I
I was puzzled by the phrase, “silkworm-moth eyebrow,” in an old
Japanese, or rather Chinese proverb:—_The silkworm-moth eyebrow of a
woman is the axe that cuts down the wisdom of man._ So I went to my
friend Niimi, who keeps silkworms, to ask for an explanation.
“Is it possible,” he exclaimed, “that you never saw a silkworm-moth?
The silkworm-moth has very beautiful eyebrows.”
“Eyebrows?” I queried, in astonishment. “Well, call them what you
like,” returned Niimi;—“the poets call them eyebrows…. Wait a moment,
and I will show you.”
He left the guest-room, and presently returned with a white paper-fan,
on which a silkworm-moth was sleepily reposing.
“We always reserve a few for breeding,” he said;—“this one is just out
of the cocoon. It cannot fly, of course: none of them can fly…. Now
look at the eyebrows.”
I looked, and saw that the antennae, very short and feathery, were so
arched back over the two jewel-specks of eyes in the velvety head, as
to give the appearance of a really handsome pair of eyebrows.
Then Niimi took me to see his worms.
In Niimi’s neighborhood, where there are plenty of mulberrytrees, many
families keep silkworms;—the tending and feeding being mostly done by
women and children. The worms are kept in large oblong trays, elevated
upon light wooden stands about three feet high. It is curious to see
hundreds of caterpillars feeding all together in one tray, and to hear
the soft papery noise which they make while gnawing their
mulberry-leaves. As they approach maturity, the creatures need almost
constant attention. At brief intervals some expert visits each tray to
inspect progress, picks up the plumpest feeders, and decides, by gently
rolling them between forefinger and thumb, which are ready to spin.
These are dropped into covered boxes, where they soon swathe themselves
out of sight in white floss. A few only of the best are suffered to
emerge from their silky sleep,—the selected breeders. They have
beautiful wings, but cannot use them. They have mouths, but do not eat.
They only pair, lay eggs, and die. For thousands of years their race
has been so well-cared for, that it can no longer take any care of
itself.
It was the evolutional lesson of this latter fact that chiefly occupied
me while Niimi and his younger brother (who feeds the worms) were
kindly explaining the methods of the industry. They told me curious
things about different breeds, and also about a wild variety of
silkworm that cannot be domesticated:—it spins splendid silk before
turning into a vigorous moth which can use its wings to some purpose.
But I fear that I did not act like a person who felt interested in the
subject; for, even while I tried to listen, I began to muse.