The Pine Bombyx has rivals in the art of gracefully grouping her egg-beads. Among their number is the Neustrian Bombyx, whose caterpillar is known by the name of “Livery,” because of his costume. Her eggs are assembled in bracelets around little branches varying greatly in nature, apple- and pear-branches chiefly. Any one seeing this elegant work for the first time would be ready to attribute it to the fingers of a skilled stringer of beads. My small son Paul opens eyes wide with surprise and utters an astonished “Oh!” each time that he comes upon the dear little bracelet. The beauty of order forces itself upon his dawning attention. Though not so long and marked above all by the absence of any wrapper, the ring of the Neustrian Bombyx reminds one of the other’s cylinder, stripped of its scaly covering. It would be easy to multiply these instances of elegant grouping, contrived now in one way, now in another, but always with consummate art. It would take up too much time, however. Let us keep to the Pine Bombyx. The hatching takes place in September, a little earlier in one case, a little later in another. So that I may easily watch the new-born caterpillars in their first labours, I have placed a few egg-laden branches in the window of my study. They are standing in a glass of water which will keep them properly fresh for some time. The little caterpillars leave the egg in the morning, at about eight o’clock. If I just lift the scales of the cylinder in process of hatching, I see black heads appear, which nibble and burst and push back the torn ceilings. The tiny creatures emerge slowly, some here and some there, all over the surface. After the hatching, the scaly cylinder is as regular and as fresh in appearance as if it were still inhabited. We do not perceive that it is deserted until we raise the spangles. The eggs, still arranged in regular rows, are now so many yawning goblets of a slightly translucent white; they lack the cap-shaped lid, which has been rent and destroyed by the new-born grubs. The puny creatures measure a millimetre [5] at most in length. Devoid as yet of the bright red that will soon be their adornment, they are pale-yellow, bristling with hairs, some shortish and black, others rather longer and white. The head, of a glossy black, is big in proportion. Its diameter is twice that of the body. This exaggerated size of the head implies a corresponding strength of jaw, capable of attacking tough food from the start. A huge head, stoutly clad in horn, is the predominant feature of the budding caterpillar.