CHAPTER VIII 

 INSECT METAMORPHOSIS 



The fascination of mythology and the charm of fairy 

 tales lie in the power of the characters to change their 

 form or to be changed by others. Zeus would court the 

 lovely Semele, but knowing well she could not endure the 

 radiance of a god, he takes the form of a mortal. Omit 

 the metamorphosis, and what becomes of the myth? 

 And who would remember the story of Cinderella if the 

 fairy godmother were left out? The flirtation between 

 the heroine and the prince, the triumph of beauty, the 

 chagrin of the haughty sisters — these are but ingredients 

 in the pot of common fiction. But the transformation 

 of rats into prancing horses, of lizards into coachman 

 and lackeys, of rags into fine raiment — this imparts the 

 thrill that endures a lifetime! 



It is not surprising, then, that the insects, by reason 

 of the never-ending marvel of their transformations, hold 

 first place in every course of nature study in our modern 

 schools, or that nature writers of all times have found a 

 principal source of inspiration in the "wonders of insect 

 life." Nor, finally, should it be made a matter of scorn 

 if the insects have attached themselves to our emotions, 

 knowing how ardently the natural human mind craves a 

 sign of the supernatural. The butterfly, spirit of the 

 lowly caterpillar, has thus been exalted as a symbol of 

 human resurrection, and its image, carved on graveyard 

 gates, still offers hope to those unfortunates interred 

 behind the walls. 



Metamorphosis is a magic word, in spite of its formidable 



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