THE PSYCHES 



her, right at the back of the case, well covered by the 

 thatched roof. 



And this is an act of prudence, showing her deep 

 concern for the fate of her eggs. They are, in fact, 

 packed as though in a barrel, in the parchment-like bag 

 formed by the cast skin. The Moth has methodically 

 gone on laying eggs in that receptacle till it is full. Not 

 satisfied with bequeathing her house and her velvet 

 coronet to her offspring, as the last act of her life she 

 leaves them her skin. 



Wishing to observe the course of events at my ease 

 I once took one of these chrysalid bags, stuffed with eggs, 

 from its outer casing of sticks, and placed it by itself, 

 beside its case, in a glass tube. In the first week of 

 July I suddenly found myself in possession of a large 

 family. The hatching took place so quickly that the 

 new-born Caterpillars, about forty in number, had 

 already clothed themselves in my absence. 



They wore a garment like a sort of Persian head-dress, 

 in dazzling white plush. Or, to be more commonplace, 

 a white cotton night-cap without a tassel. Strange to 

 say, however, instead of wearing their caps on their 

 heads, they wore them standing up from their hind- 

 quarters, almost perpendicularly. They roamed about 

 gaily inside the tube, which was a spacious dwelling for 



[97] 



