of faculties by which it is enabled to live
in the midst of plenty if not even of luxuriance.

108 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT,

So it is in a thousand other cases in nature. So
it is indeed in Providence likewise. If He sends
us trials, " He also makes a way to escape that
we may be able to bear them." If our day is to
be dark and cloudy, and to call for the exercise of
much faith and patience, there is still the same
provision made ; " as thy day so shall thy strength
be." If our lot in life is one of hardship He can,
and if it is sought of him aright He will, and He
does bear us up, revive our drooping strength,
and enable us to go on our way rejoicing.

Let us go on to speak now of some other car-
nivorous larva. If in the month of July we can
find out a spot where we can detect the traces of
the labours of the sand-wasp, of whom mention has
been made at page 15, and cutting out a little mass
of the sand-rock containing several of their bur-
rows, then take the trouble to open gently one of
the cells formed by these insects, we shall see a
carnivorous larva in as happy a condition as a fox
in a hen-roost, or a mouse in the midst of a cheese !
The best way to obtain access to this securely
imbedded and luxurious larva, is to moisten the
mass of sand with a little water, and then slice it
gently down with an old knife until we come to

CA RNIVOROUS LARVA OF A WASP.

109

the cells. They are here represented. At the
bottom of each we shall see the Iarva3 which have
sprung from the eggs deposited in the manner be-
fore described, after the arduous and affectionate
labours of the parent. Then above each is a heap of
caterpillars, arranged
with beautiful neat-
ness, and larvae and
caterpillars are both
fast locked in their
prison house by the
firm stopping with
which the parent
wasp has closed the
mouth of the cells.
These caterpillars are
all alive, and are
rolled into a ring-like
form, but are so
chained down that ceu.qrnund.mup.

they cannot move in the least degree. The poor
prisoners, like the sheep in the slaughter-yard, are
only waiting their turn to be killed and devoured.
The larva soon after it is hatched finds himself in
the midst of a well-stored larder, and has nothing

no

THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

to do but eat, which he does not long delay doing.
He devours at his ease, and revels in the dainty
fresh food which the care of his parent had laid
up. When he has eaten all his prisoners up,
and grown to his full size, he lays down to sleep,
to awake again in another and a far different
form.

Sometimes the reader may have the opportunity,
it may be, of finding out the nest of the wood -
boring wasp, and he may in June or July, perhaps,
succeed in discovering another instance of a larva
in a happy state of plenty.
The larva is sure to be
found at the bottom, and
above it will be piled a
heap of insects for its food.
What is remarkable about
this store of food is, that
the insects thus made
prisoners are not dead, for
they would, if so, soon
become corrupted, and
unfit for the diet of the
larva; they are in a sort

<>f half

A WARRIOR-WASP. Ill

tion, in all probability very like that induced by
the late plan of breathing ether and other vapours
to render persons insensible to pain, while sur-
gically operated on. Since this plan has been in-
troduced, we read in some of the newspapers — we
may question with what truth — that the butchers
in Albany (America,) give ether to the oxen
before killing them, so as to make them insensible
to the pain of the death-blow ! But the wasps in
question have for ages been in the habit of effecting
the same end by stinging their captives, the poison
not sufficing to kill them, nor yet permitting them
to be actively alive.

The insects thus stored up for the larva cost
the parent many a conflict in their capture. And
here we may interest the reader by describing the
exploits of a warrior wasp, abundant in the Isle of
France. It is curious that in the Isle of France
the common bee is not to be found as a native of
the woods, while, in the Isle of Bourbon, it is very
common, and furnishes an abundance of wax and
honey. This is explained by supposing that the
warriors of whom we are about to speak destroy
the bees, and have thus prevented their mul-
tiplying in the island in question. Truly, like the

112 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

banditti of whom we read in books, these wasps
are splendidly attired, although not in the spoils of
those they have robbed. Their head, chest, and
body is of a resplendent lustre ; now green, or,
seen in another position, blue, and glistening with
all the lustre of an exquisite varnish; their an-
tennse are black, their eyes of a brownish yellow,
and their legs partly bronze-coloured, and partly
of a beautiful violet. They are strong and swift
of wing, and are possessed of a terrible lance, the
thrusts of which even man cannot endure without
far more pain and inflammation than attends an
ordinary sting.

The foe with whom these magnificently-dressed
warriors have to contend, is a kind of insect
allied to the cockroach, which, in our kitchens, has
acquired the incorrect title of " black beetle."
This insect is detested by the inhabitants of the
island, for its ravages upon almost everything of
value or delicacy, and is not less hated by the
sailor for its destructiveness on ship-board. It
is called Kakerlac, and is much larger than the
cockroaches, which are the plague and terror of
our cooks. Imagine that one of these great and
odious insects is marching along the highway.

AN INSECT DUEL. 113

The warrior wasp lias also been making his
expeditions for prey abroad, when suddenly his
eager eye catches sight of the kakerlac hastening
to some new scene of depredation. The warrior
instantly alights, and the kakerlac stops, think-
ing perhaps to intimidate its adversary by its size
and ferocious aspect. Both insects glare at one
another ; —

' each other from afar

They view, and rushing on, begin the war.
They launch their spears ; then hand to hand they meet,
The trembling soil resounds beneath their feet ;
Their bucklers clash, thick blows descend from high,
And flashes of fire from their hard helmets fly.
Courage conspires with chance, and both engage
With equal fortune yet, and mutual rage."

Virgil's description, though scarcely accurate in
all points, gives us a lively image of this insect
combat. The kakerlac, however, is the Turnus,
and the warrior wasp the ^Eneas of the fight. The
wasp is the first to attack, and darts upon the
other, seizing it by the muzzle with its strong
jaws, then bending its body so as to bring its tail
under the abdomen of the kakerlac, the lance
with its charge of poison is deep-plunged into the
body of the unhappy foe, imbuing a deadly venom
into its system. Having made this thrust, the

114 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

warrior looses the foe, and soars in triumph a
little way into the air, satisfied of a successful
issue.

The wretched kakerlac, after a few brief con-
vulsions, lies paralysed on the ground unable to
stir a step from the spot where it encountered
its terrible adversary. Fully aware of this, the
victorious wasp, after taking a few turns, as if to
proclaim the downfal of the Giant Kakerlac to
the surrounding neighbourhood, returns to the
scene where the conflict was fought. The kaker-
lac, unable to resist the victor, and being natu-
rally, though a great devourer, a very faint-hearted
creature, lies immovable while the wasp seizes
the prostrate foe by the head, and in a sort of
triumphal march drags it along the road to its
nest. But though the kakerlac was not a diffi-
cult enemy to overcome, the weight and size of
its body are a sore burden to the victor wasp.
The way to the nest is long, tedious, and rugged.
After a hard pull over all sorts of obstacles
the wasp becomes completely breathless, and is
obliged to let go, and for a rest it generally rises
into the air, probably with a view of reconnoitring
future difficulties, and of ascertaining the best

THE CORPSE CARRIED HOME. 115

route to pursue. Thus, after alternately dragging
along the body of its victim and rising up to spy
out the path, at length the conqueror succeeds in
bringing the carcase home.

Here, however, arises another difficulty. To
attempt to get the body of the huge kakerlac
in, is just as if one were to attempt to get an
elephant through a small street-door. What is to
be done ? The wasp enters the hole backwards,
and, seizing, the head of the kakerlac, endeavours
with all its might to drag it in, but all in vain.
Many times it repeats these efforts with the same
want of success; and now it appears that its
labours in bringing hither the corpse, and its
dangers in the battle, were all for nought, for the
great body cannot be put in the place the wasp
had designed for it. As if exasperated with the
difficulties, out comes the wasp in fury, and fall-
ing upon the body of the kakerlac, hews off the
large wing-cases, together with several of the
limbs, and goes back into the hole again to repeat
the attempt to get it in. Success at length crowns
its efforts ; by little and little the body becomes
lost to sight, and finally disappears altogether
from view, being carried down to the very bottom

116 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

of the nest. Here the larva, as soon as hatched,
feeds upon it, thrives, and grows, and falls asleep,
awaiting the time when itself shall awake to
follow in the steps of the glittering and formidable
warrior who, with the boldness of an amazon and
affection of the tenderest of mothers, supplied it
with nourishment during its hours of infancy.

This may be thought a scene of sad carnage,
but the following will, perhaps, appear even more
so. What should we say, if deep in the forests of
some wild uncultivated country was found a den,
the bottom of which was strewed with skulls, with
bones, and mangled limbs ? What fearful scenes
should we not suspect to have taken place in this
dark and horrid place ; and as we shuddered in
looking round upon its walls, as the once witnesses
of terrible deeds, we might even fancy we heard
the cry of the poor traveller, whose last agonies
were seen by no eye but that of the monster who
had waylaid and murdered him ? Such a den may
be found in the forest, made horrible by the cut-off
heads, limbs, and wings of insects — it is the habita-
tion of the carnivorous larva of a wasp. Nay more,
as is seen in the engraving, the insect monster
actually works up the cut-off wings and limbs into

LARVA OF THE TIGER BEETLE. 117

a sort of covering for itself, and finally buries
itself in a shroud partly made of
the spoils of former victims.
Perhaps the carnivorous larva

, , -, The Larva of a Wasp in its

of the tiger-beetle, or cicindela, coat ofwings and umbs,
is as ferocious a being as any in this state.
In this respect, indeed, it resembles the perfect
insect, whose title sufficiently indicates its swift-
ness, cunning, and bloodthirsty nature. " These
Iarva3," writes Mr. Westwood, " burrow cylindric
retreats in the earth, to the depth of a foot or
more, employing their legs and jaws in loosen-
ing the particles of sand and earth, which they
carry to the surface upon their broad, saucer-
like head, ascending by the assistance of the two
hooks upon the back, somewhat after the fashion
of a sweep going up a chimney ! Having com-
pleted this burrow, they station themselves, by
means of their legs and back hooks, at its mouth,
their large flattened head and great segment
filling the hole." Here they remain all day long,
and many an insect might pass close by, little
dreaming of the terrible foe who lay under that
trap-door. Presently comes a spider scrambling
over the ground in haste to mount up a branch

118 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

on which to hang one of its web lines ; the
treacherous trap-door is in its direct path. Its
feet rest on it ; instantly the trap drops, and the
poor insect falls into the dark den, and is caught
in the powerful jaws of the artful larva. Truly,
there is something even to man a little intimi-
dating in the sight of such a monster as is repre-
sented here ; how much more
to the unfortunate insect who
happens to be caught in its
embrace, and having only time

Larraofthe Tiger-Beetle. ^ j^ ^^ ft gi;mpse Qf ft 3

fearful captor, is dragged down in a cloud of dust
to be devoured in darkness at the bottom of the den.
Yet this also, like other cruel creatures, is in reality
a very timid larva, and instantly on the approach of
danger, drops to the bottom of the cell, where, if
we have courage to pursue it, we shall find it much
in the attitude in which it is here represented.
The singular pair of hooks on its back are used as
the flukes of an anchor to sustain the insect in
the position it assumes at the mouth of the cell.

Mention has already been made in the previous
chapter of the insects called Ichneumons, which
deposit their eggs in the bodies of the larvae of

LARVA OF THE DRAGON-FLY. 119

other insects. These, when hatched, are also to
be reckoned among the larvae which prey upon
flesh, since they devour the bodies of the larvae in
which they have been deposited. They are thus
most useful to mankind in destroying the devourers
of his vegetable food.

We may now see an instance yet more strange of
a carnivorous larva. We must wend our way to the
riverside in the months of May or June. There,
after a diligent search at the bottom, in some
moderately shallow portion of
the stream shall we find a
larva, the study of which might
well occupy us for many pages.
Yet it is the larva of an in-
sect well known to every
angler and brook -side wan-
derer— the dragon-fly. This
larva is provided with one of
the most remarkable contriv-
ances for seizing its prey and
conveying it to its mouth, of
any being in the zoological kingdom. By the
assistance of the engraving, we may perhaps be
able to render this apparatus, which is somewhat

120 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

complicated, intelligible to the reader. Looking
at the larva's head, we are reminded somewhat of

The Mask partly open. The same partly dosed.

that of a horse who has got blinders over his eyes,
and a nose-bag over his nose, and partly up his
cheeks. Now suppose the two blinders thrown
back on each side, then conceive that the lower
part of the face which we have supposed covered
with a nose-bag were to be uncovered, we should
then see the following curious contrivance. The
lower lip of this larva is lengthened downwards
into a sort of arm, if we may so speak ; at what
we may call the elbow, is a joint connecting the
upper and lower portions of it, and the place of
the hand is occupied by two cross plates, with a
claw at the end of each. Suppose an unhappy
insect, or even a tadpole, swims carelessly by the
larva, immediately the two sides of the mask, or
blinders, as we have called them, fly open ; the
arm is uncovered, the forearm let down, and by

EXTRAORDINARY APPARATUS. 121

means of the plates, which we have compared to
the hand, the victim is caught, and bending the
arm back, is presented to the mouth of the larva.
There is much similarity in this organ with the
wonderful apparatus of the elephant called its
trunk ; but of the two, the trunk of this insect is
the most beautiful piece of animal mechanism.
When the prey has
been devoured, the
arm folds up, co-
vers the mouth and
part of the face of
the insect, and the
blinders, or two
side pieces of the The apparatus in the act of seising-

mask, fall in, and lock together in a toothed
manner, as the engraving in the last page shows.

Thus provided, the larva is a formidable crea-
ture to the inhabitants of the pond or brook ; few,
indeed, more so. It preys with incessant activity
on all aquatic insects that happen to come in its
way, and sometimes, as we have said, even upon
tadpoles. They do not even spare one another, and
woe to the unhappy relative of the family who
happens to wander near the abode of another of the

122 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

same family, anxious to begin his feasting for the
day ! So ferocious are they, that they even attack
small fish, and make little work of swallowing them
up. Not only are these creatures fierce, but they
also possess all the cunning of a tiger or a cat. To
watch them seize their prey is an interesting occu-
pation, and as the larvae are common enough, and
may be easily recognised by comparing them with
the accompanying cut, we may venture to recom-
mend the amusement of observing their proceedings
to the reader. A little way off lies an unsus-
pecting insect delighting in the warm sunshine,
and securely floating upon the waters on the corner
of a leaf. Such an idea as danger at hand is pro-
bably the very last from its conceptions, and
pluming its bright and glossy wings, it beguiles
away the sunny hour unmolested by a passing
enemy, or a breath of air. The larva has marked
it already for its own.^" See it rouse itself up, and
noiselessly make ready to pounce upon the unsus-
pecting lounger. It creeps stealthily along, con-
cealing itself from view as far as possible, and not
even the tell-tale glassy surface of the water feels
its movements. Measuring its distance well, the
* This scene is represented in the Frontispiece.

RAVAGES OF THE COCKCHAFER LARVA. 123

larva prepares to seize its prey; in a moment,
swifter than the eye can follow, the victim is
caught by the apparatus we have described, and
in another instant, is in all the agonies of a violent
death in the mouth of the larva. So exceedingly
cautious are these larvae in their movements, and
so expert and active in darting upon their prey,
that it scarcely ever escapes their power.

Having mentioned these particulars about car-
nivorous larvae, let us consider some circumstances
connected with those larvae that are vegetable
feeders— graminivorous or herbivorous. Of these,
we could scarcely select a more destructive one
than the larva of an insect well known to every
schoolboy from the times of Greece and Rome
down to our own — the common cockchafer, (melo-
lontha mdgaris.} Our schoolboys, however, are less

Cockchafer. Larva.

merciful than those of Greece, for they only tied a
string round the leg of the unhappy cockchafer,

124 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

while these thrust a pin through its tail. Yet, its
terrible ravages considered, the insect little de-
serves to be pitied ; but, we are not therefore to
be understood as by any means sanctioning the
cruel and inhuman sport alluded to. These larvae
are hatched in a sort of little cavern dug by the
parent insect's care under the ground in our mea-
dows, or corn-fields. Here they begin their
ravages by devouring the roots of the grasses
which surround them on all sides. In this manner
they very quickly destroy the plants, which wither
and die in a manner quite mysterious to the agri-
culturist, if he does not happen to think of these
insects. The turf soon becomes so completely
undermined by these excavators, that it may be
rolled off as smooth as if a knife had been used
underneath to cut off all its connexions with the
ground. In a few weeks, meadows which shone
in all the fresh and luxuriant green raiment of
Spring, change colour, and before Summer has yet
come, and before the stalks of the grass are yet
grown up, one would think Autumn had passed
over the face of the field, from its dry and dead
aspect. About seventy years ago, we are told
these larvae did so much injury to a poor farmer's

LAMP-OIL OBTAINED FROM LARVJE. 125

fields near Norwich, that the court of that city, out
of compassion, presented him with twenty-five
pounds. Some idea of their numbers on this
farmer's property may be formed from the fact
that the farmer and his servant declared, with
very long faces, we may be sure, that they had
gathered eighty bushels of them. Sometimes
they even attack the roots of young trees, and in
this manner do an incalculable amount of mischief
to plantations. They were at one time so abun-
dant in France, and did such immense mischief,
that the Government, in order to get rid of them,
offered a handsome reward for the best method of
destroying them. A number of experiments were
made, and it really seemed as if nothing would
kill these larvse, in the way of poison at least, for
several poisons which are rapidly fatal to man and
animals failed to produce the least effect on them.
It was found, however, at last, that a solution of
alkalies, such as potash and soda, were certain
poisons to them, and should land be much infested
with them, it would be worth the trial to water it
with such solutions, especially as they tend rather
to enrich the soil than otherwise. A French
manufacturer, determining to turn the visitation

126 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

of these insects to good account, has succeeded in
distilling an excellent lamp-oil from their bodies,
and offers tenpence a bushel for them. From
seventeen bushels he extracted twenty-eight quarts
of good oil ! In Hungary, a kind of grease is
obtained from them which is useful for carriage
wheels. The ingenuity of man may thus even
procure good out of a very formidable evil,
although the mischief done by the cockchafer
larva undoubtedly far exceeds the benefit it con-
fers upon its captors in the amount of oil extracted
from it.

An insect almost equally familiar to all persons
is the long-legged gnat, of whom the famous
children's rhyme runs : —

" ' Old father long-legs' would not say his prayers ;
Take him by the left leg and throw him down stairs."

Many of our farmers would be glad, no doubt,
if taking him by the left leg would keep him out
of their meadows, for there this insect commits
fearful ravages in the larva form. In some parts
of England it has as completely destroyed the
pasture-grass as if it had been consumed by fire.
In the spring of 1813, hundreds of acres of
pasture in the rich district of Sunk Island in Hoi-

"OLD FATHER LONG LEGS." 127

derness were entirely destroyed by it, being
rendered as completely brown as if they had suf-
fered a three months' drought, and no other vege-
tation but that of a few thistles was left on land,
which, at more favoured periods, was more than
commonly luxuriant. On a square foot of the turf
being dug up from the affected spot, the enormous
number of two hundred and ten larvae was counted
in it. Fortunately, the next year showed a very
different result, for then it was difficult on careful
search to find one ! In some districts of France
it is also very destructive, the grass of large tracts
being so completely destroyed by it, that enough
food for the maintenance of the cattle is not to
be obtained. These larvae, like the last-named,
appear to destroy by eating away the roots of the
grass. From these and the foregoing facts, ento-
mology teaches us to regard these two insects,
upon which we commonly look with compassion,
as occasionally becoming the formidable, though
indirect, enemies of man. The scientific name for
" Father Long-legs" is Tipula oleracea. The
French call them oddly enough milliners, or
tailors, (couturier es, tailleurs^) a name of which it is
harder to guess the origin than the common one of

128 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

father-long-legs, which is sufficiently expressive of
one of the features of the insect in the perfect
state : perhaps the French tailors are distin-
guished for being very long and thin !

We may yet linger awhile in the fields for
another illustration of the devouring propensities
of vegetable-feeding larvae. The pretty moth re-
presented in the accompanying engraving, together
with its larva, was once the cause of more alarm

The Gamma Moth and Larva.

in France than we can readily conceive. It is
often to be seen in our meadows plunging its
minute drinking apparatus into the depths of the
wild flowers, and flitting to and fro at no great
height from the ground all the day long, and even
after sun-down. It is called generally the Gamma
moth, or Plusia gamma, in consequence of the
little mark in its wings, which resembles the
Greek letter 7. Its larva is striped with green,

SAID TO BE PRODUCED BY MAGIC. 129

and when multiplied excessively, as was the case
in France in the year 1735, produces scenes of
desolation which, as the results of apparently
an insignificant insect's doings, can scarcely be
credited. In the months of June and July in
that year they became so numerous, that the
gardeners and peasantry in the districts plagued
by them declared that they must have been created
by enchantment. In some places Reaumur was
assured that an old soldier had been seen to throw
the spell. In other places an ugly old woman,
who was as wicked as she was frightful, had caused
all the mischief. Their prodigious numbers ap-
peared to the ignorant and superstitious peasantry
an indubitable proof that they were created by
sorcery. And though we cannot, of course, sym-
pathise with their thoughts on this subject, we
can well imagine and feel for their astonishment
and dismay as they beheld the wide desolation of
every green thing produced by the innumerable
millions of these larvse, which covered forest, field
and garden with their bodies. Many persons
began to fear they were really poisonous creatures,
and refused in consequence to partake of salads or
other vegetable food of a similar kind. This was
K

130 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

probably an equal error with the last ; and it is
very droll to find the talented Keaumur pleading
with great earnestness that the caterpillars were
not unwholesome as food. He even declares his
opinion, that if these creatures were to become
excessively numerous in France, the inhabitants
might be compelled to treat them as the wretched
inhabitants of Africa do the locusts, and when
they have eaten up every green thing, fall upon
and eat them. With as much learning and elo-
quence as if he was treating one of his most
favourite topics in entomology, M. Reaumur re-
commends these larvae for human food, adding,
that a very little time would enable us to conquer
our -disgust at such aliment, and that we should
even welcome to our tables a dish of the larvae in
question as an agreeable luxury ! It is to be
hoped, if ever such a custom be originated, it will
be confined to the place of its birth — the country
of this great, but, in this respect, whimsical
naturalist.

To account for their excessive multiplication,
we have no need to have recourse to enchantment
for a solution of the difficulty. Each of the
gamma moths produces about four hundred

EXCESSIVE NUMBERS OF LARVAE. 131

eggs ; now, if there were only twenty larvae in a
certain locality which lived through the winter,
and became perfect insects in May following, the
eggs deposited by these would, supposing all to
be hatched, produce, according to a calculation
made by Reaumur, in the course of a single
year, eight hundred thousand larvae. Well may we
exclaim, then, with this learned author, " Should
we not rather wonder at the wisdom and fore-
thought which has ordered matters so that these
insects increase to annoy us so rarely?" The
wonder is, in truth, not that they should multiply
so excessively at particular periods, so much as
that it should be so seldom that they are multi-
plied even to the extent of which they are natu-
rally capable. Thus, if we suppose that all the
eggs of the moths of this species were to be
hatched, it is more than probable that a large
portion of our vegetation would be consumed by
them. How is this guarded against ? In various
ways. The eggs are not all capable of being
hatched, or if so, are not allowed to escape injury
by various accidents, and the Iarva3 themselves are
a prey to countless enemies among the birds,
while they also frequently perish owing to the

132 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

severity of winter. From these considerations we
may readily perceive how completely the well-
being of a great nation, with the lives of a large
portion of its inhabitants, are dependent upon the
preserving, protecting, and restraining influence
of the providence of God. With the return of
every year, we may say, the question is asked by
this tribe of insects alone, " Shall we go forth to
destroy and devour at once, or shall we refrain ?"
With every year the silent reply is experienced by
man in the unmolested condition of his fields,
gardens, and vineyards. " Oh !" we may ejaculate
with the Psalmist, " Oh that men would consider
these things ! then should they understand the
loving-kindness of the Lord."

Another and more remarkable instance of the
destruction caused by vegetable-eating larvae may
be quoted from the fertile pages of the same
illustrious naturalist, M. Eeaumur, particularly
because it is the narration of one who was an
eye-witness to the facts of which he speaks. •" In
two journeys," he writes, " which I made from
Paris to Poitou, at the commencement of the
month of September in 1730, and also in 1731,
I noticed that from Paris all the way to Tours

DESTRUCTION OF TREES BY LARVAE.

133

every oak, great and small, had been attacked by
larvae ; the highest branches appeared to be princi-
pally selected by them. Great isolated oak trees,
as well as those which formed dense forests, were
alike attacked in this manner, their summits being
absolutely withered and dry. Had we not known
how greatly the larvae may multiply, and what
fearful ravages they are capable of committing,
one might have conceived that some hot and

Destructive Larva and its Nest

blasting wind had reduced the leaves to this con-
dition. In certain districts, the hedges along the

134 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

road-side had not a single leaf that was not
withered up." The engraving represents one of
these mischievous larvse ; it also shows the winter-
nest into which they creep, and a leaf which a
regiment of them have already attacked.

Securely protected from the severity of the
winter of 1731, in their warm nests, these larvae
quitted them again early in April of 1732, to set
forth upon another mission of destruction. They
had now multiplied to a degree calculated to
excite the most serious public alarm. It began to
be feared that the leaves of the trees would not be
sufficient for the support of the devouring millions ;
and that if, during that year, the larvse multiplied
in the same proportion as in the preceding year, a
famine more terrible than any recorded in history
as produced by insect destroyers would be the
result. These fears were in some measure ground-
less, as, in all probability, so soon as the larvae had
devoured all the leaves, they would rather have
perished of hunger than have attacked the grass
and other plants. But the matter was sufficiently
serious as it was. The French parliament took the
alarm, and determined to resist the threatened in-
vasion of these small but formidable enemies. An

EFFECT OF RAIN. 135

edict was therefore issued, calling upon all persons
to assist in removing the larvae from the trees, while
they were as yet not reinforced by the addition
of countless millions more. In orchards, gardens,
and pleasure-grounds this became a far from diffi-
cult duty, because it was easy to ascend the trees
and to remove the larvse and their nests. But in
dense forests, where the tall trees waved high in
the air, and where every, branch and every twig
was loaded with larvae, it was plainly impossible.
Although, as we know, acts of parliament are
able to effect a great deal, these insects set their
powers at defiance, and little good was really ac-
complished. Having thus, as it were, manifested
to the nation how powerless were their efforts to
remove the plague, it pleased God to interfere by
his providence, and a succession of cold rains for
three days in May effectually stopped the progress
of the destroyers, by utterly annihilating them.

Reaumur's remarks well deserve extracting ; he
says : — " I had been hoping much from the effect
of these showers, and attentively watched what
would be the result. I saw day by day that
among the little bands of Iarva3 which were aggre-
gated together in order to cover the twigs of the

136 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

trees with silk, or to despoil them of their leaves,
there were many whose bodies became flabby,
elongated, and devoid of roundness. These
quickly perished. Every day the mortality became
more serious among them. In a short time the
larvse, which had previously swarmed upon the
trees, became so few, that before ten or twelve
days had passed by I could not find a single one,
although I looked carefully for them." It is re-
markable enough, and sets forth strikingly the
short-sightedness and ingratitude of man, that
these very showers, which produced what no com-
bined efforts of human power could or did effect,
were bitterly complained of as inappropriate to
the season, at the time when they were falling !
These larvse were hatched from eggs deposited by
a common species of moth.

Although England has been often mercifully
spared while continental countries have largely
suffered by such visitations as we have last de-
cribed, we have not always come off unscathed.
The Iarva3 of a moth nearly allied to, if not the
same as the last-mentioned, produced an alarm in
1782 in our country, perhaps even more exten-
sive than the previous one in France. All sorts of

THE WEEVIL. 137

strange and silly rumours were spread abroad;
some believing that the larvae were the harbingers
of coming disease and death. Poor people were
hired to cut off the webs of these larvae at the rate
of one shilling a bushel, and they were then burned
under the inspection of the churchwardens and
overseers. In the parish of Clapham, we are told
by an author who wrote upon the history of this
insect, eighty bushels were collected in one day !
Prayers were offered up in some churches to
deliver the country from the apprehended ap-
proaching calamity.

We need not, however, dwell longer upon the
vegetable-consuming larvae out of doors. Unfor-
tunately we are acquainted with instances equally
formidable within our barns, store-houses, and
larders. In vain does man lay up the increase of
his fields with care in granaries of the best con-
struction, and using all possible precautions against
the introduction of insect enemies. The weevil,
called scientifically the Calandra granaria, finds
entrance, and in a short time makes its presence
felt in the vast destruction it produces. So soon
as they are discovered, they are collected with all
expedition by the owners of the stores and con-

138 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

signed to the flames for their misdeeds. Some-
times they are collected thus by bushels, from
which it may readily be conceived what has been
the amount of damage they have done.

There is a little moth whose larva is equally
mischievous in appropriating to its own use the
food and property of man ; its name is the Tinea
hordei. This fly, we are told, deposits perhaps
twenty or thirty eggs in a single grain; but as
one grain only is to be the portion of one larva, so
soon as they are hatched they disperse by mutual
consent in a very amicable manner, and each
selects its future home, so that in a short time the
whole family is comfortably lodged in twenty or
thirty distinct grains of corn. There, surrounded
by food, they live and thrive, eating up all the
precious parts of the grain, until nothing remains
but the husk. They then fall asleep and enter
upon the further stages of insect development.
No one could possibly tell by the external ap-
pearance of the corn, that the least mischief had
taken place within, the fulness and general aspect
of the grain being the same; but on carefully
examining it, a very minute hole may be found in
some spot or other ; — it was here the enemy got

INSECTS ON BOARD SHIP. 139

in. We need scarcely add, that for any purpose
grain which has been thus attacked is rendered
perfectly useless.

Any one who has ever been on a long sea-
voyage will find it easy to supply us with another
example of a vegetable-food devouring larva.
The hard substances commonly called captain's
biscuits are the objects of attack, together with
flour, peas, and similar articles of food, and the
attacking insect is the larva of the meal-worm,
the entomological title of which is Tenebrio molitor.
In vain does the ship's cook, with all his art, pre-
pare a soup composed of the richest ingredients,
and calculated, as one would think, to gratify the
taste of the greatest epicure. The larvae have been
beforehand with him ; they have attacked and be-
come mixed with the flour or the peas ; and when
the soup which has cost him so much pains is
brought to table, not even the keen appetite of
seafaring people can reconcile them to it, for it
is full of the dead bodies of these larvae. So
likewise is the biscuit, and in disgust the guests
are compelled to confine their attention princi-
pally to such articles of food as are unpalatable
to their insect enemies.

140 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

We have but little experience, in our favoured
land, of the more extensive domestic destructions
wrought by larvse. But in hot countries they
become formidable, by reason of their numbers.
In India,1* particularly during the rainy season, the
interior of the houses swarms with them ; some
climb the walls, some ascend the table, some feast
on the viands, and altogether, by their numbers
and appearance, they produce a degree of disgust
and loathing at food, which cannot be overcome
for a long time by fresh residents. We may
mention, before concluding this part of our
subject, that of those that do annoy us do-
mestically, some have appetites for very strange
kinds of food, some love wine, some vine-
gar, some butter and cheese ; some revel in
a pot of preserves, some attack our meat, and
one is mentioned by Reaumur as delighting in
chocolate !

If surprise be expressed that we have dwelt so
long upon the eating propensities of larvas, let it
be remembered that it was formerly said at p. 94,

* To protect the wine from them it is customary to have little
silver covers for the wine-glasses, which are put on immediately
that the glass is taken from the lips.

SILK- WORM MOTH LARVA.

141

that the principal duty of the larva, so long as
it lived, was to eat. It is born often only to eat
as much as possible, and to grow as large as pos-
sible within a given time ; and in obedience to
this principle, we find Iarva3 with the sharpest of
sharp appetites embark in their career of existence,
eating from their birth, all the way along to their
final change. It is therefore, obviously, a very
important part of the larva's history of which we
have been speaking for some pages past. Consi-
dering the fact to have been now brought into
sufficient prominence, we shall proceed to notice
the rate at which larvae grow, and the actual
quantities of food
some of them de-
vour. Let us speak
of the last first.

Silk, as the
youngest of our
readers knows, is
the production of
a little larva com-
monly called the
silk-worm. Now, some years ago, the calculation
was made that in the United Kingdom alone was

Silk- worm Moth and her Eggs.

142 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

consumed, every year, not less than five million
pounds of raw silk. By means of very accu-
rate experiments, it has been ascertained that,
in order to procure one pound of raw silk, we
must have twelve pounds of the cocoons spun by
these larvae. In order to produce twelve pounds
of cocoons, one hundred and ninety-two pounds of
mulberry-leaves must be eaten up ; or, which is the
same thing, for every pound of raw silk, we have
to supply to the worms one hundred and ninety-two
pounds of leaves. We can now leave the calcu-
lation in the reader's hands ; but we may mention
the sum total : it is, that for every year's consump-
tion of raw silk by our country, there is a certain
consumption of ninety-six millions of pounds of mul-
berry-leaves ; and as one hundred pounds of leaves
are calculated as the produce of one tree, it follows
that nine millions six hundred thousand mulberry
trees must grow, in order to supply food to the
silk-worms necessary to furnish Great Britain with
silk for one year. Let us add, that this five mil-
lion pounds of raw silk is the production of the
inconceivably great number of eighteen thousand
million silk-worms. The Count Dandolo, who has
written an excellent treatise on this subject, in

ENORMOUS VORACITY OF LARV.E. 143

Italian, made a number of experiments upon the
actual quantity of leaves devoured by the larva?
hatched from an ounce weight of eggs ; and he
found that the quantity of leaves consumed by
them up to the completion of their development
as larvaa, amounted to upwards of sixteen hundred
and nine pounds ! In a month from being first
hatched, each larva consumes above an ounce of
leaves. As at first each larva only weighs the
hundredth part of a grain, it follows that it de-
vours, in thirty days, about sixty thousand times
its original weight of leaves. If we suppose a
puppy dog, just born, to weigh a quarter of a
pound, and to eat in the same proportion for one
month, it would have consumed, at the month's end,
fifteen thousand pounds of food. Could the puppy
eat meat from the first, which, as all are aware,
he cannot, he would, at this rate, devour in one
month, from the time of his birth, one hundred
and fifty sheep, supposing each to weigh one hun-
dred pounds ; or about five sheep for his daily
food ! These calculations will show how voracious
the Iarva3 of the silk-worm are ; and they are, pro-
bably, far from being among the most voracious
of the larvae, only we are better acquainted with

144 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

their rate of devouring than with that of other
insects in this state.

All this eating cannot, of course, be unattended
with a great increase in the size of the larva. In
some insects growth is prodigiously rapid. A na-
turalist, who closely investigated this subject in
the common blow-fly, which is so apt to deposit
its eggs upon meat in hot weather, found that

Growth of Silk -w

in the space of four-and-twenty hours, the larva?
hatched from these eggs had increased to from one
hundred and forty to two hundred times their ori-
ginal weight. The larva of the great goat moth,
we are told by another, grows, altogether, to
about seventy-two thousand times its weight ; but
it takes three years so to do. In thus growing,

GROWTH OF LARVAE. 145

the larva becomes very fat and plump ; and should
it unhappily cross the path of any bird, it would
probably be nipped up as a dainty morsel for the
little ones in the distant nest. In birds, beasts,
and fishes, the rate of growth is much slower, and
the amount of increase much less. Fortunate is
it for us that it is so ; for what would become of
mankind if animals of the size of dogs could grow
in a month to the size of elephants, or young
elephants to the size of litth hills ? yet these com-
parisons are not exaggerated, remembering the
increase and growth of the silk-worm and of
larvae generally.

