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* 



