known to Réaumur. The rejected coat forms a suspensory thread, expanding
at its free end to form a little cup. In this cup is inserted the end of
the abdomen of the larva, which, before allowing itself to fall to
earth, takes a sun-bath, grows harder, stretches itself, and tries its
strength, lightly swinging at the end of its life-line.

This little flea, as Réaumur calls it, first white, then amber-coloured,
is precisely the larva which will delve in the earth. The antennæ, of
fair length, are free and waving to and fro; the limbs are bending at
their articulations; the fore-limbs, which are relatively powerful, open
and shut their talons. I can scarcely think of any more curious
spectacle than that of this tiny gymnast hanging by its tail, swinging
to the faintest breath, and preparing in the air for its entry into the
world. It hangs there for a variable period; some larvæ let themselves
fall at the end of half an hour; others spend hours in their
long-stemmed cup; some even remain suspended until the following day.

Whether soon or late, the fall of the larva leaves suspended the thread
by which it hung, the wrappings of the primary larva. When all the brood
have disappeared, the aperture of the nest is thus hung with a branch of
fine, short threads, twisted and knotted together, like dried white of
egg. Each thread is expanded into a tiny cup at its free end. These are
very delicate and ephemeral relics, which perish at a touch. The least
wind quickly blows them away.

Let us return to the larva. Sooner or later, as we have seen, it falls
to the ground, either by accident or intention. The tiny creature, no
bigger than a flea, has preserved its tender newly-hatched flesh from
contact with the rough earth by hanging in the air until its tissues
have hardened. Now it plunges into the troubles of life.