176 SPECIES NOT 



autumn. Our young caterpillar, without any in- 

 struction from its mother, who dies before it is 

 born, knows all this as well as we do, for when 

 it has eaten the leaf half way, it begins to pre- 

 pare for the future. First of all knowing that 

 the leaf will fall off, it spins a silken thread, 

 by which it is securely attached to the stem. 

 It now folds up the remainder of the leaf, in- 

 closing itself in a very comfortable hammock, 

 which, when the leaf, in the course of nature, 

 drops off, swings to and fro, like a sailor's cot 

 in a gale of wind. But it is very secure, for 

 the silken cord is elastic, and not easily de- 

 tached, while being of the same colour as the 

 stem of the honey-suckle, it is very difficult to 

 observe, and the most experienced larva-hunter 

 will find it hard work to make it out until he 

 is shewn it once. 



If you take a glass and look at the little cot, 

 you will probably see nothing but the said cot 

 closed in on all sides. Try another, and you will 

 find a little chink partly open, and there you 

 will see with wonder and delight a small reddish- 

 looking caterpillar, covered with spines, and coiled 

 up into a ball. Our friend is in his winter's 

 sleep, and is able in this condition to resist any 

 amount of frost or snow, wind, hail, or rain; 

 and so the dreary winter passes away. 



With coming spring, however, fresh duties have 

 to be performed. The early warm sunshine makes 

 the bud, which the caterpillar knows as well as 

 we do, is situated in the axil of the old leaf- 



