After the insect has once withdrawn itself from the pupa-case, it generally retains the same appearance and raiment as long as it lives, not casting its skin like the larva, but having put on its permanent clothing immediately upon its leaving the pupa-case. But in the case of an aquatic insect, the _Ephemera_, of which we have before spoken, a remarkable exception to this rule has been noticed. When these insects leave the pupa-case, any one, on looking at them, would say that they had completed their changes; they appear to be furnished with every part necessary to them, and not to have any which is redundant; yet they are destined to go through a change equivalent to that which has just taken place, if, indeed, it is not more apparently difficult than it, and that is,--they have to cast off their skin. That they should be able to withdraw from thence their head, their legs, their body, and their long tails, would be no great difficulty for us to comprehend, because numbers of insects at their escape from the pupa-case do more than this; but in their case we are presented with a more perplexing enigma. In the transformation of other insects, as we have already seen, and, indeed, in that of the insects before us, the wings are at first very soft and pliable, and therefore can be easily withdrawn from the cases in which they were contained. But in the _Ephemera_, the wings, after it has left the pupa-case, are fully developed and expanded, and seem to have acquired all their consistence, and to have become hard and inflexible. Moreover, its wings are so thin, that we can scarcely believe that they are in reality double; that is, that they are covered by an outside sheath; and it seems incomprehensible how, if such is the fact, the wings can be withdrawn from this case or sheath, when the only opening that can be discovered for that purpose, is a very minute hole near the spot where the wings take origin from the body of the insect. Let us now see how all these difficulties are overcome, and how the insect withdraws itself from this, as we might almost call it, second pupa-case.

The Ephemeræ, when they leave the water, rise high into the air, and wing their way perhaps far from the place of their birth. They may often be found wheeling over green fields, or wandering among the forest shades, far from the bubbling stream in whose waters so large a portion of their existence was spent; but more frequently they are to be found somewhere in the neighbourhood of the stream, enjoying an aërial dance. The feet of the insect are armed with hooks of great minuteness, and by their means the insect attaches itself to a suitable object, sometimes to a wall, sometimes to a twig, or to the trunk of a tree; it does not much matter where. Without at first making the least movement, the insect patiently abides the time when it must withdraw itself from its useless upper garment, and sometimes it has to wait a whole day in this position. The time arrived, the skin splits, and the body of the insect rises gradually out of it; but the difficulty is about the wings. Nevertheless, as we watch the insect, we shall find that it gradually draws them out of their delicate cases, and at length emerges, as perfect in beauty and form as before. The manner in which this is effected is as follows:--although the outer case of the wings is hard and rigid, yet the wings which it covers over are preserved in a soft and moist condition. In proportion, therefore, as the insect disengages itself from the anterior part of the skin, the inner or real wings become contracted, by a number of plaits, into a form nearly cylindrical, which readily admits of their being pulled through the openings lately mentioned; and as soon as the insect is released from its envelope, these plaits unfold, and the wings return to their former shape and dimensions. So exactly does this thin skin, thus cast off, fit all the parts of the insect's body, that it may often be mistaken for the insect itself, when it is found clinging to the place where it has gone through its changes.

The Life of an Insect — Part 120