aised and the amount of money which can be made from them
with very small capital. This business, however, like all other kinds
of business, requires close attention and skill if it is to be a
success. An expert has said that it needs more time to build a spool
of silk than a locomotive.

The way to begin to raise silkworms is first of all to provide
something for them to eat. They are very particular about their bill
of fare. The leaf of the osage orange will answer, but they like much
better the leaf of the white mulberry. Then send to a reliable dealer
for a quarter of an ounce of silkworm eggs. That sounds like a small
order, but it will bring you nine or ten thousand eggs, ready to
become sturdy little silkworms if all goes well with them. Put them on
a table with a top of wire netting covered with brown paper, and keep
them comfortably warm. In a week or two, there will appear some little
worms about an eighth of an inch long and covered with black hairs.
These tiny worms have to become three inches or more in length, and
they are expected to accomplish the feat in about a month. If a boy
four feet tall should grow at the silkworm's rate for one month, he
would become forty-eight feet tall. It is no wonder that the worms
have to make a business of eating, or that the keeper has to make a
business of providing them with food. They eat most of the time, and
they make a queer little crackling sound while they are about it. They
have from four to eight meals a day of mulberry leaves. The worms from
a quarter of an ounce of eggs begin with one pound a day, and work up
to between forty and fifty. Silkworms like plenty of fresh air, and if
they are to thrive, their table must be kept clean. A good way to
manage this is to put over them paper full of holes large enough for
them to climb through. Lay the leaves upon the paper; the worms will
come up through the holes to eat, and the litter on their table can
be cleared away. As the worms grow larger, the holes must be made
larger. It is no wonder that their skins soon become too tight for
them. They actually lose their appetite for a day or two, and they
slip away to some quiet corner under the leaves, and plainly wish
there were no other worms to bother them. Soon the skin comes off,
and they make up for lost time so energetically that they have to drop
their tight skins three times more before they are fully grown. Wet
mulberry leaves must not be given them, or they will