THE CABBAGE-CATERPILLAR 297 



contrives an exit-way by gnawing a hole in its enclosure. 

 In this manner, it obtains near the top of the cone a 

 symmetrical dormer-window, clean-edged, with no joins 

 nor unevenness of any kind, showing that this part of 

 the wall has been nibbled away and swallowed. But for 

 this breach, which is just wide enough for the deliver- 

 ance, the egg remains intact, standing firmly on its base. 

 It is now that the lens is best able to take in its elegant 

 structure. What it sees is a bag made of ultra-fine gold- 

 beater's-skin, translucent, stiff and white, retaining the 

 complete form of the original egg. A score of streaked 

 and knotted lines run from the top to the base. It is the 

 wizard's pointed cap, the miter with the grooves carved 

 into jeweled chaplets. All said, the Cabbage-caterpillar's 

 birth-casket is an exquisite work of art. 



The hatching of the lot is finished in a couple of 

 hours and the swarming family musters on the layer 

 of swaddling-clothes, still in the same position. For a 

 long time, before descending to the fostering leaf, it 

 lingers on this kind of hot-bed, is even very busy there. 

 Busy with what? It is browsing a strange kind of grass, 

 the handsome miters that remain standing on end. 

 Slowly and methodically, from top to base, the new- 

 born grubs nibble the wallets whence they have just 

 emerged. By to-morrow, nothing is left of these but 

 a pattern of round dots, the bases of the vanished sacks. 



At his first mouth fuls, therefore, the Cabbage-cater- 

 pillar eats the membranous wrapper of his egg. This 

 is a regulation diet, for I have never seen one of the 

 little grubs allow itself to be tempted by the adjacent 



