er these conditions the larva as it will be presently,
when it has torn its temporary wrappings, would be unable to effect the
difficult passage. With the encumbrance of antennae, with long limbs
spreading far out from the axis of the body, with curved, pointed talons
which hook themselves into their medium of support, everything would
militate against a prompt liberation. The eggs in one chamber hatch
almost simultaneously. It is therefore essential that the first-born
larvae should hurry out of their shelter as quickly as possible, leaving
the passage free for those behind them. Hence the boat-like shape, the
smooth hairless body without projections, which easily squeezes its way
past obstructions. The primary larva, with its various appendages
closely wrapped against its body by a common sheath, with its fish-like
form and its single and only partially movable limb, is perfectly
adapted to make the difficult passage to the outer air.

This phase is of short duration. Here, for instance, a migrating larva
shows its head, with its big black eyes, and raises the broken fibres of
the entrance. It gradually works itself forward, but so slowly that the
magnifying-glass scarcely reveals its progress. At the end of half an
hour at the shortest we see the entire body of the creature; but the
orifice by which it is escaping still holds it by the hinder end of the
body.

Then, without further delay, the coat which it wears for this rough
piece of work begins to split, and the larva skins itself, coming out of
its wrappings head first. It is then the normal larva; the only form
known to Reaumur. The rejected coat forms a suspensory thread, expanding
at its free end to form a little cup. In this cup is inserted the end of
the abdomen of the larva, which, before allowing itself to fall to
earth, takes a sun-bath, grows harder, stretches itself, and tries its
strength, lightly swinging at the end of its life-line.

This little flea, as Reaumur calls it, first white, then amber-coloured,
is precisely the larva which will delve in the earth. The antennae, of
fair length, are free and waving to and fro; the limbs are bending at
their articulations; the fore-limbs, which are relatively powerful, open
and shut their talons. I can scarcely think of any more curious
spectacle than that of this tiny gymnast hanging by its tail, swinging
to the faintest breath, and preparing in the air for its entry into the
world. It hangs there for a va