CHAPTER THE EIGHTH. 
COCOONS, BUT NOT OF SILK, 
The caterpillar of the moth, as I told you be¬ 
fore, lies in the chrysalis state a much longer 
time than that of the butterfly does. Indeed, it 
often passes many months in this defenceless 
condition; and something more is required than 
a mere girth, or hanging itself up by the tail. 
Nature has therefore given it the instinct to form 
a cocoon, or case, within which it may lie com¬ 
pletely hidden. 
The caterpillar seems to know how important 
it is to make this provision for itself, and when 
the time has come, it sets to work with the 
greatest industry, and as if it had not a moment 
to lose. Directed by an Almighty Hand, it plans 
out its temporary dwelling with the skill of an 
architect. It contrives means for the comfort 
and security of the future chrysalis; and ensures 
the outlet of the moth, with an ingenuity that 
