Part 35

The moth often flies by day. He has lovely, painted wings, but they do not gleam as do those of the butterfly.

“I do not want to hear about moths,” said a little girl; “I know all about them. I kill all I can see. I killed a big, white one, last night. They do so much harm. They ate up my mother’s best muff!”

“And did you kill the tiny, silvery-looking moth, which was flying close to the carpet? He is a little fellow, who when he lights, is folded into a roll, not so long as the nail of your little finger.”

“No,” says the little girl; “he is too little to do any harm. I let him alone.”

“Alas! my child. How easy it is, in this world, to be mistaken! How often the innocent suffer for the guilty! That silent, white creature, looking like the ghost of a lily, never has done any harm. That little silver roll is the meddler, who, in his early days, ate up your mother’s muff! Come, I see you know nothing about moths.”

As we sat on the porch, last night, some one said, “Who ever before saw a humming-bird flying at night? There is one now, at the honey-suckles.” No! it was not a humming-bird, but a large hawk-moth. He hung poised on his quivering wings, unrolled his long trunk, thrust it deep into a flower, and drank honey.

It was hard to distinguish him from a humming-bird. Then, as he dashed across a moonlit space, he looked like the swallows we had watched at sunset.

The hawk-moths are large, with large furry bodies. They have a swift, bird-like flight. One of the largest is called the “death’s head.” He is furry, even to his wings and legs. On his shoulders he has black and white marks, like a skull.

The caterpillar of this moth is the largest of caterpillars. It is four inches long, and as thick as a man’s finger. Its color is green, gray, and yellow, with black dots. It lives on potato-vines. It has bluish stripes on the sides.

If you find one, you can raise a moth from it. You must keep it in a dark place, give it potato leaves to eat, and some moist earth to burrow in. For this caterpillar hides in the ground, to spend his pupa days. The pupa case looks, I think, much like a sea-shell.

A queer thing about this moth is, that it can squeak. If you touch its feet, with a bit of stick, it seems angry. It crouches down, and gives a squeak. No one knows how it makes this noise.

Another curious moth is the wasp moth. It is a day-flyer. It loves the hottest noons. It does not look much like a moth. It looks like a wasp, or hornet. Its body is slim, and has yellow and black bands. Its wings have very few scales. The wings are thin and clear, like those of a wasp.

These wasp moths live about trees and shrubs. They lay their eggs under the bark.

The caterpillars are able to eat wood. They gnaw the wood for food, and so dig their way into the trees, and live there. When they have eaten all they want, they have made a nice little hole in the tree. They line it with silk. Then they fall asleep in their pupa state.

When they are ready to come out, they do not leave their hard pupa case in the tree. They need it to protect their wings, as they creep out. When they get to the door of the hole, they pull their bodies out of the case. Then they fly off, and leave the pupa case sticking in the hole.

The most useful moth, one worth all the rest, is the bombyx. He made your mother’s silk dress, and your hair ribbon. “What!” Well, did you never hear of the silk-worm? The silk-worm is the caterpillar of a moth.

This is a dull, plain, little insect. Its trunk is very short, in fact, it is almost gone, for this moth never eats. It is very short-lived. All it lives for is to lay a great many hundred eggs.

These eggs are laid on mulberry trees. The caterpillar soon hatches from the egg. It is a small, homely thing. It eats much during thirty days. In one thing it is different from all other caterpillars. It has a much better silk-spinner in its head. It makes a great deal of strong, yellow silk. Its body seems full of the sticky stuff, which, when it is drawn out, hardens into silk.

Of this silk the caterpillar spins its cocoon. It spins hundreds of yards of fine, silk thread. Then it wraps itself in a cocoon and casts off its caterpillar skin. If left alone in the cocoon, it eats its way out, when it has become a full-grown moth.

You must ask your mother or teacher to tell you how this ball of silk is turned into ribbons and dresses.

From the moth which makes silk for our clothes, let us turn to the moth which eats up our fur and woollen clothes. The name of this little plague is Tinea. You might as well call him tiny, for he is the least of all moths. He looks as harmless as possible.

He is a mere little silvery, fringy roll, hiding in shady places, or flitting low and silently on his little gray wings.

But little Mrs. Tiny, whose name tinea means that she is a spoiler of things, lays hundreds of eggs. She hides her eggs in carpets, curtains, furniture, and clothes. As soon as the little caterpillar is out of the egg, it proceeds to gnaw what it is lying on.

This small creature bites and pulls out hairs, or threads, and weaves for itself a nice little rainbow case. As it grows larger, it builds more case with more threads. As these hairs or threads are stolen out of our best things, soon we find great holes in our coats and gowns.

Shake the clothes, and out fall hundreds of little larvæ, or wee caterpillars. When the case is all finished the caterpillar likes to hang it up by the closed end. Then he hangs in it head downward, as a pupa. The case looks like a little roll of dust and fuzz. But the fuzzy end is the head of little tinea, living out his pupa days.

LESSON XXVII.

THE CHILD OF THE NIGHT.

I suppose you have seen great cobweb-like nests, hanging on plum, cherry, and apple trees. You have heard them called “worm nests.” You have seen that they are full of brown caterpillars, about an inch long.