many families keep silkworms;--the tending and feeding being
mostly done by women and children. The worms are kept in large
oblong trays, elevated upon light wooden stands about three feet
high. It is curious to see hundreds of caterpillars feeding all
together in one tray, and to hear the soft papery noise which
they make while gnawing their mulberry-leaves. As they approach
maturity, the creatures need almost constant attention. At brief
intervals some expert visits each tray to inspect progress, picks
up the plumpest feeders, and decides, by gently rolling them
between forefinger and thumb, which are ready to spin. These are
dropped into covered boxes, where they soon swathe themselves out
of sight in white floss. A few only of the best are suffered to
emerge from their silky sleep,--the selected breeders. They have
beautiful wings, but cannot use them. They have mouths, but do
not eat. They only pair, lay eggs, and die. For thousands of
years their race has been so well-cared for, that it can no
longer take any care of itself.

It was the evolutional lesson of this latter fact that chiefly
occupied me while Niimi and his younger brother (who feeds the
worms) were kindly explaining the methods of the industry. They
told me curious things about different breeds, and also about a
wild variety of silkworm that cannot be domesticated:--it spins
splendid silk before turning into a vigorous moth which can use
its wings to some purpose. But I fear that I did not act like a
person who felt interested in the subject; for, even while I
tried to listen, I began to muse.

II