‘_Take one of the animals when about to form its cocoon, clean it in common vinegar, in which it may remain from four to six hours, open it on the back and extract the silk vessels, there being one on each side of the alimentary canal. Take them up by the hinder end, just where they begin to swell (further back the silk is not solid enough), and draw them out. The membrane forming the vessel is easily torn open, and the contents expand to six or seven times its original length. The skein having attained its full length by the letting out of its gathers, we obtain a cord perfectly equal in size throughout, except at the end, where it is attenuated._ This cord resembles a large horse-hair, and constitutes what fishermen call “_Florence hair_.” I ought to add that in simply drawing out the silk vessel, the Florence hair is found enveloped in a golden yellow gummy matter, forming the glutinous portion by which the worm fastens its thread. This must be got rid of by drawing the cord through the fold formed on the inside of the joint of the left fore finger, converted into a canal by applying to it the end of the thumb. The glutinous substance and the membranes being thus separated, we have the _naked hair_. In this state, before the silk becomes dry and hard, not only will it be indefinitely divided longitudinally, which proves its fibrous structure, but in trying to split it by drawing it transversely, _the little filaments of silk which form it are perfectly separated_, making _a bundle of extremely fine fibrils_.’ We cannot better conclude this interesting portion of our subject, than by quoting the following beautiful lines by Miss H. F. Gould:-- THE SILK-WORM’S WILL. On a plain rush hurdle a silk-worm lay, When a proud young princess came that way: The haughty child of a human king, Threw a sidelong glance at the humble thing, That took, with a silent gratitude, From the mulberry leaf, her simple food; And shrunk, half scorn and half disgust, Away from her sister child of dust-- Declaring she never yet could see Why a reptile form like this should be, And that she was not made with nerves so firm, As calmly to stand by a “crawling worm!” With mute forbearance the silk-worm took The taunting words, and the spurning look: Alike a stranger to self and pride, She’d no disquiet from aught beside-- And lived of a meekness and peace possessed, Which these debar from the human breast. She only wished, for the harsh abuse, To find some way to become of use To the haughty daughter of lordly man; And thus did she lay a noble plan, To teach her wisdom, and make it plain, That the humble worm was not made in vain; A plan so generous, deep and high, That, to carry it out, she must even die!