e. Without effort on its part, without violent
expenditure of motor force, the swimmer is borne up by the mere
pressure of the water. A bath whose temperature varies but little
enables it to live in ignorance of excessive cold or heat.

In the same way, the mollusc, for the most part a denizen of the seas,
leads a blissful life in its shell, which is a defensive fortress
rather than a garment. Lastly the crustacean confines itself to making
a suit of armour out of its mineral skin.

In all these, from the hairy to the crustaceous, the real coat, the
coat turned out by a special industry, does not exist. Hair, fur,
feather, scale, shell, stony armour require no intervention of the
wearer; they are natural products, not the artificial creations of the
animal. To find clothiers able to place upon their backs that which
their organization refuses them, we must descend from man to certain
insects.

Ridiculous attire, of which we are so proud, made from the slaver of a
caterpillar or the fleece of a silly sheep: among its inventors the
first and foremost is the Crioceris-larva, with its jacket of dung! In
the art of clothing itself, it preceded the Eskimo, who scrapes the
bowels of the seal to make himself a suit of dittos; it forestalled
our ancestor the troglodyte, who borrowed the fur-coat of his
contemporary the Cave-bear. We had not got beyond the fig-leaf, when
the Crioceris already excelled in the manufacture of homespun, both
providing the raw material and piecing it together.

For reasons of economy and easy acquisition, its disgusting method,
but with very elegant modifications, suits the clan of the Clythrae
and Cryptocephali, those pretty and magnificently coloured Beetles.
Their larva, a naked little grub, makes itself a long, narrow pot, in
which it lives just like the Snail in his shell. As a coat and as a
dwelling the timid creature makes use of a jar, better still, of a
graceful vase, the product of its industry.

Once inside, it never comes out. If anything alarms it, with a sudden
recoil it withdraws completely into its urn, the opening of which is
closed with the disk formed by the flat top of the head. When quiet is
restored, it ventures to put out its head and the three segments with
legs to them, but is very careful to keep the rest, which is more
delicate and fastened to the back, inside.

With tiny steps, weighted by the burden, it makes its way along,
lifting its earthenware container behind i