Aberrations of Instinct 



tinuatlon. The caterpillar, put to the test 

 by my tricks, has not modified the course of 

 its work; despite the imminence of the 

 danger, it has confined itself to the tier of 

 threads which it would have fitted inside 

 the preceding tier but for the snip of my 

 scissors. 



I let things go on for a while; and, when 

 the mouth has once again acquired a cer- 

 tain solidity, I cut it off for the second time. 

 The insect displays the same lack of per- 

 spicacity as before, replacing the absent 

 cone by one with an even more obtuse 

 angle, that is to say, continuing its usual 

 task, without any attempt at a thorough 

 restoration, despite the extreme urgency. 

 If the store of silk were nearly at an end, 

 I should sympathize with the troubles of the 

 sorely-tried caterpillar doing its best to re- 

 pair its house with the scanty materials that 

 remain at its disposal; but I see it foolishly 

 squandering its product on the additional 

 upholstering of a shell which may be strong 

 enough as it is, while economizing to the 

 point of stinginess in the matter of the fence, 

 which, if neglected, will leave the cell and 

 its inhabitant at the mercy of the first thief 

 that comes along. There is no lack of silk: 

 the spinner applies layer upon layer to the 



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