buckled; the outer skin is not even
crumpled, and all the tissues remain in their natural position. The
insect is now hanging from the dome of the cover solely by the claws of
the long hind-legs. It hangs in an almost vertical position, the head
downwards, swinging like a pendulum if I touch the cover. Four tiny,
steely claws are its only support. If they gave or unclasped themselves
the insect would be lost, as it is as yet unable to unfurl its enormous
wings; but even had the wings emerged they could not grip the air in
time to save the creature from the consequences of a fall. But the four
claws hold fast; life, before withdrawing from them, left them rigidly
contracted, so that they should support without yielding the struggles
and withdrawals to follow.

Now the wing-covers and wings emerge. These are four narrow strips,
vaguely seamed and furrowed, like strings of rolled tissue-paper. They
are barely a quarter of their final length.

They are so soft that they bend under their own weight, and hang down
the creature's sides in the reverse of their normal position. The free
extremities, which normally point backwards, are now pointing towards
the cricket's head as it hangs reversed. The organs of future flight are
like four leaves of withered foliage shattered by a terrific rainstorm.

A profound transformation is necessary to bring the wings to their final
perfection. The inner changes are already at work; liquids are
solidifying; albuminous secretions are bringing order out of chaos; but
so far no outward sign betrays what is happening in the mysterious
laboratory of the organism. All seems inert and lifeless.

In the meantime the posterior limbs disengage themselves. The great
haunches become visible, streaked on the inner faces with a pale rose,
which rapidly turns to a vivid crimson. Emergence is easy, the thick and
muscular upper portion of the haunch preparing the way for the narrower
part of the limb.

It is otherwise with the shank. This, in the adult insect, is armed
along its whole length by a double series of stiff, steely spines.
Moreover, the lower extremity is terminated by four strong spurs. The
shank forms a veritable saw, but with two parallel sets of teeth; and it
is so strongly made that it may well be compared, the question of size
apart, to the great saw of a quarry-man.

The shank of the larva has the same structure, so that the object to be
extracted is enclosed in a scabbard as awkward