THE ANT-UON. 165 



jerked out of the pit, and the Ant-lion settles itself in readiness 

 for another victim. 



Sometimes, when a more powerful insect, such as a large 

 wood-ant, or heetle, or perhaps a hunting spider, happens to fall 

 into the pit, the Ant-lion does not obtain a meal on such easy 

 terms. The victim has no idea of surrendering at discretion, 

 but tries to scramble up the sides of the pit, and in its furious 

 exertions, it brings down the sand in torrents, filling up the pit, 

 making the slope of the sides shallower, and so rendering its 

 escape easy. Then ttiere is a battle between the Ant-lion and its 

 intended prey, the one bringing the sand into the pit and the 

 other flinging it out again so as to restore the steepness of the 

 sides, and to deepen the pit. 



Sometimes a quantity of the sand flung by the Ant-lion 

 happens to fall on the escaping victim, knocks it over, and en- 

 ables the devourer to grasp it in the terrible jaws, which never 

 open but to reject the dead and withered carcases ; sometimes 

 the insect is tired before the Ant-lion, and suffers itself to be 

 captured; and sometimes, though -very rarely, it succeeds in 

 making its escape. In either case, the pitfall is quite out of 

 shape, and instead of re- arranging it, the Ant-lion deserts it and 

 makes another. Some writers have said that the Ant-lion flings 

 the saud at its escaping prey with deliberate aim and intention. 

 It does nothing of the kind, but only tosses the sand out as fast 

 as its head can work, without aiming in any direction, or having 

 any idea except to prevent the pit from being filled up. 



Its earth-burrowing life does not cease until it assumes the 

 perfect state. When it has passed its full time in the larval con- 

 dition, and is about to change into a pupa, it spins a silken 

 cocoon of a globular form, and therein remains until it is about to 

 assume its perfect condition. The pupa then bites a hole through 

 the side of the cocoon, and projects its body half out of the aper- 

 ture. The pupal skin then withers, bursts, and the perfect insect 

 emerges. Scarcely has it taken the first few breaths of air, than 

 its abdomen, which before was short, so as to be included within 

 the cocoon, extends to nearly three times its original length, so 

 as to resemble that of the dragon-fly; the curious antennae unroll 

 themselves, the wings shake out by degrees their beautiful folds, 

 and in a short time the lovely insect is ready for flight It is 

 scarcely possible to imagine a more complete contrast than that 



