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MRAP Directory 19
Page 07
Many insects pass the winter in the quiescent or pupal stage; a state exceedingly well fitted for hibernating, requiring as it does, no food, and giving plenty of time for the marvellous changes which are then undergone. Some of these pupae are enclosed in dense silken cocoons, which are bound to the twigs of the plants upon which the larvae feed, and thus they swing securely in their silken hammocks through all the storms of winter. Perhaps the most common of these is that of the brown Cecropian moth, _Attacus cecropia_ L., the large oval cocoon of which is a conspicuous object in the winter on the twigs of our common shade and fruit trees. Many other pupae may be found beneath logs or on the under side of bark, and usually have the chrysalis surrounded by a thin covering of hairs, which are rather loosely arranged. A number pass the cold season in the earth with no protective covering whatever. Among these is a large brown chrysalis with a long tongue case bent over so as to resemble the handle of a jug. Every farm boy has ploughed or spaded it up in the spring, and is it but the pupa of a large sphinx moth, _Protoparce celeus_ Hub., the larva of which is the great green worm, with a "horn on its tail," so common on tomato plants in the late summer.
In such a mood as that there is no sense of terror or despair at the quick-coming onset of death; no more dread of what may be than there is when the hamlet, with its little roofs and tall trees, is folded in the arms of the night, as the sunset dies behind the hill. Beauty may be a terrible thing, as in the sheeted cataract, with all its boiling eddies, or in the falling of the lightning from the womb of the cloud. There is desolation behind that, gigantic movement, ruthless force; but charm comes like a signal of security and good-will, and even its inevitable end is lit with something of mercy and quietness. The danger of charm is that it is the mother of sentiment; and the danger of sentiment is not that it is untrue, but that it takes from us the sense of proportion; we begin to be unable to do without our little scenes and sunsets; and the eye gets so used to dwelling upon the flower-strewn pleasaunce, with its screening trees, that it cannot bear to face the far horizon, with its menace of darkness and storm.
They waited a few minutes, and as no one appeared, the driver went in search of the boatmen, saying a few extra shillings would make it all right with them. And while he was gone the stranger paced nervously and with rapid steps up and down, every few seconds pausing at the pier-head and looking intently in the direction of Nyack. Was it joy he anticipated, or disappointment he feared? Something was agitating his heart and filling his eyes with tears, for he several times turned his head and wiped them away. And yet the more he watched in the direction of Nyack, the more restless and impatient he became.
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