CHAPTEE III.

MOULTING OF THE LARVA.

WE are now to enter upon a very interesting
part of the history of a larva : this is called moult-
ing, and consists in the larva casting off its old
skin, and appearing clothed in a new garment,
often more brilliant than before. The change is
well and clearly described in the following passage
from the Introduction to Entomology, of Messrs.
Kirby and Spence : — " A day or two previously
to each change of skin, the larva ceases eating
altogether; it becomes languid and feeble; its
beautiful colours fade ; and it seeks a retreat
in which it can undergo this important and some-
times dangerous and even fatal operation in secu-
rity. Here, either fixing itself by its legs to the
surface on which it rests, or, as is the case with
many caterpillars, by its pro-legs, to a slight web

ESCAPE FROM THE OLD SKIN. 147

spun for this purpose, it turns and twists its body
in various directions, and alternately swells and
contracts its different segments. The object of
these motions and contortions seems to be, to se-
parate the exterior skin, now become dry and
rigid, from the new one just below it. After con-
tinuing these operations for some hours, resting
at intervals, without motion, as if exhausted by
their violence, the critical moment arrives : the
skin splits in the back, in consequence of the still
more violent swelling of the second and third
segments. The opening thus made is speedily
increased by a succession of swellings and contrac-
tions of the remaining segments ; even the head
itself often divides into three triangular
pieces, and the enclosed larva by degrees
withdraws itself wholly from its old skin."
The engraving is intended to show the
larva just escaping out of its old skin.

Sometimes the larva comes out of its
skin at the side ; sometimes it has been
seen to bite off portions of the skin.
The most common way is that above
described. The skin, when cast in this man-
ner, resembles a sort of universal coat, which

148 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

has fitted into every crack and joint of the insect's
body ; and just as a lady's glove, if we could sup-
pose it tinted of a flesh-colour, and marked for the
various markings on the hand, might be mistaken,
if cast down after inflating it with air, for a hand
cut off, so, only far more closely, does the cast skin
represent, in the minutest particular, the larva
which has emerged from it. It is a perfect mould
of all its parts, even to the very antennas, eyes,
jaws, &c. " Thus," say the authors last quoted,
" if you saved the skins cast by the larva of the
insect called Cattimorpka96t Arctia Caja, you would
appear to have ten different specimens of caterpil-
lars, furnished with every external necessary part,
and differing only in size and in the colour, per-
haps, of the hairs, and all representing the same
individual.'*

In order to show how completely this is the
case, some singular experiments have been made
by various observers, in the following manner : —
Just before the larva was about to cast off its skin,
they have, by means of a sharp instrument, cut
off one or two of its feet. The larva was then
allowed to moult, and was carefully examined, and
it was invariably found that the feet cut off when

CLOSE ADAPTATION OF THE SKIN. 149

in its old skin were also wanting when it appeared
in its new robes ; thus plainly proving that the
feet were really sheathed in the old skin completely.
It was just as if we had gloves on our hands and
were to put one finger or more between a pair of
sharp and powerful shears, we should, of course,
find that when we took off the glove we should be
short of one or two fingers !

But the hairs are not thus sheathed. The old
skin, if the larva was a hairy one, such as many of
those with which we are familiar under the more
popular title "caterpillars," is cast off with the
hairs attached to it — a circumstance which makes
the cast skin look still more like the real larva.
How, then, it may be asked, does the larva acquire
new hairs to take the place of the old ones?
Were we to take a larva just before its moulting,
and by a sharp and delicate instrument, to slit
open and raise its old skin, we should soon per-
ceive how this has been contrived. We should
there perceive sundry little tufts of very delicate
hairs, lying down smoothly on the surface of the
larva's body, and arranged in certain directions,
with great regularity. When the old skin is cast,
in the course of a little time these hairs stand

150 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

upright, and assume precisely the same appearance
as those on the former skin.

The keeper of silk-worms can tell us well, and
perhaps with many a sigh, that the period of
moulting is one of great peril to his tender
charge. The Iarva3 are sick and feeble for some
time after each period of moulting ; and large
numbers die at this time, apparently unable to
bear the exhaustion attending the loss of their old
skin. Larvae generally are much debilitated by
each moult that takes place ; for a variable period,
sometimes for some hours, sometimes for a whole
day, they will refuse food, and lie without motion.
All their parts are very soft and tender, and re-
quire hardening by exposure to the air. After a
certain period, however, these effects pass off; the
larva recovers its original strength, its body becomes
firm, its colour brightens, and appears more bril-
liant than ever ; and, above all, like convalescents
among ourselves, its appetite is twice as keen as
before, which, when we call to mind what has
been already said about the voracity of larva?, it
will be confessed, appears scarcely possible.

These changes of skin take place a definite
number of times in the larva? of each species. The

DANGER OF THIS PERIOD. 151

breeders of silk-worms tell us that that precious,
if not priceless, little larva, sheds its skin four
times ; other larva? moult oftener than these : some
five times, some seven times, some eight times,
and some nine, or even ten times ; others, again,
only moult thrice. The ordinary number of
moults appears to be about three or four. Some,
however, never moult at all in the larva state.
The larva of the common bee, and that of
the flesh-fly, and some others, are among this
number.

Whatever may be the general opinion upon the
want of beauty and comeliness in insects, and
particularly during the larva stage of their history,
it is very certain that it is quite erroneous. We
may possibly fail, unaided by the pencil and co-
lours of the artist, in conveying even an approach
to an adequate conception of the rich and glowing
raiment with which it has pleased God to clothe
these minute and humble beings. But a very
little actual observation of a few even of the com-
moner larva? or caterpillars of the butterfly and
moth species, will convince the reader that few
other created things have been so exquisitely
adorned with magnificence of colour and apparel

152 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

as the larvae of these insects. Here will be found
hues so rich and deep as to —

" Make the rose's blush of beauty pale,
And dim the rich geranium's scarlet blaze."

Here is a larva of a moth before us whose head
is a delicate orange colour, whose belly and feet a
pale pure green, whose sides are of primrose tint,
variegated with slashes of green, and along the
back there runs a beautiful band of white, the inten-
sity of which is most agreeably relieved by a vein
of lovely pink, which divides it in the middle.
There is another clothed in purple, green, and
white ; another, the larva of the butterfly called
the " Camberwell Beauty," is of a brilliant black,
dotted with spots glowing like carbuncles along
its back ; another has a coat which seems as if set
with precious stones, blazing with an intensity of
colour which cannot be conveyed by description.
In a word, larvae, on the whole> can boast as varied
a display of beautiful hues as can almost the whole
array of flowers in our gardens. In consequence
of the, unfortunately, too general feeling of
loathing, to which allusion has already been made,
but few persons are in reality acquainted with

INFLUENCE OF SUNLIGHT. 153

their beauties. Their diminutive size also renders
them less attractive than they might otherwise
prove, since we are generally most pleased with
the beauty of an object when its size makes it so
manifest to our eyes, as to render it impossible
it should escape our attention.

It is a very remarkable fact, and corresponds,
to a certain extent, with the influence of the same
agent upon plants* — that light seems to be in some
measure necessary in order to develop the colours
of the larva. Thus it has been noticed, that
those larvae which are, by their habits, much in
darkness, dwelling, perhaps, in caves of the earth,
or immured in the heart of a piece of timber, or
inhabiting a cell scooped out of the solid rock,
are, most frequently, of a uniform whitish colour.
Some experiments have shown that when these
whitish larvse have been brought out of darkness
and exposed to the sunlight, their colour has
turned to brown. Very probably this effect is due
to precisely the same kind of change as takes place
when a fair-skinned European travels into a south-
ern clime, his face and hands becoming so brown,
tanned, and dark, as to form a ludicrous contrast
* Tide "The Life of a Tree."

154 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

to the whiteness of his chest or arms, which are
not exposed to the influence of the solar ray.

There is still something more to be said about
the coats of the larva. To look at some of
them, it would be difficult for a person unac-
quainted with entomology, to guess at the real
nature of the object before him. Some look
like dry twigs. Some look far more like little

Larva resemUing Twigs.

Cactuses than insects. Some are clothed with
hairs, arranged in the most curious and eccentric
manner. Some have hairs so long as to give
them all the appearance of very minute shock-
dogs. In some, the hairs are arranged like
stars; in others, like the quills of the " fretful
porcupine." The backs of other larva look just
as if they were studded over with little camel-

SINGULAR FORMS OF LARVAE. 155

hair pencils. Madame Merian has described the
larva of an insect found in Surinam as having
* the various divisions of its body ornamented
with three blue tubercles, like turquoise beads,
from each of which proceeds a long, delicate,
feathery plume of a black colour. Another, de-
scribed by the same lady, is splendidly adorned
on each side with fifty red tubercles, shining
like coral, from each of which proceed five or
six long hairs. Some, again, are covered as
thickly as possible with sharp processes, like
thorns, sufficiently strong and sharp to pierce the
skin of any one who incautiously ventures to
take them up. The body of a small caterpillar
brought from Brazil, is described by Kirby and
Spence as possessing a body so thickly planted
with spines, like the branches of a tree, as ab-
solutely to wear the appearance of a forest or
thicket in miniature ! It has been stated, indeed,
by some travellers, that the larva of some insects
has the power of darting out, when alarmed
by the approach of anything, such as the human
hand, from as many knobs or protuberances in its
back, eight bunches of little stings, with which it
inflicts a very painful and venomous wound.

156 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

The Iarva3 of some insects again seem as if they
were clothed from head to foot in the most delicate
and snowy white cotton wool. These may some-
times be seen on our apple-trees ; but one of the
most singular is figured in the cut, from an en-
graving given in Baron de Geer's work. The
larva is covered completely with a
coat of cottony flakes of the most
dazzling white, and these are ar-
ranged, as will be perceived, with
great regularity. The larva lias, in
this white and warm raiment, some-

Singi,larly coated

what of the aspect of a coachman
buried in the old-fashioned great coats with the
many capes.

Having dwelt so long upon the food and cloth-
ing of the insect in the larva form, it is right we
should now devote a little space to consider how
they breathe. Some one perhaps will say, Breathe ?
— do Iarva3 breathe ? Most certainly; and respi-
ration, or the function of breathing, is not more
necessary to us than it is to these creatures. For
this purpose, however, we must begin a fresh
chapter.

CHAPTER IV.

RESPIRATION OF THE LARVA.

WE well know/ from the various melancholy acci-
dents which have taken place, that unless human
beings have a constant supply of pure fresh air they
must perish. Many years ago, a number of unfortu-
nate persons were shut up in a narrow cell, called
the Black Hole, at Calcutta, where they could
scarcely find room to stand, much less obtain air to
breathe. In one night the greater part of them died.
More recently, as some poor Irish were being con-
veyed in a steamer in stormy weather, the captain,
out of prudence and mistaken kindness, ordered the
hatches to be all battened down, so that fresh air
was prevented from getting in. A shocking spec-
tacle was beheld soon afterwards: — in the close,
suffocating cabin lay a number of dead bodies, of
men, women, and children, all destroyed by the
want of air. Now, precisely the same fatal results

158 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

take place if we treat larvse in the same manner ;
from which we learn that undoubtedly breathing-
is not only one of their functions, but a most
necessary and important one.

This may be easily proved. If the reader will
procure about a dozen caterpillars of any common
kind, and put them into a dry phial, corking them
closely up, and if he leaves them in their prison of
glass a sufficient time, all will die, even though he
may have supplied them, on putting them in, with
an abundance of food. Clearly, therefore, they do
not die of starvation, and we should be naturally
disposed to say they must have died of suffocation ;
that is, they died because the function of breathing
could not take place, as there was not the neces-
sary change of the air contained in the phial. But
suppose that other caterpillars were procured and
put into another phial, with a sufficiency of green
food, the mouth being covered over with a piece of
muslin, or fine lace, what would then be the result ?
Simply that they would live and thrive for as long
a period as they received their proper quantity and
quality of food, and would pass through all their
stages of existence as comfortably as if in the open
air. The reason would be because the open fibres

EXPERIMENT ON LARV^. 159

of the muslin, or lace, do not interfere in the least
with the requisite change of air for respiration.

Again, if after corking up the bottle for a short
time, we were to shake out all the caterpillars
from it, and then put into it a little water, in
which quick-lime has been slaked — sold by chemists
under the name of lime-water, — we should find
it become quite white and milk-like. This would
be, because, as the physiological chemist well
knows, the function of breathing causes carbonic
acid gas to be poured out of the body, no matter
whether it is the body of an insect or an elephant ;
and this gas has the property of turning lime-water
of the colour mentioned. Hence we have a second
and convincing proof that larvae breathe — we
need scarcely remind the reader that caterpillars
are larvae — and more than this, that the function
of breathing in them resembles, so far as the dis-
charge of this peculiar gas is concerned, the same
function, whether carried on in the human body or
in that of the most mighty and majestic of the
beasts of the field.

The great chemist, Scheele, has experimented,
somewhat in the manner we have recommended,
upon the breathing of larvse. He found that when

160 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

caterpillars and maggots, to use the customary
terms for these varieties of Iarva3, were confined
in vessels containing only about eleven cubic
inches of atmospheric air, and so stopped as to
preclude the ingress of any fresh air whatever,
although furnished with an abundant supply of
food, they soon died. When he put them into a
still smaller vessel, they died the sooner. In fact,
precisely in proportion to the purity, or to the
amount of the air contained in the space in which
he confined them, were their lives prolonged or
shortened. He found on examining the air that
it contained, as above stated, carbonic acid gas.

We may, therefore, consider the question as
settled — that larvae do breathe. Strange it may
appear to some, but neither in the larva nor in any
other form of its existence do insects breathe by
the mouth. How, then, it may be asked ? We
shall now describe their breathing apparatus very
briefly. Along each side of the body runs a deli-
cate tube for the conveyance of air, called a
trachea, or when both are spoken of, the tracheae ;
these channels run underneath the muscles and
skin, and open to the air by little branch tubes,
the mouths of which are called spiracles. Besides

The same shut.

BREATHING MECHANISM. 161

these branch tubes which open to the air, the

large tubes send off a great number of smaller

ones, which extend

to all parts of the

body, penetrating

even to the legs and

wings. In some in-

sects, the spiracles,

or breathing holes,

^

are defended by a
pair of flaps, which swing to and fro, so as to
let in the air, and close upon it after each
inspiration. By this simple means the breathing
of insects is carried on ; the air enters the tubes,
passes along them, and is then conveyed to every
part of the body ; after which, having fulfilled its
duties, it escapes again. In man, and the higher ani-
mals, there is a separate place for the air in the
body, which we call the lungs, and here the blood
is conveyed to the air, in order to be purified.
But, as we have just seen, in insects it is very
different, for in them the air is conveyed by in-
numerable minute pipes to every portion of the
frame. Such is the breathing mechanism common
in Iarva3 which live in the air.
M

162 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

It will be readily imagined that those larvae
which dwell in the water must be furnished some-
what differently, in order to enable them to
breathe. And here, as we shall now find, there
are some very curious arrangements, in order to
effect this object. They may be considered under
two divisions. First, contrivances for breathing
air while the larva is immersed in the water;
and, second, apparatus for extracting the dissolved
oxygen gas necessary for breathing from the
water.

Let us select a few of the most singular in-
stances under the first of these divisions. "No
better example," write the entertaining authors of
the Introduction to Entomology, " can be selected
than the gnat. You must have occasionally ob-
served in tubs of rain-water, numerous little wrig-
gling worm-like animals, which frequently ascend
to the surface, there remain awhile, and then bend-
ing their head under the body, rapidly sink again
to the bottom. These are the larvae of some
species of the genus just named ; and if you take
one out of the water and examine it, you will
perceive that it is furnished, near the end of the
body, with a singular organ, which varies in length

AQUATIC LARV.E. 163

according to the species, and forms an angle with
the last segment but one. The mouth of this
organ is funnel-shaped, and terminates in five
points like a star ; and by this it is usually sus-
pended at the surface of the water,
and preserves its communication with
the atmosphere. In its interior is a
tube which is connected with the
tracheae, and terminates in several
openings, visible under a microscope
at the mouth of the organ. The
points or rays of this mouth are used
to close it when the animal is dis-
posed to sink in the water, and thus 4*0*4* «»««*t»*j

fY» • • • • i i an aquatic Larva.

cut on its communication with the
atmosphere. When the animal is immersed, a
globule of air remains attached to the end of the
tube, so that it is in fact of less specific gravity
than water, and it is not without some effort
that it descends to the bottom; but when it
wishes to rise again, it has only to unclose the
tube, and it rises without an effort to the surface,
and remains suspended for any length of time.
The extremity of the larva is clothed with bunches
of hairs, which are furnished with some repellent

164 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

material which prevents their becoming wet. It
is this repellent quality that probably causes a
dimple or depression of the surface, which, if you
look narrowly, you will discover round the mouth
of the tube."

In summer time, the reader can scarcely fail of
the gratification of watching these most curious
creatures, for they abound in ditches, pools, and
the stagnant waters of artificial fountains. They
form a very curious object under the microscope,
and particularly in the gas microscope, or solar mi-
croscope, where the image of the larvse is thrown,
as in the case of the magic-lantern, upon a wrhite
sheet, or wall. Their curious writhings to and
fro, the energy they display in lashing about
their tails, so as to throw the few drops of water
in which they are imprisoned into mimic whirl-
pools, their occasional dartings down to the bot-
tom, and subsequent gentle rise up to the surface,
together with the terror into which countless minor
occupants of the same watery prison with them-
selves are thrown, when one of these comparative
giants plunges into the midst of them, form a
spectacle as unique as it is interesting and divert-
ing. A sharp eye, and a phial and cork, are the

LARVJE IN DITCHES AND POOLS. 165

alone requisites for finding out these singular
beings on most fine days in summer. But a little
while ago the writer was amused to find, on a
sunny day in June, the water of a small fountain
playing before his study window, thickly populated
with these active larvae, and it became an amuse-
ment which seldom wearied, to watch their fantas-
tic evolutions, and to trace their changes from
the larva through the ulterior stage up to the per-
fect insect. To this, however, we shall probably
have occasion to revert before the conclusion of
this work.

Another instance of a curious contrivance for
assisting the breathing of a larva, whose body is
wholly immersed in water, may also be found
near home. Most probably the majority of our
readers have seen, or at any rate are well ac-
quainted with the apparatus by which the diver
descends and works under water. Lest some
should not, we may mention that it consists of a
water-tight dress, which covers the diver from
head to foot, while his head is enclosed in a
helmet, or hood, furnished with a pipe or hose,
which is long enough to reach to the surface of
the water, and is there generally connected with

166 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

an air-pump, which forces down fresh air, and so
enables the man to breathe almost as comfortably
as if he were walking on land, instead of at the
bottom of the sea. Let it be conceived now that
there were no air-pump at the top of the hose,
but simply a buoy of cork to keep it floating, and
that the diver had the power of shortening or
lengthening the hose at his pleasure, we should
then have a tolerably fair representation of the
contrivance with which Infinite Wisdom has sup-
plied the humble creatures of whom we are about
to speak.

By carefully examining the water running from
manure heaps, or water which has become putrid,
and is much loaded with mud and ooze, the reader
will pretty generally be successful in discovering
a number of the larvae of a two-winged fly of
the shape represented in the cut. When dis-
covered, the singularity of their structure will
amply repay him for the trifling unpleasantness
attending the search after them. After washing
them in a little fair water, and putting them into
a tall ale-glass, or German beer-glass, which must
be three parts filled with water, they will be in
the best condition for our examination. When

RAT-TAILED LARVAE.

167

Reaumur first beheld them, he gave them the
name of Vers a queue de rat ; that is, larvae with a
rat's tail ; and when the reader
looks at them, as shown in the
representation annexed, he will
be inclined to think with us,
that a more appropriate title
could not have been found.

On watching them they will
be seen to wriggle about until
they are comfortably settled,
darting from place to place, as
if uneasy in their new position
and in the pure element. By-
and-by, however, they become
reconciled to their lot, and
lie perfectly quiet at the bottom of the glass in
the position represented. From the tail of each
will now be seen to rise a beautifully delicate and
minute tube, which comes up to the surface of
the water, and here, whatever be the movements
of the larva below, it remains floating and free.
Just as the diver may, while his companions
above are pouring down torrents of fresh air,
move about, and perform various duties under,

Rat-tailed Larva: .

168 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

water, so the larva may move from one position
to another, and assume almost any variety of atti-
tude; but its little air-pipe still retains its per-
pendicular direction, and does not quit the surface
of the fluid.

A singular experiment may now be tried with
them. Let a little water be poured into the glass
by means of a funnel, the end of which dips under
the water so as not to give them unnecessary dis-
turbance, and by this means the level of the water
in the glass becomes insensibly raised half an inch
or so. In a few seconds it will be found that these
little tails have all lengthened themselves, and are
again at the surface of the water, even at its higher
level. More water may be poured in until per-
haps the level is raised three or four inches, and
still the same thing takes place, the larva? still pro-
long their curious tails, until it seems as if they
would stretch to an indefinite length, for they are
already eight or ten times longer than the body !
But, as we might jestingly say — the longest tail
comes to an end at last ; for, on continuing to pour
more water in, the larvae stretch their tails to the
utmost, and then, finding the level of the water
still above their reach, they become uneasy, and

REMARKABLE ORGAN.

169

all quit the bottom of the glass and attach them-
selves to its sides.

Let us now examine more minutely this very
singular apparatus. By a
good lens we may readily
do this, as the organ is very
transparent, permitting its in-
ternal structure to be beau-
tifully seen. Placing the crea-
ture in a convenient position
for our examination, and in
a good light, it will be pre-
sently seen that the tail is
composed in reality of two
tubes, of which one slides up
and do\vn within the other,
just like the tubes of a tele-
scope (see cut). By this means
the larva is provided with an
instrument capable of being
made to reach to a great
length, and yet also pos-
sessing the capability of being packed up again
in a very small compass. The proper breathing
tube is the small inner one ; at its extremity is a

The Tail magnified.

/

170 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

pair of spiracles, or breathing pores, and surround-
ing these are placed five minute bristles, which
are supposed to act somewhat as a buoy, and to
retain the tail in its position. Where
the tail joins on to the body of the
larva, two tubes thrown into folds are
placed, which are connected with the
breathing tubes of the tail, at one end,
and with the breathing pipes which run
along the body of the larva at the other.
When the tail is pushed out to its far-
thest, these zig-zag tubes are stretched
quite straight ; when it is drawn in
End of the Tan. again, they are thrown into folds. Both
these appearances are shown in the plate. It has
been supposed that the larva causes the tube
to be pushed out by forcing air into it, and thus
causing the zig-zag tubes to straighten themselves.
Perhaps the tail is drawn in by the same tubes
contracting again, and thus folding together and
dragging back the tube to which they are con-
nected.

We need scarcely stop to mention how useful is
this admirable contrivance to the insect. Having
to seek for their food at the bottom of ditches,

THE CHAMELEON FLY. 171

drains, or puddles, they are necessarily exposed to
the risk of suffocation, unless fresh air can be con-
veyed to them ; and it is difficult for us to imagine
how any apparatus could have been contrived
which would have adapted itself to all the varying
depths of water in which the insect must be con-
stantly living, as it changes from place to place.
He must have been a clever engineer who could
have successfully met this difficulty. None of our
present diving apparatus does so. The organ we
have been considering, the creation of an Infinite
Mind, small and despicable as it may seem in our
eyes, fulfils perfectly every function for which it
was formed. It admits of free movement from
place to place, it admits, moreover, of free change
from one level to another in the fluid by which the
larva is surrounded, and it is at the entire disposal
of the insect, which can, without the smallest in-
convenience, accommodate it to the various cir-
cumstances in which it may be placed.

Possibly the same phial in which was brought
home the last-named larvae with the rat's tail,
will furnish us with an equally elegant instance
of larva-respiration under water, in the case of the
larva of a fly, called the chameleon fly. This

172 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

little creature, if it can be found, and though not
as common as the last, it may yet be detected, in
summer, by the edge of ponds, &c., has truly ele-
gant habits. The great Swammerdam, who first
described it, was lost in admiration at it. The
extremity of its body is furnished with a coronet
of about thirty elegantly feathered
hairs. These are under the control
of the insect, and are capable of
being folded up, so as to enclose a
minute bubble of air. When the
larva is weary of remaining at the
top of the water, and wishes to dive
to the still and cool depths below, it
causes these hairs so to fold up and
close upon each other as to include
the air-bubble, so that it cannot
escape. Thus furnished with a

ward, and thus breathes under water until the
purity of the captive air-bubble is impaired, when
it returns to the surface to repeat the same
operations. The appearance of the little bubble
shining, with a brilliant silvery lustre under the
water, is very pleasing, and accounts for the

LARVA OF THE MAY-FLY. 173

enthusiastic expressions used by Swammerdam,
in speaking of the visible manifestation of the skill
of God in this insect. The fact of an insect
coming to the surface for air, and stealing away a
portion, then diving down again into the waters, is
not uncommon in insect history, although few are
possessed of so elegant a contrivance for effecting
it as the larva in question.

We must pass on to mention an instance or
two of larvae which, from the peculiarity of their
respiration, come under the second of our divisions,
that is, they live in the water, and do not breathe
air, but obtain the gas necessary for their respira-
tion from the water, which holds it in a state of
solution. We shall first speak of the larva of the
common May-fly, the perfect insect of which is so
well known to, and highly prized by, anglers,
under the various names of " duns" and "drakes,"
than which in some streams no insect that flies is
a better bait to the unwary fish. Should the
reader wish to examine them for himself, they
may be found in May or June, hiding themselves
during the day in the mud, or underneath stones,
or in little holes in the banks, or taking a sub-
aqueous tour upon the bed of the brook, while the

174

THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

clear and purling waters roll smoothly on above
them. Their little under-water cells are shown

in the cuts, together
with the larva.

Their organs for
breathing the water,
if the expression,
which is in some
measure correct, may
be admitted, are

Cels of May-fly Larva. ^^ ^ ^ ^

of a fish. But instead of forming a part of the
structure of the mouth and head, as those of

the fish, in the larva
they are placed
along its body, and
are arranged in
pairs. A delicate
little air-tube en-
ters into each of
these gills, and
there branches out
into a great many
directions; this tube

Lur.a an* tecttonoj its cell. ™ COnnCCtcd with

SINGULAR ORGANS OF RESPIRATION. 175

the large trachea, or breathing vessel of the insect,
running along its body. The air entering these
gills, and thus being exposed to a large surface of
water containing dissolved gas, loses its impurities,
and absorbs the pure gas from the water, whence
it is then conveyed to the various parts of the
body. In many species of these larvae the whole
series of gills are moved to and fro incessantly, and
so quickly as to be scarcely perceptible to the eye.
Some of them use them as oars, moving with in-
conceivable rapidity, and being capable of darting
both backwards and forwards with great quick-
ness. They have also the power of leaping or
springing in the water to a considerable distance ;
and feed on minute aquatic larvse, and on vegeta-
ble matters.

The only other instance of this kind that we
shall quote will be that of the terrible larva of
the dragon-fly, whose deeds of insect murder came
before us on a former occasion. The apparatus
provided for them is very singular, and has been
described with his usual accuracy by the talented
Reaumur. It exists in the tail of the insect, and
may be readily watched in action by adopting the
following expedient: — Pour into a small glass, in

176 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

which the larva has been put, and which is half
full of water, a few drops of a solution of carmine,
by means of a little tube introduced into the
water, and made to drop its contents near the
tail of the creature. Immediately it will be seen
that the coloured liquid is rapidly sucked in by
the tail of the insect, and then, after the expiration
of a little time, is forced back again in a tiny jet,
with considerable violence, to a distance of several
inches.* Reaumur tells us, that if we hold the
insect between the finger and thumb gently, and let
fall a drop of water on its tail, we shall presently
see it eagerly sucked in, the body of the insect
becoming sensibly larger ; and by-and-by it is
thrown out again. Sometimes it raises its tail
above the surface of the water, and, whether for
sport or not, it is hard to say, squirts the water in
a mimic jet to some distance.

The apparatus has been described as resembling
the piston or plunger of a force-pump, which
moves to and fro within a cavity inside the insect's
body, and by that means draws in and forces out
the water. The tail is defended by a sort of

* The insect in the act of squirting is shown in the Frontis-
piece to this Part.

COMPLETE ARMOUR OF DRAGON-FLY LARVA. 177

coronet, composed of five hard bristle-like pieces,
which are under the control of the creature, and
may be opened and closed at pleasure. The
larva appears capable of inflicting a somewhat
painful pinch by this contrivance, so that, what
with its wonderful mask, with its powerful squirt,
and with its tail thus armed, it would be difficult
to select another insect better prepared for battle
with creatures of every aquatic tribe than it.
The action of the pumping apparatus sends it
rapidly forward through the water, somewhat like
a paddle-wheel, or at least upon the same principle
as that contrivance, namely, the resistance offered
by the water to the stroke of this apparatus.

N

CHAPTER V.

MEANS OF DEFENCE OF THE LARVA.

THERE is, perhaps, no period in the life of an in-
sect when it is so much in danger of the attacks
of foes, as when it is in the larva state. Possessed,
at the best, with but very feeble powers of loco-
motion, in comparison with those of winged in-
sects, it is continually exposed to destruction on
all sides, from which it has not the power to escape.
Not only do insects of various species particularly
select the larva for the object of their attacks, but
birds and other creatures are also in the lists
against them. Thus imperilled, what chance has
the larva against foes so numerous, and in a con-
test so unequal ? It has been calculated that a
pair of sparrows, for their own consumption, and
for that of their tender brood, destroy at least
three thousand caterpillars in a week ! and we
well know what multitudes of larvae fall into the

MEANS OF DEFENCE. 179

clutches of the cawing rooks which follow the tail
of the plough. The winged insects are tolerably
secure, although many even of their ranks fall
victims to the swift- winged swallow and sand-mar-
tin, and to the rapid leap of the artful trout. But
the poor crawling larvae are neither strong enough
to fight, nor swift enough to flee, and fall by thou-
sands into the unsparing hands of their various
enemies.

Yet, the Creator, who has wisely appointed a
large portion of their numbers for food to many
creatures, has also taken many precautions to pre-
vent their being entirely annihilated, as might
otherwise have been the case. These are well de-
serving a brief notice, previous to our passing on
to the last stage in the history of the larva. From
what has been already said about the coats of va-
rious larvae, it may be imagined that that must be
a stout-hearted enemy which could venture to
attack some of them. The spines and hard ex-
crescences with which they are furnished must,
undoubtedly, prove far from agreeable to the touch
of a foe ; and there can be no question that this
sort of armour is, of itself, a good defence to many
larvae. Others form artificial coverings, which are

180

THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

equally useful, by concealing them from the notice
of their enemies. Thus, as we have before re-

Leaf-rolling Larvce.

marked, some dwell in tubes of leaves, hid from
every eye ; others encase themselves in a shield of
cemented gravel or shells, like those represented
in the cut, presenting a most grotesque appearance;

others hide themselves
in variously-formed cells.
Some, immediately

Larva Case of Shells. being tOUChed, roll

selves up, like hedge-hogs, into a ball, which looks
like a little globe of hairs, and is so slippery
that it cannot be retained between the fingers;
others, again, when they are touched, instantly
drop down, and from their colour, resembling pre-

on

LARVA CLAD IN RAGS. 181

cisely that of the herbage into which they have
fallen, it becomes next to fruitless to search for
them.

A very singular larva which, both for offence
and defence, adopts a most extraordinary pro-
cedure, must be mentioned by itself. This larva
is not unfrequently to be found in our houses, and
is said to feed upon our disgusting and annoying
invaders — the bugs ; but it so completely con-
trives to conceal its real character, that not once
in a hundred times would it, probably, be recog-
nised as an insect at all. It collects together a
number of particles of sand, or fragments of
wool, or silk, or earth, and with singular skill, con-
trives to form a sort of coat out of these, in which
it envelopes itself. Thus attired, as may be ima-
gined, it is not easy to discover what the object
really is, and it thus, undoubtedly, escapes the
undesirable notice of any of its enemies. But more
than this: like those North American Indians,
who hunt by concealing themselves in the skins
of wolves, and so attract less attention from the
herd than they would do if they were to expose
themselves in their natural aspect to view, this
crafty larva steals upon its prey in much the same

182 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

manner, although it can run with sufficient swift-
ness when necessary. It creeps forward with the
greatest stealth, moving only one leg at a time,
and thus quite insensibly approaches its victim,
who is not at all alarmed at what merely appears
to be a lump of dust. Soon, however, it is con-
vinced of its fatal mistake, and discovers the
terrible fact that it is in the embrace of an un-
sparing devourer.

Other Iarva3 escape notice in a singular manner,
by their close resemblance to little pieces of stick.
Thus, we are told by Messrs. Kirby and Spence,
that " there is a certain tribe of caterpillars called
surveyors (Geometrci), that will sometimes support
themselves, for whole hours, by means of their
posterior legs, solely upon their hinder extremity,
forming an angle, of various degrees, with the
branch on which they are standing, and look-
ing like one of its twigs. The body is kept
stiff and immovable, with the separations of the
segments scarcely visible ; it terminates in a knob,
the legs being applied close, so as to resemble a
bud at the end of a twig ; besides which, it often
exhibits intermediate tubercles, which increase the
resemblance. Its colour, too, is usually obscure,

HICKORY-HORNED DEVIL. 183

and similar to that of the bark of a tree : so that,
doubtless, the sparrows and other birds are fre-
quently deceived by this manoeuvre, and thus
balked of their prey. Rosel's gardener, mistaking
one of these caterpillars for a dead twig, started
back in great alarm, when, upon attempting to
break it off, he found it was a living animal."

Some, however, are actually armed, so as to
offer an active resistance to the onslaught of any
enemy. Mr. Abbot has described a terrible
caterpillar, well known in certain districts in
America, under the strange title of the " Hickory-
horned Devil." This creature is furnished with
seven or eight strong horn-like spines, upwards of
half an inch in length, which project from its head
and anterior segments. When threatened by
danger, the caterpillar does not attempt to fly,
but lifts up its head menacingly, and shakes it
about in a very fierce manner. The negroes,
in particular, are so terrified at its aspect, that
they dread it as much as the rattlesnake. But,
in reality, it is harmless ; and Mr. Abbot, in
order to convince the ignorant people that such
was the case, took hold of it, in their presence,
without receiving any injury. This, however,

184 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

did not convince them, and they made answer that,
although it did not sting him, it would undoubt-
edly sting them.

The weapon of another is thus pleasantly de-
scribed by De Greer : — " In the month of July,
I found a caterpillar resting upon a small twig,
which I cut off in order to enable me to ex-
amine it more attentively. As I was scrutinizing
its appearance, I happened, accidentally, to touch
its body. Instantly there shot out, from a spot near
the head, two streams of clear fluid, which struck
me on the face, and partly entered one of my eyes,
causing a very acute, but fortunately, not a very
enduring pain. My surprise at this salute pre-
vented my taking particular notice of the place
from whence the jets proceeded. It appears pro-
bable that this caterpillar has been thus endowed
with this squirting apparatus to enable it to defend
itself against its enemies, or at least, to assist in
frightening, or perhaps in hunting, its prey. For
myself, I confess, after the reception I had met
with, I felt some degree of fear at too nearly ap-
proaching it."

On examining them carefully at another oppor-
tunity, this entomologist found that these cater-

LARVA WITH A SQUIRT.

185

Squirting Larva. The Cleft and squirting Orgai
shown separately.

pillars were provided with a squirting apparatus,
situated in a cleft in the neck. When the crea-
ture is irritated,
it thrusts out a
curious organ, di-
vided into four
branches, and
drilled with holes,
like the rose of
a watering - pot.
From this organ
shoot the jets of
fluid spoken of. After the discharge they are
drawn in again, and covered over by the closing
up of the cleft. Strange to say, when taken in-
doors, the caterpillar lost the power of squirting
altogether. It appeared as if it could only do so
in the open air, where a number of insect enemies
were arrayed against it. This caterpillar is com-
monly known as that of the Puss-moth, and has
sometimes caused the most strange and foolish
country tales by its striking appearance. It has
been described as a horrible monster, having a
head like a lion, jaws like a shark, a horn like a
unicorn, and two tremendous stings in its tail !

186 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

Certainly, its appearance is not the most engaging
in the world, as may be conceived from the repre-
sentation of it in the cut ; and what adds to its
singularity is, that it possesses the power of lashing
its sides with its tail, so as to drive away flies. If
the reader should be fortunate enough to find one,
he may have some amusement in examining all the
curious apparatus with which this rather forbid-
ding looking insect is supplied.

The winter draws near, and sends its foretoken-
ing cold breathings to warn every creature, vege-
table and animal, that the dark season is arriving,
when food is no longer to be obtained. What is
to become of the larva ? Can it endure the pene-
trating tooth of frost, or the overwhelming shower
of rain ? Or can it endure to be from week to
week, from month to month, without a mouthful of
food ? From the facts already stated with re-
ference to the age of larva, it is very certain
that many larvae have to bear these trials ; and
some, not merely during one, but during several
winters. We must, therefore, inquire how they
have been defended, or strengthened, so as to
enable them so to do.

The alteration in the coats of animals during

SHAGGY-COATED LARVJE.

187

winter, or rather, just previous to it, and the
fact that animals destined to inhabit the arctic
regions are enveloped in coats of the shaggiest
hair, arc well known to every person. There can
be no doubt, that in many instances in the insect
world, where a larva has to be exposed to the
frosts of winter, the same provision of a hairy
covering, which has been given to them by the

Shaggy-coated Larva.

Creator, is intended to meet the same end, and
to preserve their soft and tender bodies from the
destructive influence of extreme cold. The fol-

188 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

lowing striking observation of a talented entomo-
logist, who has not thought it beneath him to
write a most interesting book only on the family
of ants (M. Huber), shows very clearly that such
is, in fact, the intention of providing the larva with
a covering of this kind. He noticed that the larvae
of some species of ants destined to pass through
the winter, were furnished with this kind of warm
clothing, while those which were not so destined
had smooth coats, that is, even in the same
species : thus proving to us, beyond a doubt,
that as the winter approached, the warm coat
was put on by the larvae. The engraving on
the last page represents some extraordinary speci-
mens of hairiness in caterpillars from Brazil, now
in the British Museum.

A large number of larvae become torpid during
winter — they are not dead — they are not sensibly
alive — they are plunged in that long half-death
which affects not only them but also many large
animals, who retire in winter, lie down to sleep for
weeks, and awake to find the cold departing, and
the spring-time nigh at hand. But the frost some-
times proves too severe for them, and the poor in-
sects become sometimes congealed into solid lumps

LARVAE FROZEN. 189

of ice ! Alas ! we shall exclaim, then there is an
end to their life when that takes place ; and,
undoubtedly, the severity of such a degree of
cold destroys large numbers ; yet, strange to say,
some larvse actually revive, even after they have
been thus frozen into hard inanimate lumps. One
observer states that he has found them in this
condition; and so entirely congealed, that they
chinked like small stones when dropped into a
glass tumbler ! yet they revived after careful
management. In an experiment made during
Sir John Ross's voyage to the arctic regions, upon
the larvae of a moth, they were four successive
times exposed to the intense cold of 40° below
zero, and four times they revived again on being
brought into the warm atmosphere of the cabin.
Experiments have also been made by other persons
with a like result. It may, therefore, be consi-
dered certain that some larvaa will bear to be frozen
into solid masses, so that they will snap asunder
like an icicle, and yet return to life again ; and
even go through all their stages of development,
into the perfect insect. How remarkable a fact
this is, when we remember the deadly effect of
frost upon man and the higher animals !

190 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

Many larvse, however, form nests of various
kinds, in which they comfortably spend the dreary
days and nights of this stern season. " With this
view," write the excellent observers, Kirby and
Spence, "the larva of Cossus ligniperda forms a
covering of pieces of wood, lined with fine silk ;
those of some other moths excavate, under a stone,
a cavity exactly the size of their bodies, to which
they give all round a coating of silk; and the larva?
of Pieris Cratcegi enclose themselves, in autumn, in
cases of the same material, and thus pass the cold
season, in small societies of from two to twelve,
under a common covering formed of leaves. Bon-
net mentions a trait of the cleanliness of these in-
sects, which is almost ludicrous. He observed in
one of these nests a sort of sack, containing nothing
but grains of excrement ; and a friend assured him
that he had seen one of these caterpillars partly
protrude itself out of the case, the hind feet first,
to eject a similar grain ; so that it would seem the
society have on their establishment a scavenger,
whose business it is to sweep the streets, and
convey the rejected matters to one grand reposi-
tory. This, however singular, is rendered not
improbable, from the fact that beavers dig, in

DWELLINGS OF LARV^. 191

their habitations, holes solely destined for a like
purpose, as do also badgers."

A singular variety of larva-nest is mentioned
by a Mexican traveller. He says, — " After having
ascended for about an hour, we came to the region
of oaks, and other majestically tall trees, the names
of which I could not learn. Suspended from their
stately branches were innumerable nests, enclosed,
apparently, in white paper bags, in the manner of
bunches of grapes in England, to preserve them
from birds and flies. I had the curiosity to
examine one of them, which I found to contain
numberless caterpillars. The texture is so strong
that it is not easily torn ; and the interior con-
tained a quantity of green leaves to support the
numerous progeny within."

The larvae of some Australian insects form the
most curious nests we have ever beheld. A
representation, taken from specimens in the ento-
mological collection at the British Museum, will
show what extraordinary structures these are.
They appear like minute bundles of faggots, and
have been formed by the insect cutting short pieces
of twigs, all nearly of the same size, and then
cementing them together in the manner repre-

192

THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

sented. Some of these are of a large size, as
large as a moderate-sized pear ; others are smaller,
and these present the most beautifully regular ap-
pearance, consisting of a number of very small

Australian Lai va- cases.

rods, bound together in a cylindrical form, like
the fasces of the Roman soldiery.

In this manner Iarva3 pass through the winter.
Without a doubt many perish ; but there remain
infinite numbers at the end of this season, which,
from the depths of their cells, become sensible
to the influence of spring, so soon as the first
footsteps of that season are felt upon the earth.

LARV.E IN WINTER. 198

The larva wakens to active life once more ; and
with an appetite rendered all the keener by its
fast of four or five months, it leaves its dormitory,
and begins to consume whatever suitable food may
lie in its way ; and so it continues, until the time
of its change approaches.

CHAPTER VI.

PREPARATION FOR A CHANGE.

THE last stage of the larva's history hastens on.
Its career of activity and voracity is nearly ended,
and the insect's days in this form are well nigh
spent. Hitherto it has been an earthly, earth-
loving being, without either the desire or the power
to raise itself into the airy element, in which multi-
tudes of its species are disporting the day long. If
we may so speak, its highest desires have only been
confined to the quality and quantity of its food ;
possessing these, it was content. But now, its
hours of feasting are come to a close, and it has to
make ready for a great and momentous change.
The crawling, and, perhaps, repulsive creature
which we turn from without regret, has a high des-
tiny to accomplish, when the period of its sojourn
in its vile body is fully accomplished ; and then,
that form which now creeps among the dust of the

AGE OF THE LARVA. 195

world, shall mount up as on eagles' wings, and be
carried whither it will through the pure regions of
the sky.

The age to which the larva generally attains
before this change takes place is exceedingly va-
riable. To some it is permitted to reach the
venerable age of four or five years ; others, three ;
and many, not nearly so much. The dung and
fungus-feeding insects, as if hastened forward by
the warmth of their position, are at the end of
their larva life in a week ; others live a fortnight
in this state ; and others, several months, We
are told of a curious anecdote of a beetle which
had existed in a desk, set up in an office in Lon-
don, for upwards of twenty years, half of which
period, according to Messrs. Kirby and Spence, it
must have lived as a larva. But this is quite an
exception to the general rule.

For some days before, the larva loses its long
distinguishing characteristic — its appetite — and
now forsakes the plants upon which it formerly
fed; or if it does not forsake them, no longer
consumes any part of them. It becomes, appa-
rently, in some degree sensible that it is approach-
ing the most dangerous period of the history of

196 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

the insect — the state of sleep or torpor in which
it is to exist as a pupa — of which we shall speak
more particularly in our next chapter. Before,
although a weak and comparatively a defenceless
creature, it was still able to exercise a vigilant
watch against its enemies, and thus to avoid them,
or to prepare for their reception ; but now, its eyes
are to be closed in a death-like slumber ; its body
to hang a tempting bait to any wandering foe, or
hungry bird, and it can in no way resist the at-
tacks of the feeblest adversary.

As if fully aware of this, the wonderful instinct
of the larva meets the difficulty by teaching
it to select the best place for its concealment
from a dangerous notice. With this view, it
sets out in search of a hiding-place, and rests
not until it has obtained a city of refuge which
may prove to it a defence against the enemy.
It may be some little recess, covered by an
irregular stone, and sheltered round the sides
by moss and the upspringing grass ; or, perhaps,
a little hole in the earth has received the poor
fugitive from future harm, and in order to conceal
itself more completely, it has drawn over the
mouth of the cave a covering of leaves. Here,

THE LARVA CONCEALS ITSELF. 197

safe from observation, the larva bids a farewell — to
speak as the poets speak — to the busy staring
world for awhile, and loses all recollection of its
past history, in the night of torpidity upon which
it has now entered. The larvae of the lady -bird, and
other insects, glue themselves fast to the under side
of a twig or leaf, and here pass the days of their
sleep in safety. Many of the larra of insects
whose life, up to this period, has been passed be-
neath the surface of some glassy pool, now quit
the pure element, and seek the shore, on which
they are to pass the remaining portion of their
existence.

But there are two other ways in which larvse
prepare for the state of pupa, which are so curi-
ous, and prevail to such a large extent among
insects, that we may be excused for following the
example of all authors upon insect history, and
treating our readers to the interesting facts which
have been recorded by various observers upon
this subject. One of these is the plan of hanging
themselves up in the air, like sailors in their ham-
mocks; and in other positions, this plan is com-
monly called the suspension of the larva. The other
is the formation of beautiful cases of various kinds,

198 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

which are called cocoons, in which they wrap
themselves up close during the period to be de-
voted to the pupa state. Let us speak of these
each separately ; and, first, of the case, or cocoon,
as a place of concealment for the larva. It is
right, however, to premise, that, while the greater
number of insects are in a torpid or half-torpid
state while in the pupa form, all are not so, as
will be noticed in the next chapter; and those
which are not do not of course require the pro-
tection of a cocoon, or the contrivance of a silken
hammock.

The material of which the case or cocoon is
composed is a beautiful silken fibre, which is fur-
nished by a spinning apparatus placed either at
the extremity of the body, or more frequently at
the mouth of the insect, whence it proceeds in a
filament of the utmost delicacy and transparency,
but at the same time of considerable tenacity.
By its means alone cocoons, of a number of
different kinds, some of extraordinary beauty and
ingenuity, are constructed ; but in other cases
the insect has recourse to various materials to
assist in giving strength to the walls of its cell.

The best example, and the most familiar one we

COCOONS OF LARV.E. 199

can select of a purely silken cocoon, is that of
those

" spinning worms

That in their green shops weave the smooth-haired silk."

This beautiful and valuable cocoon, when ex-
amined externally, appears to be formed in two
different ways ; for the outer covering is loose and
open, while the inner one is compact and close,
and so in truth it is, although both coverings are
formed of a single thread. The outer has been

Cocoon of Silk -worm.

called the scaffolding, by means of which the inner
and more solid covering is constructed. The larva
stationing itself between two leaves, or in any
other suitable spot, fastens its thread to one of
the adjoining surfaces, and then proceeds to draw
out the fibre and fasten it in various positions

200 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

until it has woven around itself an envelope, as it
were, of loose gauze. After this has been done
it begins to form the closer and more compact
structure of the inner envelope, laying on the silk
backwards and forwards in a series of zig-zags,
until it has laid on several layers, and thus com-
pletely shut itself in. The loose outer portion
forms what ladies so well know under the title
of flos-silk; the inner fibres are the most con-
tinuous, admitting of being wound off without
breaking, and they form the ordinary silk of
commerce.

M. Lyonnet has given a most interesting account
of the proceedings of another larva which far sur-
passes the silk-worm in the ingenuity of its man-
ner of forming the cocoon. This larva is very
small ; in fact, not more than the sixth of an inch
in length, and is found on the under side of oak-
leaves. M. Lyonnet observes, that beyond all
the larvse he had ever watched, he considered this
creature the most inconceivably ingenious work-
man. Its little cocoon is of a white colour, and of
a long oval form, having its upper surface orna-
mented with seven upright ridges. The first
thing the creature begins by doing, is to erect, in

EXTRAORDINARY PRECAUTION OF A LARVA. 201

the most curious manner, a series of little upright
palisades of silk at a certain distance from each
other, all round its body, so as to form a sort of
oval fence, and probably the larva intends them to
serve as a sort of hedge to keep off intruders
while it is busy at work! After spinning half
its case, it turns .

J

round, and be- (JjJ J Jj Jj

site end, and thus ^4 SC?

forms the other

half; it then UniteS Th* Larva surrounded by its Palisade.

it in the middle, and by so doing incloses itself
in a very pretty cage of silken net-work, which it
subsequently strengthens by adding a firm layer
on the inside. The time taken in the construction
of this ingenious cocoon is not more than half-an-
hour. It is quite impossible to understand how
the little being contrives to form the upright
ridges on the surface of its cocoon; and as the
larva is so minute it is almost hopeless to expect
to discover it. Attempts have been made to un-
ravel the difficulty, but not with complete success.
When, looking at some magnificent works of man,
we are tempted to become inflated with pride,

202 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

let the remembrance of what this tiny insect can
do keep us humble, and direct our admiration
rather to Him who is the Author of all wisdom,
the Giver of every good and perfect gift.

Upon the leaves of pear trees we may some-
times find a pretty cocoon of very slight and
elegant texture, formed of silk, as shown in the
cut.

A very singular cocoon
is spun by the larva of
a common moth, some-
what of the outline of a
balloon in form. This
cocoon is spun in a very
slight manner, and thus
offers a striking contrast
to those of many other
insects ; in fact, it is so
slight, and the meshes are
so open, that the insect
can be readily seen within
cocoon on a Pear-Uaf. suspended in Si hammock

of silk, and thus presenting a very curious appear-
ance. In another, the inclosed insect looks just
like a poor prisoner within a grating.

CASE OF BARK-SKIN. 203

In order to give a sufficient degree of strength to
their cocoons, some larvae adopt the plan of form-
ing them partly of silken fibre and partly of other
materials. Reaumur, being on an entomological
excursion in the forest of Vincennes on a fine day
in the month of May, fell in with a most curious
cocoon, formed by a larva which feeds upon the
oak-tree. At first he could scarcely conceive
what the object he saw before him was, but on
removing the branch it proved to be a very singu-
lar cocoon. Detaching a small branch, on which
was a larva just commencing its cocoon, Reaumur,
finding the evening draw on, set out on his return
home. The larva did not seem to discover the
fact of its being carried away a prisoner ; and as the
entomologist carried the branch with gentleness,
it proceeded with its task as comfortably as if
stationed on the tree it was now leaving behind.
Reaumur beguiled the tedium of the way by
carefully watching its mode of proceeding in the
formation of its cocoon. He thus noticed the
larva cutting very delicate layers of the fine upper
skin or epidermis of the bark of the twig, which it
fastened together by silken cords, and then formed
into two wing-like pieces fastened on each side of

204

THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

the twig in the manner represented in the cut,
something like the feathers of an arrow in appear-
ance. And now, this
being done, the diffi-
culty was to draw the
two sides together, and
so to convert them into
a covering for its body.
The manner in which
this was done will
hardly, perhaps, be
imagined. It will be
best understood if the
reader will cut out two
pieces of paper of the
shape of these two side
portions, fasten them
on with a little glue by one of their edges to a
piece of twig, and then, by a fine needle and thread,
draw them together by stitching from side to side
all the way up. The larva does something very
like this, for it fixes silk cords to each of the outer
edges, and then pulls and hauls with all its might
until it has forcibly bent over the layers until they
meet, and then it ties the edges together by short

Cases formed of Epidermis of Bark.

ANECDOTE OF A LARVA.

205

cords, so as to produce a seam so beautifully close,
even, and fine, as would put the " fine-drawing"
of the most superlative tailor to shame ; in fact,
the join is frequently quite imperceptible. Having
done this, it lines the inside with beautiful tapestry
of silk. By the time Keaumur and his friends had
got to the end of their walk, which occupied an
hour and a little more, the larva had, after vast
labour, joined together its seams, and far advanced
toward the completion of its task.

Reaumur made also some most interesting ob-
servations upon a larva which constructs its cocoon
of a sort of silken mesh, the interstices of which
are filled with grains of
earth. Having broken
oiF the top of a cocoon
he witnessed the sin-
gular spectacle of the j
larva proceeding to
mend it again. With-
out leaving its cell, the
patient labourer put its
head out of the opening
in the attitude repre-
sented in the cut, and, after looking about for a

206 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

little time, picked up, one by one, a number of
grains of earth, which it stored up in its case.
After this, it filled up the sides of the opening
with a net-work of silk, working the grains of
earth into it as it proceeded. For three hours the
larva worked incessantly at its task, and at the
end of that time had materially reduced the size
of the opening. Reaumur was now curious to
observe how the opening still left would be filled
up, as the insect could no longer put its head out,
and he expected to see it filled up with a mesh of
silk. But he had not given the larva due credit
for ingenuity in making this supposition. It filled
up the opening first, with a mesh of silk, but be-
tween the meshes, in a most curious manner, it
thrust out some little grains of earth, which it had
previously stored up, until they actually appeared
on the outside, and any one would have sup-
posed they had been laid on from without. It
finally ended its labours by coating the inside of
the opening also with a layer of earth. Reaumur
afterwards cut the cocoon in half with a knife,
and by that means was enabled to see how success-
fully the larva had repaired the injury.

We must now speak briefly of the Suspension

SUSPENSION OF THE LARVA. 207

of the Larva ; and it may be mentioned, that the
insects, whose larvae perform this manoeuvre, are
almost exclusively the butterfly tribe. There are
various ways of effecting this object. The spin-
ning apparatus, by which the cords are to be formed
to sustain the body of the insect in the air, is
situated in the mouth of the larva, and it may well
be imagined that the insect, which is about to hang
itself up by the tail, has no easy task to perform in
having to fasten its cords to the tail, and then to
the branch above it. If a spider wished to hang
itself up by the tail it would be a very easy thing
so to do, for the spinning apparatus is placed there,
and it has only to let itself fall from a branch
after first glueing the end of the cord to it ; but a
larva is differently circumstanced, and it requires
no slight display of ingenuity to accomplish its
purpose.

Its first process is to select a suitable leaf or
twig, upon which it weaves a sort of little mound
of silk of the shape of a button. This done, it
examines it carefully to ascertain its strength, and
satisfied therewith, it then proceeds to thrust its
two hind legs in amongst the threads of which
the button is composed, and in so doing it causes

208 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

the hook-like processes which fringe these legs to
become securely entangled in them. It then is
safe as to the issue, and now lets its body drop
down, fearless of the most violent rockings to
which even a tempest might expose it.

Another way of suspending themselves is almost
equally singular with this. It may be witnessed
by the reader if he will take the pains to collect
the larvae of the common white butterfly, found in
abundance upon our cabbage rows ; and by pro-
perly attending to, feeding and watching them,
this curious proceeding may generally be observed,
in a few at least of the number, supposing that
the others may have hung themselves up without
being seen in the very act. If we were to set a
mountebank to the task this larva has to perform,
it may well be doubted whether with the richest
reward before him he could manage to effect it.
First, he would have to tie both his feet fast to a
branch, so that he would swing head downwards ;
then, in order to hang himself in the horizontal
posture, he must bend his body up, fasten a cord
round the branch in a proper place, so as to form
a loop, and then put his head and body into it, so
that it would support him comfortably just under

VARIOUS MODES OF SUSPENSION.

209

the arms. Probably the most supple-jointed gen-
tleman would find himself discomfited in the
attempt. The caterpillar in question, however,
does all this, and more; for it has to spin the ropes
with which it is to be suspended. Fixing its
hinder part, in the manner just described, to the
little button of silk, which it first forms, it then
spins the girth, in
which it intends to
trust its safety, by
the apparatus of
the mouth. Some-
times larvae tie themselves in an upright position,
as martyrs to a post ; but the most common
method is the horizontal one,
giving the insect the resem-
blance of a sailor swinging
in his hammock.

We must ask attention,
before we close our chapter,
to one more account of the
proceedings of a larva; and
this too is in a common insect
— perhaps the housewife
would say a little too common

Perpendicular Suspension.

210 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

— the meat-fly. This larva, when its days in that
condition are at their close, quits its long greedily-
devoured and disgusting food, and penetrates into
the earth ; there it contracts its body in a singu-
lar manner, and its skin becomes thickened and
hard, so as to form a sort of parchment-like case,
inside which its jaws are cast off, instead of out-
side, as is commonly the rule. " Were such an
extraordinary transformation as this to happen
to one of the larger animals, it would be held forth
as altogether miraculous," writes Mr. Rennie.
« "Were a lion or an elephant, for example, to coil
itself up into a ball, compressing its skin into
twice the thickness and half the extent, while it
remained uniform in shape and without joinings
or openings: and at the same time were it en-
tirely to separate its whole body from this skin,
lie within it, as a kernel does in a nut, or a chick
in an egg, throwing off its now useless tusks into
a corner ; and then, after a space, should it ac-
quire wings, break through its envelope, and take
its flight through the air, there would be no
bounds to our admiration. Yet the very same
circumstances in miniature take place every day
during summer, almost under the eye of every

LAST ACT OF THE LARVA. 211

individual, in the case of a blow-fly, without
attracting the attention of one person in a million."
So much more are we attracted by great things
than by small.

The work of preparation finished, the insect
securely buried in its cell or warmly surrounded
"by its cocoon, or hanging up to the branch of a
tree, or in any other way concealed from view or
protected from injury, little more remains to be
added to the larva history. Its last action, after
settling itself in a comfortable position, is to cast
off its skin, which is generally, in the case of those
larvae which inhabit cells or cocoons, left inside the
recess : sometimes it is cast out. The period at
which the insect ceases to belong to the larva
stage, and passes into the next, varies, and will
receive notice in the following chapter.

When in the vengeance of God upon the guilty
land of Egypt it pleased Him to send the plague
of insects, the exclamation of the magicians was :
" This is the finger of God." Such, in an admiring
sense, may be ours also as we look back upon what
we perceive God to have done for this humble
portion of His creation in the few past pages.
What provision, what wonderful forethought and

212 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

wisdom has not been exercised upon beings which
man despises, or even abhors, and which fall
daily by thousands under foot, crushed and for-
gotten except by a few. Let us search the green
lanes and hedge-rows more assiduously, — let us
poke even into the dirtiest corners, — let us examine
well the leaves and branches in our gardens, the *
depths of the purling brook, the cavities of the
aged trunks, and the cracks in the deep-furrowed
bark, — let us look narrowly upon the cabbages and
nettles, as well as upon the rose-bush and myrtle, —
let no place, in a word, be beneath our scrutiny, no
object beneath our notice ; — let us do this, and we
shall not need to sigh after foreign scenes, or the
majestic wonders of nature, for we shall have a
microcosm, a world of wonders, in a table drawer,
and an exhaustless theme of admiration in the
contents of a tumbler of water.

INSECTS ESCAPING FKOM THE PUPA CONDITION.
Pag? 3M.

PART III— THE PUPA.

CHAPTER I.

THE TRANSFORMATION.

HANGING to the slender branch of yonder rose-
tree, swinging to and fro with the gentle air which
blows in scented waves through the flower-garden,
is a little object to which we wish to direct atten-
tion. Had not notice been thus directed to it, in
all probability we should have passed it by, if we
observed it at all, only considering it to be a
broken twig or withered leaf suspended by a cob-
web. We may examine it minutely, but all is
quiet and motionless in the little mass, and it is
impossible to detect the least sign of life. A casual
eye would rest upon it without interest, and would
turn away from it uninstructed as to its nature and
properties. In colour it has nothing to attract — it

214 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

is of a dirty white or brown, and in shape it is,
though curious, so small, and so uninviting, that
few would take the trouble to pay much attention
to it. Day by day it swings from its silken cord,
and is to all appearance an object without interest
to all around it.

Yet this slumbering, unattractive mass contains
a living being. Though the aspect of death has
passed upon it, and though we may perhaps be un-
able to detect the symptoms of movement in its
parts, it is yet alive, and the lapse of a little time
will convert the slumbering being, thus singularly
hung up to be the sport of the wind and rain, into
a creature more extraordinarily active than per-
haps any other in the animal creation. While
it sleeps, great changes are taking place; it is
receiving new organs, it is being matured, deve-
loped, perfected, fitted for a nobler existence, and
for a higher range of duties, than it has yet
known. Such is the pupa.

From these remarks it will be sufficiently
evident that this chapter of our insect history has
to speak of a period when there are but few traces
of active existence in the insect, and it might
therefore be supposed there remained little to be

MEANING OF THE WORD (t PUPA." 215

said upon a period of the insect's life which is only
comparable to a prolonged sleep. But entomolo-
gical science is too rich in interesting matters
upon every subject to admit this conclusion, and
we shall find that there is much to be narrated
which equally, with what has formerly been
written, is calculated to raise our admiration to
the Great and Beneficent Author of all Nature.

If we turn to a Latin Dictionary and hunt out
the word which stands at the head of this chapter,
Pupa, we shall find several definitions of it given;
for example, a little girl, a doll> and a baby. What
have either of these to do with an insect? some
will exclaim, and they may feel disposed to con-
sider the great Linnaeus, who gave the insect
tribes while in this stage this title, to have been
not over happy in his selection of terms. But
those who thus exclaim have perhaps only seen
babies as they are clothed in England, possessing
the power and comfort of free movement, and
having their arms and legs at liberty. Between
the aspect of these little creatures and our insects
no one can trace any resemblance. But it is very
different on the continent ; there, out of the
strange notion that it will keep the poor little

216 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

being's limbs straight, it is the custom to wrap
babies up in swaddling clothes, until they can
neither stir hand nor foot, and they are
made to resemble Egyptian mummies
as nearly as possible. Babies wrapped
up in this cruel and barbarous manner
form objects of so peculiar an appear-
ance, that it is quite ludicrous to trace
the resemblance between them and the
A Pupa. pupce of insects; and therefore Linnaeus,
as it appears, could scarcely have selected a better
epithet for the insect than its present title of pupa,
as it too has the aspect of being wrapped up in
swaddling bands.

But, as we formerly mentioned with regard to
larvae, all insects in the pupa state are not called
popularly by their scientific and correct name.
Those that are closely wrapped up, and are in fact
complete mummy insects, are called sometimes by
the term Chrysalis, or Aurelia, because they are
sometimes of %> golden lustre, the one being derived
from the Latin, the other from the Greek term
for " gold," and this even when they are not gilded
in this manner. Again, when, as we shall pre-
sently have to notice, the insect in the pupa state

VARIOUS NAMES OF PUPJE. 217

is still capable of eating or moving, or when it does
not lose its legs, its popular name is a Nymph. As
in the preceding chapter, so in this, we shall not
regard these terms, as they only create a great
amount of confusion, but shall adopt the true
term, pupa, throughout, whether the insect spoken
of falls within the one or other of these popular
divisions, or not.

We traced the larva in the last chapter up to
that period in its history when it enters its cell,
or otherwise retires to concealment, previous to
its becoming transformed into the pupa. Here,
immured in darkness, and alone, it is left to un-
dergo that mysterious struggle of the vital powers
which is to end in producing a new and more
perfect creature out of one which, however per-
fectly adapted to its condition, is very far inferior,
as regards the completion of its organization, to
that which it is destined to become ; and here we
may appropriately pause to take up the history
of the curious larva so recently described, at p. 207,
as performing the feat of hanging itself up by the
tail from cords spun by its mouth ; since it exhibits
to us in a striking point of view the shaking off of
the old form of larva, and the putting on of the

218 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

new one of pupa. In addition to this, it is, per-
haps, one of the most astonishing instances of
animal agility with which we are acquainted.

In order to make its manoeuvres and the diffi-
culty of them the more easily comprehended, let
us (to follow Messrs. Kirby and Spence in the
same matter) put a case of a somewhat similar
kind before the readers by way of supposition.
Country fellows at wakes and fairs frequently —
for the diversion of the company there assembled,
or for a prize of some value in their estimation,
perhaps a fat pig, or a leg of mutton — run races
in sacks which are tied close about their necks,
and of course tumble about a good deal, and dis-
play anything but a graceful mode of progression,
" Now," say these authors, " take one of the
most active and adroit of these, bind him hand
and foot, suspend him by the bottom of his sack,
with his head downwards, to the branch of a lofty
tree ; make an opening in one side of the sack,
and set him to extricate himself from it, to detach
it from its hold, and suspend himself by his feet
in its place. Though endowed with the suppleness
of an Indian juggler, and promised his sack full of
gold for a reward, you would set him an absolute

PROCESS OF THE CHANGE. 219

impossibility ; yet this is what our caterpillars, in-
structed by a Beneficent Creator, easily perform !"
Let us proceed to show in what manner the
caterpillar performs this wondrous feat. After
suspending itself in the way already described,
a little time generally elapses, during which the
insect by turns contracts itself, and then dilates
again. At length its skin splits near its head, and
a portion of the pupa appears, which acts like a
wedge, and, being thrust partly through the slit,
causes it to tear still higher and higher towards
the tail. The insect continues its painful labours,
swelling and contracting alternately, so as to push
the torn skin higher and higher up, as one would
roll off a stocking, until at length the old skin is
folded into several rolls, and is quite at the tail.
But the task is as yet only half accomplished ; the
most arduous and difficult part remains to be done.
The pupa is shorter than the larva, and conse-
quently hangs out of reach of the silken button
in which the latter was firmly fixed by its hind
legs. It seems now as if the poor insect must fall,
for there appears no way for it to get up to the
silk anchorage, and the folds of the pushed-up
old skin are all that retain it in its position, which,

220 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

as may be imagined, is far from a secure kind of
fastening. How is it to disengage itself from its
case, and be suspended in the air while it climbs up
to take its place ? Without arms or legs to support
itself, the anxious spectator expects to see it fall
to the earth. His fears, however, are groundless ;
the supple segments of the pupa's abdomen serve
in the place of arms. Between two of these, as
with a pair of pincers, it seizes on a portion of
the skin; and, bending its body once more, entirely
extricates its tail from it. It is now wholly out
of the skin, against one side of which it is sup-
ported, but yet at some distance from the leaf;
the next step it must take is, to climb up to the
required height. For this purpose it repeats the
same ingenious manoeuvre: making its cast skin
serve as a sort of ladder, it successively, with its
different segments, seizes a higher and a higher
portion, until in the end it reaches the summit,
where with its tail it feels for the silken threads
that are to support it. The tail is provided
with a number of minute hooks which catch in
the meshes of the silken button, and the pupa,
thrusting it into the meshes of this button, feels
quite secure as to the result, and drops safely into

REMARKABLE FEAT. 221

the perpendicular position, dangling in the air as
gaily as did the larva before it. But its old skin

This Cut shows the entire change from the first rupture of the skin to the casting
away of the old skin.

still clings to it, and seems greatly to annoy it by its
presence ; so much so, that it sets about attempt-
ing to cast it down altogether. As it will be

222 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

remembered that the legs of this skin are still
firmly attached to the silk, in consequence of their
hook-like form, it will be evident that this also is
a task of some arduousness. In order to get rid
of it, it jerks itself about in various directions,
and spins round very rapidly, — doubtless the reader
has often seen the insect in this act, and has won-
dered what was its object in whirling round after
this manner, — by this means at length the cast-skin
appears loosed from its hold and drops off. The
whole proceeding from first to last is represented
in our engraving. The little hooks of the tail of

7 / ' ^^Z^ ^e PuPa are rePre"

sen ted in the adjoining

cut much enlarged.
Well does Reaumur ex-
claim, — " These ma-
noeuvres of withdraw-

Tail oj a to^r^gyfl** to *ou> the Jng J^g fa\]_ from \\±Q old

skin, of climbing up the old skin, and of hooking
its tail in the silken button," — and, as we might
add, of whirling itself, and in other ways agitating
itself to get rid of its old skin, — " are manoeuvres
so delicate and perilous, that we cannot help won-
dering how an insect which only executes them

TIME OCCUPIED. 223

once in its life, should execute them so well; and
we are led to the inevitable conclusion that it
has been thus taught by a Great and All-wise
Master."

The manner in which other larvae cast their
skins and become pupae when they enter their cell
cannot be described, as they perform this act in
all the privacy and darkness of their solitary
habitations ; but in all probability it differs in no
respect from the manner in which the same crea-
tures cast their skins when they moult, excepting
that the new being which emerges from the cast-
skin is no longer a larva, but a pupa.

The time occupied by the creature in its process
of change differs in different species. In some it
is short, in others it is long. Generally, it does
not exceed a few days. We are told, however, of
the larva of some insects which are six months
before they become pupae. The Baron de Geer
tells us with surprise of the larva of a moth
which he had watched. It became a larva, and
spun its cocoon, in the month of August, 1746,
and was attentively kept during the winter. The
spring came, but the larva still remained a larva,
and did not show any signs of changing its form ;

224 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

and winter came again, finding it still a larva : the
second winter passed, and it was not until April
1748, that is, more than eighteen months after
it first became a larva, and entered its cocoon, that
it underwent the change, and became a pupa : some
time afterwards it became a perfect insect.

CHAPTEE II.

WHAT IS A PUPA?

BUT it may now be asked, What is a pupa, and
what are the differences between it and a larva,
and between it and the perfect insect ? It is very
necessary that this should be clearly understood ;
and to that end we shall endeavour to render our
explanation as simple as possible. But it will be
far better than the best description, if the reader
will be persuaded to watch these changes through-
out himself. The butterfly tribe furnish the very
best illustrations in the world ; and by merely
collecting a few caterpillars from the way-side, or
from the kitchen-garden, a source of amusement
will be opened which will a thousand-fold repay
the trouble and time consumed in the occupation.
Of all other ways, personal observation, when it
is so readily to be effected as in the case of these
insects, is the best and most impressive method of
Q

226 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

becoming acquainted with the " Life of an Insect."
Such knowledge is far more entertaining than
book-knowledge, and is much more agreeable to
acquire, and more easy to retain.

