unfortunate sleepers removed from
their silken bags and doomed, for the most part, to a wretched end,
despite the care which I took to put them in a place of safety, where
the work of the transformation might be pursued! Curiosity makes us
cruel. I continue to rip up cocoons. And nothing, nothing! It needed the
sturdiest faith to make me persevere. That faith I possessed; and well
for me that I did.

On the 25th of July--the date deserves to be recorded--I saw, or rather
seemed to see, something move on the Chalicodoma's larva. Was it an
illusion born of my hopes? Was it a bit of diaphanous down stirred by my
breath? It was not an illusion, it was not a bit of down, it was really
and truly a grub. What a moment, followed by what perplexities! The
thing has nothing in common with the larva of the Anthrax, it suggests
rather some microscopic Thread worm that, by accident, has made its way
through the skin of its host and come to enjoy itself outside. I do not
reckon my discovery as of much value, because I am so greatly puzzled
by the creature's appearance. No matter: we will take a small glass
tube and place inside it the Chalicodoma grub and the mysterious thing
wriggling on the surface. Suppose it should be what I am looking for?
Who knows?

Once warned of the probable difficulty of seeing the animalcule for
which I am hunting, I redouble my attention, so much so that, in a
couple of days, I am the owner of half a score of tiny worms similar
to the one which caused me such excitement. Each of them is lodged in
a glass tube with its Chalicodoma grub. The infinitesimal thing is so
small, so diaphanous, blends to such good purpose with its host that the
least fold of skin conceals it from my view. After watching it one day
through the lens, I sometimes fail to find it again on the morrow. I
think that I have lost it, that it has perished under the weight of the
overturned larva and returned to that nothing to which it was so closely
akin. Then it moves and I see it again. For a whole fortnight, there
was no limit to my perplexity. Was it really the original larva of the
Anthrax? Yes, for I at last saw my bantlings transform themselves into
the larva previously described and make their first start at draining
their victims with kisses. A few moments of satisfaction like those
which I then enjoyed make up for many a weary hour.

Let us resume the story of the wee animal, now recognized as the genuine
origin of the Anthr