His colour deepens.

In twenty-four hours he assumes a splendid ebony black which rivals that of the adult insect.

Of his original pallor he retains only a white girdle which encircles the thorax and reminds one of the leading-string of an infant.
Very much on the alert, he sounds his surroundings with his long vibrating antennae; he toddles and leaps along with a vigour which his future obesity will no longer permit.
This is the age of stomach troubles.

What are we to give him to eat?
I do not know.

I offer him adult diet--the tender leaves of a lettuce.