We must guard our definition of what a pupa
is, by reminding the reader that some insects with
which he is very familiar do not pass through this
change in the same manner that the majority of
insects do; that is, in a state of torpor or sleep.
If he were to rear up a spider from the egg, and
were to watch for the time when it would become
a still, lifeless-looking object, like that which we
have called a pupa, he would assuredly be disap-
pointed, and he might accuse this little work of
leading him into error, because it declares that all
insects must pass through the pupa state before
they become perfect in their form and number of
their parts. Yet that very spider has passed
through both the larva and the pupa state under
the observer's eye without his being able to recog-
nise the fact, simply because in both these states
it is very like the perfect insect, and can walk
about and eat just as usual. In fact, it is more
than probable that spiders of the same kind in
these different conditions could scarcely be recog-

CHARACTERS OF A PUPA. 227

nised so as to say that they were pupae, or perfect
insects, even by tolerable entomologists ; and it is
very likely that mistakes of this kind have often
occurred.* We learn, therefore, from this state-
ment, that some pupae are active, and move about
just as they did before, although they are in the
pupa state.

In a great number of cases, then, a pupa is a
state in an insect's life when it rests from active
exertion, and from taking food, and when, under-
neath the dry and withered skin, a series of great
changes are taking place, which are preparing it for
its future life in the perfect state. Thus it differs
from the larva state in not eating and moving, and
in the important particular, — that it is receiving
new parts and organs, which are added to it under
the skin. It also differs from the perfect insect in
the same respects as in the first place from the
larva, and also in the important circumstance, that
the perfect insect the moment it enters that state,
has no more organs added to it — it is, in fact,
perfect, while the pupa is imperfect. Let us place
these differences in a tabular form : —

* Mr. Blackwall has discovered that by carefully examining
ihefeet of spiders, this mistake may be avoided.

228

THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

THE LARVA

Moves about and eats.
Has no new organs
added to it beyond
those acquired in the
egg.

THE PUPA

Does not move about
nor eat.
Has several new organs
added to it, to prepare
it for the perfect state.

THE PERFECT INSECT

Moves about and eats.
Has no new organs
added to it, beyond
those obtained in the
pupa state.

Let us repeat our caution, that this definition is
only applicable to inactive pupae. In the active
pupae the same development of new organs takes
place, but it does not interfere with the usual
actions of life. We must also add, that some of
the pupae which we hiust call inactive, never-
theless are not wholly without motion, but are
capable of manifesting that life is in them, death-
like though they appear, by slightly moving the
lower part of the body.* All inactive pupae, how-
ever, are without the power of moving about.

At the risk of being thought tedious, it has
been indispensably necessary to be thus precise
upon this point ; a little careful study of these two
or three pages will fix the distinctive characters of

* M. Bonnet writes of the pupa of a moth, that it can climb
up and down inside its cocoon like a chimney-sweep in a chimney !
Some twirl about inside their cocoons ; and it is said that a great
entomologist was once so terrified by the curious noise thus made,
that he nearly threw down the box in which it was, in his alarm.

DISSECTION OF A PUPA. 229

the pupa firmly in the reader's memory, and will
enable him to find the account given of its history
clear, easy, and interesting.

Having thus defined what the pupa state is, let
us take up one of these withered objects, and by
a little gentle treatment, with the assistance of a
delicate scissors, a sharp pointed penknife of very
keen edge, and two or three pins, we shall succeed
in unrolling the insect mummy. In order to obtain
the best sight of what the pupa case contains, it
will be advisable to select as large a pupa as can
be procured. Those of the butterfly tribe are
well suited for this purpose. If we are pretty
fortunate in our dissections, we shall succeed in
discovering, that within the membrane-like skin
there is exhibited a beautiful spectacle of order
and neatness. The legs, and wings, and other
external appendages, are folded down close to the
body of the insect. The feet are often crossed
smoothly over the breast, and the wings are
flattened against the side of the body ; the antennae
are also neatly arranged parallel with the legs ;
and altogether the insect presents a very singular
appearance, from the fact of all its organs being
thus smoothed down, compressed into the smallest

230

THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

Pupa*.

compass, and enveloped by the external skin. The
mummy appearance is very striking in some pupaa,
as in the specimen figured.
The appearance of the
folded limbs is indis-
tinctly exhibited in the
companion pupa. All the
parts of the perfect insect
can be distinctly traced,
if the pupa is sufficiently
matured.

By gently using a fine needle, the wings, an-
tennae, and legs, can be separated from the side of
the body, and made to exhibit somewhat of their
natural appearance; but as yet every part is
widely different from the corresponding parts in
the perfect being. The legs are shapeless, the an-
tennae are imperfect, and the wings, — those glorious
organs of the complete condition, — are as yet
devoid of their splendid tints, being of a greyish
colour, and exhibiting little resemblance to the ele-
gant form afterwards to distinguish them.

Strange to say, every organ in this pupa is
enclosed in a sheath of membrane. The head of
the insect is covered by a case; the delicate

CONTENTS OF THE PUPA-CASE. 231

antennae, however long or fine, have their cases, or
sheaths ; even the eyes are provided with them.
They exist also upon the trunk, wings, and legs,
and tongue, or proboscis. These cases must not
be mistaken for the general outer case which
covers the whole insect; they are separate from
that, and cover the organs in question closely,
after the manner of a glove.

If we were to open a pupa within a few hours
after it had assumed this state, we should find its in-
terior filled with a milky fluid, in the midst of which
its future limbs and organs are seen very distinctly,
but are as yet in a most fragile, or even half fluid
state. At a little later period this fluid disappears,
and hardens into a sort of glue, which partly fastens
down the tender limbs into their proper position
until the appointed time comes for the insect to
burst from its sleep and live, and from which the
case which covers them is formed. From the ac-
count thus given of the contents of the pupa-case,
it will be apparent that the pupa possesses, when
perfect, all the organs of the complete insect, head,
eyes, antenna, wings, legs, &c,, and is in fact only
different from it in that it is still inactive to a great
extent, and still a prisoner within its cell of mem-

232 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

brane. In a little while the bonds which keep it
in the tomb will be broken, and the slumberer shall
rise a glorious creature to the enjoyment of all the
happiness of a new condition of existence.

Perhaps few things would cause a person igno-
rant of insect life more amazement than if we
were to hold before his eyes some of the varieties
of pupae in one hand, and the perfect insect in the
other, and were then seriously to assure him
that both were the same
creatures in reality. " Can
it be possible?" he might
exclaim. " This dry, brown
little mass, with these sin-
gular knobs, and this elegant
insect with its gaudy wings
and delicate figure — these the
same being ! " Nor when we
look at the various figures of
pupae, should we be much
surprised at his exclamation.
In one of the cases at the British Museum is a
very large pupa which we have had engraved,
and which is here presented to the reader. In
this curious creature the folding up of the limbs

SINGULAR PUPA. 233

is very obvious ; and some idea of its strange
aspect may be formed from the representation of
it here given. The pupae of several moths are
very singular in shape. In some there is a sort
of little hook, which sticks out from the head,
and seems as if it were intended to hang up the
creature by. In others there is a kind of nose
attached to the head, giving it a droll appearance.
The cause of these protuberances is the long
tongue of these moths, which, as it is much longer
than their bodies, could not of course be contained
in the pupa case, unless it was folded up ; it is,
therefore, neatly folded up and packed into these
receptacles, where it is stowed away until, by the
insect awakening to active life, this singular instru-
ment becomes necessary to them, when it is with-
drawn. The older naturalists, who loved to find
out mimicries of all kinds in nature, used to be
fond of painting pupae with human faces, on
account of the frequent resemblance to a Roman
nose which is found among them. Goedart, a
celebrated naturalist, has drawn several, which we
are sure will excite the merriment of our readers,
and we have therefore shown these remarkable
creatures as represented by him in the adjoining cut.

234

THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

One is a respectable-looking old gentleman's face,
with his hair brushed up very primly off his fore-

PupcB after Goedart.

head. Another resembles a mermaid, for it has
the head of a lady, and something like a cap, but its
tail is more like that of a fish. The others are
quite caricatures. It is the introduction of a
dot, to represent the eye, which gives the resem-
blance to the face in these figures ; without it they
are by no means strikingly like the face. Madame
Merian has favoured us also with some very curious

PUP.E FROM SURINAM.

235

drawings of pupae of the insects of Surinam, which
appear more natural than those of the last author,
and present a very fantastic aspect, by reason of
the curious projections which stick out from their
heads. A few of these are represented below.

Curious Pupae . From Madame Meriarfs work on the Insects of Surinam.

As in the case of the larva, so with the pupa ; if
it is found in a dark situation, it will probably be
destitute of colour, or, at any rate, it will only be
of a yellowish white : such pupse, when taken out
of their natural hiding-place, and exposed to the
sunlight, become of a dark colour. Indeed the

233 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

majority of pupas are without any of the gay
colouring which distinguishes the previous condi-
tion of the insect. It seems as if it had been
thought unnecessary to deck in gorgeous raiment
the cerements of what we might call " the tomb"
of the insect. But there are some beautiful excep-
tions to this rule. The pupae of most butterflies,
which are suspended in open day, are of a green
or yellowish brown colour. Some, however, are
painted in fairer colours ; and a still greater number
are speckled with glittering spots of golden hue,
and shine as though gilded with the purest leaves
of that precious metal, and burnished. Hence, as
before explained, the Latin and Greek terms of
aurelia and chrysalis for the pupae of these insects.
The gilding makes them very attractive objects,
being applied now in streaks, now in spots, and
occasionally, — and this in the very common pupa
of the butterfly whose caterpillar, or larva, feeds on
the nettle, — they are entirely covered with this
splendid coat, The shade of gilding ranges in the
depth of its tone from a very pale yellow to the
full lustre of virgin gold. No wonder that those
who mistook the object of chemistry, in trying to
turn all things into gold, were attracted by these

GILDED PUP^E* 237

glittering things, and actually believed these spots
to be of real gold, and hence imagined that they
had found out an argument in nature for the trans-
mutation of common metals into that coveted one.
But a little experiment, which it is in the power
of any one to perform, would soon have undeceived
them, and taught them the truth of the proverb,
"All is not gold that glitters." By infusing a portion
of saffron in hot water, and straining it off after a
little time, and adding to the rich yellow liquor
thus obtained a few lumps of pure gum Arabic,
a sort of gilding varnish will be obtained, which,
if applied to a bright shilling, will give it very
much of a golden appearance, owing to the shining
of the metal showing through a transparent film
of a golden colour. The gilded look of the pupa
was found by Reaumur to be produced in the
same way by the shining white membrane of the
inner skin showing through the outer skin, which
is of a transparent yellow.

In the Transactions of the Linnasan Society for
1833, the Rev. L. Guilding describes a very
curious pupa, the case of which resembles pearl.
These little bodies are found in abundance in
the island of Antigua, and are often sent home

238 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

to Europe, under the name of "ground-pearl,"
as distinguished from the ordinary fishery-pearl.
They are devoured by turkeys, and fowls, until
the birds are nearly choked with them, when
the remedy is to pour vinegar down the throat,

e»

Ground Pearl. The Insect and its Case magnified.

which dissolves the pearls, and sets the poor bird
at ease. They are strung into necklaces and
purses by the ladies of the Bahamas. They long
caused much perplexity to naturalists; but they
were ultimately found to be really only the pupa?
of a little insect which appears to infest the ants,
those voracious creatures, and thus to keep down
their numbers. A representation of the ground-
pearl, and the insect within, is annexed.

CHAPTER III.

RESPIRATION OF THE PUPA.

HAVING glanced at these particulars in the
history of the pupa, we come to the important
question, — Does the pupa, in this torpid con-
dition, still breathe, as the larva did, or not?
On a careful examination we might detect, with
the help of a magnifying glass, the same breathing
holes or spiracles, spoken of on page 161, as apper-
taining to the larva; and were we sufficiently
skilful to dissect the pupa, we should find much
the same arrangement of air-tubes within the
body. In the absence of all other means of ascer-
taining the fact, we should be warranted in con-
cluding from the presence of these organs alone,
that the pupa has the faculty of breathing, no less
than the larva. M. Reaumur has given a beautiful
description of the breathing-holes, or spiracles, of
the pupa, and has represented them in an engraving,

240 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

of which a copy is furnished at page 161. He
found that they are protected by little valve-
like contrivances, just as our mouths are protected
by our lips ; and these can be opened or closed at
pleasure by the creature ; so that if plunged into
water, that fluid cannot enter the insect's body, for
all its little doors — and there are no fewer than
eighteen of them ! — are fast shut. Singular to say,
however, if plunged into oil, the oil has the power
of entering them, and the pupae may be thus
drowned.

It is very easy to put the fact of the breathing
of the pupa, inanimate as it appears, to a certain
test. By taking a wine-glass half full of water,
and putting it under an air-pump, and then ex-
hausting the air, we shall be able to extract the
air which exists dissolved in the water : or some
water that has been boiled and allowed to cool
will do as well. If we now put a pupa into this
water, and again exhaust the air from the receiver,
we shall notice, at the second stroke of the piston,
a number of little jets of air come from the insect's
body at the places where the spiracles are situated,
thus clearly proving that the creature breathes air
by this apparatus. The fact may be tested also

SPIRACLES OF PUP^E. 241

in another way — and both this and the preceding
experiment are due to the ingenious Keaumur.
He took the pupa of a butterfly, and suspending
it by a thread immersed it half way down in oil ;
on taking it out after some time it was still alive
and apparently uninjured, the reason being, that
the entire number of its breathing -holes were not
covered. He took another of the same species,
and plunged it entirely under the oil, and taking
it out after a time it was found to be quite dead ;
in fact it had been suffocated by the air being shut
out from its breathing apparatus, and that as
effectually as if it had been one of ourselves lying
at the bottom of the sea. We may say, therefore,
with perfect accuracy, that though the pupa, this
seemingly un-living object, neither moves nor
eats, nor in any other wray gives us a sign that it
is alive, except in a few cases, and that in its
advanced stages, we can, nevertheless, prove it to
be living ; as it can be shown that it has the power
of breathing ; and if it breathes, it lives.

We may take the liberty of appropriately ap-
pending to this statement a most interesting and
delightfully-told anecdote, from the pages of the
Baron de Geer, of an insect whose larva lives in

242 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

the water, but whose pupa is an air-breathing
creature, and consequently would perish if the
change from larva to pupa were to take place
under water, without some especial contrivance
to furnish it in the pupa form with a supply of air.
Yet how can this be, when the insect is under
water the whole time up to its becoming a perfect
moth ? We shall hear : —

" At the commencement of spring, as soon as
the frost and ice had disappeared, I sauntered out
one day to procure some fresh plants from the
bottom of a stream, in order to feed some of my
caterpillars with them, Between the leaves of
these aquatic plants I presently found a large
number of aquatic larvae, which had there safely
passed through the rigorous season just gone by.
I took a number of them, and put them in some
boxes, where they eat the leaves with which I fed
them. There they grew larger from day to day,
although by slow degrees. I tended them until
June in the same year without perceiving any
other change in their appearance than that they
had grown to a considerable size. But at the
commencement of this month I noticed that tjiey
became very uneasy ; they forsook their leaves,

ANECDOTE FROM DE GEER. 243

and wandered about the sides of the boxes, which
contained water. Sometimes they would creep
out of the water, and again would go into it. They
seemed as if they were in search of something
which they had lost. It was now evident that
their object was to find some convenient place in
which to undergo their transformation into pupae,
but they did not like the boxes in which they
were confined, and several even died. I began to
despair of seeing their metamorphosis ; which gave
me much regret, as I had a great desire to become
acquainted with their whole history. In order
to satisfy myself, I went on the 26th of June
to the spot from whence I had taken them, in
order to discover, perchance, some larvae about to
become pupae, and to ascertain the places they
selected in which to undergo their change. I had
the gratification of being completely successful,
and of discovering not only the larvae, but even
several of them which had shut themselves up in
silken cocoons, and had not yet undergone their
tran sformation .

" The month of June appears, therefore, to be
the period when these larvae prepare for their
change of forrn. They do not leave the water to

244

THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

accomplish it, the change taking place under
water. They attach themselves to the leaves of
some of the younger aquatic plants, which are at
a suitable depth from the surface of the water.
By means of several silken cords the insect fastens
together two, and sometimes even three leaves,
between which it spins an oval cocoon, composed
of very white silk. This cocoon is of a double
structure ; the true inner cocoon, which is very
white, is placed within an outer envelope of silk,
of a greyish or brownish colour. The envelope
extends considerably beyond the sides of the true

The Cut represents two leaves, between which the Worm lies, the Cocoon itself, and the Larva.

cocoon (which lies loosely in it) ; and towards one
end there is a wide opening in it, the inner cocoon
being perfectly closed in on every side." The cut
on the next page represents the perfect insect and
the pupa thus carefully provided for.

AIR-CELL UNDER WATER. 245

In this inner cocoon there is not so much as a
single drop of water ! The pupa could not exist
in it if it were not
full of air; and the
difficulty is how to
fill a little cell with
air which is already
buried many inches
under, and on every Pupa and perfect insect.

side surrounded by, water. De Geer states that he
did not find a particle of water in all the cocoons
which lie opened. In order to ascertain whether or
not it was really necessary for the pupa to be thus
carefully housed in a silken ball full of air beneath
the water, he took out several pupae and put them
into some water in a saucer. At first they swam,
but presently they sank to the bottom. They
lived for several days, but ultimately every one
died, showing plainly that the air-cell was abso-
lutely necessary to their existence.

Yet, although these pupae were air-breathing
creatures, strange to say, De Geer found that if
taken from their little cells out of the water, they
shrivelled up and died. He put several in a dry
box, and invariably found that in a short time they

246 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

were dead. He imagined, with great probability,
that the cause of their death was the evaporation
of their fluids, which of course does not take place
when they are enshrouded in their cocoons, and
surrounded on all sides with water. He made
one more experiment with them, which was as
follows : — He took several out of their cocoons, and
placed them in water in such a manner, that one
of their sides was in the air, while the other was in
the water ; he kept them for a considerable time
in this position, and he had the pleasure at its
expiration of seeing them become perfect insects,
just as if they had never left their cocoons. The
necessity of both air and water to their well-being
was thus clearly proved.

How can we sufficiently admire the ingenuity
and skill displayed by this insect in the execution
of its difficult task! When a human engineer
wishes to build under the water, he must have
recourse to the most cumbrous and powerful
mechanism to enable him to effect his object.
Piles must be driven into the bed of the river so
closely as scarcely to allow any water to come
through; a steam-engine must be fixed close by,
to pump out all the water from the space thus

DIFFICULTY OF THE TASK. 247

enclosed ; and a number of men must labour hard
to stop up the chinks, where the water comes
pouring in. Thus men, and machines of great
power, and in sufficient number, are requisite to
enable the most expert engineer to form a cavity
at the bottom of the river's bed. What if we were
to give him as a problem, to build a cell which
should be perfectly water-tight and filled with air,
without allowing him to employ any of these
means, and to insist that it should all be done with-
out his coming up to the surface of the water at all
for anything ? He would probably tell us it was
impossible. Not so the insect ; it, though on all
sides surrounded with water, actually spins a web
in the waves, and fastens it by cables of sufficient
strength to adjoining plants, and afterwards forms
a water-tight cell in which it shuts itself safely up
secure against the invasion of enemies, or the in-
trusion of a drop from the element in which its
cell floats and is moored.

All pupge of aquatic habits do not, however,
possess this remarkable faculty of surrounding
themselves with air even in the midst of the water ;
and these would certainly perish unless means
existed for them also to inhale the vital air. These

248 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

means are found in the endowment of them with
the power of swimming. Surely our readers must
often have seen the wriggling movements of cer-
tain little blackish objects, which are to be found
in every stagnant puddle in the summer. Many
of these are the pupae of various species of gnats ;
and when we watch them come darting upwards
by a succession of flaps with their tail, until they
reach the surface, where they remain for a short
time, we see the means by which, although they
live immersed in water, they are enabled to breathe
the air. For if we scrutinized them a little nar-
rowly, we might detect on each side of their
largest extremity or head, a pair of minute tubes

Pupa of the Ephemera, showing its gill-like Organs.

which open into the air at the surface of the water.
It may sink beneath the water for a time without
inconvenience, and it is soon found plunging

PUPJE WITH AN AIR-TUBE. 249

upwards, anxiously seeking to thrust its tubes into
the air. In the larva state the gnat breathes by
its tail, in the pupa state by its head! The pupae
of some aquatic insects breathe like the larvae
of the same insects by organs like gills. That of
the ephemera shown on the last page is an
instance.

The curious apparatus of a telescope-like air-
tube of the rat-tailed insects, described in a former
page, will not be forgotten by the reader. It may
interest him to learn that there is another little
creature which, in the pupa state, is furnished with
a somewhat similar apparatus. These pupae have
not the same power of swimming with the last,
and therefore require a special provision to meet
the necessities of their case. They are plunged
some way down in the water, and air is conveyed
to them by a hollow tail-like tube, which is always
found to open on the surface of the water. It is
a curious thing to contemplate these little crea-
tures, so beautifully provided for in this manner.
Secure of all they need in the supplies of air fur-
nished to them by their tube, they rest peacefully
in the waters, unmoved by any of the accidents
which occur to surrounding creatures, and pa-

250 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

tiently awaiting the hour which is to behold them
rise from their watery bier, never more to return.
Let us so likewise rest in assurance of our Hea-
venly Father's love and care for us, knowing that
every want will be supplied to his children by
Him, who has said, " I will never leave thee nor
forsake thee."

CHAPTER IV.

VARIETIES AND AGE OF THE PUPA.

ALTHOUGH we are anxious not to attach too
much importance to mere names in this little
work, and rather to keep the reader's attention
fixed upon the really essential truths of the "Life of
an Insect," it is expedient that we should mention
that while all pupae may be divided into the two
classes, active and inactive, yet there are several
very striking variations in them, which are more
remarkable than those of larvae. These it is
proper here to mention, in order that the reader
may be spared the perplexity which would other-
wise ensue, were he to imagine that all inactive,
or all active pupae, were pretty much alike. Let
it never, however, be forgotten, that it is no matter
what the variation in form may be, nor does it
matter whether the insect is active or inactive,
while in this state of passage from the larva to

252 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

the perfect form, it is always neither more nor
less than a pupa. Through this stage all perfect in-
sects pass, although they may put on various forms
and aspects while they are in it, and may possess
various, and, perhaps, very opposite faculties
during its continuance. If this important fact is
borne in mind, there will be no risk of being mis-
led by the confusion of sounds and names, which
some have been pleased to encumber insect history
with.

In order to form a clear conception of these
variations, reference may be made to the en-
graving on the next page, in which we have caused
to be represented the five different kinds of pupae,
as they were named and classified by Linnaeus.
This plate will sufficiently manifest the necessity
of an explanation upon the subject of the varia-
tions of pupae; for few persons in examining it
would form the remotest idea, that all the insects
there represented are really and truly in the pupa
state. Some look so like the perfect insect, that
it would be almost impossible for any one only
slightly acquainted with insect history to believe
them to be in what is in reality a transition stage
from the larva to the perfect form.

DIFFERENT KINDS OF PUF^E.

253

I. The insect. No. 1, is a pupa called the Com-
plete) because it is active) and has many of the parts
of the perfect insect. The pupa of the spider is
an instance.

II. The insect, No. 2, is a pupa called the
Half-complete, or

semi - complete.
It is also active,
resembles the
perfect insect^
but has only the
rudiments of
wings. The
grasshopper is*
an instance ol
this kind of pupa.

III. The insect, No. 3, is a pupa called the
Incomplete. It is inactive, but possesses rudiments
of legs and wings. The common wasp is repre-
sented as an example of this kind-

IV. The insect, No. 4, is a pupa called the
Obtected.* This pupa has its upper portion en-
cased in the peculiar manner represented, fhe

Vinous forms of Pupce.

From a Latin word, signifying "covered," or " disguised."

254 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

chest and lower portion being distinct. The but-
terfly pupa belongs to this division.

V. The insect, No. 5, is a pupa called the
Coarctate.* In this case the pupa is enclosed within
its larva skin, which forms a globular or oval case,
the pupa lying loosely in it as if it had shrunk to
a smaller size. The pupa of the blow-fly is an
example.

Such are the five variations of pupae, as they
were recognised by Linnaeus — the Complete,
Half -complete, Incomplete, Obtected, and Coarctate.
They are sufficiently minute for ordinary purposes :
and it will possibly save the reader some confusion
of ideas to endeavour to fix them in the memory;
so that when looking at an insect whose pupa state
may not be so very characteristic as that of the
blow-fly, or butterfly, -he may still be able to say
with confidence, that although it is unlike these, it
is nevertheless a pupa. On all subjects nothing
is of so much importance as clearness of ideas.
It is better to know only a few things, and to
understand them clearly, than to have a confused
and indistinct knowledge of a great number. It

* From a Latin word, signifying " compressed into a small
compass."

AGE OF THE PUPA. 255

has been, therefore, simply and entirely with a
view to obviate this state of things in the mind,
that these definitions of the different kinds of
pupae, which may have appeared not altogether
interesting, have been given.

Having fulfilled this duty, we may now proceed
to the more agreeable task of ascertaining some
interesting facts relative to the insect's life and
age in the pupa state. We have already seen that
the insect in the larva state often arrives at a
very respectable old age ; indeed, in this state
insects live longer than either in the pupa or
perfect states. But pupa3 also attain to a very
fair number of days, sometimes living as long as
two years in that state. Often, however, they are
not more than a few days in this condition, and
the insect, after a short repose, springs forth a
new and active being. But it has been found that
insects live a longer or shorter period in the pupa
state according as the temperature of the air is
cold or hot. Thus, for example, when the larva
of a moth has become a pupa in the early part of
summer, the pupa state will generally not last
beyond a fortnight, But if, on the other hand,
the larva becomes a pupa late in the autumn, the

256 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

pupa state will last until June in the next year :
thus manifestly teaching us that according as the
weather is mild and genial the pupa state will be
shortened ; or according as it is cold and rigorous
it will be increased in duration. The ingenious
Reaumur determined to put these singular facts
to an experimental test ; and as his results are in
the highest degree interesting and important, we
shall proceed to submit an abstract of them to
the reader's notice.

In casting about for the means of exposing the
pupae he was about to experiment on, to a warm
and equable temperature, Reaumur determined to
conduct his first experiments in the Royal Con-
servatories, which were always carefully heated,
and in which, as he with French naivete expresses
it, " summer reigned in the depths of winter." In
the month of January he carried thither a number
of boxes containing pupse of different species. The
result was precisely what he had expected: — in
the midst of a severe winter a number of butter-
flies appeared in his boxes, many of which would
not naturally have made their appearance until
the months of May, August, or even September ;
thus shortening the pupa state from four, seven, or

BUTTERFLIES IN WINTER. 257

eight months, to a fortnight, or to five, or to six
weeks in different instances. Five or six days
seemed to be equal to a month of the natural
temperature. The butterflies thus developed were
in no respect different from those which are
brought into activity at the natural period.
They were as active and perfect, as if their time
and place of birth had been the green fields,
instead of amidst the strange vegetation of these
splendid Conservatories. Several of the mother
insects deposited their eggs, accomplishing the last
act of their existence as if summer had come, and
died while the frosts and snow held all external
nature yet in bondage. Not only, therefore, was
the duration of the pupa state in these insects
shortened, but their whole life was thus abridged
by several months.

In November of the same year Reaumur re-
commenced his experiments, and again exposed a
number of pupae to the genial influence of these
hot-houses. The result was the same. In the
first week in December butterflies appeared, which
would not, in natural circumstances, have been
developed earlier than the May of the next year.
There were some pupse, in particular, whose de-
s

258 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

velopment he watched with great interest. These
pupae belonged to a beautiful species of moth,
which has two broods in a year ; that is, it lays
eggs in May which become butterflies in July,
and then again lays eggs which become pupae in
August or September, but do not become butter-
flies until the following June. He was curious
to see whether this second brood, instead of
waiting for several months, would, like the first,
disclose its butterflies in a considerably shorter
time, now that it was exposed to the warmth of
the Conservatory. Such actually proved to be the
case ; and thus two generations of these butter-
flies were obtained in one year. Alluding to the
depredations of caterpillars, he quaintly remarks,
" This certainly is not a secret which appears very
profitable at present ; but who can tell whether
that which is useless to us to-day, may not pos-
sibly become of value to-morrow? Could we
discover some new species of larvae which would
supply us with as good a silk as that of the silk-
worm, and might be more easy to rear, but which
only produced one generation in each year, and if
it lived upon leaves which could be found all the
year through, we might avail ourselves of this

PUPJE HATCHED BY A HEN. 259

means of increasing the number of its broods."
This remark deserves much consideration.

He was now anxious to try whether, by apply-
ing a more equable method of warming, he could
succeed in hatching pupse as he had done in the
hothouse. The idea occurred to him of endea-
vouring to hatch them under a hen. He concluded
that the warmth of the mother's breast would quite
as easily hatch the insects, as it does the eggs,
But there was this obstacle in the way: How
could he prevent the fragile and tender bodies of
the insect pupae from being crushed and killed by
the weight of the hen's body ? and, as we would
also suggest, How could he ensure that the bird
would not actually have eaten up the objects of
his care ? Aware of the fact, that, when a hen is
in the humour to sit, she will often allow smooth
stones to be placed among her own eggs, he
anticipated no difficulty on that score, and he
hit upon the following ingenious experiment: —
He procured some hollow glass balls which he had
caused to be made as nearly as possible similar in
size and shape to the eggs themselves. Into these,
by an opening at one end, he introduced seven or
eight pupa3, and stopped the mouth up with a

260 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

cork, but so as to allow a free communication with
the external air by paring off a piece from the
side of the cork.

Thus prepared, he put the glass egg together
with the others in the nest. The hen was a little
more sensible than Reaumur had given her credit
for ; and though she did not thrust the egg out of
her nest, she removed it to the outside, where she
was so obliging as to permit it to remain ; and as
it was here just as warm as if it had been in the
centre of the eggs, Reaumur did not attempt to
interfere with her arrangements. A great deal of
moisture arose from the bodies of the pupae, and
condensed like dew on the sides of the glass ; but
after a day or two this disappeared. The reader
may now be anxious to learn the result of this
experiment. It was equally successful; indeed,
it was more so than the preceding, for in the
afternoon of the tenth day a pretty little butterfly
was seen within his glass egg, being the first that
had appeared of the eight pupae, and the first
ever hatched under the bosom of a hen ! The
remaining pupae, all but two, appeared soon after ;
these two died. Perhaps the warmth of their
glassy cell was too violent for them, for it was

EGGS OF GLASS. 261

found by the thermometer to be two or three
degrees above blood heat. The whole six pupae
were born in less than six days, while others of the
same species in a box in a window-seat were not
developed until twelve days later. As the heat
thus obtained seemed too violent for pupae to be
artificially reared with success, Reaumur suggests
that many variations might be made in the expe-
riments, which would have the effect of moderating
its amount. These experiments decided in the
most satisfactory manner the quickening influence
of increased warmth upon the pupae of insects.
Keaumur now became anxious to try the effects
of the opposite state of temperature, and to
ascertain whether exposure to cold would exer«
cise any effect upon the pupae. It was reason-
able to imagine that as warmth had hastened
forward their development, cold would retard it.

Eeaumur determined to try what would be the
result of putting his pupae in their boxes in a
cellar, and taking proper care to preserve them
from the damps of such a situation. He put them
there about the end of January. In ordinary
circumstances these pupae would have become
butterflies in the month of July in the same year.

262 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

July came, and we can conceive the curiosity with
which the ingenious experimenter went down, as he
tells us, to his cellars, to see if any change had taken
place in the pupae. July passed away ; August
also passed by, yet the pupae still slumbered on in
their original form. Reaumur left Paris in Sep-
tember, and did not return until the November
following. He immediately went in quest of his
pupa-charge, and found them still unaltered.
Were they dead? Placing one in his hand, it
soon began to exhibit such symptoms of motion
as plainly showed that it was alive. Winter
closed over them still in the pupa form. The
spring of the next year dawned upon them, but
they were insensible to its influences. " And even
now," cries Reaumur, in the month of August, just
two years from the time they left the larva form
and became pupa3, " they are in perfect health, in
excellent condition, and would all become butter-
flies very soon if I were only to expose them to
a warm summer's influence."

" These extraordinary facts," observe Messrs.
Kirby and Spence, " lead us to a very singular
and unexpected conclusion, — that we have the
power of lengthening or shortening the life of many

DREAMS OF IMMORTALITY. 263

insects at pleasure — that we can cause one indivi-
dual to live more than twice as long as another of
the same species, and vice versa. Had Paracelsus
made this discovery, it would have led him to
pursue his researches after the elixir of immor-
tality with redoubled confidence, and would have
supplied him with an argument for the possibility
of prolonging the life of man beyond its usual
term, which his sceptical opponents would have
found some difficulty in rebutting. Even the
logical Reaumur seems inclined to infer from it,
that this object of the alchemist's was not so
chimerical as we are wont to conclude. He con-
fesses, however, that, if it were to be attained only
by the same process as effects the extension of an
insect's life, — by prolonging its state of torpor
and insensibility, — few would choose to enjoy it on
such conditions. The man of pleasure might, per-
haps, not object to a sleep of a hundred years, in
the hope of finding something new under the sun
when he awakened ; and an ardent astronomer
would probably commit himself with scientific
joy to a repose as long and as sound as that of the
Seven Sleepers, for the chance of viewing his
predicted return of a comet on stepping out of

264 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

his cave. But ordinary mortals would consign
themselves to the perils of so long a night with
reluctance, apprehending a fate no better than
that which befel the magician who ordered
himself to be cut in small pieces and put in
pickle, with the expectation of becoming young
again."

But this is in every respect erroneous as a deduc-
tion from these experiments on insects. It must not
be forgotten, that these experiments were made at
a time of the insect's life when it is naturally
torpid, and not upon the perfect insect. Had
Reaumur attempted to prolong the life of a but-
terfly, he would have failed completely, that is, if
he had adopted the same means ; so that all which
we can infer from these results is simply this, that
we can only prolong or shorten the pupa state,
which is a state of torpidity, a kind of half-way
between life and death."* The human frame knows
no such state after birth as can be properly com-

* All pupae cannot be thus hastened or retarded by influence
of external heat or cold. The pupae of a moth, very common in
our fields, if all exposed to the same temperature will some of
them develop this year, some the next, and some the year
following. This singular fact cannot be explained.

REAUMUR'S MISTAKE. 265

pared to the inactive pupa state of insects ; and
consequently all reasoning founded on what may
take place in such a state under the particular
circumstances described, is without foundation.
Besides all this, God has himself fixed a limit to
human life ; and we are expressly assured by his
word of truth, that "it is appointed unto man
once to die ;" and though by reason of strength we
may reach far into a long life, yet the hour comes
at last, and the green earth closes over the only
mortal portion of a man. Undoubtedly had
Reaumur prolonged his experiments, he would
have found that death, or the transformation of
the pupa, would ultimately have taken place.

