“But the transformations of the butterfly have ever been regarded as very wonderful. The female deposits her eggs upon such plants as are proper to nourish the little caterpillars which are to proceed from them. The common white butterfly places hers upon cabbages. The tortoise-shell and peacock butterflies place theirs upon nettles, &c. These are generally attached by a kind of glue to the surface of the plant. The moths are usually more careful, for they generally deposit their eggs in some concealed place, and wrap them up carefully in a downy substance.
“Butterflies do not enshroud themselves in a silken case, or cocoon, spun from the mouth, as is done by many other insects; but their process is more wonderful. When the butterfly egg is hatched, it produces a caterpillar. This is a kind of heavy worm, usually furnished with sixteen feet.
“It grows rapidly after changing its skin, which process lasts three or four minutes, and frequently proves fatal. It is now furnished with twelve round eyes, and feeds voraciously upon leaves. Having reached its full size, it ceases to eat, and retires to some solitary place to undergo its wonderful transformation.
“Here it proceeds to form a mass of silken threads, which it spins from its mouth. This is attached to a proper place, and the caterpillar is soon seen suspended by the tail. It now raises its head a little, giving a curve to its back. This motion is repeated until a slit is formed, first behind the head, and then along the back. At length the skin of the larva disappears, and the chrysalis is formed. This consists of a smooth, shining mass, speckled with gold.
“The newly-formed chrysalis of a butterfly, when opened, is found to contain only a mass of pap, in which no trace of the limbs of the future butterfly can be observed, yet the outer covering is marked with all the external organs of the future butterfly in a very short time after the skin of the caterpillar has been cast off. On opening the chrysalis, indeed, after a proper space, we shall find, encased in separate parts, the wings, eyes and other organs of the future butterfly.
“When the insect has remained in this pulpy or chrysalis state for a proper time, a motion may be perceived within. The skin, which is now thin and dry, gives way, and bursting into four distinct and regular pieces, liberates its little prisoner. This now emits a reddish colored liquid, which superstitious people have called bloody rain; its wings rapidly assume their proper size, and it joins its companions in the air. The old poet Spencer thus happily describes the new-born insect:
‘When he arriving, round about doth fly
From bed to bed, from one to other border;
And takes survey, with curious, busy eye,
Of every flower and herb there set in order;