WHAT AILS HIM? 



245 



ered with its load of cocoons a fortnight ago, for 

 in the morning, upon opening the box in which I 

 had placed him, a number of tiny black flies flew 

 out, and several of the white cocoons were open 

 at the end, their dainty hinged lids thrown back. 

 Here is one with its black midge just creeping 

 out; others with the tiny imp 

 peeping through the fine crev- 

 ice ; others with the lid still 

 tightly closed, but with its junc- 

 ture disclosing more distinctly 

 every moment the knavery of 

 the busy teeth within. One by one 

 the silken lids popped up, and out 

 flew the mischievous jack-in-the-box until 

 within the space of a few hours every 

 cocoon was empty. So this is " what 

 ailed him." He has been the victim 

 of the parasitic fly known as microgaster. 



But even now that his mortal enemies have 

 left him, I fancy he is past encouragement or 

 salvation. What will become of him ? In his 

 particular case he continued to dwindle and soon 

 died, though in other instances I have known him 

 to recover and reach the chrysalis stage, to com- 

 plete his transformation into a beautiful olive and 

 red sphinx-moth. 