As yet, we are not aware that any practical
results on a large scale have followed from
Reaumur's interesting experiments. It has been
already remarked, that in countries where the silk-
worm is reared, it is the custom to hasten the
hatching of the eggs by women carrying little
packets of them about their person. But this is
only to bring forward the development of the
larva state. Perhaps the time anticipated by
Reaumur may arrive, when insects may be hatched
under hens ! or in hatching machines, so as to

266 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

obtain two instead of one brood of eggs and
larvse in a season. Keaumur suggests that the
great and wealthy who have good hothouses,
might give all the appearance of summer to them
by introducing pupa3 in winter, which would soon
be hatched, and butterflies or other insects might
be seen flying about in December or January,
from flower to flower ! But he forgot that gar-
deners generally are rather averse to the presence
of insects at all, and particularly to the all-devour-
ing larvae of many species of butterflies, which
would soon commit sad havoc among their choicest
plants. We may recommend such experiments
to the reader as highly interesting and easy
of performance in a common sitting-room, where
a fire is kept in winter, with no other apparatus
than a tin-box, or a glass jar of very moderate
size ; even a pill-box would answer every pur-
pose.

Some curious experiments on pupae of another
kind were also performed by Keaumur. He var-
nished them over with various varnishes, and
found that the pupa3 thus varnished were de-
veloped several weeks later than others of the
same species unvarnished. He tried similar expe-

PRESERVATION OF EGGS. 267

riments upon eggs, and found that the eggs of a
hen would keep fresh for a very long period if
they were entirely coated with some kind of
varnish. This proved a most useful experiment,
for it is now common all over the Continent to
preserve eggs by covering them either with oil or
butter.

We may learn, in reflecting upon the facts
brought to light by this ingenious entomologist,
with what admirable care and skill the Great
Creator has arranged the period to be occupied
by the insect in the pupa state. It has been
wisely ordained by these arrangements that the
insect shall not be developed until the season when
its proper food is to be found, or when a proper
position for placing its eggs is to be discovered.
The gay flutterer, so tender in its frame, must
not be born amid the snows of winter, or in the
ungenial days of early spring; its pupa, there-
fore, requires the warm influences of July and
August before it will undergo its change. If it
were born earlier than that time it would unques-
tionably perish, and the insect would become
extinct ; if later, the same result would take
place, for it would fall into the killing power of

268 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

the early winter evenings. As it is, all is well.
The insect and the day are made for one another ;
for it the flower blossoms, and the warm air
breathes, and all nature is spread out in warmth
and happiness. Its career run through, it de-
parts from the scene it has enlivened, leaving
behind, just at the proper time, and in the proper
place, the eggs which are to become quickened,
live, and die, like itself, all in their appointed
time. We thus perceive that it is chiefly the
increasing temperature of the air which fixes the
time of the insect's duration as a pupa, and sets in
movement all the great chain of the events of exter-
nal nature. In what way an increase of warmth
thus acts we are still unable to say ; perhaps, indeed,
we may never be able to tell. Neither can we un-
derstand how it should be, that the principle of life
should be ready at a moment's notice to complete
its work in the perfection of the insect, and yet
held in abeyance by a few degrees of a lower, or
quickened into activity by a few degrees higher,
temperature. We know that this has been God's
doing, and marvellous it is in our eyes ; but
the wisest of men feels himself ignorant if asked
the question, how it is thus arranged? Truly

FALLING OF THE "MANNA." 269

none but a God infinite in wisdom as well as
love would take such thought for so humble a
creature as a poor insect; but let us not forget
that

" each crawling insect holds a rank

Important in the plan of Him who framed
This scale of beings,— holds a rank, which, lost,
Would break the chain, and leave behind a gap
Which Nature's self would rue."

The duration of the insect in the pupa state,
though variable, is, without doubt, limited, and
sometimes it is fixed to an hour, quite irrespective
of all external circumstances. The most remark-
able example of this kind occurs in the case of the
insects whose larva we have already mentioned
— the Ephemera. These insects appear with the
greatest regularity, issuing from the waters of
the Seine or Marne, in France, between the
10th and 15th of August. The fishermen call
them manna ; and when their season is come, they
say, " the manna begins to appear," or " the manna
fell abundantly last night," alluding, by this ex-
pression, either to the astonishing quantity of food
which the insects afford to the fish, or to the large
quantity of fish which they then take. The

270 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

fishermen expect them with the greatest confidence
during these few days, nor are they ever dis-
appointed. Millions upon millions suddenly rise
into the air between eight and ten o'clock in the
evening, and this generally for three successive
nights."* Whatever be the temperature of the
atmosphere, whether it be cold or hot, these flies
invariably appear at the same hour in the evening,
that is, between a quarter and half-past eight;
towards nine they begin to fill the air; in the
following half hour they are in the greatest num-
bers ; and at ten there are scarcely any to be seen.
So that in less than two hours — and these always
the same — this infinite host of insects leave their
pupa state, become perfect insects, perform their
appointed work, and vanish. The same phenome-
non of regularity of limit to the pupa state occurs
also in other insects, though, perhaps, less strik-
ingly. Some insects constantly leave the pupa at
break of day ; others in the full tide of noon-
day, and others when the shadows of declining
day come over the landscape. These, however,
are certainly exceptions to the general rule,
which appears to lay down no precise period
* This scene is depicted in the Frontispiece to the last Part.

FINAL CHANGES OF THE PUPA. 271

of the day or month when this state is ended,
and the perfect state is entered upon ; but a
limit, nevertheless, exists, mainly dependent for
its appointment upon the external influences of
warmth and air.

This limit attained, we are brought to the next
point in the history of the insect pupa. The beau-
tiful organization of the perfect insect has been
going on under the dry and repulsive exterior. Its
delicate limbs, exquisitely wrought wings, and the
other most wonderful organs with which the
perfect insect is furnished, are now completed.
Nothing remains but to cast off the slough of its
pupa case ; and it will then be set free to range
whither it will in the great atmosphere into which
it will emerge. If the reader has been watching
these insect changes with the natural object before
him, he will immediately confirm our statement,
when we mention that it is often possible to tell
when the pupa case is about to disclose its oc-
cupant. The general form of the limbs is often
very clearly to be seen, and the movements of the
included insect become much more sensible and
conspicuous. If the beautiful gilded pupse, called,
as we have before said, Chrysalides, or Aurelice, have

272 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

been thus nursed with a view to observe their
change, it will be noticed that they lose entirely
that golden lustre which made them at first such
attractive objects. These signs infallibly fore-
token the approaching transformation.

CHAPTEK V.

THE GREAT CHANGE.

WE must now spend a short time in narrating
the particular circumstances which attend this
interesting event; — the extrication of the insect
from its pupa case. We shall, in the first place,
speak of such pupae as are not aquatic, and, after-
wards, of the singular ones which are so. In the
case of the butterfly, which, as we have recom-
mended repeatedly its being nursed and bred, it
will be expedient to mention first, the extrication
of the insect is, comparatively with some others,
a very simple operation. The insect within is
seen to struggle for a time, twisting its body in
various ways, until at length a longitudinal slit
appears down the middle of its thorax. The slit
extends gradually along the head, and down the
parts which compose the breast, until the insect
emerges from the outer case. The inner mem-

T

274 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT,

branes are now to be removed, and this, after a
little time, is fairly accomplished, and the butterfly
emerges, and, leaving the pupa skin behind it,
by-and-by plunges for the first time upon the
soft waves of the summer air. This is one of the
simplest of these methods of extrication.

A very natural difficulty will arise in the mind
as to what possible means of escape can be
granted to such insects as live in the pupa state
in the interior of old trunks of trees, or even in
little caves of the earth. These cases have all
been satisfactorily provided for, puzzling as they
may seern. Take, for instance, the pupa of the
great goat-moth, the Cossus ligniperda, of which
we give a representation
here. This creature lies
buried in a deep exca-
vation, formerly made by
itself when in the larva form, inside the trunk of a
willow. How is it to get back to the hole at
which it entered ? Without legs, without any
other apparatus by which it might drag itself for-
ward, one would say it is in a hopeless case ; it
must lie there and perish, for there appears no
way of extricating it from its den. But not so.

AN INSECT PRISONER. 275

Helpless as it appears, it will certainly make its
way out, and taste the sweets of liberty, and be
wafted along the fields of air. But how ? Let
us suppose a man in such a condition ; let his
feet be bandaged together, so that they cannot
move; let a strait-jacket be put upon his body,
and secure his arms and hands: after this, let a
leathern bag be put over his head, and tied down
round his middle; then put him in a cellar, and
bid him work his way out and up the stairs until
he reached the front door, where he must undo
his bandages, and slip himself out of his strait-
jacket and hood ; after which, he may go wherever
he likes. What a feeling of despair would fill the
poor prisoner's mind, promised his release on con-
dition that he should accomplish it in that way !
To him it would be a task altogether impossible,
even though his life were offered as the reward of
his success. It is not less a question of life and
death to the insect than it might be to him ; yet its
extrication is accomplished, not only in a very
simple, but in a very easy manner.

If the reader will carefully examine the repre-
sentation of the insect given in the last page he
will notice that the pupa case is provided with

276 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

certain sharp points, which are all directed towards
the tail of the insert ; these sharp points are called
by entomologists adminicula. They are of infinite
consequence to the insect. Who has not himself
performed, or been the subject of, the trick of
causing a grain of barley to creep up the sleeve ?
The manner in which it is gradually pushed up is
strikingly similar to that in which the pupa of the
cossus is forced upwards and out of its wooden
gallery. It will be readily supposed that, in con-
sequence of the peculiar direction assumed by the
tooth-like processes in question, it will be very
difficult to push the pupa backwards, as the points
would catch in any obstacle and arrest its progress
in that direction ; but they offer no resistance to
its moving in a forward direction. The manner
in which the insect proceeds, then, is as follows : —
Being capable of slightly shortening and lengthen-
ing the lower part of its body, which is the part
thus provided with hooks, it begins to push back-
wards, but the hooks catch in the sides of the wood,
and thus prevent it from moving back, and it is,
consequently, actually driven forwards ; and so it
continues to thrust itself gradually forwards in this
simple manner, just as a boy with his hands tied

ESCAPE OF THE COSSUS. 277

might thrust himself forwards as he lay on the
ground, by pushing against any object with his
feet. In this way the patient creature moves, we
may be sure, by very slow degrees ; but that matters
little ; it moves until it has at length reached the
opening of its gallery outside the tree, where it
may often be seen sticking out half way. Here,
by a remarkable instinct, it ceases to move for-
wards, for it would otherwise tumble down, and
probably destroy itself. At length, after violent
struggles, its swathing bands are all either torn
asunder, or slidden off, and the insect wings its
way in unrestrained freedom far from the scene of
its triumphs of patience and hope. The pupa of
the " father long-legs" makes its way up from the
subterranean chamber in which it has so long been
sheltered, fed, and protected, and reaches at length
the surface of the ground, where it becomes the
perfect insect.

But other pupae, although not, perhaps, quite so
arduously placed as in the last instance, neverthe-
less present us with an extremely difficult puzzle,
as to how the included insect is to be extricated
from its swathing bands. The common flesh-fly,
or blow-fly, for instance, in the pupa state is shut

278 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

up in a membranous case, out of which there seems
no escape ; but there is a way, and the manner in
which the insect gets out of its prison is a remark-
ably curious one, well repaying the trouble of a
little close observation. At the larger end, under
which the head of the fly lies, and from which it
always issues, there is commonly a sort of lid which
can be pushed off like the lid of a box, and the insect
can then walk out at pleasure. But in the case of
the pupa of the blow-fly this lid is not very easily
removed, and the fly, therefore, is furnished with
a most ingenious method of thrusting it off. On
opening the larger end of such a pupa, if the fly
within is ready to come out, a most curious phe-
nomenon will be seen. The insect moves towards
the lid, and there begins to blow out its head in
the most extraordinary manner, swelling it to
twice its natural size ; a moment after it will
resume its natural size ;
then again it will puff it
out, making its two eyes
to start asunder, and its
head to assume several dif-

m SUCCCS-

sion! Two representations are annexed of the

ESCAPE OF A FLY. 279

striking figure of the insect's head when it thus
causes it to swell out. After repeating this action
several times, the fly emerges from the pupa.
The cause of this remarkable dilatation is the fill-
ing of a membrane, situated at the middle part of
the head, with air, by which it is blown out into a
sort of bladder as large as the head itself. This
acts as a kind of lever, and eventually pushes up
the lid of the pupa case, allowing the insect to
make its exit unmolested. This part generally
disappears afterwards, and the head
becomes alike firm and unyielding in
all its parts ; but it may, in at least
its rudiments, be seen even in the
head of the adult fly, by slightly

J y J Head °f a

pressing its head between the fingers,

• . . i remains of the mem-

when it appears as at oc in the cut. brawn* bag.

More singular still are the circumstances which
mark the exit of the insect from the pupa case in
other instances ; and yet more strikingly than those
narrated, do they exhibit to us the amazing exercise
of the Divine attributes of wisdom and forethought
in the case of these humble beings. The larva of
a species of moth, which dwells in a wooden cell
scooped out of the poplar tree, to which there is

280 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

no door by which it can escape readily, gnaws
away the wood until it leaves only an extremely
delicate layer between it and the outside of the
tree, which is as thin as writing paper. This done,
it enters into the pupa state. Its time in that
condition being accomplished, it moves itself by
the same contrivance as the cossus, and actually
pushes through the thin layer, and appears on the
outside of the tree, thus making its escape from
prison by pushing down a part of its prison
wall!

An instance described by the naturalist Bonnet
is yet more ingenious in the arrangements by
which the insect escapes. While in the larva form
it takes up its abode inside the leaf of an ash,
curiously rolled up into a cone ; and then, after a
time, it becomes a pupa, forming a silken cocoon of
a very slight texture, and, therefore, easily rup-
tured by the insect, which it suspends like a ham-
mock in the midst of its habitation. It is the
closely joined sides of its leafy dwelling that form
a barrier which, were it not for the precaution of
the larva, would be impenetrable to so small and
weak an animal. But, like the last-mentioned,
this larva seems to be aware of the feebleness of

A GUIDE LINE TO THE CAPTIVE. 281

its next condition, and gnaws in the leaf a round
opening, taking care not to cut through the
exterior thin layer of tissue, or epidermis. This
door is to serve the insect for its exit in due time.
But in proportion to its bulk, its green chamber is
of considerable size. How, then, shall the insect
know the exact place where its portal is situated ?
How, without a clue, shall it discover in its dark
abode the precise circle which requires only a
push to throw open its gate ? Even this is fore-
seen and provided for. Out of all other posi-
tions in which the little hammock, of which we
spoke, might have been hung, and they are
numerous, the larva has been directed so to place
it, that the silken cord which suspends the head is
fastened close to the side of the door which it has
previously constructed; and the insect, when it
emerges from the pupa, guided by this thread,
like Theseus, makes its way out of an apart-
ment which, but for this contrivance, might have
been to it a labyrinth as inextricable as that
of Minos. Other insects adopt the same pre-
caution of gnawing a doorway for the escape of
the perfect insect, only leaving a sufficient thick-
ness of outside tissue to protect the helpless

282 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

pupa within from the invasion of enemies from
without.

Upon the pear or willow tree may sometimes
be found an illustration of escape from the pupa,
altogether well deserving our notice. In such
situations the brown flask-shaped cocoon of the
emperor moth may occasionally be discovered. In
structure it is composed of a solid tissue of layers
of silk, almost of the texture of parchment ; but
at the narrow end, or that which may be compared
to the neck of the flask, it is composed of a series
of loosely attached longitudinal threads, converg-
ing like so many bristles to a blunt point, in the
middle of which is a circular opening, through
which the moth makes its escape, the threads
readily yielding to pressure from
within, and acting somewhat on the
principle of the wires of the opening
to a rat-trap, or the willow cricks of
an eel-trap. The silk of its cocoon
is of so strong a texture, and so
closely gummed, that had both ends

Cocoon of Emperor , ••1111,1 n

Moth. been similarly closed, the egress of
the insect would have been impracticable. But,
it may be thought, such a cocoon is exposed

COCOON OF EMPEROR MOTH. 283

to the attacks of a number of insect enemies, who
might easily find entrance to it at the opening
thus left at one of its ends. This source of peril
has been foreseen. Within the exterior funnel-
shaped end, at some little distance down, the
insect has constructed a second funnel com-
posed of a similar circle of needle-pointed threads,
which, proceeding from the sides of the cocoon,
converge to a point, and form a cone through
which not the smallest aperture is left. From
the arched structure of this singular dome, and
from the fact just mentioned, that no visible opening
can be discerned in it from without, it is rendered
quite impenetrable to the most violent attacks of
besiegers, while it yields to the slightest pressure
from within, and allows the insect to emerge
from its cocoon with the utmost facility. When
it has passed through it, the elastic threads resume
their former position, and the empty cocoon pre-
sents just the same appearance that it did before.
A celebrated naturalist (Rosel), was sorely per-
plexed at this, the first time he had the gratifica-
tion of watching the insect escape. He states that
he could scarcely help thinking that there was
something supernatural in the appearance of one

284 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

of these fine emperor moths in a box in which he
had put a cocoon of this kind ; but in which he
could not discover the slightest appearance of any
insect having escaped from it, until he slit it lon-
gitudinally, and then found it to be empty !

Mr. Rennie mentions an instance, perhaps not
so ingenious, but equally curious, with this history
of the proceedings of the emperor moth, in a little
insect, also a moth, which also dwells upon the
willow. It spins an elastic shroud for its pupa, of
the singular shape of a boat with the keel upper-
most. Its first step is to spin two walls of whitish
silk of the required form ; and when these are
completed, it draws them forcibly together with
elastic threads, so placed as to retain them closely
shut. The passage of the moth out of this cocoon
might have struck Rosel with still greater surprise
than he had felt at witnessing that of the emperor
moth ; for in that cocoon there was at least no
apparent difficulty to prevent the egress of the
insect, as the opening existed in it at one end,
whereas in this there is no opening at all. The
insect escapes at the joining of the sides, the
threads giving way in a particular spot ; and the
sides, though originally requiring force to draw

ESCAPE BACKWARDS. 285

them together into the requisite form, become so
elastic as to close again when the moth has passed
between them, and made its escape. The cocoon
preserves precisely the same form after the insect
has quitted it as before, and it is impossible, by
the naked eye, to detect the place of its exit.

Asa general rule, insects make their escape from
the pupa case head foremost ; but there occurs a
very singular exception in the case of some of the
gall insects. The males of these insects contrive
to make their escape out of the pupa case, formed
of the dried skin, tail foremost ; and as they thus
back out of their dwelling, their wings are neces-
sarily turned backwards over their heads ; but a
little exercise soon puts the ruffled insect in
proper plume again, and the wings resume their
customary position.

Some curiosity may be felt to know in what
way the silk-worm moth escapes from the double
prison, — the pupa case, and the cocoon, — in
which she is concealed. How is the moth to
make its way through the dense mass of fibres
all glued together, which walls her in on every
side ? Her delicate wings and body would never
endure anything like the severity of the struggle

286 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

necessary to enable her to force her way through
this, to her, solid and resisting mass. Though
much attention has been paid to the transforma-
tions of this particular insect, it is somewhat
curious that it is still a matter on which opinions
are divided, as to how the insect succeeds in
making its egress. Some suppose that the eyes,
which are the only hard organs of the head, are
the instruments by which the threads are divided,
their numerous minute facets serving the purpose
of a file. Others hold the belief that the insect
pours out a fluid which acts upon the gum and
silken fibres of one end of the cocoon, and so
softens them that they easily give way to the
slightest pressure from within. " Perhaps the two
opinions," observe Messrs. Kirby and Spence, "may
be reconciled by supposing the silk-worm first
to moisten, and then to break, the threads of the
cocoon. In those that are of a slighter texture,
a mere push against the moistened end is probably
sufficient ; and hence we find in so many newly-
disclosed moths the hair in that part wet and
closely pressed down."

It has been supposed, in cases where the
cocoon is a hard, almost wooden cell, that the

CHEMICAL SOLVENT. 287

feeble insect prisoner within is provided with
a peculiar chemical fluid, of greater powers of
solution than are requisite in the last instance.
The cocoon of the "pussmoth," in particular, is
so hard and dense, as to resist even the point
of a penknife; and the insect it holds confined
within it is a weak creature, totally unprovided
with any apparatus fit for penetrating walls so
hard and dense as these. What is it to do?
" Here," observe the writers last quoted, " the
eyes are clearly incompetent; nor could any
ordinary fluid assist their operations, for the gum
which unites the woody particles of the cocoon
is indissoluble in aqueous menstrua. What an
aqueous solvent cannot effect, an acid is competent
to ; and with a bag of such acid our moth is fur-
nished. The contents of this she pours out as
soon as she has forced her head through the skin
of the pupa, and upon the opposite end of the
cocoon. The acid instantly acts upon the gum,
loosens the cohesion of the grains of wood, and
a very gentle effort suffices to break down what
was, a minute ago, a strong barrier. How ad-
mirable and effectual a provision ! But there
is yet another marvel connected with it. Ask

288 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

a chemist of what materials a vessel ought to be
to contain so potent an acid ; he will reply, — Of
glass.* Yet our moth has no glass recipient ; her
bottle is a membranous bag ; but of so wonderful
a fabric as not to be acted upon by a menstruum,
which a gum, apparently of a resinous nature,
is unable to resist ! This fact can only be ex-
plained by the analogous insensibility of the
stomach to the gastric juice, which can dissolve
bone ; and it is equally worthy of admiration. In
both cases, the vitality of the membranous or fleshy
receptacle secures it from the action of the in-
cluded fluid ; but how, who shall explain ?"

The naturalist, Huber, the patient historian
of the ants, gives us a very interesting account of
the proceedings of these wonderful insects, in
actually assisting the young out of their silken
cases. These pupae are enclosed in a tissue
of silk, of so compact a texture, and formed of
so strong a silk, as to render it impossible for
the prisoner within to rupture the fibres, and get
out of prison. The worker ants, therefore, are

* Now-a-days the chemist might also answer, Gutta Percha ;
for it is a singular fact that strong acids have no action upon
that curious substance.

ESCAPE OF ANTS. 289

instructed by a heavenly Ruler and Guide to
give help to the prisoners, and to secure their
egress. But how do these indefatigable attend-
ants ascertain precisely the moment when their
aid is required ? The insect within has no power
of voice to cry out for help, nor those without,
in all probability, the faculty of hearing, if it
could do so. It seems probable that they are
acquainted with it from some slight movements
which take place within, which they ascertain
by means of their antennae. Whatever it be,
the attendants never interfere at a wrong time.
Their manner of proceeding is beautifully described
in the following words of this author : — " Several
males and females lay in their envelopes in one of
the largest cavities of my glazed ant-hill. The
labourer -ants assembled together, and appeared to
be in continual motion around them. I noticed
three or four mounted upon one of these cocoons,
endeavouring to open it with their teeth, at that
extremity answering to the head of the pupa.
They began to thin it by tearing away some
threads of silk where they wished to pierce it, and
at length by dint of pinching and biting this tissue,
so extremely difficult to 'break, they formed in it a
u

290 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

vast number of apertures. They afterwards at-
tempted to enlarge these openings, by tearing or
drawing away the silk ; but these efforts proving

Glased Ant-hill of M. Huber.

ineffectual, they passed one of their mandibles
into the cocoon, through the apertures they had
formed, and by cutting each a thread, one after
the other, with great patience, at length effected a
passage, of a line * in diameter, in the superior part
of the web. They now uncovered the head and
feet of the prisoner, to which they were desirous
of giving liberty ; but, before they could effect its
Telease, it was absolutely necessary to enlarge the

* That is, the twelfth part of an inch.

ASSISTANT-ANTS. 291

opening. For this purpose these guardians cut
out a portion in the longitudinal direction of the
cocoon, with their teeth alone, employing these
instruments as we are in the habit of employing
a pair of scissors. To expedite the work some
raised up a little slip cut out in the length of the
cocoon, whilst others drew the insect gently from its
imprisonment. When the ant was extricated from
its enveloping membrane, it was not, like other
insects, capable of enjoying its freedom, and
taking flight; it could neither fly, nor walk, nor
without difficulty stand, for the body was still
confined by another membrane, from which it could
not by its own exertions disengage itself.

" In this fresh embarrassment the labourer-ants
did not forsake it : they removed the satin-like
pellicle which embraced every part of the body,
drew the antennae gently from their invest-
ment ; then disengaged the feet and the wings,
and lastly, the body, with the abdomen and its
peduncle. The insect was now in a condition to
walk, and receive nourishment, for which it ap-
peared there was urgent need ; the first attention,
therefore, paid it by the guardians was that of
giving it the food I had placed within their reach."

292 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

It is droll to add, and it may be some of our
readers may feel somewhat abashed at the fact,
that these labourer-ants are extremely particular
in the observance of great order and regularity
in their chambers; and they therefore carefully
sweep up all the cast-off coverings, which are
collected together, and deposited in one of the
most distant lodges of their habitation. Could
man, with all the powers of reason, and the facul-
ties of an immortal being, have evinced a more
striking instance of careful, gentle, and patient
assistance in the hour of need than we see mani-
fested in the case of these insects? Alas! how
often does man need to come to them to learn not
only a lesson of wisdom and order, but of the ten-
derest sympathy and affection. How often lies
a poor fellow-creature in the bondage of hopeless
poverty, or in the embarrassment of inextricable
difficulties ! How seldom does his emergency meet
with that resolute and thorough-minded earnest-
ness of brotherly love, which will patiently give
him help and pity, until his troubles are sur-
mounted, and his steps set free !

It is time that we spoke somewhat upon the extri-
cation of insects from their pupa cases, even when

AQUATIC INSECTS CADDIS WORM.

293

under water. PI ere arises a great difficulty ; — the
wings of the insects thus placed, if wet with water,
would be unfitted for flight, and would probably
frequently lead to the death of the insect by
drowning. Yet it is to leave its sub-aqueous
abode, mount up through the waves overhead, and
finally emerge without a drop of water clinging to
its body, and from the glassy surface of the water
it is to take its flight into the air. Some will be
tempted to exclaim, — "This is a clear impossi-
bility!" Far from it. The little worm so well
known to anglers as the " caddis-worm," performs
this feat with the greatest ease, and in the follow-
ing manner : —

It has been mentioned that the larva known
under this name constructs for itself a case of

The Pupa-case, Larva and Fly of Caddis-worm.

various materials in which it dwells at the bottom
of the waters, where the hand of the young angler

294 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

knows well to find them. This case is heavier
than water, and consequently cannot float, and so
carry the insect to the surface. As the insect
enters the pupa state it weaves, at the entrance of
its singular habitation, a grating of silk, which,
strange to say, is not only not softened and melted
away by the water, but hardens under it until it
is as hard as gum. This little grating is of a cir-
cular form, and fits exactly into the opening,
and is perforated with holes, so as to look some-
thing like the gratings which cover
our coal-cellar mouths in the pave-
ment of cities. These holes are for
the purpose of letting in fresh water
for the respiration of the insect.

Grating of the Pupa- ~ . 11 ,1

case. (jut or this under - water cell the

insect must make its escape. To enable it so
to do the pupa is furnished with two strong
curved jaws, which are of no other use than to
assist it in making an opening in one of the
silken doors of its case, as they are cast off im-
mediately afterwards, and there remains not a
vestige of them in the perfect insect. This open-
ing made, the pupa forces its way out at that
end. But what then? How is it to reach the sur-

SINGULAR ESCAPE.

295

Caddis-fly's Legs magniflei
Hairs.

face, even now? Its legs, as will be seen by looking
at the cut, are furnished with a number of hair-like
processes, which assist it
in swimming; it therefore,
still enclosed in the water-
proof coat — the pupa skin
— strikes upwards to the
surface, and reaching it,
its skin splits, its imper-
vious raiment is cast aside,
and the insect springs from
the surface into the air without the minutest
drop of water to impede her flight, or injure the
delicate tissue of her wings !

We may take another common insect for an
illustration of this mode of escape from the pupa,
of an equally interesting kind. If the reader will
on some fine summer day resort to any place of
standing water by the road-side, he may probably
succeed in discovering the emergence of a number
of gnats ; and a very amusing occupation it is to
stand by and watch the insect, — this moment an
occupant of the waters, and the next darting in
the air, a new and air-breathing form of existence!
About ten days after the gnat has become pupa, it

296 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

prepares for leaving that state and becoming a
perfect insect by raising itself to the surface of the
water, stretching out its body there, the thorax,
or, in simpler language, the front enlarged part
being raised above it. Immediately the eye of the
observer detects the fact that some change is taking
place in the insect ; the enlarged portion cracks
and splits, and through this opening the head of
the gnat makes its appearance ; then the trunk of
the insect rises in a curious manner through the

Escape of the Gnat from its Pupa-case.

breach, and more and more of its body rises, pre-
serving all the time a perpendicular position, so
that it looks just as if it were rising out of the
water, and not out of the horizontal pupa case
floating on the surface. The upright body of the

A TIME OF PERIL. 297

gnat now resembles a mast in a boat, only that it
is continually being raised higher and higher by
the gradual emergence of the insect. Its wings
and legs are all folded closely down its sides
as is shown in the cut ; and it has therefore no
power at all to prevent its being overset by a
breeze, and drowned in the little waves below;
the lower portion of its body alone retains it in
this position, being as yet contained within the
pupa case. No ship-builder dare venture to
put a mast of such proportions into any of his
vessels, for fear of their being top-heavy, and
hence liable to heel over in a gale of wind. And
undoubtedly many gnats, particularly in windy
weather, are shipwrecked as soon as they emerge.
This is, in fact, a moment of peculiar danger to the
little insect-mariner, and a breath of untoward air
will frequently drive it about like a ship in a
tempestuous ocean; and if it is once laid on its side,
all is over with the gnat ; no patent apparatus can
save it ; and we have the mournful testimony of
Reaumur, that in stormy weather he has seen
a vast number of such shipwrecks in the mimic
ocean of a pool of water. Generally speaking,
the peril is only momentary, and the insect emerges

298 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

in safety. Having thus raised itself to the perpen-
dicular position, the gnat withdraws its two fore-
legs from the pupa case, and stretches them out ;
then it draws out its two next; and now feeling
safe, it quits the perpendicular position and bends
toward the water, plants its feet on its glistening
surface, which is to it as safe as the land, since it
has the faculty of walking on the waves. It is
now in perfect safety, its wings expand and
become dry, and presently the insect will for the
first time make use of them by flying to some
adjoining twig.

But we need not in many cases leave our homes
to see an escape from the pupa in every respect
as singular as the last, and in many, precisely
identical. Before the writer's study- window was
an artificial fountain, in which, as the water was
not constantly allowed to play, aquatic insects of
various kinds had permission to establish them-
selves. Nor were they long in availing themselves
of this liberty. A week or two of genial summer
weather was sufficient to people the water with
various inhabitants ; among them was a little
creature which will be recognised by every reader
when we mention its title — 6( the blood-worm." It

THE BLOOD-WORM,

299

Blood-worms, natural size and magnified.

is in reality not a worm at all, although resembling
worm in shape, and in its serpent-like movements.
This little creature was
for a time particularly
active ; and in a tumbler
of water taken from the
fountain might be seen
perhaps a dozen of them
twisting about in a very
singular manner. By-
and~by a change came
over them, and it turned out that the worm-
like creatures had become pupae of a blackish
colour, thus at once deciding their insect cha-
racter. They belong, in fact, to the insect
called the Chironomus plumosm. These black
pupae were scarcely less active than the red blood-
worms, or larvae of the same insect. They flapped
about their tails with great vehemence, and thus,
although their bodies naturally sink in the water,
they were able to swim from the bottom to the
surface, or from side to side. Observing that they
had finished their appointed period in the pupa
form, we became anxious to watch their change
into the perfect insect. Neglecting, however, to

300 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

notice them at the proper period, — the afternoon of
a warm sunny day, we were astonished the next
morning to find a surprising number of pupa skins
lying empty of their tenants on the surface, as
though some of the water fairies enumerated in
fable had been dancing on the waves all night, and
left their little black shoes behind them in their
haste to flee from the light of the smiling morning.
We determined to be better prepared for the ob-
servation on that day; and as the afternoon came we
had the gratification of seeing a large number of
these insects rise from the water, all in the follow-
ing*" manner: — They rose up from the bottom and
reached the surface by the peculiar movement of
their tails just described; there the thorax was
thrust above the water, and immediately the in-
sect burst its cerements, elevated itself by a wave-
like motion from the rest of the pupa case, which
filled with air, and now glistened like silver; it
then planted its forelegs on the water, withdrew
the rest of its body from the case, unfolded its
wings, and in a few moments was sailing in the
thin air. On one stormy day the surface of our

* This scene is represented in the Frontispiece to Part III.

CH1RONOMUS PLUMOSUS.

301

fountain was bestrewn with the dead and dying
bodies of these insects drowned in the waves.

Pupa and perfect Insect of the Chironomus Plumosut.

De Geer,* speaking of the pupae of a moth,
states, that he was not fortunate enough to wit-
ness the manner in which they quit their watery
abode. But he seems to think that they quit
the pupa case, then mount to the surface of
the water, or up some aquatic plant, in order
to reach a dry spot, where they remain, their
wings being developed afterwards, and that
thus the risk of their being wetted is avoided.
Their bodies being lighter than the water, he

* See page 241.

302

THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

conceives, accounts for their being able to rise to
its surface. Too much weight, however, must not
be attached to this observation, as it is not accom-
panied with satisfactory ocular evidence of the fact.
The pupa of the " dragon-fly" furnishes us with
a very interesting example of escape ; and it well
deserves the reader's attention, if he be so placed
as to have the opportunity of observing it. Per-
haps, indeed, few insects afford us such a singular
series of interesting facts as are to be found in the
escape of this one from its pupa. The best method
of observing their change is to procure as many of
the Iarva3 as possible, to put them in a basin of
water, at the bottom of which are a quantity of

dead leaves, and to allow
several sticks to be in
the water touching the
bottom of the basin, and
reaching above the level
of the water, as shown in
the cut. Then we must

Pup* «f Dragon-fly. wt&i carefuUy to notice

any of the larvse which, having become pupse, creep
towards the edge of the water. These are such
as will in all probability be the first to undergo

ESCAPE OF DRAGON FLY. 303

the change, for they come to that position in
order that they may get dry before proceeding
further. If these are now closely observed, they
will be seen after the lapse of a little time to
leave their position, and to begin creeping about
in search of a suitable spot where they may
undergo their metamorphosis. Most probably
they will select for this purpose the sticks we
have introduced into the basin, and, after running
up and down them, will fix upon a particular
spot, where they place themselves securely, the
head invariably uppermost. From what will be
subsequently mentioned, it is necessary that the
insect should fasten itself so
firmly to the branch, that not
even a violent effort would
disturb its position. This is se-
cured by the insect thrusting
the sharp claws with which its
feet are armed into the stem on
which it rests. The points of
these claws are so fine and hard
as even to penetrate wood with

Pupa of Dragon-fly, showing the

facility. They are shown in *•»>***«»•»**<***
the cut ; and even after the dragon-fly has escaped

304 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

out of the pupa ease, they may be easily made to
fasten upon a piece of a branch, by simply pressing
the feet against it very lightly. In order to
watch the changes of this insect Reaumur once,
whilst staying in the country, collected a large
number of the pupae, and placed them on a piece
of cotton-print tapestry, where they soon felt at
home, and fixed themselves in preparation for
their change, without moving far from the spot
where they had been placed. At few periods of
the day could a visit be paid to the room where
this tapestry was hung without seeing a spectacle
at once diverting and extraordinary. Previous to
its changes the pupa becomes more transparent,
and the large and beautiful eyes of the insect it
encloses grow increasingly brilliant. These signs
always indicate that the transformation is nigh at
hand.

