The Life of the Caterpillar 



Having once crossed the gulf, they pursue 

 their way imperturbably, without stopping any 

 more at the breach. Others come upon the 

 scene and, using the threads already laid as 

 foot-bridges, pass over the rent and walk on, 

 leaving their own thread as they go. Thus 

 the first night's work results in the laying over 

 the cleft of a filmy gauze, hardly perceptible, 

 but just sufficient for the traffic of the colony. 

 The same thing is repeated on the nights that 

 follow; and the crevice ends by being closed 

 with a scanty sort of Spider's web. And that 

 is all. 



There is no improvement by the end of the 

 winter. The window made by my scissors 

 is still wide open, though thinly veiled; its 

 black spindle shape shows from the top of 

 the nest to the bottom. There is no darn 

 in the split texture, no piece of swan's-down 

 let in between the two edges to restore the 

 roof to its original state. If the accident had 

 happened in the open air and not under glass, 

 the foolish spinners would probably have died 

 of cold in their cracked house. 



Twice renewed with the same results, this 

 test proves that the Pine Caterpillars are not 

 alive to the danger of their split dwelling. 



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