THE PRAYING MANTIS 



each layer of eggs is laid, it is covered with froth, which 

 quickly becomes solid. 



In a new nest the belt of exit-doors is coated with 

 a material that seems different from the rest — a layer 

 of fine porous matter, of a pure, dull, almost chalky 

 white, which contrasts with the dirty white of the remain- 

 der of the nest. It is like the mixture that confectioners 

 make of whipped white of egg, sugar, and starch, with 

 which to ornament their cakes. This snowy covering 

 is very easily crumbled and removed. When it is gone 

 the exit-belt is clearly visible, with its two rows of 

 plates. The wind and rain sooner or later remove it in 

 strips or flakes, and therefore the old nests show no traces 

 of it. 



But these two materials, though they appear different, 

 are really only two forms of the same matter. The 

 Mantis with her ladles sweeps the surface of the foam, 

 skimming the top of the froth, and collecting it into a 

 band along the back of the nest. The ribbon that looks 

 like sugar-icing is merely the thinnest and lightest por- 

 tion of the sticky spray, which appears whiter than the 

 nest because its bubbles are more delicate, and reflect 

 more light. 



It is truly a wonderful piece of machinery that can, 

 so methodically and swiftly, produce the horny central 

 substance on which the first eggs are laid, the eggs them- 



[47] 



