A single nettle-clump of any size will disclose dozens, perhaps hundreds, of these tent-dwellers. Though armed with formidable chevaux-de-frise, these species are stingless, and the caterpillars may be safely gathered. The object of my directing attention to them is not simply to disclose them in their haunts, but to recommend their transfer to our collecting-box, looking to the further beautiful surprise—always a surprise—which they have in store for us. Although they quickly desert their tents in captivity, they continue to feed on the fresh leaves provided from day to day, and suffer little in confinement.
The full-grown caterpillars are about an inch and a half in length, and if our specimens average such dimensions we shall not have many days to wait for our surprise. Perhaps to-morrow, as we open the lid of our box, the caterpillars will be seen to have left the leaves, and to be scattered here and there on the lid or walls of their prison in apparent listlessness. Let us observe this individual here beneath the box cover. Its body is bent in a curve, and a careful inspection reveals a carpet of glistening silk, to which it clings. Now the insect regains confidence, and takes up the thread which it dropped a moment ago when the box was opened, its head moving from side to side in a motion suggesting a figure 8, with variations. Gradually, through the lapse of several minutes, this sweep is concentrated to a more central point, which is at length raised into a minute tuft of silk; and if we wait and watch for a few moments longer, we shall see our spinner turn about and clasp this tuft with its hinder pair of feet. And this same process has been going on in different parts of our box. Lifting the lid an hour or two later, we find the interior full of the caterpillars dangling by their tails, each with its body forming a loop.
Twenty-four hours after this suspension a singular feat and a beautiful transformation take place, a revelation which, as I have said, even to those already familiar with it, is always new and surprising. Here, indeed, may we observe "the miraculous in the common."
It is as though our box had met with some enchantment beneath the wand of Midas or Iris; for is it not, indeed, a box of jewels that is now disclosed, a treasury of quaint golden ear-drops of a fashioning unlike any to be seen in a show-case, but which might well serve as a rare model for the mimetic art of the jeweller? When we consider the length to which these exquisite artisans will go for their natural originals—the orchids in gems, beetles in jewelled enamel, butterflies in brilliants and emeralds and rubies—need we wonder that this one most significant model of nature's own jewelry, apparently designed as a tempting pendant, should have been ignored by a class of designers to whom its claims would seem irresistible? But we forget. The jeweller is not necessarily an entomologist or naturalist. The butterfly, the beetle, the flower, every one sees; how few even dream of these glowing chrysalids (aurelias) which hang beneath the nettle leaves or in unseen coverts among the hop or thistle?
I have looked in vain among all the designs in the shops for any hint of the existence of such a thing as the aurelia of Archippus, comma, semicolon, Red Admiral, Hunters, White J.; and, indeed, even if wrought to imitative perfection, how few would recognize any resemblance to aught on the earth or in the waters under the earth!
I will not attempt to describe this living gem of our "comma." There are degrees in its brilliancy, an occasional specimen being almost a mass of gold. Indeed, we need scarce wonder that the aurelia should have proved so tempting a lure to the ancient alchemists.
Almost any group of nettles will show us our "comma" caterpillar, but one of its favorite haunts is the wood-nettle, a large-leaved, low variety, which is to be found in moist woods and shady river-banks, and will be recognized by the illustration on the preceding page. I have gathered many of these animated tented leaves in a few moments' search among the plants.
I have said nothing of the wonderful transformation of the caterpillar to its chrysalis, and the astonishing trick by which the latter gets out of its skin, and again catches the silken loop with its tail. This feat is well worth a close study; the authorities in the past have all been at sixes and sevens as to what really takes place. Which of our boys or girls can discover the facts as they are, and tell us why the chrysalis does not fall out at the last moment?