CEY OF THE DEATH'S HEAD MOTH. 415 



insect is its capability of producing sounds — a capability which 

 is scarcely less striking than the skull depicted upon its 

 thorax. If seized, or alarmed in any way, it produces — for I 

 cannot say utters — a sharp squeaking sound, something like 

 the cry of a mouse. It was always easy to make my Death's 

 Head Moths squeak, nothing more being required than to 

 introduce a little stick under the glass shade which covered 

 them, and to press one of their feet. The aggrieved Moth 

 would then crouch as low as possible, and, with a sort of shiver 

 or tremble of the whole body, out came the squeak. 



Although this sound is familiar to entomologists, no one has 

 yet discovered its source. Some have thought that it is caused 

 by the rubbing of the head against the thorax, some by the 

 attrition of the antennae and trunk, and some by the friction of 

 the thorax against the abdomen. These theories are, however, 

 neutralised by the fact that not only can the perfect insect 

 produce the squeak, but that the caterpillar can do so, which 

 possesses neither trunk nor antennae, and has no distinctive 

 head, thorax, or abdomen. 



It is a remarkable point that agricultural labourers, who 

 have the very best opportunities of ascertaining the habits of 

 living beings, scarcely ever do so, and when they do are 

 invariably afraid of them. The ominous-looking mark on the 

 thorax has always caused the insect to be looked on with dread, 

 not only in this country but on the Continent generally, in the 

 southern parts of which it is very plentiful. The power of 

 producing a sound is another cause of fear, and I have else- 

 where narrated an amusing incident, where a whole circle of 

 village people were standing around a Death's Head Moth that 

 had by some mischance got into the churchyard. Not one of 

 them dared touch it, and at last it was killed by the village 

 blacksmith, who courageously took a long jump and came down 

 on the unfortunate Moth with his iron-shod boots. 



In this country it certainly does no harm, but in Southern 

 Europe it is said to enter bee-hives and lick the honey from 

 the cells. 



Owing to the vast quantity of hair with which the body is 

 covered it is of some conseqvience to secure specimens that are 

 not damaged by being rubbed, as is generally the case with 

 those that are captured by hand. The best mode of obtaining 