It comes to pass in the following manner: — Some
movements of a struggling kind take place inside
the pupa case ; and at length the case splits at the
upper part, near the head: through this rent the body
of the dragon-fly appears and tears it open, acting like
a wedge, until the slit extends along the head across
to the two eyes. The latter transverse slit is pro-

PHENOMENA OF THE CHANGE. 305

duced by a contrivance similar to that mentioned in
the case of the blow-fly, a sort of air bladder which
the insect distends at its pleasure, and thus causes
the skin covering its head and eyes to split open.
The head and body of the insect rise and make
their appearance through the slit ; and the head is
now so much larger than it appeared while in the
pupa case, that it seems almost impossible that it
could ever have been contained within it. The
insect continues to rise perpendicularly out of the
case, and the legs make their exit, leaving the leg
cases of the pupa undisturbed in their attachment
to the support on which it rests. In order to
facilitate the disengagement of the rest of its body
the insect now bends itself in a curved form
backwards, being only kept from falling by the
last rings or segments of its body being still
embraced by the sheath of the pupa case. When
it has extricated itself thus far, it begins to move
about its legs in different directions for several
minutes, as if to get them into use ; but after this
it ceases all movement whatever. Not a quiver
can be seen in its limbs, and the young observer
would be inclined to conclude, — as a great entomo-
logist once did, the first time he witnessed the
x

306 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

changes of this insect, — that it was in reality dead,
and that it was a waste of time to watch it any
longer. This state of profound inaction may endure
for a quarter, or even half an hour : it appears to
be intended in order to give time to the insect to
recruit its strength for a fresh and more violent
series of efforts, and to admit of its parts becoming
hardened and dry. Suddenly, as we are, perhaps,
carelessly looking bn the inanimate object, it per-
forms a feat of the most surprising, because un-
expected agility. Its body, which was pre-
viously much bent backwards, is now swung
forwards and bent into a curve; it then swings
back, and then forwards again, and so quickly
that it almost seems to leap. It then rests its
legs upon the front part of the pupa case, and
pulls the rest of its body out of the case by
degrees, and then creeps forward, leaving the pupa
case behind, still immovably fixed upon the
plant.

" Behold," says Reaumur, "the dragon-fly new
born, but very different from those which traverse
the air, or rest upon the plants around. It is
quite in disguise. The body, though longer than
the pupa case out of which it was drawn, has not

EVENING FLIGHT OF EPIIEMKR.3E.
PREP 2H9.

THE DRAGON-FLY NEW-BORN. 307

got all its natural length. The wings, which are
the large and useful organs of these flies, have as
yet very little more volume than they had when
enclosed in the short and straitened pupa case.
They are merely furrowed plates, or laminae, of
some thickness, and arranged one over the other,
as if packed together. One can scarcely conceive
how each of these wings can acquire its proper
dimensions, — how it is to enlarge and lengthen
sufficiently. They are folded into plaits like a
fan, or like the leaf of a tree just about to be
developed ; hence they naturally appear very nar-
row, and the cause of their appearing so short is,
that each of their longitudinal portions is folded up
like the paper lanterns, more frequently used by
nuns than by other persons."

The remaining portion of the dragon-fly's his-
tory will be found in the next chapter.*

Some curious instances are given by various
authors of the escape of more than one insect
from the same pupa. Thus we are told that a
male and female emperor moth were once pro-
duced from one larva, and therefore one pupa, of
extraordinary size. Messrs. Kirby and Spence
* See p. 316.

308 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

tell us of a German entomologist who says, that
two specimens of the pine-lappet moth were once
produced from one pupa, which was of the re-
markable size of two inches in length and one in
thickness. But these are very rare instances, the
common and almost universal rule being that one
pupa only contains one insect.

Nothing now remains for us to add to the
insect's history in the pupa state. Already, — for
it is Spring far advanced, — the air is becoming
peopled with insect tribes —

" The insect youth are on the wing,
Eager to taste the honied spring,
And float amid the liquid noon."

A thousand times ten thousand, nay, thousands of
thousands, are already in the air; and the low
hum of their wings may be heard if we stand
breathless and listen in the midst of some se-
questered spot, far from the roar and bustle and
strife of town life. But the great life-season of
the insect world is yet to come ; and though May
whispers it is nigh, June, July, and August
must bring it to us, and with it a teeming mul-
titude of insect flutterers more numerous than the
stars of heaven, or the sand-grains of the sea-shore.

PART IV.— THE IMAGO.

CHAPTEK I.

THE NEW-BORN PERFECT INSECT.

" Oh ! start not ! on thy closing eyes

Another day shall still unfold ;
A sun of milder radiance rise ;

A happier age of joys untold.
Shall the poor worm that shocks thy sight,

The humblest form in nature's train,
Thus rise in new-born lustre bright,

And yet the emblem teach in vain 1 "

BEAUTIFUL as these lines are, and poetical as i&
the idea they develop, they are incorrect. The
perfect insect springing from the pupa is not
an emblem of man's glorious resurrection from
this body of sin and death ; why, we shall imme-
diately discuss. In the oftentimes beautiful mytho-
logy of Greece, the name for the butterfly was
fj, that is, the soul. Just as the insect bursts

310 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

with brilliant wings from the dull and grovel-
ling form of the pupa, flutters in the blaze of day,
roams on untiring wings through the genial air,
and enjoys the use of faculties so new and strange
to it, when contrasted with those of the pupa
state, — so was it imagined that the soul's arising
from amid the corruption of this vile body would
prove a deliverance from the bondage of mortality,
and the countless infirmities to which it is heir.
And surely there was much poetry in the con-
ception ; but we, who must not leave the path of
true insect history for any poetical fancies, have
now to remind the reader that the simile is in
many respects inaccurate, and in so doing we shall
merely bring to his recollection what was said as
to the contents of the pupa-case at p. 231. From
this it appears that the pupa state, far from being
a state of death, is one in which new parts are
added to the insect ; in which the insect is actually
not only alive, but in some instances capable of
moving about, as well as before or after; and, lastly,
in which the various organs of the perfect insect
all exist previous to the disclosure of the latter.
Thus, if we were to slit open a pupa-case just
before the insect bursts from it, we should find

THE RESURRECTION. 311

that, although kept in bondage by the case, the
insect was in all respects the same as if we had
allowed it to break out of its prison in the ordi-
nary manner. In a word, the perfect insect is
after all only the same being which we saw in the
egg, larva, and pupa states, now having cast off
its last skin, and become an adult being.

When a man or an animal dies, the particles of
the body are separated from each other, their union
is destroyed, and they themselves are dissipated in
various ways. The flesh returns to dust, the spirit
to God who gave it. How different this change
from that which the insect undergoes ! and how
inappropriate in strictness, as

" Emblems of our own great resurrection,
Emblems of the bright and better land,"

as emblems of the mysterious union of the immor-
tal soul and its immortal, incorruptible body ! The
fable of the Phoenix was more expressive of the
real nature of this great change ; for there the
body of the creature was reduced to death first,
and the new-born being sprang from its ashes. As
we are anxious to convey only the most clear and
accurate idea to the reader's mind of the various
stages of insect life through which we are con-

312 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

ducting him, it appeared expedient to notice the
mistake taught in these pleasing lines, only to
avoid the error of its being supposed that they
give us an accurate idea of the true nature of the
change from pupa to imago.

The term Imago is a Latin word, and, like those
of larva and pupa, was given to insects in this
condition by the naturalist Linnasus. It signifies
properly an image, copy, or representation of any
object. In applying it to insects in their last
stage, LinnaBus intended that we should under-
stand by it, that the insect had now reached its
stage of perfection, and had become in all respects
exactly like, that is, the image of, its parent. And
though a better term might probably be found,
yet as no person is likely to fall into any serious
mistake merely because we call an insect in its
last state an imago, it is as well to retain it;
better indeed, than, by inventing another, to create
nothing but confusion and disorder in the minds
of young entomologists. In this chapter, there-
fore,— the last chapter of the Life of an Insect, the
word imago may be considered as synonymous, or
having the same meaning, with that of " perfect
insect;" it is an insect's last stage of existence.

THE WORD IMAGO. 313

It would be a great mistake to suppose that the
insect, so soon as it leaves the pupa-case, is in that
instant in every respect similar to what is known
to us as the perfect insect. When, for example,
a butterfly has just succeeded in extricating itself
from its pupa-case, if we were to take it up in the
expectation of finding it all at once decked with
the glories of its wings, and elegant in its form,
we should be disappointed. Owing to the cramped
position which its limbs, and wings, and other
organs, have so long been made to occupy, its
appearance when it emerges from the pupa is
necessarily different from that which it wears
after all its limbs have been in free exercise, and
the flutter of its wings has been heard over hill
and dale, throwing the gentle air into an irregular
line of tumult.

Now that summer has come, abundant oppor-
tunities for watching insects in all their stages
may be had; and by careful searching of the
garden, field, and woodland, a number of pupas
may be discovered on the very eve of disclosing
the imago, or perfect insect. Let us suppose
that the reader has not looked in vain ; but has
brought home in a tin box several of these

314 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

singular objects, about which so much has been
said. The pupa, ready to burst open and let loose
the struggling captive within, is before him ; the
skin splits, the body of the insect appears^ withdraws
itself from the pupa-case and inner membranes,
and the imago appears before him. But O, how
different from the splendidly adorned insect which
we know it is still to become ! Its tender body is
weak, soft, and languid, and bedewed with moisture.
Its wings, instead of being of their usual size, and
variegated with such glowing and admirably con-
trasted colours as only a Divine hand could create,
are in the largest sized butterflies scarcely bigger
than the nail of the little finger ; instead of being
uplifted in full strength and beauty, they hang
drooping down over the sides of the trunk ; and
their colours are all dull, and muddy, and without
any of those distinct spots and beautifully defined
marks, streaks, and bands, which we observe with
so much admiration in the wings of these insects.
Altogether we might take it rather for a mutilated
and imperfect insect, instead of what, in spite of
its unattractive appearance, it really is, — a perfect
insect, and in a short time to become a splendid
one.

CURIOUS ASPECT OF NEW-BORN INSECT. 315

We have only to wait patiently for the lapse
of a little time, and our desires will be fully
gratified in beholding all these symptoms of
weakness and imperfection disappear. The imago,
attaching itself either to the cast-off pupa-case,
or to some other convenient support, first stretches
out one organ, and then another; its body loses
the coating of moisture which bedewed it, its
various parts become firm and hardened, and its
colours come forth in all their beauty. All the
parts which had been forced into a constrained
position, now relieved, assume that which is
natural to them in the perfect insect; and the
wings no longer have a questionable appearance,
but become expanded into those light and ex-
quisite structures which form the peculiar beauty
and characteristic of many insects, displaying
themselves almost magically in the form, it may
be, of the thin, transparent membrane of the fly,
or as the painted tissue of the moth or butterfly,
extending frequently to five or six times their
previous dimensions.

Here let us take up, as an illustration of these
beautiful and interesting phenomena, the conclud-
ing portion of the history of the dragon-fly, com-

316 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

menced at p. 302. The expansion of the wings
of this elegant creature, after it has left the
pupa-case, and fixed itself, generally on the stem
of some pond plant, goes on so rapidly, that we
can actually see them becoming larger each
moment as we look upon them. If we were to
attempt to trace their outline on paper, before the
next stroke could be added, their form would be
different. During; the whole time that the de-

o

velopment of the wings goes on, the insect con-
tinues perfectly still and immovable. Its wings
are not stirred in the least, and the insect seems
to avoid all risk of having these delicate organs
touched by any surrounding object. Its wings,
which are by-and-by to possess almost the stiffness
of a thin layer of the mineral talc, are at present
softer and more flexible than wet writing paper,
and if they were to receive any injury while in
this condition, that injury could never be repaired;
hence the insect requires to be in a perfectly quiet
condition. The dragon-fly seems to be fully aware
of this, and in order to prevent the wings, as they
increase in size, from drooping down towards, and
coming in contact with, its body, it curves it in the
manner represented, so as to allow for the expansion

CONCLUSION OF DRAGON-FLY's HISTORY. 317

and elongation of the wings. At length, generally
in a quarter of an hour's time, their development is
fully completed ; but they are not yet sufficiently
firm and resisting to use in flying. If left to
itself, the insect generally waits three, or even
four hours, before it puts them into inactivity.
In addition to the expansion and elongation of
its wings, its body also elongates, until it has
acquired its full dimensions. In vain should we
look at first for the splendid colours in which these
insects are decked ; all the tints are blotted and
unpleasing. Those charming species, which are
spotted with beautiful blue and yellow tints in-
tersprinkled with black, are, when they are but
just emerged from the pupa, of a whitish yellow
spotted with brown ; the yellow marks, however,
are seen to change to a beautiful deep orange, the
brown to black, and some of the yellow marks to
blue-

The following interesting description of the
same changes as they take place in the butterfly
is from the valuable work of Messrs. Kirby and
Spence. " The pupa of a very interesting and
beautiful butterfly, the only one of its description
that Britain has yet been ascertained to produce,

318 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

I mean Papilio Machaon, being brought to me
by a friend early in May, this year, on the six-
teenth of that month I had the pleasure of seeing
it leave its pupa-case. With great care I placed
it upon my arm, where it kept pacing about for
the space of more than an hour, when all its parts
appearing consolidated and developed, and the
animal perfect in beauty, I secured it, though not
without great reluctance, for my cabinet, it being
the only living specimen of this fine fly I had ever
seen. To observe how gradual, and yet how
rapid was the development of the parts and organs,
and particularly of the wings, and the perfect
coming forth of the colours and spots, as the sun
gave vigour to it, was a most interesting spectacle.
At first it was unable to elevate or even to move
its wings ; but in proportion as the aerial or other
fluid was forced by the motions of its trunk into
their nervures, their numerous corrugations and
folds gradually yielded to the action, till they
had gained their greatest extent, and the film
between all the nervures became tense. The
ocelli, and spots, and bars, which appeared at
first as but germs or rudiments of what they were
to be, grew with the growing wing, and shone

STRUCTURE OF A WING. 319

forth upon its complete expansion in full magni-
tude and beauty."

If we were expert anatomists, and were armed
with a good microscope, the study of the wing of
a dragon-fly would prove one of great interest to
us. These beautiful organs, however, must be
examined when they are as yet but a little ex-
panded, as in their completely developed state
we should certainly fail in detecting their real
structure. Thin and gauze-like as they seem,
they are in reality double, consisting of an upper
and a lower surface, between which are several
parts which are necessary to preserve the shape
and carry on the functions of the wings. The
two surfaces of the wing enclose what are called
the nervures, resembling in some respects the
veins of a leaf. These are really fine hollow
tubes of some firmness, which ramify in large
numbers between the two membranes of the
wing, and thus give strength and stability of
figure to them. Along these tubes, or nervures,
branches of the air-vessels, or trachea, and of
the blood-vessels, run.

From these necessary details let us turn to
make the difficult, but important inquiry — How

320 THE L1FK OF AN INSECT.

are the wings expanded ? by what means do they,
from being thick, soft, and moist, become thin,
hard, and dry ? It is to be regretted that this
inquiry cannot be answered with that satisfactory
certainty which it deserves. It is very difficult to
catch the insects in which the expansion of the
wings is best observed at the right moment ; and
even then it is extremely difficult to say whether
one cause more than another may contribute to
this phenomenon. The following explanation of
it is given by Messrs. Kirby and Spence, whose
general accuracy on such subjects is well known.
" As soon as the insect is disclosed, a fluid enters
the tubes or nervures, and being impelled into
their minutest ramifications, necessarily expands
their folds ; for the nervures themselves are folded,
and as they gradually extend in length with them,
the moist membranes attached to them are also
unfolded and extended. In proportion as this
takes place, the expanding membranes approach
each other, and at last, being dried by the action
of the atmosphere, become one. To promote this
motion of the fluid seems the object of the agi-
tations which, in many instances, the animal from
time to time gives to its unexpanded wings. That

EXPANSION OF THE WINGS. 321

a kind of circulation, or rather an injection of an
aqueous fluid into these organs, actually takes place,
may be ascertained by a very simple experiment.
If you clip the wings of a butterfly during the
process of expansion, you will see that the
nervures are not only hollow, but that, however
dry and empty they may subsequently be found,
they at that time actually contain such a fluid.
Swammerdam, who appears to have been the first
physiologist that paid attention to this subject,
was of opinion, that an aeriform as well as an
aquiform fluid contributes to produce the effect
we are considering. He had observed that if a
small portion be cut off from the wing of a bee,
a fluid of the latter kind exuded from its vessels in
the form of pellucid globules, becoming insensibly
drops, which he concluded proved the action of the
latter ; and he noticed also that the wings were
furnished with tracheae, which were at that time
distended by the injected air ; whence he justly
surmised, that the action of the air was also of
great importance to produce the expansion of the
wing*" But Swammerdam appears only twice
to have seen the expansion of the dragon-fly, in
which this phenomenon is best observed. Herold,

Y

322 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

an eminent naturalist, also attributes the expan-
sion of the wing to the flow of an aqueous fluid into
the nervures. M. Chabrier, a French entomo-
logist, having observed a fluid in the interior of
the nervures of the wings of insects, thinks it
probable that they can introduce it into them and
withdraw it at their pleasure, so as to facilitate their
unfolding. When we call to mind the force with
which the blow-fly, or flesh-fly, and the dragon-
fly, are able to expand their heads by forcing air
into them, we need scarcely ask for any other
explanation than simply that the tracheae are
distended with air, and by that means the soft
and yielding wings are made to assume their dis-
tended state.

It has been mentioned, that, in the case of the
dragon-fly, the completion of the unfolding of its
wings occupies about a quarter of an hour, but that
sometimes it is even half an hour. The ordinary
period is from five to ten or fifteen minutes in most
insects, but it is sometimes prolonged to an hour,
or to several hours. Again, in others, as we have
already seen in the history of the emergence of the
gnat, and other insects, from their aquatic state in
the pupa, it is completed in a few seconds, and the

DEFORMED WINGS. 323

insect only rests for this brief period on the surface
of the water, previous to taking flight from its
apparently somewhat dangerous position.

Some observations of Mr. Rennie show, in a sin-
gular manner, the fact before mentioned, that if
the wings, while yet wet and soft, are in any way
pressed upon, or otherwise injured, they will never
assume their proper appearance. " The thread by
which a chrysalis is suspended may sometimes
snap asunder ; when this happens, and the chry-
salis is allowed to remain, it will not usually pro-
duce an insect complete in all its parts ; for the
side upon which it lies being pressed against an
unyielding substance by its own weight, instead of
hanging lightly suspended by a silken cord, is pre-
vented from becoming duly expanded, and when
the insect is excluded, it is found to be deformed.
A colony of the brown-tail moth, which we reared
during the summer of 1829, spun in the corner of
a nurse-box, a common web of several chambers
for containing the pupae. One of these chambers
being accidentally torn, a pupa fell upon the earth
in the bottom of the box, and in due time, a female
moth was produced from it; but she never succeeded
in expanding her wings, which remained till her

324 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

death, shrunk, rumpled, and totally useless for the
purpose of flying, though in every other respect
she was full grown, and deposited in the box a
group of fertile eggs, covered with down from her
tail, as neatly as was done by her sisters of the
same brood. In the summer of 1825, the chrysalis
of a small tortoise-shell butterfly, ( Vanessa urticce^)
lost its hold of its silken suspensory, and fell upon
the pasteboard bottom of a nurse-box, resting in
a sort of angular position, so that the case of the
upper wing on the left side, pressed upon the box
with the whole weight of the chrysalis above it.
When the butterfly made its appearance, it ex-
panded its wings as usual; but the wing upon
which it had rested was not half the size of the
one on the right side which had lain uppermost.
Another of the same brood had, from some cause,
not grown so large in the caterpillar state as the rest.
It was transformed, notwithstanding, into a chry-
salis, which appeared healthy and well-formed ; but
when the butterfly appeared, though it did not
differ from the usual appearance, its wings never
expanded a single hair's breadth, and remained
always in the same state as when it issued from
the chrysalis."

EXCEPTION IN THE EPHEMERA, 325

After the insect has once withdrawn itself from
the pupa-case, it generally retains the same appear-
ance and raiment as long as it lives, not casting its
skin like the larva, but having put on its permanent
clothing immediately upon its leaving the pupa-
case. But in the case of an aquatic insect, the
Ephemera, of which we have before spoken, a re-
markable exception to this rule has been noticed.
When these insects leave the pupa-case, any one, on
looking at them, would say that they had completed
their changes ; they appear to be furnished with
every part necessary to them, and not to have any
which is redundant ; yet they are destined to go
through a change equivalent to that which has just
taken place, if, indeed, it is not more apparently
difficult than it, and that is,— they have to cast off
their skin. That they should be able to withdraw
from thence their head, their legs, their body, and
their long tails, would be no great difficulty for us
to comprehend, because numbers of insects at their
escape from the pupa-case do more than this ; but
in their case we are presented with a more per-
plexing enigma. In the transformation of other
insects, as we have already seen, and, indeed, in
that of the insects before us, the wings are at first

326 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

very soft and pliable, and therefore can be easily
withdrawn from the cases in which they were con-
tained. But in the Ephemera, the wings, after it
has left the pupa-case, are fully developed and
expanded, and seem to have acquired all their con-
sistence, and to have become hard and inflexible.
Moreover, its wings are so thin, that we can
scarcely believe that they are in reality double ;
that is, that they are covered by an outside sheath ;
and it seems incomprehensible how, if such is the
fact, the wings can be withdrawn from this case
or sheath, when the only opening that can be dis-
covered for that purpose, is a very minute hole
near the spot where the wings take origin from
the body of the insect. Let us now see how all
these difficulties are overcome, and how the insect
withdraws itself from this, as we might almost call
it, second pupa-case.

The Ephemeras, when they leave the water,
rise high into the air, and wing their way per-
haps far from the place of their birth. They
may often be found wheeling over green fields,
or wandering among the forest shades, far from
the bubbling stream in whose waters so large a
portion of their existence was spent; but more

DANCE OF THE EPHEMERAE.

327

frequently they are to be found somewhere in the
neighbourhood of the stream, enjoying an aerial

Dance of the Ephemei

dance, The feet of the insect are armed with hooks
of great minuteness, and by their means the insect
attaches itself to a suitable object, sometimes to a
wall, sometimes to a twig, or to the trunk of a tree ;

328 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

it does not much matter where. Without at first
making the least movement, the insect patiently
abides the time when it must withdraw itself from
its useless upper garment, and sometimes it has
to wait a whole day in this position. The time
arrived, the skin splits, and the body of the
insect rises gradually out of it ; but the difficulty
is about the wings. Nevertheless, as we watch
the insect, we shall find that it gradually draws
them out of their delicate cases, and at length
emerges, as perfect in beauty and form as be-
fore. The manner in which this is effected
is as follows: — although the outer case of the
wings is hard and rigid, yet the wings which
it covers over are preserved in a soft and moist
condition. In proportion, therefore, as the insect
disengages itself from the anterior part of the skin,
the inner or real wings become contracted, by a
number of plaits, into a form nearly cylindrical,
which readily admits of their being pulled through
the openings lately mentioned ; and as soon as the
insect is released from its envelope, these plaits
unfold, and the wings return to their former shape
and dimensions. So exactly does this thin skin,
thus cast off, fit all the parts of the insect's body*

INSECTS WITHOUT WINGS. 329

that it may often be mistaken for the insect itself,
when it is found clinging to the place where it has
gone through its changes.

Before we leave the subject of the
wings, it must be mentioned that
there are some insects which have
none. The cut represents a beetle

Of this claSS. Winglett Beetle.

If the reader will now take a peep into one of
the nurse-boxes in which he may have been rearing
butterflies from the pupge, presuming that several
of them have ere this burst from their cases, and
are fluttering about anxious for liberty, he will
generally detect upon the bottom or sides of the
box one or two marks of a somewhat reddish
colour; sometimes, indeed, they are very red. These
spots are produced by the insect, which, on its
emergence from the pupa, generally deposits a
drop of fluid from its intestines. Almost all
insects perform the same action at this period;
but we may well remark with Reaumur, it could
scarcely have been supposed, that the excrements
of a butterfly should ever have filled the minds of
a whole population with terror. Such has, how-
ever, been the case, and may, perhaps, yet be in

330 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

districts where ignorance and superstition close
the minds of the inhabitants against the truths of
entomology. " Historians," says Reaumur, (e tell
us of showers of blood, as having been the cause of
terror to nations, and considered as prophetic of
fearful events, of the destruction of cities, and
revolutions of kingdoms. At the beginning of
the month of July, in the year 1608, one of these
showers of blood was said to have fallen in the
suburbs of Aix, and for some miles around.
It turned out that the supposed drops of blood
were in reality drops deposited by the but-
terflies. It is not improbable that other showers
of blood recorded by historians, and taking
place about the same period of the year, might
be accounted for in the same natural and simple
manner. Gregory of Tours relates that in the
time of Childebert a shower of blood fell in
different places in Paris, and particularly in a
certain house situated in the territory of Senlis.
Another was said to have fallen toward the end of
June, in the reign of King Robert. In the year
1533, we are told by another author, a prodigious
multitude of butterflies appeared throughout a
great portion of Germany, sprinkling plants,

SHOWERS AND STAINS OF BLOOD. 331

leaves, buildings, clothes, and men, with bloody
drops, as if it had rained blood."

In the Gentleman's Magazine for the year 1764
we read that "a kind of rain of a red colour,
resembling blood, fell in many parts of the Duchy
of Cleves, and caused great consternation. Some-
thing of the like kind fell also at Rhenen, in the
province of Utrecht." A gentleman is reported
to have sent a bottle full of it to Dr. Schutte, to
know if it contained anything pernicious to health.
Dr. Schutte wrote a learned dissertation upon it,
and gave it as his opinion that it was caused by the
particles which had been raised into the atmo-
sphere by a strong wind, and that it was in no
way hurtful to mankind or beasts. Probably
butterflies were the real shedders of this blood-
like shower, as in the previous cases.*"

Our next remark about the imago state of in-
sects will, perhaps, create some surprise. — Insects
in this state, with some apparent exceptions, da
not grow larger. When they leave the pupa state,
and have all their parts fully developed, they do
not subsequently increase in size. We are often

* Several other explanations of red-rain are given, which
account for it by the presence of animalcules, fungi, &c.

332 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

told by ignorant people that the little house-flies
which we watch dancing in our chambers, or
scrambling up our windows, are only young flies
of the same kind as flesh-flies, and that by-and-by
they will grow into a large " Blue-bottle!" This is
a sad mistake. Let the reader try. Let a fly be
put under a glass, and fed with a little sugar, or
honey: in vain will he daily examine it, in the
expectation of beholding it increase in size — it will
live and die nearly the same little being unaltered
to the last. If such persons only knew somewhat
of the life of an insect, such an absurd, and, unfor-
tunately, very prevalent mistake would not be com-
mitted. We might as reasonably call a trout a
young salmon ! If we were to examine any number
of flies of the house-fly kind, (Musca domestica,) and
carefully measure them, or weigh them, we should
find them all almost exactly of the same size ;
which, of course would not be the case if they
really grew larger as they grew older.

But there are some insects which, after they
leave their pupa, increase within a very short time
to a size which could scarcely be believed. In
particular, the new-born insects of a tribe of flies
which produce the aphis-lion larva before spoken

APHIS-LION FLY. 333

of, are distinguished by this peculiarity. We
behold a very little insect emerge from the pupa-
case, and in a quarter of an hour we are astonished
to find it has grown to a great fly ! This sudden
increase appears the more marvellous, because
during this period the insect takes no nourish-
ment. The wings of this insect, when it is just
born, are not more than one-tenth the size they
acquire in that short space of time. The insect
is to all appearance firm and plump, and offers
a ridiculous contrast to the tiny pupa-case out
of which it has emerged. It appears probable
that this sudden enlargement is to be accounted
for by the insect filling itself with air, and thus
causing the various parts so closely packed to-
gether, and fitted into one another, in the pupa,
to be expanded. The experiment which puts
this idea to the test is a very simple one; we
need only prick the body of the insect with a fine
needle, and we shall hear a slight sound produced
by the escape of the air ; and in a few seconds
the body of the creature shrinks to its former
dimensions. It appears, indeed, that the body
of the insect is actually larger at this time than
at a subsequent period of its life, when it becomes

334 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

more flattened and shorter. Another beautiful
insect, one of the lace-winged flies, exhibits the
same singular phenomenon. Its pupa-case is not
larger than a small pea, yet the body of the insect
is nearly half-an-inch long, and covers, when its
wings and antennae are expanded, a surface of
an inch square. It appears, in fact, almost in-
credible that it could ever have been contained
within so small a compass.

The cases just related may appear to be really
exceptions to the rule just laid down, as to the
non-increase of insects when once emerged from
the pupa ; but upon a little consideration it will
be found that the exceptions are more apparent
than real. The increase in size is not really
a process of growth, but is simply owing to the
expansion of the body of the insect to its due
size, only taking place in a sudden manner
by breathing a certain amount of air. The
dragon-fly gives us another instance of a similar
enlargement soon after leaving the pupa-case.

CHAPTER II.

THE STRUCTURE AND ORGANS OF THE IMAGO.

WE must now ask the reader's attention to
a very important part of the history of the
insect — the knowledge of its various parts, and
their uses in the insect economy. Men of science
would call this the anatomy and physiology of
insects ; and if there is a desire felt to know and
retain the proper terms employed by those versed
in this science when they treat of these subjects,
it will be well to bear these names in mind. We
may, however,
convey some no-
tion of the nature
of the studies
called by these
names, by the fol-
lowing illustra-
tion. Let us take

White Hawthorn Butierjly

yonder butterfly

as our example, and, arresting it in its zigzag career

over flowers and fields, let us carefully bring

836 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

it in-doors, and there look closely at its various
parts and appendages. There we find two long,
delicate, thread-like organs springing from the
head ; then we come to the head, with its different
organs ; farther back is a separate portion, distinct
from the head, and distinct, also, from the remain-
der of the body of the insect ; at the side of it
are the wings ; below are the legs ; last of all we
bring under our notice the remaining division of
the insect's body, the abdomen. Now if Anatomy
stood at our right hand while we took notice
of each part, she would point out all the peculiari-
ties of its structure, and would tell us of how many
other parts it was made up, and how all were beau-
tifully and wonderfully put together by the skill of
the Great Creator, Further than this, she would,
very probably, strongly insist upon our remem-
bering each part by a particular name ; and, as
we may add, since she is particularly fond of, and
learned in, Latin and Greek, we may rest quite
assured each name she communicated to us would
be in one or other of these classical languages;
for example, instead of saying the butterfly was
one of the "scale-winged" insects, which would
be far too homely for her, she would declare that

ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY. 337

it belonged to the Lepidoptera, which is the same
thing in Greek ; and its u head" she would inform
us was the " caput" which is the Latin for that
word ! This done, her strict duties would be ex-
actly fulfilled, and she would summon her sister-
science^ Physiology, to give us further informa-
tion about the butterfly. Physiology, who, we
may remark, is a far less stern-looking personage
than her austere relative, and appears with a
countenance which expresses that she has much
to tell us which will greatly interest us, would
next take up the panting insect. She would tell
us to consider attentively the head of the little
creature, while we listened to her elegant account
of the purposes it was intended to subserve. She
would dilate with eloquence upon the exquisite
machinery which was compacted into so small
a compass as its mouth; and she would render
us almost breathless with amazement, as with
rising animation she revealed to us the astonishing
optical wonders of an insect's eye, telling us, per-
haps, that an insect may probably see like the
fabled Argus, behind, and before, and on every
side, at the same time! Then she would tell
us, in order, the nature and uses of each part,
z

338 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

and, in a word, give us a minute, but delightful
account of everything that is known about the
Life of an Insect.

From this it will be manifest that we have
hitherto chiefly listened to the voice of Phy-
siology in this little book, although the leading
particulars of the Anatomy of the insect in
its various stages have also been brought before
us. We must now address ourselves for some
little time to learn, from the combined sciences
of Anatomy and Physiology, the structure and
uses of the different organs, and their principal
parts, in the insect, in the imago or perfect state.
In order to follow the account we shall have
to give the reader, it will be convenient to take
some common insect, such as a wasp, and fix in
the memory the names of the various parts we
shall have to distinguish, in thus treating of the
imago-insect. A dragon-fly is a good example also.
We shall first mention the general arrangement
of the insect's structure; and subsequently take
up each part separately.

It must first be mentioned, that insects possess
no internal bony skeleton, like that possessed by
ourselves and many other animals. If we were

INSECTS HAVE NOT BONES. 339

to cut open the dead body of a fly, we should look
in vain for anything like the back-bone, or the
bones of the legs. But it must not, therefore,
be thought that insects have no skeleton at all.
Their skeleton is the thick, hard, horny substance
which forms their external covering. In the wasp,
for instance, it will be easily perceived, on pressing
the head or the trunk of the insect between the
fingers, that there is a very firm, solid coating,
protecting the tender and delicate organs within.
It is a very singular fact that the wisdom of the
Creator has so ordered this outside coating, that
where it is most necessary to be strong, as for
example, when an insect has to burrow through
the ground, or is in danger of being often crushed,
there its thickness is greatest ; and again where,
as in the case of those insects which live chiefly in
the air, this thickening is less necessary, because
there is less risk of injury to its body, there the
external covering is thinner and softer. So extra-
ordinarily is one insect strengthened in its external
coats, that it is scarcely possible to crush it by the
hardest squeezing between the thumb and fingers.
It has, on this account, been compared to a once
famous London character, called "Leather-coated

340 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

Jack" who used to suffer carriages to be driven
over his body without receiving any harm !

In looking at an insect, we perceive that it
is naturally divisible into three principal parts:
first, there is the head, or caput ; next, the trunk,
or thorax ; and thirdly, the hinder portion of the
body, or abdomen. If we turn to a Latin dic-
tionary, and hunt out the word insecta, which
is the Latin term for " insect," we shall find that it
is derived from a verb which signifies " to be cut
in," or " notched." From this we see that the very
word insect has arisen from perceiving what we
are now alluding to, the natural notching of the
body of these creatures into certain portions. We
mentioned, however, at page 89, that the insect
in the larva form had a body which was, in
almost every instance, divided into thirteen seg-
ments, or parts. It may be asked, Are these all
lost in the perfect insect; or are they still to
be traced in it ? They are still to be traced in it.
The head is one, three form the trunk or thorax,
and the remaining number constitute the abdo-
men: but, in order to save disappointment, it
must be added, that it is rare to find the full
number of segments or distinct parts in the

THE HEAD AND THORAX. 341

abdomen ; we seldom, in fact, find more than seven
or eight, the remaining two or one being generally
hidden. It is interesting, however, to trace in the
perfect insect these indications of its previous
larval condition, especially when we remember the
strange appearance it underwent while a pupa.

Now the various parts in the head division
are, to speak generally, the head proper, the
mouths the eyes, and the antenna?. Entomologists
describe a large number of other parts, which
would also be mentioned here if this little
treatise were intended to give a minute account
of the insect's anatomy ; and those features which
are of most prominence and importance, will be
mentioned in addition when we come to speak
particularly of these several chief organs.

The middle portion of the insect, or thorax, is
divided into three parts — a front, middle, and
hinder part; or, in the language of entomology,
a pro-thorax, a meso-thorax, and a meta-thorax.
Attached to the thorax are the wings and the legs.
The remaining portion, or abdomen, is furnished
with organs and appendages, not requiring special
mention in this place.

