But now the grandest of all these transformation scenes is nigh at hand. The protective skin is already loosening from the almost perfect imago, and consequently feels softer and far more yielding than it did when in close contact with the body: the swaddled butterfly or moth (for such the pupa is) is slowly preparing to throw off its imprisoning garb. The wings and large compound eyes are assuming their final colours, which now begin to show themselves through the more or less transparent skin, and the long legs, the perfectly formed antennae, and the slender proboscis, all of which are folded closely under the creature's thorax, now begin to move within their loosened sheaths. Now let us watch it closely, for one of the most wonderful sights ever witnessed by a naturalist is about to be presented to our view. We think we can observe slight movements; and, it may be, we can actually see the struggling insect endeavouring to set itself free. The legs and proboscis are moving within the loosened skin; and lo! as we watch these motions, the prison wall bursts with a slight snapping noise (at least, such is the case with some of the larger species), and in a moment out pop a few long legs which immediately struggle for a foothold. The proboscis also appears, alternately lengthening itself out and coiling into a spiral, as if impatient to reach the sweet nectar from the bottom of some fragrant flower cup. [Illustration: FIG. 36--A BUTTERFLY, JUST AFTER EMERGING.] All this takes place in less time than one requires to describe it; and, before many seconds have passed, the struggling insect has quite completed its last moult, and is bidding good-bye to the rent garment that has done it good service for so long a time. But how dreadfully disappointing! Did we not say only a few minutes since, that a beautiful butterfly or moth was about to emerge? How, then, is this? Here is an odd-looking creature, such as we have never seen before! True, it has the right kind of body, though even that is so soft and heavy that it is fairly dragged along as the insect walks. Its antennae, too, seem to be just the right thing--that is, just what we were expecting to see. But oh! the wings! Are we looking at a deformity?--a failure on the part of Nature to produce what she ought? We will not judge hastily, but continue to watch it a little longer. It seems very restless at first, and, with the fluttering apologies for wings, drags its heavy body along till it reaches some surface up which it can climb. If nothing of the kind is close at hand you may place a _rough_ upright stick in its path, and it will immediately begin to ascend. Its motto is now 'Excelsior!' and its ambition to rise may be so great that, on reaching the very top of the stick provided for it, it struggles for a still higher position in life till, failing to get a foothold in the air itself, it falls to the ground and has to retrace its steps.