corner; my study was crammed with them. What hecatombs of
unfortunate sleepers removed from their silken bags and doomed, for
the most part, to a wretched end, despite the care which I took to
put them in a place of safety, where the work of the transformation
might be pursued! Curiosity makes us cruel. I continue to rip up
cocoons. And nothing, nothing! It needed the sturdiest faith to
make me persevere. That faith I possessed; and well for me that I
did.

On the 25th of July--the date deserves to be recorded--I saw, or
rather seemed to see, something move on the Chalicodoma's larva.
Was it an illusion born of my hopes? Was it a bit of diaphanous
down stirred by my breath? It was not an illusion, it was not a
bit of down, it was really and truly a grub. What a moment,
followed by what perplexities! The thing has nothing in common with
the larva of the Anthrax, it suggests rather some microscopic
Thread worm that, by accident, has made its way through the skin of
its host and come to enjoy itself outside. I do not reckon my
discovery as of much value, because I am so greatly puzzled by the
creature's appearance. No matter: we will take a small glass tube
and place inside it the Chalicodoma grub and the mysterious thing
wriggling on the surface. Suppose it should be what I am looking
for? Who knows?

Once warned of the probable difficulty of seeing the animalcule for
which I am hunting, I redouble my attention, so much so that, in a
couple of days, I am the owner of half a score of tiny worms
similar to the one which caused me such excitement. Each of them
is lodged in a glass tube with its Chalicodoma grub. The
infinitesimal thing is so small, so diaphanous, blends to such good