Let us consider briefly the organs which are

342 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

seated in these divisions ; and, beginning with the
head, let us glean a few particulars upon that
most interesting topic — the eyes of insects. We
might well fill a volume with this subject alone,
for truly it is almost inexhaustible. In the other
sections of the animal kingdom, the eyes, though
organs of the highest importance, are, neverthe-
less, simple, and little varied in their number and
arrangement. But in insects, whether we consider
their number, their structure, their arrangement,
or their size, we are lost in amazement at finding
these organs assume an importance in the' insect's
economy, of which we have
no parallel elsewhere. Look,
for example, at the accom-
panying representation of
the eyes of a bee, and then
let us ask whether, in all the
world beside, we can find a
creature whose two eyes are
larger than all the rest of its head put together ?
What should we think of a quadruped as large as
a bull, whose eyes occupied great part of its head,
its forehead, and the greater portion of its face ?
What astonishing powers of sight it would possess !

SIMPLE AND COMPOUND EYES. 343

The first thing we learn about them is, that
some insects possess what are called simple eyes,
and compound eyes. The accompanying cut re-
presents in part the head of a flea,
and is annexed in order to give a
specimen of a simple eye. The
little circle represents the position
of the simple eye. All the organs connected with
the head are supposed to be cut off. The head of
the bee on the preceding page furnishes us with
an excellent illustration of a compound eye. All
perfect insects are provided with compound eyes,
and a large number with simple eyes too; but
no imago or perfect insect has simple eyes alone.
We see, therefore, that the simple eyes are only
additional or supplementary organs to the com-
pound eyes, which are the chief organs of sight
in these creatures. These simple eyes are mi-
nute lenses generally placed upon the crown of
the head, or the forehead ; in the bee this is
their position; and by means of a pocket- glass,
they can be readily seen in this insect, by
looking at its head from above. They will be
found arranged in a triangular form. Sometimes
an insect is furnished with as many as sixteen

344 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

of these simple eyes ; the spider is, among others,
thus endowed. But more commonly they are
only three in number. Sometimes they are not
imbedded in the substance of the head, as might
be supposed ; but are actually placed upon the end
of a little stalk, presenting an appear-
ance as singular, as if at the end of a
bull's horn the animal were to possess an
eye in addition to his two others. Swam-
merdam and Reaumur performed some
Eye on a staik. singular experiments upon these eyes in
the bee. Reaumur varnished the back of the head,
where these eyes are situated, in more than twenty
bees, so as, of course, entirely to blind these eyes ;
but leaving the large compound eye untouched.
The bees were then set at liberty within a few
paces from the hive, but not one of them knew
where to find it again ! nor, indeed, did they appear
to make any search for it. They flew at random
to the adjacent plants, but never to a distance ;
and though they seemed to have no difficulty in
flying, they did not attempt to fly up into the
air.

The compound eyes of insects are, perhaps, among
the most wonderful works of the Creator's hands.,

WONDERS OF AN EYE. 345

In those gigantic creatures whose fossilized bones
are all now remaining to tell us of their history,
the mastodon., and megatherium) and in such vast
creatures as the elephant and the whale, we behold
the great power, skill, and wisdom of God; but
here, in a little object which we may cover with
a pin's head or with a large grain of sand, is a
more wonderful instance of His infinite and amaz-
ing power than all these. The eye of a dragon-fly
is a good instance of a compound eye : and of all
the beautiful, radiant, gem-like objects that can
be selected for inspection through the microscope,
this is the most exquisite. Professor Miiller, the
great German physiologist, has with wonderful
patience and care dissected the eye of this insect,
and has given a most beautiful account of its
structure. On examining the eye of this insect,
even with a good pocket magnifying glass, such
as those commonly sold by opticians for a few
shillings, it will be found to present
the appearance of a beautiful net-
work, or very fine grating, as is EyeoftheDragon.Fiy,
shown in the cut. When a greater magnifying
power is employed, it will be seen that each space
in this network is a six-sided or hexagonal figure.

346 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

Now each of these little spaces is filled by a beau-
tiful minute lens of the same shape set in it.
On making a perpendicular cut into the eye it has
been found to consist of various layers: the outer
layer is a hard clear membrane composed of a
multitude of six- sided facets,
each forming a more or less
^distinct cone-shaped cylinder,
which runs towards the centre
of the eye, as seen in the cut.
Under this is a layer of coloured
matter, sometimes of a violet,
' Eye or green, or even reddish hue,
which is pierced with as many holes as there
are facets. Beneath this there is a varnish of a
black colour, within which is a second layer of
coloured matter ; and in the space
between this last and the first co-
loured layer the delicate fibres of
the nerve of sight, or optic nerve,
run. These fibres then converge
together at the back of the eye

Magmfled^ecUon of part jnt() a gingle large HCrVC, which is

connected with the insect's brain, and conveys
the impression of sight to that organ.

ANATOMY OF THE EYE. 347

Perhaps this account may be followed with some
difficulty ; let us, therefore, take a single facet, and
trace it to its termination. Each facet being in
fact a distinct eye, we shall be able, in so doing,
to get a clear comprehension of the whole organ,
which is after all only made up of a large number
of these distinct eyes. Separating, then, one facet
from the rest, we find this single eye to consist of
several portions: 1. the six-sided facet; 2. the
cone-shaped cylinder, clear and transparent; 3. a
delicate fibre of nerve connected with the bottom
of this cone ; and, 4. the large nerve itself. The
diagram on the next page will make this perfectly
intelligible.

But it may be asked, What of the colouring
matter? It exists in three places. 1. The first
layer surrounds the cones (2), and separates them
from one another, and from the nerve below
in part. 2. The second layer surrounds the
nerve fibres (3). And, 3. the last layer is at the
junction of the nerve fibre (3) with the nerve
itself (4).

This apparently complicated mechanism well
deserves the reader's attention; nor should the
subject be quitted until it is clearly understood.

348 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

We are unable to enter into further particulars
upon the structure and functions of this beautiful
apparatus; but it must be added, that
the following is the manner in which
the ray of light becomes perceived by
the insect. It first passes through the
facet (a), next enters the cone (6), then
strikes upon the nerve (c) which con-
veys the impression, taking the large
nerve (d) to the brain. The colouring
layers are intended to prevent any rays
of light from passing to other parts of
|P the insect's eye, and so confusing the
A si^ie facet se- impressions made upon its senses by

paratcd and

magnified. external objects.

The number of these facets, or, if we choose to
call them so, distinct eyes, varies in different
insects. In some there are comparatively few, in
others an amazing multitude. The following list
of their number is given by Miiller, as observed
by various entomologists : —

In the Ant there are 50

„ Convolvulus Sphinx .... 1,300

„ Common House-fly .... 4,000

„ Silk- worm Moth 6,236

„ Goat Moth 11,300

IMMENSE NUMBER OF EYES. 349

In the Dragon-fly 12,544

„ Butterfly ........ 17,355

„ Mordella ....... 25,088

According to the calculations of another author
there cannot be fewer than 34,650 in the com-
pound eye of a butterfly. Amazing thought ! each
of this immense host is considered to be a separate
eye, receives separate impressions of light, and has
a separate structure and organization, both perfect
in their kind.

It is not difficult to remove the compound eye
of an insect ; and in so doing it will be found that
each lens is as clear as crystal. The ingenious
Reaumur actually succeeded in removing one
and adjusting it to a lens; and he found that
he could see through the insect's eye very dis-
tinctly, only he says the surrounding objects
appeared to be greatly multiplied. There is a
common optical toy which is ground into a number
of facets which communicates this appearance to
objects when seen through it, and thus furnishes
us with a good illustration of the endless confusion
of images which would have perplexed the insect,
had not the various beautiful contrivances of which
we have spoken been adjusted to prevent it.

350 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

But we must guard against a very natural mis-
take which might arise upon the subject of the
eyes of insects from supposing them in any degree
comparable to those of higher animals as regards
their motions. When man, or an animal, wishes
to look at any object, they do so by causing
several muscles to be brought into action which
move the eyes round so as to receive the rays of
light from the particular point where this object
is placed; and so admirably arranged is the
mechanism by which these movements are effected,
that they are as well provided for all the purposes
of sight with two eyes as with twenty. In insects
no such apparatus exists ; the eyes are quite im-
movable ; they are, in fact, set in the head like a
gem in a lady's ring, and are altogether removed
from the control of the insect. In order to obviate
the annoyance and inconvenience which would
result from this arrangement, their eyes are
formed on the wonderful principles already men-
tioned, and, instead of insects being furnished with
two eyes, they are provided with many thousands !
They are thus enabled to enjoy not only the same
extent and range of vision with ourselves, but even
a much larger.

REMARKABLE PROVISION. 351

Insects are also furnished with a contrivance by
which they can see objects at a little distance, and
objects at a great distance — it may be at the same
time ; which is more than can be strictly said of
ourselves. In men and animals there is a very
exquisite apparatus arranged within the eye, by
means of which it can accommodate itself to
objects close at hand, or again to others at the
greatest distance. We can see at one moment a
pin at our feet, and at the next the summit of a
hill some thirty or forty miles off. Now the laws
of light are such, that, to effect this properly, we
must have some apparatus in the eye to arrange
its focal capacity, so as to receive and concentrate
the lines of light proceeding from such different
points as the distance of a few inches, and that
of many miles. What this apparatus may be is
not as yet very satisfactorily determined. But in
insects the same result is obtained by a very
curious provision. — Some of their eyes are short-
sighted, and some long- sighted. The simple eyes
are supposed, by Professor Miiller, to be the
short-sighted eyes, and the compound eyes the
long-sighted ones.

The number of compound eyes in insects does

352 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

not often exceed two, these being made up, it will
not be forgotten, by multitudes of single eyes.
But in a few, whose habits require that they
should be endowed with extraordinary means of
vision, there are as many as four. If the reader
would betake him to the brook- side, and creep
noiselessly along its margin some summer after-
noon, until he comes to a quiet glassy pool where
the water seems to have forgotten itself and fallen
asleep, so still, so silent, and so smooth does it lie,
reflecting all the lustre of the deep-blue sky over-
head, he will surprise a dancing party of insects
busy waltzing at a wonderful rate, now skimming
hither, now shooting across the glassy pavement
on which they sport, now joining together and
wheeling round and round, and again, as the king-
fisher comes fluttering down the river as though
on some errand of immense importance, breaking
up their party and flying into a thousand holes
and corners to wait until all is quiet. Let him
exercise his activity and patience, and catch one
of these giddy insects, which are known to ento-
mologists by the name of the Gyrinus Natator,
and he will have a good example of an insect
provided with four compound eyes, so that it can

EXPERIMENTS ON EYES OF A BEE. 353

see not only before and behind, but upward into
the sky, and downward into the clear cool waters
on whose surface its happy life is spent. Some
insects, like Cyclops of old, are furnished only
with one eye; and some, it is said, are quite blind
— creatures that never feel the blessed influences
of the pleasant sunlight. Like the simple eyes,
the compound eyes are sometimes fixed on the end
of a little footstalk, so as to give the insect some-
what the appearance of being furnished with a
pair of opera glasses, or short telescopes.

In order to ascertain by what means the bee
found its way to the hive, whether by seeing it
through its compound eyes, or otherwise, Reaumur
performed an interesting experiment similar in
character to the one before mentioned. He
covered with a red varnish, which was quite
opaque, the compound eyes of a number of bees
taken from the same hive. He then shut them up
in a box with several other bees from the same
hive which he left untouched. The box was only
a few paces distant from the hive from which the
bees were taken. He then opened the lid of the box,
and those which had not been blinded instantly
flew out of it, and entered their habitation. Those
A A

354 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

whose eyes had been varnished appeared not to
care to leave the box at all, and seemed very un-
willing to make any attempt to fly ; some of them,
indeed, flew about from one side to another, but
did not go far. Reaumur then threw several of
them up into the air, and they immediately began
to soar higher and higher, until at length they
went out of sight altogether ! Reaumur compares
the poor insect's manoeuvres to those of a crow,
whose head and eyes mischievous boys have
covered with a paper bonnet : the bird flies upward
until its strength is exhausted, when it drops again
to the earth. Not only did those bees which he
threw up into the air thus soar until they were
lost to view, but all the most active of those which
were left in the box did so likewise, and Reaumur
saw them no more. Not one could find its way
to the hive. From this experiment, and from the
preceding one, it is evident that both the com-
pound and the simple eyes are necessary to enable
the insect to see perfectly ; for when either was
varnished over, the bees could not find their way
to their home again. Reaumur imagines that the
cause of the wheeling flight of bees, sometimes
observed, now in this direction, now in the oppo-

BEAUTY OF THE EYES. 355

site, may arise from their eyes becoming perhaps
in part obscured by the pollen, or yellow powder
of the flowers into which they plunge, the bee
thereby becoming partly blind-folded. These
experiments are so interesting that they deserve
repeating, and it might be tried whether the result
would be different if only one eye were blinded.
Other variations of the experiments will also
suggest themselves.

Although not organs of sufficient size to give
their colouring the requisite distinctness and
amount of surface which would render it very
conspicuous in our estimation, the eyes of insects
are often exquisitely beautiful, and vie almost with
precious stones in lustre. Their most common
colour is black, or brown ; but the eyes of many
flies glow with fiery colours, some banded with
green and purple, some variously figured black
and red. Some again glitter like burnished gold
shaded with the softest green ; and some blaze
with a play of colours, like the diamond set in jet.
The eye of the dragon-fly, in particular, is a lus-
trous crystalline object of extreme beauty.

We have dwelt as long as our limits will permit
on this wonderful apparatus of vision in insects :

356 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

let us now turn our thoughts for a little space to
a pair of organs which are, perhaps, of all others
the most characteristic of the insect tribes : these
are the Antennae. We need scarcely explain
what these are, or point them out to the reader,
since they are so familiar to most persons, but
under the erroneous, or, at any rate, the question-
able expression — "the feelers." We have an ex-
cellent specimen of antennae in those of the

Peacock Butterfly.

butterflies, in which insects they are very long
and elegant organs. They are attached to the
head by means of a beautiful joint, called a ball
and socket, the same as is often adapted to
garden watering engine-pipes, so as to enable them
to be moved about in all directions. They are
never found absent in the perfect insect, and are
manifestly organs of considerable importance in

THE ANTENNA THEIR SHAPE. 357

the insect economy. As to their structure, — when
examined under a microscope, antennas are found
to be composed of a variable number of small
round pieces, covered with a horny or leathery
skin, but within being softer and hollow, so as to
form a series of tubes placed end to end, all con-
nected together in such a manner as to admit of
free movement between each joint, so that the
insect can bend them into any shape it may find
expedient for its purposes. But it must not be
supposed that all antennae are similar in form,
or there would be a risk of their being con-
tinually mistaken by the reader for some other
organ. The cut on the next page will, at a glance,
exhibit the astonishing variety of form assumed
by these organs. The common cock-chafer is pos-
sessed of antennae as strikingly different in form
from those of the butterfly, as if they were really
distinct organs intended and adapted to serve diffe-
rent purposes. Some are long and threadlike, some
resemble a necklace of pearls, some are notched
like a saw, some have a resemblance to a fan, some
are like a club, some resemble a fork, and some a
feather ; in short, their variety of form is almost
endless : and they differ as much in length and in

358

THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

thickness ; for while the antennae of some insects
are as long as, or even longer than, their bodies,

those of others are
very short, and lit-
tle prominent ; and
while some are as
thin and fine as the
finest hair, others
are nearly as thick
as the true body of
the insect. Let us
now ask what is the
use of these singular

vanou* antenna.

organs of the insect?

From a hint which has before been dropped, it
is probable that the answer to this question will
be readily anticipated. Various facts appear to
show that they may be the insect's ears ! " Can
it be that such is their function ? " some may ex-
claim, calling to mind that ears in other creatures
are so different in appearance and structure from
these organs. There have been many opinions on
the subject, and some have maintained views com-
pletely opposed to this idea. But the greater
number of entomologists seem to consider this as

THE ANTENNA THE NOSE. 359

their most probable function. If they are not
ears, we are not able to point to any other organs
in the head which are. From a number of facts
it is certain, that insects can hear; from which it
is equally certain,, that they must possess special
organs. We may, therefore, until the contrary is
shown with respect to them, fairly be allowed to
consider the antennas as these organs. The opinions
of Messrs. Kirby and Spence on this point are con-
veyed in the following words: — ee They conceive
that antennae by a peculiar structure may collect
notices from the atmosphere, receive touches or
vibrations, and communicate them to the sensorium
(or brain), which, though not precisely to be called
hearing, may answer the same purpose." The late
celebrated Dr. W. F. Erichson of Berlin, by means
of the microscope, has discovered in all insects,
and especially in those most remarkable for their
powers of smelling, that these organs are fur-
nished with a number of fine pores, clothed with
membrane, which he regards as organs of smell.*

Every one has heard of M. Pelisson, the pri-
soner at the Bastile, and his spider companions

* Tide the admirable Address of "W. Spence, Esq. F.R.S.
President of the Entomological Society for 1849 ; p. 5.

360 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

of the cell. This gentleman had, by patient
training, engaged the attention of a spider, which
used every day to come and listen to a solo on his
violin, after which it would make its retreat again
to its home. Now it is clear, that this little insect
not only heard, but even enjoyed, the notes of his
instrument ; which would have been impossible,
had it possessed no ears. Then again, every one
must have noticed the start which a fly will make
if some sharp noise be made near it, and how
actively it will move its legs, and seem to be put
all on the qui vive. A little e very-day observa-
tion will furnish iis with many similar instances.
" A little moth," writes one of the last-mentioned
authors, " was reposing on my window ; I made
a quiet, not loud, but distinct noise ; the antenna
nearest to me immediately moved towards me.
I repeated the noise at least a dozen times, and
it was followed every time by the same motion
of that organ ; till at length the insect, being
alarmed, became more agitated and violent in its
motions. In this instance it could not be touch ;
since the antenna was not applied to a surface,
but directed towards the quarter from which the
sound came, as if to listen." Can we question that

INSECTS WEATHER-WISE. 361

the merry grasshopper, chirping all day in the
field, is heard by its mate ? or that the cricket
on the hearth sings for its fellows, or only to
please our ears ? or does the tap of the death-tick
beetle, formerly commemorated, draw forth no
answering tap from its companion on the other side
of the post ? All these instances, and countless
more that might be mentioned, indicate, beyond
a question, that insects have the faculty of hearing,
and render it extremely probable that the antenna
are the organs by which this function is performed.
But it is probable that they serve another and
not less important purpose. The country folk,
who are generally very weather-wise, and whose
sayings always deserve a great deal of atten-
tion, because they are very commonly founded
both upon observation of facts, and experience,
will always assure us that the high flight of
swallows in their search after insects is a certain
token of fair weather; their low flight of ap-
proaching wet. Why is this ? Can insects
foretell the state of the weather ? and if so, by
what means ? That insects have a meteorome-
trical power of foretelling the state of the weather,
appears beyond a doubt. To select a few in-

362 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

stances. Bees, our exemplars in so many points,
might be consulted with advantage, and would
often give us better information as to whether
an over-coat or an umbrella would be probably
required, than the not always trustworthy baro-
meter. When engaged in their daily labours,
if a change of weather to rain is at hand, although
the sun may yet shine and the sky remain clear
and calm, they foresee it, and return suddenly
to their hives. Hence in weather of an unsettled
description they never undertake journeys far
from home, but make short excursions to and from
their hives, being never absent long at a time ;
and if we find a bee wandering far from its hive,
it may be taken, on the other hand, as a pretty
sure prognostic that top-coat and umbrella may
be left at home for that day at least. Ants,
as we have already noticed, possess the same
faculty of weather-wisdom, never allowing their
larvae to be caught in a shower. The abundance
of insects in our houses in wet weather, is a familiar
observation ; we are assured that in hot countries
their excessive numbers, during the rainy season,
make these little creatures almost as terrible
as a plague to all who are within — climbing up

INSECTS IN RAIN. 363

the walls, scrambling into the dishes, drowning
themselves in the soup-tureens, or putting out
the lights with their bodies. In hot and sultry
weather, when a black cloud or two in the far
horizon give token of a coming storm, insects
abound in the air ; but as the heavens grow black,
they disappear; and before a drop of rain has
actually fallen, we may look in vain for them.

That the antennas are the organs by which this
knowledge of coming events with regard to the
weather is obtained by the insects, appears pro-
bable. They may, perhaps, perceive by their
delicate surfaces, changes in the electrical condi-
tion of the air, which are quite insensible to
ourselves: and as all change of weather is pre-
ceded and accompanied by changes of electrical
balance of one kind or another in the air, they
may be thus forewarned of the coming danger.
The following is the manoeuvre of a large number
of insects of the beetle tribe. When they are
about to move from any station where they have
been at rest, the first thing they usually do
before they move a step, is to bring forward and
expand their antenna3, which have previously been
folded up out of the way. They open them as

364 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

widely as possible, so as to expose them to all
the influences of the air, and then, if they be
satisfied, they unfold their wings and take their
flight. We might compare this proceeding with
that of one of ourselves looking up at the direc-
tion of the wind, or tapping the weather-glass in
the hall, previous to setting out for the day ! Too
much stress, however, it must be added, is not to
be laid upon this point ; for while it is unquestion-
able that insects have knowledge of the weather,
it is of course very difficult to ascertain with
certainty whether it is by means of their antenna?,
or by the general feeling of their bodies ; ana-
logous, perhaps, to what rheumatic persons feel
when the wind goes round to the north-east.

There is a still more singular use of the antennas,
which deserves to be mentioned. These organs ap-
pear to be the principal instruments of speech, if we
may use such a term, or, at any rate, of the com-
munication of intelligence. When the soldier ants
go out upon their expeditions, and have left the
nest, previously to setting off, they touch each
other with their antenna) and forehead on the
trunk ; and this is their signal for marching, for as
soon as ever a soldier feels this tap, he immediately

ORGANS OF SPEECH. 365

puts himself in motion. When, also, they have
any discovery to communicate, they strike with
them those that they meet, in a particularly im-
pressive manner ; and if a hungry ant wants to be
fed, it touches with its two antenna, moving them
very rapidly, those of the individual from which it
expects its meaL They appear to salute one another
by gently tapping each other's antennae, as we
should shake hands on meeting an old friend !

M. Huber has related an account of some
interesting experiments of his on a hive of bees,
which strikingly proves that the antennas are
really organs for the transmission of intelligence.
He wished to ascertain whether, when they had
lost a queen, they discovered the sad event by
their smell, their touch, or any unknown cause ; for
such a loss, in the course of a single hour, is made
known in some way or other to the whole hive.
In order to ascertain this, he first divided a hive
by a grate which kept the two portions a few
parts of an inch separated from each other, so
that the bees could not come at each other,
although any scent could easily have passed. In
that part in which there was no queen, the bees
were soon in great agitation ; and as they did not

366 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

discover where she was confined, in a short time
they began to construct royal cells, after which
they grew more calm. Mr. Huber next separated
them by a partition through which they could
pass their antennas, but not their heads. In this
case, the bees all remained tranquil, neither inter-
mitting the care of the brood, nor abandoning
their other employments ; nor did they begin any
royal cell. The means they adopted to assure
themselves that their queen was safe, and to com-
municate with her, was to pass their antennas
through the openings of the grate, A most
curious spectacle thus presented itself; an infinite
number of those organs might be seen at once, as it
were inquiring in all directions; and the queen was
observed answering these anxious inquiries of her
dutiful subjects in the most marked manner ; for
she was always fastened by her feet to the grate,
crossing her antenna with those of the inquirers.

While we have been anxious to show that the
function of feeling is not the important and
principal office of these singular organs, it would
be far from correct to state that the antennas are
not occasionally employed, to use the popular term,
as " feelers." All who have paid any attention

VARIOUS FUNCTIONS OF ANTENNA. 367

to the motions of insects must have seen the
antennae actually employed as it were in exploring
the number or nature of objects immediately
around. From these and the preceding remarks,
it becomes manifest, that, next to the organs
of sight, the antennas are most important and
useful appendages to the body of the insect.
When we consider the various purposes they
serve, we become much perplexed to understand
how it is possible for one organ to fulfil such
varied duties ; nor can it be explained. We are
unable to conceive of the senses of insects except
by comparing them with our own ; and in our
case there are no organs which can receive,
and, at the same time, communicate, intelligence.
Our ears, eyes, nose, and the other organs of the
senses, have only one function severally assigned
to them ; and had they more, there would proba-
bly be no little confusion in our perceptions of
external things. Such confusion does not probably
exist in the insect ; but it is very possible that its
perceptions are somewhat different from ours.

Before we leave the region of the head, we have
the important task to fulfil, of describing the
mouth of the insect : this part is more complicated

368 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

than the organs we have as yet seen, and requires,
therefore, a considerable degree of our careful
attention to enable us to do justice to it, and to
carry in the mind a clear view of this interesting
portion of an insect's structure. " If," writes Mr,
West wood, " a beetle, and a butterfly, a house-
fly, or an aphis, be examined whilst feeding, a
totally different apparatus will be found in each,
although perfectly adapted for the mode of feed-
ing. The beetle is employed in gnawing and
tearing in pieces hard or fleshy substances: its
instruments of manducation are, therefore, horny
and robust. The butterfly, on the contrary, has to
seek its food at the bottom of the tubes of flowers ;
and here in the glowing beams of the sun it revels
in its existence, and sips the most delicious nectar.
It is necessary for this purpose that it should be
provided with a long and slender instrument ; but,
from the very structure of this apparatus, it is
essential for its defence, that, so soon as the insect
has ceased feeding, the instrument should be
lodged in a place of safety. It is, therefore, rolled
up in a beautiful spiral direction, and laid to rest
between a pair of hairy appendages, which will
defend it from injury. If we observe a common

THE MOUTH. 369

fly sipping up a drop of spilt wine, or revelling
upon a morsel of sugar, it will be found that its
mouth is totally unlike either of the former : it
is short, thick, and fleshy, and acts as a sucker,
the nutriment ascending through the canal which
runs upward into the throat. The aphides and
all their brethren have a mouth differently con-
structed, being a long and slender pointed canal,
of a fleshy, or leathery substance, but furnished
internally with several slender bristles, which the
insect employs as lancets to wound its prey. In
the flea, again, the structure is quite different."

To the variations in
the mouth of each of
these insects it has been
thought good to attach a
distinct name. When, for
example, we speak of a
bee's proboscis,* we speak actually of its mouth.
The mouth of the butterfly is called
by most entomologists antlia ; that
of the aphis a promuscis ; that of
the flea a rostrulufo But the reader

* The proboscis of the carpenter-bee differs from
that of the honey-bee, possessing a curious notched
sheath, as represented in the lower cut.
B B

370 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

must not allow himself to be confused by these
terms; they all are but names for modifications of
the same part — the mouth. When the butterfly
plunges its long tube into the flower — when the fly
intoxicates itself with a drop of syrup, using its
proboscis to pump it up — and when the flea thrusts
its rostrtilum into our flesh, and quaffs our life-
blood as though it were nectar, — let us not forget
the mouth is the organ employed in each of these
cases, varied and altered in form though it cer-
tainly be.

In all cases, the various parts of the mouth may
be reduced to six, the names of which deserve
remembering, and this will be rendered easier by
the accompanying diagram, in which they are
all separated and lettered, so as to distinguish
each part; these six parts consist of four side-
pieces, and two other organs, one above, the other

Diagram of the mouth. — a. The Labrttm, or upper lip ; 6. The Mandibles, or upper jaws
c. The Maxillce, or lower jaws; d. The Labium, or lower lip.

below. The name of the upper organ is the upper
lip, or in Latin, labrum; that of the opposite

PARTS OF THE MOUTH. 371

lower one, is the lower lip., or labium. The upper
pair, of side-pieces, are called the mandibles, or
upper jaws ; the pair below are the lower jaws,
or maxilla.

Let us now briefly mention the use of these
various parts of the insect's mouth ; beginning
with the upper lip, (a) or labrum. Unlike that
organ in ourselves, the insect's upper lip is gene-
rally, in such insects as bite their food, a plate of
horny substance, which serves the purpose of
an upper covering to the rest of the mouth. Like
our own upper lips, however, that is to say, like
those of men, at least, it is fringed with a sort of
moustache in most cases.

The mandibles, (&) or upper jaws, in the biting
insects, are instruments for cutting the food
in pieces. When we bite our food, the move-
ment of our jaw is upwards and downwards ; but
in the insect it is like that of a pair of scissors, or
from side to side ! These jaws are sometimes
frightful-looking instruments, resembling, in the
stag-beetle, horns; and their power is proportion-
ally great. Although their general use is to mas-
ticate or crush the food for the insect, this apparatus
is often employed as a formidable weapon of

372

THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

defence, or offence ; and very frequently in the
excavation of a nest or retreat for the insect.
They are sometimes so constructed, as to look as
if they were furnished with several teeth.

The Stag-Beetle, representing its enlarged Mandibles , like hornt.

The maxilla*,) or lower jaws, are less firm and
strong than the preceding ; but they are more
complicated in their structure, and have attached
to their sides remarkably delicate little processes
like the antennae, which are called the palpi, or,
less properly* feelers. The lower jaws are much

SPIRAL TUBE OF THE BUTTERFLY. 373

varied in structure in different insects; as may
well be imagined, when it is mentioned that the
long and beautiful spiral tube of the butterfly,
by which it drains the juices of the flower, is, in
reality, composed of the maxilla?, or lower jaws.
In ordinary cases, the principal use of the lower
jaws appears to be to hold the food, while the upper
jaws bruise and crush it ; but their use, of course,
varies with their structure and modifications.

The last part of the mouth is the labium, or lower
lip. This also is a very complicated organ, gene-
rally serving to close the mouth from beneath, like
the upper from above. It boasts, like the same
organ in higher animals, of a chin below it, called
the mentum, and on each side of it are a pair of
feelers, or palpi, like those of the maxilla?. In the
centre a little tongue-like projection is visible in
the figure, which is sometimes called the tongue,
but perhaps not correctly, if by that term is meant
the apparatus for tasting. The lower lip is as
much varied as the maxilla?.

It would be impossible, without going too far
into minute technical details, to explain to the
reader how all these various parts of the mouth
are so modified, and altered, as to assume the very

374 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

different appearances presented to us in the insects
already mentioned. This pleasure must be re-
served for the time when, well acquainted with the
generalities of insect history, which alone form
the scope and subject of this little work, he feels
anxious to study entomology as a science ; and he
will find a number of excellent books which will
then well repay his attentive perusal, and satis-
factorily answer all his inquiries on this and other
difficult topics connected with this science.

It cannot fail to be noticed, that in this descrip-
tion of the insect's mouth no mention has been
made of its organs of taste. Its eye, and probably
ears, and means of touch, have all come before us ;
but where, it will be asked, is its tongue ? The
little organ mentioned as a part of the insect's
lower lip, although strikingly resembling a tongue
in some instances, is in others very different from
it, and appears in such cases to be quite unfitted
to act as the organ of taste. We must, therefore,
suppose, that other parts of the lower lip or mouth
have the same faculty in addition to the so-called
tongue. It is very certain that insects have the
faculty of tasting, and also of discriminating be-
tween their food; as few will be disposed to

TASTE AND SMELL IN INSECTS. 375

question, who will place a plate of salt, and a plate
filled with moist sugar, in a sunny window on a
fine day ; it will soon become evident which will
be favoured with the attention of the flies.

Neither has any mention been made of a nose.*
A common flesh-fly, however, will soon satisfy
us, that it is not devoid of some organ or other
which answers this purpose. If we cover a piece
of meat under a cloth, or put it into a wire
safe where it is certain that the fly cannot see
it, it will scent it out as readily, or even more
so, than a cat or a dog would. Sometimes this
insect's nose proves a treacherous guide, for
a plant has been described, called the carrion-
flower, which diffuses an odour like that of putrid
meat, which attracts the fly, and induces it to
deposit its eggs thereon, under the idea that its
future young will thus be hatched upon a certain
source of food ; but in vain, for they perish almost
as soon as born, finding nothing in the plant
whereon to exist. f But as to the precise seat of the

* If we refuse to adopt Dr. Erichson's view of the use of the
antennae.

f This plant is a native of South Africa, and a fine specimen
of it exists in the conservatories at Kew. Its botanical name is
Stapelia.

376 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

organ of this sense, opinions are greatly at vari-
ance. Some believe it to exist in the spiracles,
some in the mouth, and some in a special organ
which they call the nose, but which does not seem
in reality to fulfil that office, at any rate, in the
generality of cases. M. Huber showed the exist-
ence of this faculty to lie somewhere about the
mouth, by some interesting experiments upon
bees. He presented successively to all parts of a
bee's body a camel-hair pencil dipped in oil of
turpentine, to which most insects are extremely
averse, but the bee took no notice of it. He then
took a very fine hair pencil, while the bee had
extended its proboscis, and presented it to its eyes
and antennae without effect ; but when he pointed
it near the cavity of the mouth, above the inser-
tion of the proboscis, the creature started back in
an instant, quitted its food, clapped its wings, and
walked about in great agitation, and would have
taken flight if the pencil had not been removed.
On this it began to eat again ; but on the experi-
ment being repeated, it showed signs of similar
discomposure ; oil of marjoram produced the same
effect, and more promptly and entirely. He then
seized several bees, forced them to unfold their

THE TRUNK. 377

probosces, and stopped their mouths with paste.
When this was sufficiently dry to prevent their
getting rid of it, he restored them to their liberty;
they appeared by no means incommoded at being
thus gagged, but moved about and breathed
as readily as their companions. Huber then
tempted them with honey, and presented to them,
near the mouth, oil of turpentine and other odours
that they usually have an aversion to ; but all
produced no sensible effect upon them, and they
even walked upon pencils saturated with them !

Leaving now the head of the insect, it is neces-
sary for us to make some mention of the parts
attached to the thorax, or trunk. In the head
division we have seen that the various organs of
the senses are situated : we shall now find that in
the thorax division are placed the organs by
which the insect is either wafted in rapid evolu-
tions to the highest air, or runs with incredible
rapidity along the surface of the earth. We
have already described, on a previous page, the
general structure of an insect's wing. It remains,
therefore, for us here to advert to a few other facts
in connexion with these elegant appendages.

The natural number of wings in the insect

378 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

world is four, arranged in two pairs. But this
number is obscured by the modifications to which
in many instances one or other of the pairs
becomes subject ; and we should, if this were not
remembered, become somewhat confused at taking;

o

up the first insect that came in our way, which
would probably be the common fly, and finding

that we could only
recognise two
large wings in-
stead of four. In
this tribe of insects
the hinder pair of
wings is reduced
to a pair of slender

ignified. *

knobbed filaments.
Some insects are without wings at all. The ant, the
bee, the dragon-fly, the house-fly, and many other
insects, are furnished with wings of gauze-like trans-
parency and structure, often crossed in a curious
manner by the nervures, of which we before had
occasion to speak. These wings are called mem-
branaceous. In the moth and butterfly tribes the
wings are covered with what appears to be a deli-
cate, beautiful powder, but is in reality a multi-

SCALE-WINGED INSECTS,

379

Scales of Insects Wings magnified.

tude of exquisite scales, of the singular forms
represented. The engraving shows the shape
of the scales on the wings of these insects ; on
examination with a y

good lens, it ap- | f, ffi |j) f
pears that the long V V V V
and hair-like scales \
are planted at the
margin of the wings,
and contribute to
give to the edges
that beautiful feathery look which is so much
admired, while the short scales were placed prin-
cipally on the middle portion of the wings ; their
numbers are almost infinite. If a butterfly is
allowed to flutter awhile in a box it will cover
every portion of its surface with them, and yet,
on being permitted to fly out, we may scarcely
perceive that it has lost any of its fairy plumes.
Whether Leuwenhoek actually took the trouble
to count so many, or arrived at the result from
calculation after counting those on a given space,
we do not know, but he declares that he found
more than four hundred thousand on the wings
of the silk-worm moth; and in those of larger

380

THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

moths and butterflies the number must greatly
exceed this. They are generally arranged like
the tiles on a house-roof ; and if they are scraped
off, the minute dots where each was attached
becomes distinctly visible. The term used to in-
dicate the tribe of insects to which the moth and
butterfly appertain, is, as has been before re-
marked, Lepidoptera, or " scale-winged," from this
very fact. Some membranaceous wings are clothed
with fine hairs.

If we take up a beetle,
and look for its wings, for
the first time, we shall
probably fail in detecting
them, that is, of course, if
the insect has not been ob-
served in the act of flying.
On examining the body
we see, indeed, a pair of
shining horny plates on
its back : but surely these are not wings ? Pre-
sently, the insect having mounted to the top of
our finger, prepares for flight ; its two hard cases
fly up, and, behold ! from beneath them appears
a pair of the most beautiful gauze-like wings,

Blight- Bee tie.
Natural size and magnified.

WING CASES. 381

which it quickly unfolds, puts into motion, and
then flies away. The two thick and horny covers
for these delicate organs are called elytra, or
" wing-cases." They are really the first pair
of wings, much thickened ; and their use is to
protect the delicate membranous wings of the
hinder pair, beneath them. When the insect
flies, they open like a box-lid, and are carried out
of the way of the other wings ; when the insect
rests it carefully folds up its other wings, and then
these close over them, and preserve them from all
injury. As the insects in which they are found
frequent places of danger, burrow underground,
or take up their abode under stones, it is manifest
how admirable a contrivance this is for such pur-
poses, and how efficiently the fragile wings will
be covered and protected by such shields. The
first pair of wings is sometimes thickened to the
consistence of parchment as a cover to the other
wings ; and they are then called tegmina, or
" wing-covers."

There are two other circumstances in connexion
with this part of our subject, which deserve
noticing. If the reader will take into his hand
a large blow-fly, and carefully examine its body

382 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

with a lens near the spot where the wings are con-
nected to it, he will succeed in discovering two
organs of a curious kind. One of these, is a small
membranous piece connected with the trunk-end
of the wings, and is generally called the winglet,
or alula. The other looks like a little drum-
stick hanging down, and is called the balancer, or
poiser, or in Latin, the halter, or bridle. It is not
clear of what use either of these organs is. Since
the winglets are the largest in the heaviest bodies,
and are altogether wanting in the lightest, it
appears probable that one of their principal uses
is to assist the wings during flight. If one might
hazard the conjecture, perhaps they act like the
parachute of a balloon. As to the so-called
balancers, it has been considered that they serve to
poise the insect while flying. Dr. Derham consi-
dered that they kept the body steady during flight ;
and he states that if either a poiser or a winglet is
cut off, it will fly awkwardly and unsteadily, as if
it had lost some very necessary part. Another
observer states, that he cut off the winglets of a fly,
leaving both its wings and poisers; but it could
no longer fly. He also cut off, in another fly, the
poisers alone, and the same result took place. On

EXPERIMENTS ON FLYING. 383

cutting off both the poisers of a crane-fly, he says
it was unable either to fly or walk.* Mr. West-
wood says he has seen the poisers beat rapidly
upon the winglets like drumsticks on a drum, and
it has been supposed that this action is the cause
of the hum made by the insect in flying. This is
doubtful, because it has been found that after the
winglets are cut away the humming sound is still
produced ; and some humming insects have no
winglets.

So much importance did Linnaeus, the great
father of natural history, attach to the character
of the wings in insects, that he arranged the
various families of insects under several heads
expressive of the leading character of their wings.
The orders into which he thus divided insects are
seven in number: 1. Coleoptera, or case-winged;
2. Hemiptera, or half- winged; 3. Lepidoptera,

* The writer has repeated these experiments in a number of
cases, and finds their accuracy confirmed. By cutting off one of
the poisers, the fly is partly crippled, and has a disposition to spin
round in flying ; by cutting off both, it is quite unable to fly at
all, and becomes instantly sensible of the loss of apparently a most
important pair of organs, by being so tame as not to try to escape
from a touch. A " Father Long-legs " thus treated had a ten-
dency to fall head foremost, and also to lie on its back.

384

THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

or scale- winged ; 4.
Neuroptera, or nerve-
winged ; 5. Hymenop-
tera, or membrane-
winged; 6. Diptera,
two- winged ; and, 7.
Aptera, or wing -
less: the Greek word
pteron, signifying " a
wing," furnishes the
termination to each
of these titles ; the
prefix is also derived
from the Greek, and
its import may be de-
rived from the trans-

PAINTED WINGS. 385

lation attached to each. This system has been
extended by modern entomologists, who have sub-
divided the 2d, 5th, and 7th orders into additional
ones.

In the opposite cut the insects represented illus-
trate each of the Linnean orders. They are —
1. a Beetle ; 2. an Aphis ; 3. a Butterfly ; 4. a Bee ;
5. a Dragon-fly; 6. a House-fly; and, 7. a Spider.

As these organs exhibit to us in the most
conspicuous manner the exquisite beauties where-
with it has pleased God, the Almighty Creator,
to adorn the insect world, we may be allowed to
make some reference to the colours of the wings,
before proceeding to speak of those organs by
which the insect moves on earth. Some, of the
beetle tribe, are like tiny masses of burnished
metal gleaming with colours of the most exquisite
description. A vast number of locusts are re-
markable for the splendour of their wings. Many
dragon-flies are adorned with wings vying with
those of the butterfly in loveliness. The wings of
many flies are exquisitely painted with the most
brilliant metallic hues, green and gold ; and even
those of a house-fly are often very beautiful by
their having the property of iridescence, or reflect-
c c

386 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

ing the prismatic colours of light. But insects of
every tribe, however splendid in attire, fade be-
fore the glories of the butterfly tribe. Linnaeus,
speaking of the splendid colours of these insects,
and particularly of the gorgeous tints which
appear on the upper surface of the wings of a
butterfly called the Morpho Menelaus, and another,
justly observes, that there is scarcely anything in
nature that for brightness and splendour can be
paralleled with this colour. It is a kind of rich
ultramarine, that vies with the deepest and purest
azure of the sky : and what must cause a striking
contrast in flight, the prone surface of the wings
is as dull and dark as the opposite is brilliant ; so
that one can conceive this insect to appear like a
planet in full radiance, and under eclipse, as its
wings open and shut in the blaze of a tropical sun.
The scales on the wings of some species shine
with such extraordinary intenseness and brilliancy,
that it is impossible to look at them in a bright
light, as they completely dazzle the beholder.
Messrs. Kirby and Spence say, they "know no
insect upon which the sight rests with such un-
tired pleasure as upon the lovely butterfly that
bears the name of the unhappy Trojan king

THE GLORY OF THE BUTTERFLY. 387

(Papilio Priamus) ; the contrast of the rich green
and black of the velvet of its wings with each
other, and with the black of its abdomen, is,
beyond expression, regal and magnificent." What
adds to the beauty of the wings of this tribe
of insects is the appearance of the beautiful spots
like eyes, which are so familiar to us, and which
are almost without a parallel, except in the animal
world. This ornament gives to the wings of a
butterfly an indescribable life and beauty, and
constrains us as we contemplate it to acknowledge
that f Solomon, in all his glory, was not arrayed
like one of these.' The astonishing variety of
combination in the colours communicates an inex-
pressible charm to these insect glories : here is a
lustrous blue, a glowing orange, a delicate lemon,
an exquisite pink, a fiery copper, or a spotless
white. None but a Divine hand could have pro-
duced such effects as are exhibited in these most
gorgeously painted organs. No work of man will
endure comparison with them. The most elabo-
rately finished miniature upon which the artist
may, in the features and dress of the person, have
expended all the resources of his art in the pro-
duction of harmonious and pleasing tones of colour,

388

THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

appears but as a muddy, lustreless patch, when
placed side by side with one of the butterfly-beauties
of the tropics, or even of our own green fields.

We must not, however, allow the fascination of
these beautiful objects to engross our whole at-
tention ; and it is now time for us to state some
particulars connected with the legs of the imago,
or perfect insect. Six is the true number of legs
which belong to the insect in the imago state.
They are connected to its body at the thorax, and

Hind Leg of a Bee.

are formed of a series of minute tubes, provided
internally with muscles and nerves. They are
commonly divided into four parts ; a the haunch,
b the thigh, c the tibia, and d e the foot.

CLEANLINESS OF INSECTS. 389

%The front pair of legs, or, as they are generally
called, the fore-legs, are considered by some authors
to be really the insect's arms, the last portion of
them being the hand. Certainly they are often
as useful to the insect as is this admirable organ
to ourselves ; not only are they serviceable in
walking, but they also enable the insect to climb,
to lay hold of various objects, or to catch their
prey, to dig in the earth, and in many instances to
clean the head and face of the creature ; an opera-
tion in which many of them, and particularly flies
and bees among our domestic insects, are most
praiseworthily particular ; having apparently an
aversion to nothing so much as to a dirty face and
unbrushed jacket I The other pairs of legs are altered
in various manners in order to fit them for the
different purposes for which they are required by
the insect.

The purposes for which the legs are put into
requisition are, as will be easily guessed, for walk-
ing or running, for jumping, for climbing, and for
swimming. Most surprising in all these respects
is the degree of agility and swiftness with which
it has pleased the Divine Creator to endow these
insect-organs. M. Delisle once observed a fly,

390 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

only as large as a grain of sand;, which ran three
inches in half a second, and in that space made the
enormous number of Jive hundred and forty steps.
If a man were to be able to walk as fast in pro-
portion to his size, supposing his step to measure
two feet, he would, in the course of a minute,
have run upwards of ticenty miles, a task far sur-
passing our express railroad engines, or the famous
Seven League Boots recorded in the nursery
fable. In leaping, also, insects far excel man,
or any other animal whatever. The flea can leap
two hundred times its own length ; so also can
the locust. If a man were six feet long, and could
leap as high and as far as one of these insects, he
might stand near Bow Church in Cheapside, leap
up into the air over the top of St. Paul's cross
and alight at the bottom of Ludgate Hill ; which
would be something more wonderful than it has
ever entered into the minds of the writers of fairy
tales to conceive of. The insect called the frog-
hopper can leap more than two hundred and
fifty times its own length. Some spiders can leap
a couple of feet upon their prey. The legs of
insects that swim are generally peculiarly fitted
for it, either by their being expanded somewhat

THE WATER BOATMAN. 391

like an oar, or by having a dense fringe of hairs
upon them. The water-beetles, after rising to
the surface of the stream for a supply of fresh air,
dive down to their watery home again, taking a
clear silvery bubble along with them ; and, in this
action, they move with con-
siderable rapidity their swim-
ming legs, which are clothed
with hairs. The water boatman
swims upon his back by means
of his singularly formed legs.
The little whirl-gig, of which
we have before spoken, swims
by means of its legs, which are paddle-shaped. By
means, it may be, of some peculiar secretion, which
repels the water, some insects can actually walk
upon its surface, and that as readily or more so than
upon land. Those who know the pleasures of
shooting with polished skates over clear ice, when
it almost seems as if we were moving in the air,
and no more condemned to earth, can imagine
something of the delight these insects must expe-
rience, who can glide as swift as thought over the
glassy surface of the brook. Sometimes the shape
of the hind-legs is remarkably altered, and, per-

392

THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

Kangaroo Beetle.

haps, the most extraordinary instance of this in
the whole insect world is, the foreign insect,
which has been called the Kangaroo beetle.

The cut represents
faithfully this most
wonderful crea-
ture; and we could
almost fancy, as
we looked at it,
that by some acci-
dent the front

pair of legS and

the head had been twisted round, leaving the
hind legs and part of the body turned in the oppo-
site direction. It need scarcely be added, that
the origin of this insect's curious title was derived
from the resemblance borne by its hind legs to
those of the animal whose name it bears. In
some insects the legs fold upon each other, and are
packed into a very small compass: this is par-
ticularly the case in a species of wood-louse, which
roll themselves up into balls precisely resembling
beads or pills, as may be imagined from the fol-
lowing anecdote. A servant maid of the great
Swammerdam, while walking in the garden one

INSECTS LIKE BEADS. 393

day, found a large number of round, black, shining
beads, which were streaked with white bands, and
presented a very pretty and attractive appearance.
Gathering a number of these in her hand, she
thought she would convert them into a necklace,
or, for ought we know, into a rosary, when, to her
great surprise, the beads became animated as soon
as ever they felt the point of the needle, with
which she was about to thread them, and began to
struggle actively to get away ; not, however, too
quickly for her; for with a violent scream, imagin-
ing the beads were bewitched, she ran into the
house. Some of the beetle tribe thus fold up
their legs, and roll themselves up so as to resemble
little globular pebbles.

The Abdomen is, then, the only remaining por-
tion of the insect which we have now to notice.
It has no legs attached to it, and contains the in-
testines, and other portions of the insect's internal
anatomy. It is formed of a varying number of
rings, which are easily distinguishable in the wasp
and many other insects, and these rings are con-
nected together by delicate folds of membrane,
fitting sometimes into each other like the tubes of
a telescope ; in other instances fastened together,

394 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

like so many hoops, by their edges. In conse-
quence of this mode of structure it is often very
movable, and may even be bent into a half curve,
in various directions, at the pleasure of the insect.
The common earwig is particularly gifted with
this movableness of its abdomen ; and so are many
insects which carry weapons of offence or defence
in their tails. These organs, or appendages, are
deserving of a brief notice, although it is probable
that the structure of some of them is already fami-
liar to most readers.

The sting of the bee is, perhaps, as formidable a
weapon as any of those attached to the abdomen
in insects ; under the microscope the structure of
this apparatus appears in all its beauty. It is
found to consist of a sort of sheath, or scabbard,
which is composed of two pieces, and is of extreme
fineness, as will be readily made visible by placing
a fine sewing needle by its side, when the latter
will more resemble a bar of iron from the smith's
forge, or a kitchen poker, than anything else; while
the former will, under the strongest magnifying
power, exhibit a smoothness, elegance, and polish,
of the most beautiful description. When the bee
thrusts forth its sting, it is the sheath which we

STING OF THE BEE. 395

generally see, and not the more delicate apparatus
which is enclosed within it. Inside this scabbard

A Bee's Sting magnified,
a, represents the pair of darts ; d, a single dart ; b, the poison-bag ; and c, the sheath.

is a pair of most fine darts, which are even more
delicate than the human hair, and are therefore
invisible to the eye, unassisted by a good lens.
These darts are notched like very fine saws at the
end, the teeth being so directed as to oppose the
retraction of the instrument if it is thrust into the
human skin ; the sting being therefore left in the
wound, and the wounded person having the com-
fort of knowing — if we should call it a comfort —
that the insect will surely die speedily, in conse-
quence of its attack upon him. An exquisite
adaptation of fine muscles is attached to this
weapon, by which it is forcibly driven home.

396 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

The venom which produces the pain and inflam-
mation is contained in a small muscular bag in
connexion with the sting ; and when the latter is
thrust out, the poison is also forced out and flows
into the wound. The sting of the scorpion is a
less complicated, but more dangerous weapon,
though not often fatal. The earwig, though un-
provided with a sting, carries a most awful-looking
forceps in its tail, which it can put in action with
great force on occasion of danger ; and since it can
twist its abdomen about with great facility, it is
a contrivance of which a tender finger may well
be afraid.

Among the wingless insects of Linnaeus, is one
which he has called by a name which signifies
that it has got a leg in its tail ; and this is ac-
tually the fact, in so far as that these insects
have an organ in their tail, which answers all the
purpose of a leg. Some of these little creatures,
which are black, may be often found in spring
strewed in infinite numbers upon the surface of
the water in ditches or pools ; and may be seen
jumping about on the surface of the water as if
bewitched. At their tail is a fork-like organ,
which is generally bent under the body; but

INSECT WITH A LEG IN ITS TAIL. 397

when they spring up they do so by quickly un-
bending this fork, the resistance it meets with
being sufficient to carry it to a certain distance.
Another insect is provided with eight pair of
springs in its abdomen ; by means of which it can
leap to a great distance with most astonishing
agility. Here we shall conclude the external
anatomy of the insect, in the imago state.

CHAPTER III.

RESPIRATION OF THE IMAGO.

PERFECT insects breathe. That this is so, the
following experiments'* will satisfactorily prove.
A spider and a fly were put into a glass jar,
the mouth of which was closed all but a hole by
which a tube was admitted. The tube was then con-
nected with a pipe by which a supply of common
coal-gas was poured into the jar, and when it was
considered to be full of gas, and that all the air
had been displaced, the tube was closed, and the
insects were left shut up in an atmosphere of gas.
In a few seconds both became very uneasy, the fly
more particularly so; and in a few seconds more the
fly began to agitate itself, to buz against the sides of
the glass, and to tumble over in the most extraor-
dinary manner ; the spider ran hurriedly about, as
if astonished, and not knowing what to make of his
new position ; but presently he became very quiet,
and, turning on his back, looked as if dead. For a

* The writer is responsible for these experiments.

EXPERIMENTS ON BREATHING. 399

minute or two the fly, which was a large, active,
flesh-fly, continued its noisy evolutions, dashing
itself, as if intoxicated, on every side of its trans-
parent prison. At length, as if exhausted, it lay
on its back, its limbs paralyzed, but the wings still
moving with extreme rapidity, and causing it to
spin round in the most singular manner. Ulti-
mately it, too, became perfectly without motion.
After the lapse of about ten minutes, fresh air
was gradually let into the jar, and it became most
amusing to watch the return of both these insects,
which had previously been as it were in the very
jaws of death, back to life again ; twitchings of
their limbs, and slight convulsive movements,
were the first indications of returning activity ;
and in a few minutes more both insects, now
placed in a perfectly pure atmosphere, were as
lively as before the experiment, and were allowed
to make their escape into the open air. With
other insects the same effects were produced by
saturating a piece of blotting paper with ether, and
dropping it into the jar, which was imme-
diately covered over. In several other experiments
the newly- discovered powerful fluid chloroform, by
means of which the operations of surgery are

400 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

performed without pain, was employed; and it
was remarkable to notice how quickly the insects
were overpowered with the vapour of this potent
liquid, In no instance was death produced by
the gases or vapours employed. Wishing to
destroy without pain a beautiful specimen of a
goat-moth, it was first stupified with the gas, then
transfixed with a pin, and again plunged in an
atmosphere of gas all night long ; but alas ! for
the unhappy insect, the morning dawned, and it
was yet alive.

In these simple experiments, which were repeated
sufficiently often to render the results certain, we
have a most interesting proof that insects breathe.
The first struggles and apparent intoxication can
be compared to nothing more exactly than to the
same phenomena when they take place in human
beings breathing the vapours of ether, or chloro-
form. The subsequent state of insensibility was
precisely similar to that induced in persons who
are put under the influence of these vapours.
An amusing instance of the restorative powers
of fresh air occurred in the course of these experi-
ments. A blue-bottle, which was purposely se-
lected of as large a species as could be found, was

CONTEST BETWEEN A SPIDER AND BLUEBOTTLE. 401

first intoxicated and rendered insensible by coal
gas, and was then as quickly as possible put into a
net of the geometric spider : instantly the spider
flew upon his bulky captive, but the fresh air began
to take effect on the fly, and it commenced strug-
gling in the most furious manner. Although the
spider cast out a cloud of web, and in the most
energetic manner endeavoured to envelope its prey,
the fly seemed likely to be the victor ; one of its
large and powerful wings got free and flapped vio-
lently until the meshes of the web gave way, or
wras, perhaps, broken by the weight of the insect,
and fly and spider, being suspended in the air,
spun round so swiftly as to be quite indistin-
guishable. Ultimately, the spider conquered ; and,
suspending the huge body of its victim by a rope
in the air, returned for a short time to its den.

If insects do not breathe, then all these results
are quite unintelligible ; for it would be immate-
rial to the insect what atmosphere it might happen
to be placed in. A number of illustrious authors
have recorded the result of their experiments upon
the effects of other gases on insects. Bees, and
other insects, have been placed under the exhausted
receiver of an air-pump, and death ensued in a short

DD

402 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

space of time. It has also been found, that when the
bodies of insects are covered with oil or grease, so
as to stop up their breathing pores, they soon
expire. It has been proved by, carefully con-
ducted experiments performed by Mr. Ellis, M.
Sorg, and other observers, that on placing flies in
a measured quantity of atmospheric air, at the end
of a day or two almost the whole amount of the
oxygen of the air had disappeared, and the same
amount of carbonic acid had appeared in the cham-
ber in which the insects were confined. We need
not, however, after all that has been said on the
subject of the respiration of insects in their va-
rious stages, enter into any further proofs that
insects breathe not less perfectly in their imago
condition than in any of the preceding states;
in fact, they perform this function far more pro-
minently in this their last state than in any of the
foregoing. It will also be unnecessary to enter
into a consideration of the minute particulars con-
nected with this subject, as several of these have
been previously glanced at.*

The air enters the body of the insect at the
spiracles, or breathing-pores, which are arranged
* See p. 160.

AIR-PIPES OF INSECTS. 403

along the abdomen, and situated at the side of the
wings, and is received by a large tube on each
side of the body, running its whole length, or
nearly so, as we before mentioned. This tube, and
those which it gives off as branches, are called
tracked) or air-pipes. The tracheae are formed
in the most wonderful manner, so as to keep
them always open, that the air can readily pass
through them. Perhaps some of our readers
have seen the contrivance adopted by sailors in
order to blow air down into the hold and cabins
of the ship ; for those who have not, we may
take the liberty of mentioning, that it is a large
tube made of canvass, open at the side near the
top, so as to catch the wind, while the bottom of
it opens into the cabin. Now, the sailors always
place the mouth of this tube towards the wind,
which is forced down the tube into the cabin
either by its own speed, or by that of the vessel,
in the case of a steamer, and so fills the cabin
below continually with fresh air. But, it will be
asked, how do they contrive so to keep the sides
of the bag from flapping together as to prevent
them from closing ? By imitating a contrivance
which exists in the trachea or air-tube of the

404 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

insect ; they place at certain distances inside this
canvass tube a series of wooden hoops, which en-
tirely prevent its collapsing, as it otherwise would
do. The most minute air-tubes of an insect are
furnished, not, indeed, with a series of rings, but
with what serves the same purpose, a firm but
delicate coil of cartilage like a spiral spring, over
which the membranous lining of the tube is
stretched. Thus these tubes remain constantly
open ; and, whatever may be the movements of
the insect, they retain this position. The tracheae
branch out in a most wonderful manner inside the
insect's body : as thickly as in our bodies and in
those of animals the fine blood-vessels divide until
they form a mesh so close that we cannot prick our-
selves with a pin without piercing some little tubes,
and drawing blood ; so in those of the insect, the
minute air-pipes run in every direction, and divide
into countless thousands of branches, which only
become visible under the highest powers of a good
microscope. The large tubes are seen without
difficulty in many insects ; and a drawing, which
may give some idea of the immense mass of air-
tubes existing in the body of an insect, is annexed :
all the rest of the body is supposed to be cut away,

MULTITUDE OF AIR-TUBES,

405

and the larger tubes only are shown, as it is im-
possible to represent the smaller ones so as to give
a clear view of their
arrangement ; they
would cover the draw-
ing like a cloud of the
finest and most deli-
cate lace -work. In
short, in insects, there
being no separate lungs
in a particular place,
as in the animal frame,
the air is necessarily
carried all over the
body, so as to be sup-
plied even to the most
minute parts ; thus the
lungs may be said to extend through the whole
body.

As the reader has laid his finger on his pulse, or
felt his heart beating within him, or seen a drop
of blood ooze from his wounded hand, have the
questions never occurred to him, — Have insects
blood-vessels, and a beating heart? And if so,
have they blood like ours ? Many a wise man of

The Air-tubes magnified.

406

THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

old, even the great Baron Cuvier himself, has
supposed that there was no circulation of the
blood in insects. But, with a magnifying glass
and a caterpillar before us, we shall soon be satis-
fied that this is a great mistake, for by carefully
looking along the insect's back we shall perceive
in that part a very evident pulsation, as though a
fluid were pushed at regular intervals towards the
head. The cut represents the
circulation in the vessels of the
larva of an Ephemera. But in-
sects have no heart, like that of
man and animals. What, then,
can this beating organ be which
we behold ? Although it is not
like our heart, it is nevertheless
an organ which serves all the
purpose of ours, and pumps on
the blood with great regularity.
Instead of being a muscular
organ of small size, but great thickness, like
our heart, it is in reality a long tube, called the
dorsal-vessel, running along the abdomen and thorax
of the insect, into which the blood is poured by the
veins, and out of which it is forced on towards the

The circulation in an Ephe-
mera. The arrows repre-
sent, t'te direction of the
blood -cur rent.

AN INSECT'S PULSE. 407

head by the regular contractions of its side. This
causes the beating movement which we saw in the
caterpillar. Perhaps there may be some curiosity
to know whether an insecfs pulse beats faster or
slower than ours. John Hunter counted thirty-
four beats in a minute in a silk-worm. Another
observer counted thirty a minute in a caterpillar
of the pine-moth. But in the imago state the pulse
appears to move much quicker : and it is easy to
make an insect's beat extremely fast, by exciting or
provoking it. Mr. Newport having done so to a
bee, counted as many as 142 beats a minute. In
a middle-aged man the pulse beats about seventy
times in a minute ; in a child seven years old about
eighty-five times ; and at the age of fourteen about
eighty times. Hence it follows that our pulse beats
about twice as fast as that of an insect in the
larva state : in the imago state it is probably, as a
general rule, at least in winged, active insects,
higher than ours.

CHAPTEE IV.

FOOD AND DEATH OF THE IMAGO.

BUT we have something to say about the food
of insects. Although it has been already laid
down as a general rule, that insects in their per-
fect state, do not eat in any degree with the
voracity they exhibit in the larva form, it is
nevertheless true that they do both require and
devour food in considerable quantities, and of
various kinds. Some, for example, are exclusively
vegetable feeders. They attack all the parts of
plants, not excepting even the root and the bark.
Some, with an elegant taste, select the yellow
pollen of flowers for their dainty and delicate food.
And others, more refined still in their appetites,
will have nothing but the fresh distilled honey
that lies hid at the bottom of the flowers, pump-
ing it up by the beautiful spirally -coiled tube

" TIGERS TO INSECTS." 409

which forms a part of their mouth. Need we say
these are the butterflies ? The fly loves a grain of
sugar, or a savoury joint of meat : and to other
insects, to use a quotation of Mr. Spence's, which
prefer the paper of our Atlases, or maps, —

" a river and a sea

Are a dish of tea,

And a kingdom bread and butter."

A large number also are carnivorous creatures :
need we mention the spider-tribe? a name of terror
to myriads of our summer insect-friends. The
beautiful cicindelce, called by Linnaeus the " tigers
to insects," prey upon the whole insect race, and
are endowed with powers of offence and destruc-
tion, to a degree sufficient fully to justify this
title. In France, we are told, the butchers
are very glad to have wasps attend their stalls ;
since they drive away, and undoubtedly prey
upon, the numerous flies which frequent these
places. The larger species of ants are equally
ferocious, attacking any small soft-bodied insect
they may meet with, and when killed dragging it
to their nest. The beautiful lady-birds, which we
look upon with so much tenderness, remember-
ing the ditty,

410 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

" Lady-bird, lady-bird, fly away home,
Your house is on fire, your children will burn ;"

are in the larva state furious destroyers of other
insects, and will gobble up aphides by the score in
a very short time. The dragon-fly too stands
conspicuous among the insect devourers, not only
in its larva but in its perfect condition, and falls
upon multitudes of insects, plucking off their
wings, and with savage relish devouring their
bodies. We are not, however, to suppose that the
appetites of carnivorous insects are confined to
insect -food. The blow fly lives upon and defiles
by depositing its eggs in our butcher's meat. The
cockroach will polish a bone as clean as, or cleaner
than, any dog will, and, indeed, will consume
almost anything that happens to come in its way.
Lastly, we may not omit to mention, that some
insects have to plunge their armed mouths into
our flesh and that of other animals, and to slake
their raging thirst in a draught of our life-blood :
among which we will only enumerate the mus-
quito, the gnat, and the flea. We need scarcely
say, that insects are provided with proper organs
of digestion.

Singular to add, some insects in the perfect

FASTS OF INSECTS. 411

state do not eat at all. The silk-worm moth, and
the Ephemercv, are amongst this number ; they live
so short a time, as not to require food. Some in-
sects also possess a most extraordinary power of
abstaining from food. There have been at different
times wonderful tales related of human beings,
who, in a supposed trance, have endured the pri-
vation of food for an extremely long time, — weeks,
and even months. And more recently we have
an account of an Indian who suffered himself to be
buried alive, built over with bricks and mortar,
and a great seal set upon the only opening to his
tomb, a guard being also set ; and, after the
expiration of a certain time, before agreed upon,
the sepulchre was opened, and he was taken
out — alive ! All this is extremely wonderful, if
we could only feel certain that there was no
deception in the case. But it is nothing to what
can be adduced from the insect world. The ant-
lion has been known to endure a fast of six entire
months, and to be as lively as possible at their
termination. An author quoted by Messrs.
Kirby and Spence kept a spider in a sealed
glass for ten months, at the end of which time,
though shrunk in size, it was as vigorous as

412 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

ever. And Mr. Baker relates that he once kept
a beetle alive for three years without food of any
kind whatever !

When we call to memory the intense voracity of
the insect while a larva, — how insatiable its appe-
tite, how extensive its ravages, — and contrast it
with the perfect insect, we are struck with astonish-
ment. Why is this, we ask, that in all cases
insects eat less when they are fully developed,
than when in their infancy and youth ? It is as
if a full-grown healthy man were to eat less than
his little child a year or two old. The reason ap-
pears to be, that in the imago state no further
changes (which consume a great deal of material,
as may be imagined when we remember the loss
of substance in every cast of the skin) are neces-
sary ; the insect only requires food sufficient to
preserve its life and activity in the state to which
it has come, and needs no laying up of stores of
fat for future consumption. Fluttering awhile in
glorious apparel, through a world of flowers and
sunshine, the period of its life runs out, and its
only further change is — to die, and return to its
kindred dust.

But, before this takes place, one last duty de-

THE LAST DUTY. 413

volves upon the insect, which, unfulfilled, would
leave the world at its death with one link in the
chain of creation broken off, — this is, to make
provision for the continuance of its species. We
have already said, that insects, as a general rule,
have been, no doubt in wisdom, destined to
deposit their eggs not knowing what is to come
forth of them, and never enjoying that happiness
which is granted to many other beings, — the hap-
piness of parental love. Some most interesting
exceptions to this rule will have also been men-
tioned, in which a mother's love for her young has
been exemplified in a remarkable manner.

Yet, though denied this pleasure and privilege,
the mother-insect exercises, as we have before
seen, all the care and forethought of the most
affectionate parent, in depositing its eggs, and in
making such arrangements as will be most con-
ducive to the happiness and well-being of its
future progeny. We can scarcely say that in
this it shows that it possesses anything like such
a feeling as that of a parent towards its child.
It takes the wonderful precautions, and performs
the singular actions, which have been already
in part recorded in our first chapter, in all

414 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

probability without being aware of the reasons
why it should do so. How can it tell that its
future progeny will eat this food, or that food?
How can the poor blow-fly, when it leaves its eggs
on our food, be certain that it is appointing a
suitable place for the birth-spot of its progeny ?
Why does it not select the green surface of the
leaf, or the warm corner of the window, or the
bare earth, for this purpose ? We might say,
perhaps, in this instance, that the insect is only
choosing the place where it obtains its own food.
. But what shall we say when we find insects, such
as the butterfly, depositing their eggs upon plants
which they never frequent at any other time, and
from which they never obtained a particle of food
themselves ? Some, for instance, deposit them on
the nettle, although never tasting anything from
this plant themselves, while the young which are
to proceed forth from the eggs feed voraciously
upon it.

We cannot, in any way but one, account for
this forethought. The poor insect, left to itself,
would undoubtedly deposit its eggs indifferently
anywhere ; arid the result would be, that its
young family, if hatched at all, would awake

INSECT FORETHOUGHT. 415

only to find themselves in a desert, without
food, or hope of reaching any, and would soon
perish. Need we say how it can be easily
accounted for? Surely, only, because it is God
who has instructed these humble creatures, en-
duing them, if not actually with the powers of
foresight, at any rate with the instinct which
impels them to proceed in such a manner as if
they were thus endowed. By a most wonderful
exercise of wisdom He has taught them to distin-
guish even between the different species of plants ;
and rarely, indeed, do we find that the insect com-
mits a mistake, or selects a wrong or fatal birth-
place for its young.

Insect history is full of such instances of the
great Creator's wisdom and love. Although they
are not rendered conspicuous to every eye, they
are not the less real, nor the less amazing. In
our Life of an Insect, many have been the occa-
sions when we have stopped to wonder afresh at
continually new and more striking indications of
His adorable goodness and power, as the different
phenomena of insect-life have been paraded before
us. Yet this is but a very minute portion of what
really exists of the admirable and beautiful in the

416 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

insect world. Not one volume, not a hundred vo-
lumes, would suffice to relate the interesting facts
which connect themselves in various ways with the
insect's life. The main features only have been
developed, and these imperfectly. Such being
the case, what a world of wonders is the great
creation, were we to consider it only as peopled
with insects ! What pen could write their history ;
what tongue narrate the many marvels of their
existence ! Ten thousand times ten thousand, and
thousand of thousands, surround us on every side,
accompany us on our excursions, and visit us in
our homes, fill the air with life, and the waters
with creeping things.

The history of an insect's life impresses upon
us one of the most consoling truths contained in
the word of God. We may learn from the tale
of God's wonders in the vegetable creation, we
may find also in the history of birds, beasts, and
fishes, innumerable proofs of His love, and care,
and goodness to all. But these are creatures whose
size in the main renders them conspicuous ; too
much so, as we might say, to be overlooked.
"Ah! then," — were there no insects, one might
doubtingly exclaim, " God may take thought for

GOD DOES NOT DESPISE THE LEAST. 417

these large creatures, Avhile more minute beings
would be beneath His notice. And so with me :
God may order and arrange the great events in
my life ; but are not the little ones too small for
Him to regard?" The life of an insect answers
these doubts. It tells us, that though a being be
only of the size of a grain of sand, or not larger
than the full stop at the end of this sentence, God
has supplied it with the most beautiful organs ;
has endowed it with life, and with the most won-
derful instincts, thus manifesting that, in the
words of Scripture, " His care is over all His
works." If God, then,

" To whom an atom is an ample field,"

has not thought it beneath Him to take care for
such diminutive, short-lived creatures as these,
how much more will He care for His own people,
reconciled to Him through the blood of Jesus, and
sanctified by the Holy Spirit of promise ! We
are not left, however, to learn this blessed truth
from the page of creation alone. Our Lord has
himself declared to us, that the very hairs of our
head are all numbered, and has left on record the
E E

418 THE LIFE OF AN INSECT.

promise, that if we " seek first the kingdom of
God and His righteousness, all these things,"
that is, all temporal things, " shall be added
unto us."

K. E.

THE END.

H. CLAY, PRINTER, BREAD STREET HILL.