two front pairs of legs, and covered all over with silk issuing from the mouth of the caterpillar. The caterpillar then twisted the front part of its body round, and attached with silk the bud to one of the spinous processes, and another bud would then be attached to this, and so on until a sufficiently long string—generally three or four buds—was made, when operations on another spine would be commenced. The caterpillar fed on these buds, scooping out the interior, and when not hurried, using the empty shells in preference to whole buds for its covering. When irritated it curled up, and remained thus for fifteen or twenty minutes. At other times it would sway about, looking like a branchlet blown by the breeze.”[102] In time this caterpillar made “a silk cocoon covered with buds,” but it never turned into a butterfly, for ants attacked it, and its life was nipped in the bud. It appears to be a very rare caterpillar, and nobody knows what butterfly it belongs to, or what is its full Latin name. Since it is a _Geometer_, however, why not _Geometer ignota_ under a sketch (as given in _Nature_, June 25th, 1903), in the cabinet—which would, in all cases, be the better plan? I really do not know whether this or another caterpillar of South America be the more extraordinary, for if the one makes itself like something, the other makes something like itself. _Anæa_ (_sp?_)—I give the name as I find it—is a little green caterpillar having a very funny nondescript sort of shape—as much like a little piece of gnawed-out leaf, left hanging to the midrib, as anything else. Such an object, however, is not one of the common ones of nature, and if it stood alone might be unrecognised or misinterpreted. The caterpillar, therefore, feeding along the midrib of the leaf, gnaws out a number of such little pieces, more or less like itself, and leaves them sticking upright along it, attached by a point or two. All the rest of the leaf at that part of the midrib, it apparently eats, or bites away, so that there remains only the slender, bare stalk, with several bits of leaf upon it, one of which is the caterpillar. To say which bit is he is now very difficult, and it looks as if none of them were. This caterpillar is, of course, green, like the leaf he feeds on, but he is not the same colour all over. He is light above and dark below, and this exactly suits—I have it on authority—the chiaroscuro of the situation, so that, both in light and shadow, he looks for all the world like a little elongated bit of green leaf attached to the midrib by a couple of stalks.[103] One would say, “Some caterpillars must have been eating that leaf”; but one would never think the caterpillar that had been eating it was still there. ----- Footnote 91: Bates, The Naturalist on the River Amazon (second edition, 1864), p. 420. Footnote 92: Belt, The Naturalist in Nicaragua, pp. 19, 20. Footnote 93: Proc. Zool. Society for 1891, pp. 462, 463. Footnote 94: