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EPISODES

OF

INSECT LIFE

BY A CEUTA DOMESTIC A, M. E. S.

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So issue forth the Seasons ” Sjl enc&r.

NEW YORK:

J. S. REDFIELD, CLINTON-HALL

BOSTON: B. B. MUSSET & CO.

1851.

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PREFACE TO SECOND SERIES.

In presenting to the public a second series of Episodes in
Insect History, their Author begs to acknowledge the kind
reception which has been so gratifyingly accorded to the
first.

If a hope be entertained that the present .volume will prove
at the least as attractive as its predecessor, it is only because
the summer months it comprises have supplied it with more
abundance of material, — because the summer sunshine has
afforde'd brighter hues for the enrichment of that particoloured
livery wherein, amongst the graver and wiser of Nature’s ser-
vitors, it would ply its introductory vocation at one entrance

of Creation’s temple.

Yol. H.— 1.

IV

PREFACE.

Under an encouraging impression that, in the above ca-
pacity, it may have already helped to usher a few (albeit
through a side door) into that glorious edifice — some to
observe — some to admire — some to adore, the Insect Chron-
icle proceeds cheerfully through the gayest period of winged
existence, and the brightest portion of “ the varying year.”

CONTENTS

AND

DESCRIPTION" OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

jfronttsjjtece.

MOTHS IN GENERAL.

A group of Moths — agents and emblems of decay — holding their twilight or noc-
turnal revels amidst the ruins of a nohle structure, of the transition period
from early English to the decorated style, — the work of man.

The large descending flier in the centre of the window is the Hawk-Moth
“Death’s Head” (. Acherontia Atropos) • beneath it, to the left, the deli-
cately pencilled “ Puss ” (Cerura vinula) / that to the right, still lower, the
Eed Underwing (Cotocala nupta). Follcftving upwards the framework of
the window, from its lower right-hand corner, we come first to the Goat-
Moth (Cossus ligniperda,) in downward flight; above, distinguished by its
eyed or ocellated pinions, ascends the “Emperor” ( Saturnia pavonia) ;
higher, and next in order, rises the little Bark Clothes-Moth ( Tinea corti-
cella ) ; and above, within the point of the arch, the particoloured “ Magpie ”
( Abraxus grossulariata.) Within the point of the left-hand arch of the win-
dow, is the angular- winged “Swallow-tail” ( Our apteryx sambucaria). On
the same side, descending with the frame, we meet next with the “ Buff-
tip ” (Pygazra Bucephala) ; below, resting on the stone- work, the Herald
(Scoliopteryx libatrix) ; and, rising from the left-hand corner, the large,
dark- winged Hawk of the Convolvulus (Sphinx Convolvuli.) The two

VI

CONTENTS.

Moths of greatly differing size, within the highest compartment of the win-
dow, are an “ Angleshades ” ( Phlogophora lucipara), and a little “ Clear-
wing ” (HJgeria tupuliforrms).

All the moths in the above engraving are drawn half the size of nature. Most
of them, as perfect insects, are described in the episode called ‘ Moths as
Idlers ’ (p. 302) ; and some, in their preparatory stages, are referred to in
‘ Moths as Destructives ’ (p. 264,) and in ‘Moths as Operatives ’ (p. 228) ;
also, in ‘ The Tribes of an Oak ’ (p. 94).

©tie TTtflnette.

“ So issue forth the Seasons .”

First we have Winter in his merriest mood, represented by the Cricket, be-
decked with Christmas holly, and alive with fun and jollity. By his right
hand he holds the Brimstone Butterfly, emblem of Spring, primrose of
papilions in habits and in hue. Beneath, the jocund Grasshopper, linked
to the above by a vernal wreath, figures the bright Summer, and in the
glowing Peacock Butterfly, rich in her velvet train as the autumnal flowers
she frequents, we welcome Autumn, bearing the ripe sheaf, and presenting
her merry associate with the fruit of the vine.

18. THE LADY-BIRD OF OUR CHILDHOOD.

This vignette represents the transformations of the Lady-bird ( Cocomella ).

On the large hop-leaf, which occupies the foreground, is a group of
eggs ; near them, to the left, a grub or larva, devouring a hop aphis ;
again, to the left, attached to a stalk, is the pupa. Higher, on the right,
is a perfect Lady-bird (C. septem-punctata), of which genus two other species
are figured, one in flight, the other on a stalk 1

“ No doubt , Sir, an Entomologist ?”

The author, in his character of Acheta Domestica , makes a new acquaintance,
who keeps Lady-birds

21

CONTENTS.

Yll

19. COMING OUT.

Insects of three several orders are here depicted, as emerged or emerging from
their pupa cases. On the right, are two caterpillars of the small Tortoise-
shell Butterfly ( Vanessa Urticce), suspended to the stalks of nettles for their
second transformation. They are hung pendent by means of hooks passing
through silken loops woven to the stalks ; and through the skin of the low-
est, which is rent at the shoulders, appears the head of the emerging chrysa-
lis, or pupa. To the left of these, and suspended in like manner, hangs the
chrysalis itself, or more properly, its empty skin, on which, recently come
forth, stands the Butterfly, with wings hung down for more complete expan-
sion. On the nettle-leaf below, are two empty, barrel-shaped pupa-cases of
flies, sometimes parasitic on the same caterpillars ; of these, one is prepared
for flight, while the other, more recently emerged, appears with wings still
damp, white, and crumpled. To the left, on a stalk of marestail, ( Equisetum ),
is the pupa of a Dragon-Fly (AEschna varia), from whence, through a rent
on the shoulders, the perfect insect is “ coming out.” One emerged appears
on wing at a distance in pursuit of its butterfly prey 22

“ See, Heaven's own emblem of the soulT

The sinner exhorted, by the symbol of insect transformation, to “come out”
from the sensual debasements of his fallen nature 43

20. THINGS OF A DAY.

The transformations of a May or Day-Fly ( Ephemera vutgata ), form the subject
of this Vignette. On the bank is the grub or larva, with the nest-holes,
usually below water, which it is accustomed to inhabit. Attached to the
grass above is a vacated skin, the complete envelope of a perfect fly, which
it always casts off on its fourth or last development. To the right, flies an
imago, or perfect insect, as freed from this incasement, while a company of
the same are seen disporting at a distance 44

“ These stand their purposed dayT

An ephemeral establishment for ephemeral education ; one, as the other, tempo-
rary in design — rotten in foundation 59

Vlll

CONTENTS.

21. INSECT MAGICIAN'S.

This vignette is intended to represent the magical effects produced in vegetable
growth by the punctures of various Gall-Flies. To the right, on the Briar
Bose, are three of the moss-like galls termed Bose Bedeguars, each enclos-
ing eggs or larvae of the Producing Fly ( Cynips Boson). The Gall-Fly itself
is figured to the left, above, and the largest and most gaily coloured insect
of the four, also distinguished by a tail-like appendage, is a parasitic Ich-
neumon ( Calimone Bedeguaris ), as often as the true Gall-Fly an occupant of
the Bose Bedeguars. On the rose-leaves above the moss-like tufts are two
other galls, globular and spiny, produced by another Cynips , also figured
above. To the left, on the branch of oak, are various fruit-like galls. The
largest, full of perforations, is the common Oak-apple, when turned brown
after exit, through these holes, of its Gall-Fly inhabitants ( Cynips Quercus ),
one of which is represented in the centre of the vignette. This and the
other flies are considerably magnified. On the oak-leaves are several berry-
shaped galls, green tinged with red, called leaf or currant galls, and nearly
similar to those which hang in bunches from the catkins. Above and
below the large Oak-apple, and proceeding from the branch, are two of
the artichoke galls of the oak-bud. The excrescence, of somewhat oblong
form and variegated colour, attached to a low branch in the centre of the
foreground, was drawn from a specimen found amongst many others in
Highgate Wood 60

“ Oh ! most royal retribution /”

Subject to the wand of a Fairy Cynips , the shade of the Merry Monarch sits
imprisoned in an oak-apple 71

June.

22. A LOVE AMONG THE BOSES.

Two of the golden green Bose Chafer ( Cetonia aurata ), seeking their favourite
repast of pollen in the heart of a Bose 72

“ There's a pet for you /”

A Stag-Beetle, Lucanus Servus , exhibits its playful propensities by tossing a
ball of cotton on its horns — no fancy, but attested fact

93

CONTENTS.

IX

23. THE TRIBES OF AN OAK.

In this Vignette are represented a few only of the innumerable insect inhabit-
ants of an Oak. On the leaf at bottom is a group of the black and yellow
caterpillars of the Buff-tip Moth ( Pygcera Bucephala), as they are accus-
tomed to repose in company, after or before a change of skin. Over these,
a miniature file of the same, newly-hatched, are marching in order over a
leaf, from which, as they proceed, they strip the upper surface. Higher,
towards the left, is a nest of silk, with indrawn leaves, woven for winter
occupancy by the social caterpillars of a Gold-tail Moth ( Porthesia aurijiua).
Dependent by a silken line from the branch above, hangs one of the moth
caterpillars termed “ Hoopers” ( Geometridce ), of which there are two others,
one fixed motionless at right angles with a branch, the other walking, or
looping, on the edge of a leaf. These occupy the right-hand oak ; and on
the same, attached to branches, are two of the curious structures of the moth
caterpillar called the Oak-bark Builder ( Pyralis strigulatus). Several Tent-
makers ( Tineidoe ) are traversing the intermediate leaf, and a carnivorous
Beetle ( Scarabus clathratus) is ascending the branches in search of prey . 94

“ Even the acorn has its appropriatorP

A golden Cicada, a little shovel-headed frequenter of the Oak, plays the part
of Jehu to a “Devil’s Coach-horse” (or Bove Beetle), harnessed to an
acorn car 117

24. A FEW FRIENDS OF OUR SUMMER GLADNESS.

This Vignette comprises four Butterflies not figured in the Frontispiece to our
First Volume. That on the Thistle to the right, is the Clouded Yellow
( Golias edusa). That on the left, with folded wings, the Painted Lady {Cyn-
thia Cardm). The Purple Emperor {Apatura Iris), lessened by distance,
soars above, and flitting below is the Small Skipper (. PampMla linea) . . 118

“ Sipping their cups of dewP

A trio of thirsty Butterflies, the demoiselles Fontia and Vanessa seated foremost
at their leafy board 139

X

CONTENTS.

25. LE LUGCIOLE.

The Flying Glow-worms of Southern Europe (Lampyris Italica), known in
Italy as “ Le Lucciole,” are the insects here represented . . . 140

“ Thou shalt not want for diamonds .”

The Lucciole, to the Italian peasant objects of dread, have been by the Italian
lady employed as articles of decoration— living gems imprisoned in gauze
for adornment of her hair 159

Sul2.

26. LEASES OF LIFE.

The winged insect in the centre of the vignette is the common Sewer-Fly ( Eris -
talis tenax) ; beneath, on the bank, are three pupae of the same, remarkable
for their rat-like tails ; three others are shown at a distance within the hol-
low of a decayed willow. Three of the grubs, or larvae, also rat-tailed, and
notable for their tough skins and consequent tenacity of life, appear in the
water to the left, but drains and sewers are more properly their inhabit 160

“ They set me at defiance /”

The power of death defied miraculously by a swarm of Bees, which, according
to an accredited relation, became revivified under process of boiling with
their combs 178

27. A SYLVAN MORALITY, OR A WORD TO WIVES.

The three large insects in the foreground are females of the Brown Ant (For-
mica Brunnea ), called sometimes Ant-flies. Two of them are actively
employed in pulling off their own wings, the third having already divested
herself of these appendages. The smaller Ants upon the ground are
workers of the same species ; those in flight a male and female . . 174

“ Arrayed in likeness of the Faery Queen.”

Acheta Domestica in his study surprised by the appearance of the young wife,
attired for a fancy ball, in character of Queen Mab

191

CONTENTS.

XI

28. BUSINESS AND PLEASURE.

Bees in their transformations, or the two preparatory stages of grub or larva,
nymph or pupa, the latter nearest to the centre of the hoard. To the right
is a piece of honeycomb, with cells of the common form, with a royal or
Queen’s chamber attached, as most usually, to its outer edge. The two bees
on wing are workers 192

“ Heedless of Business and of Pleasure .”

Pleasure with her garland, Business with her cart-rope, try, equally in vain, to
raise the drowsy Drone from his luxurious rose-leaf pillow . . . 213

29. INSECT MINSTRELSY.

The central and largest insect in this summer’s evening group, is the great
Green Grasshopper ( Gryllus riridissirrms). Above it' in descending flight,
is the common Dor or Clock Beetle ( Geotrupes ster cor arms). Towards the
left, rising on the wing, is a Cuckoo-spit Froghopper ( Cicada spumaria ), of
which another is traversing the leaf of sorrel dock below. A larva of the
same insect occupies a leaf of clover in the foreground, and on the sorrel
behind the Grasshopper appears a globular patch of the frothy secretion
(popularly Cuckoo-spit), wherein the larva of this Froghopper is usually
concealed. The Cicada spumaria is not a sound-emitting insect, hut is here
figured, as resembling in form and being allied in family, with the foreign
Cicada , or Tree-hopper, of musical celebrity 214

“ The classic Cicada , the grassy Ghpllus, and the deep-toned DorP
A musical trio composed of the above 227

30. MOTHS AS OPERATIVES.

Conspicuous in the foreground is the “Carpenter” Caterpillar of the great
Goat Moth ( Cossus ligniperda ), issuing from its woody cocoon in the hollow
of an oak. Various Moth Caterpillars of those called “Tent-makers”
( Tineidce ), perambulate, under cover of their portable pavilions, the oak-
leaf, just over the “Carpenter’s ” cocoon. Above that, hangs another oak-
leaf, cut and rolled by some caterpillar in form of a barrel button. The

Xll

CONTENTS.

hazel-leaf, higher and beyond, cut across its middle and rolled spirally, in
form of a pendent tassel, is the work of a small caterpillar, which becomes
a variegated, greenish Moth. To the left, on a spray of elder, is a walking-
branch caterpillar, of the Swallow-tailed Moth ( Ourapterix samhucarici), sus-
pended for transformation, in a cradle composed of silk and pieces of leaf.

On the other leaves of the same shrub, a “Leaf-Miner” and a “Leaf-
Koller,” both Moth caterpillars, have exercised their respective crafts ; a
white serpentine track marks the presence of one, a scroll with silken
holdfasts that of the other. On the top of the wall, and composed of
grains thence detached, are two little pyramids, built and occupied by tiny
caterpillars called “Stone-masons,” from the material thus employed 228

“ Head amongst caterpillars of his craft.'1'1

Cossus , the Master-Carpenter of Moth Operatives, on the look-out for business
in heart of oak and willow 251

81. A SUMMER DATS DREAM.

Seated on the stripped willow-branch to the left, is the grotesque caterpillar
of the Puss Moth ( Cerura mnula ), the Moth itself being figured beneath.
Below appears the singular masked larva of a Dragon-Fly. The centre of
the foreground is occupied by a Dor or Clock-Beetle ( Geotrupes ster cor arms').

To the right appear the head and shoulders of another common insect of
the same order — the Oil Beetle (P roscarabus) ; and above and between
these, with wings extended, is a Devil’s Coach-horse, or Rove Beetle ( Sta -
phylinus olens.) Attached in sphinx-like attitude to the right-hand branch,
is the beautiful caterpillar of the Privet Hawk-Moth (, Sphinx Ligustri ) 252

“ That victim no idle fly.”

A giant in augmented bulk takes vengeance on his enemy of the broom . 271

32. FAIR AND FIERCE.

The three beautiful and rapacious insects forming the subject of this vignette,
are Dragon, Scorpion, and Lacewing Flies. The first, a small and common

CONTENTS.

species (. Agrion ), rests upon a hedge while discussing its cannibal repast, a
captured gnat. Hovering just above is the Dragon-Fly’s enemy, and some-
times conqueror, the Scorpion-Fly (. Panorpa ), so called from the appendage
to its tail. To its left appears the graceful Lacewing (Hemerobius) , green
and golden-eyed ; the rose-leaf to the right, below, being occupied by a
grub, or larva (magnified), of the same carnivorous insect busy in its usual
occupation of destroying Aphides 272

“ Tremble on the approach af your arch-destroyer.'1'1

A trembling “ White ” of the garden about to fall into the embrace (to Butter-
flies always fatal) of a great Green Dragon-Fly 283

33. RESEMBLANCE AND RELATION

The mimicry of vegetable by animal forms is here illustrated by figures of some
looping caterpillars, termed “ Walking branches,” and by that of a moth,
the Oak Lappet ( G-astropacha guerdfolia ), likened to a Walking Leaf.
Above the latter, fixed motionless to a branch of hawthorn, which it closely
simulates, is the caterpillar of the Brimstone Moth ( Rumia cratcegata ), the
moth itself appearing in flight above. On the left, another stick caterpillar
— that of the Swallow-tail Moth ( Ourapterix sambucaria ), is attached to a
branch of elder, of which it affords a close copy in form, colour, and
markings. A second specimen of the same in its walking position forms
an arch upon the branch below 284

“ Queer creatures! neither grass nor grasshoppers .”

Museum visiters, lost in astonishment at the vegetable-seeming insect specimens
from India and China, the leaf-like, and its relative, the stalk-like Mantis 301

34. MOTHS AS IDLERS.

The Moths in this group are of those not figured in the frontispiece. That in
the foreground, beneath the white convolvulus, is the common “Tiger”
(Arctia caja) ; the smaller insect above, is the Humming-Bird Sphinx
( Macroglossa stellatarum ), uncoiling its tongue for insertion into the flower.
The large one to the left, the Lime-Hawk ( Smerinthus Tilice). Above, in
upward flight, is the elegant “ White Plume” ( Pteroplvorus pentadactylus) ;

XIV

CONTENTS.

next, beneath it, is the little “ Clearwing” ( JEgeria tipuliformis) ; and, be-
low this, a “ Vapourer ” ( Orgyia antiqua), of which the nearly wingless
female occupies, still lower, a branch of hawthorn supporting also the
cocoon, which she employs as a bed for the reception of her eggs

“ Luxurious feeders amongst lazy fruiterers.”

302

A trio of Moths drinking deeply of honeyed wine, out of a flower flagon . 326

THE LADY -BIRD OE OUR CHILDHOOD.

“ Give me leave

To eat my fill , and I will through and through
Cleanse the foul surface of the infected leaf."

Many who exterminate Spiders as a matter of merit, crush.
Earwigs without remorse, and hold Black- Beetles in abhor-
rence, look with involuntary kindness on the little iM-Beetle,
styled a Lady-bird. For this especial favour she stands in-
debted partly to her pretty spotted gown, and partly to her
being associated with the earliest recollections of our child-
hood. A word or two, en jpassant , on Nursery Ehymes, on
that one at least which is pertinent to our subject :

“ Lady-hird ! Lady-bird! fly away home,

You? house is on fire and your children alone !”

2

THE LADY-BIRD.

Now, in reality, instead of flying to the rescue of her own
innocents, her business is most probably to murder and devour
a score of other innocents, clustered together on a hop or
rose-leaf; or, in other words, to make a luscious meal of
Aphides or Honey-dew Insects, of whom her Lady-birdship
is exceedingly fond — fond as a wolf of a flock of sheep.

So stands the fact ; and the nursery fiction may, perhaps,
in these matter-of-fact times, be impugned for giving a notion
purely imaginary concerning the Lady -bird’s “house” and

her “ children,” and her probable course and business when

•

released from her captor’s grasp. Yet, what matters it ? The
simple couplet may implant a wrong notion, but that is soon
corrected ; and it may implant, also, a right feeling likely to
abide. It urges to humanity at the expense of selfishness ; to
set at liberty the pretty prisoner of which the childish captor
is so proud, that it may go to the rescue of its distressed little
ones. Such, at least, is the spirit in which we imagine this
address to the Lady -bird to have been originally dictated to
some little child long since grown gray and mouldered into
earth.

The Lady-bird, or Coccinella , has many claims upon our
kindness in addition to those which it possesses as the favourite
of our childhood. Of our manhood it is also the useful friend,
however little we may so regard it ; and it is, par excellence , a
friend in all weathers. It greets us in early spring, enjoys the
summer with us, stays by us through the fall of the leaf, and

THE LADY-BIRD.

3

even in mid- winter often emerges from its hybernal retreat, as
if on purpose to remind us of more cheerful seasons, past and
to come. Perhaps, on account of its hardihood, — an endow-
ment for which it is no doubt in some measure indebted to
its highly varnished covering, — the Lady-bird has acquired
amongst our catholic neighbours the appellation of Vache a
Bieu and Bete de la Vierge , as though it were a creature
especially favoured by providential care. These names, how-
ever, are somewhat more applicable if the insect be regarded
as one of those little, but not unimportant agents, whereby
the kind Creator is accustomed to confer benefits ; and that
for such we are indebted to the Coccinella is a fact with
which every gardener, — every one at least who knows how
to distinguish between friend and foe, — is practically ac-
quainted. He sees his rose trees and honeysuckles and other
favourites of his care, laden with blight insects (the Aphides ,
or Plant-lice, whose history we need not now repeat), and on
finding their multitudes gradually thinned, he knows that he
is mainly indebted for their riddance to exterminating Lady-
birds, which, aided by two or three allies, confer on the hop-
grower a similar benefit.

By entomologists the Lady -bird is regarded as a beautiful
example of his favourite order of Beetles ( Coleoptera ), and
when the pencil of nature furnishes him with a rare or newly
coloured variety, he looks upon it as a prize. It was the
striking prettiness of a black and yellow Lady -bird, added to

4

LADY-BIRD TRANSFORMATIONS.

its extraordinary vitality in flying away after an immersion
of four and twenty flours in ardent spirits, wflicfl first at-
tracted tfie attention of Kirfly, and led him, for the amuse-
ment and benefit of thousands, to adopt the study of insects.
Yet of the millions who are well enough acquainted, by sight,
with this common Beetle, so gaily distinguished from the
darker brethren of its order, how few know a single word
about its history, or suspect that, besides being a pretty, it is
a useful, little animal.

Nearly everybody has a knowledge, more or less accurate,
of the transformations undergone by Moths and Butterflies,
(the Lepidoptera of naturalists,) but not many perhaps are
aware that most other insects go through similar changes.
Those of the Lady -bird are very curious, and the difference
of form between its long flat figure in the first or larva stage
of being, and its half spherical shape as a winged Beetle, is
scarcely less striking than that betwixt the Butterfly and the
Caterpillar from which it has expanded.

But let us begin with the beginning of the Lady -bird’s life,
even from its commencement in the egg shell. The eggs are
of a bright yellow, small, flat, and oval ; and, laid close toge
ther in patches of a score and upwards, are to be found through
out the spring and summer, glued to a variety of leaves. It
must not be imagined, however, that the mother insect by whom
they are thus deposited is ever so regardless of the welfare of
her family as to commit it, while in embryo, to the barren

LADY-BIRD TRANSFORMATIONS.

5

surface of the first leaf falling in her way. The cubs of a
lioness or a wolf deserted on a smooth green island, whereon
was no one living creature save themselves, would find their
wants about as well provided for, as would be those of an
infant brood of Lady-birds on an uninhabited leaf. In other
words, exactly what browsing flocks and herds of deer are to
the quadruped of prey, the tribes of Aphides are to the Lady-
bird. Carnivorous herself, she takes care that her children,
wrhen the sun wakes them into life with similar but yet more
devouring propensities than her own, shall have abundance of
living food for their exercise conveniently at hand ; and for
this purpose she fails not to select as their nursery a leaf, most
frequently of rose-bush, hop, or honey-suckle, but of what
sort soever, one sure to be peopled by, or closely contiguous
to, the insect live-stock so essential to their support.

It is in this its earliest stage of grub or larva — the most
voracious if not the most active of its life — that the Goccinella
plays its most important part in the reduction of the Aphis
million, both in gardens and hop-grounds, where the latter is
popularly known as “ the Fly.” — As an instance, among
thousands, of that beneficent care which never fails to provide
an antidote against every evil, natural as well as moral, it has
been . observed that a relative proportion is in most seasons
observable between the number of plant-destroying Aphides ,
and that of Aphis-svXmg Lady-birds. Kirby mentions that in
1817 the shore of Brighton was covered with swarms of the

6

LADY-BIRD TRANSFORMATIONS.

latter, fresh arrived from the hop-grounds where each in its
larva state had slain its thousands of victims. Of the long,
flat, wingless bodies of these children of the Lady -bird, so dis-
similar to that of their parent when arrived at her rotund
maturity, and so seldom identified with the adult insect, our
figure will convey a better notion than detailed description,
and a glance at the living larvae , or grubs themselves, the best
of all. Few are the rose-trees, hop- vines, or nettles*, whereon
they may not be found in abundance in the month of May.

The second shape which the Lady-bird puts on is that of the
pupa, correspondent to the aurelia or chrysalis of a Butterfly.
To know what is the form then assumed, our readers would
do best to seek it on the above-named plants, where after a
previous glance at our figure they will be at no loss to dis-
cover the original. As for the history of our Lady -bird’s life,
in this its second epoch, a few words suffice, because it is that
in which there is very little life about it. Having, in a few
weeks, gorged as a grub her fill of Aphides , she fixes herself
by a sort of natural glue, either to a stalk or to the under
surface of the leaf which has served the purpose of pasturing
her devoured flock. Thus secured from falling, she puts off
the pupa skin with the limbs which were requisite to obtain
her prey ; and then, in a form of outward inactivity, bides the
time until by inward working and expansion she has arrived
at the perfection of her nature. Casting off her slough, she
now emerges in all the polished rotundity and painted finish of

VARIETIES OF LADY-BIRD.

7

a Lady-bird complete, known and recognised as suck by all
observers.

Numerous are the variations of colour and pattern where with
the pencil of nature delights to enamel the convex surface even
of a Lady-bird’s wing, or, to speak more correctly, wing-cases ,
under cover of which her delicate transparent pinions are
curiously folded. Upwards of fifty different Coccineliidce have
been enumerated, mostly distinguished by the numbers of
their spots set upon various grounds — red, black, or yellow.
Of these perhaps the Two-spotted and the Seven-spotted* are
most common, and the Twenty or Twenty -two-spotted\ of a light
yellow, with eleven spots on each wing-case and five on the
thorax, the most elegant. A beautiful variety is described
and figured by Curtis, which he calls the eyed or ocellated,
from its having red wings with black spots encircled by yellow.
We have met now and then with specimens both red and
yellow, in which the painting has been made to assume a
checquered character by the substitution of squares for spots.

The Lady -bird mature is still, as in early life, a feeder on
Aphides , and she is for ever to be observed in the carnivorous
act of their destruction. It is said, however, that her voracity
decreases with her age, and that instead of pursuing her prey
(as when a grub) into the narrow folds of a leaf or retired
recesses of a bud, she is content to victimise the open feeders
within her more convenient reach.

* Coccmella bvpundata and septerrwpunctata .

Yol. II.— 2.

t G. mgmtidiio-punctctta.

8

HIBERNATION OF LADY-BIRDS.

It is mostly in cold weather that Lady -birds love (like the
rest of ns) to creep into snug corners, and then, also, either for
the sake of warmth or company, they display social propen-
sities not observable amongst their tribe in summer. It is true
that in sunshine and the milder seasons, when they most
abound, they are often to be seen by scores in company; but
on these occasions it is pretty evident that, as with a flock of
vultures on a battle-field, where their prey is — there (and
thereby attracted) they are gathered together. But some other
and, probably, more social motive would seem to draw towards
one another the congregated Lady-birds which towards and
during winter are often found assembled in the same hyberna-
culum, sometimes by two and threes, but more often in num-
bers which preclude the supposition of each having made its
way by accident to the same cranny. We found last Novem-
ber in a hole of a gate-post no fewer than fifteen of these red-
coated comrades laid up, doubtless, for their winter’s sleep, to
be broken only in open weather by an occasional stroll in
search of some of the hardier Aphides which furnish them, be-
tween their long abstinences, with no unwelcome meal.

We know of nothing else remarkable about the Lady -bird,
except one personal peculiarity not of the most agreeable sort,
with which none who have ever handled this little insect can
fail to be acquainted: — we mean, of course, that peculiar
odour which has led some people to confound it in idea, as
well as appellation, with an insect whose very name savours of

USES OF LADY-BIRDS.

9

offence. This forbidding quality is supposed to be defensive,
serving as a protection against birds and other enemies.
Connected, probably, with the same endowment, and suggested
by it, were the curative uses, now obsolete, to which Lady -birds
were once applied. The common Two-spot variety ejects from
its joints, when touched, a yellow fluid of powerful though
not agreeable musky odour, to the supposed virtue of which
secretion has been attributed its employment as remedy for
tooth-ache ; and to the same cause it owes, doubtless, its place
in the Materia Medica of old, as a cure for colic.

Perhaps even these by-gone and problematic uses might be
proved by experiment not quite imaginary ; but the undoubted,
obvious, and important service performed for man by the
Lady -bird or Coccinella race, is that wherewith we commenced
this brief memorial of their merits, namely, their extensive
agency in keeping under the Aphides or Blight Insects so
inimical to vegetation. But for them, and some two or three
allies, not a lover of sweet posies could gather a rose unsullied
or a honey-suckle unde filed. Let us, for this, do all honour
to this red-coated race, preservers of our favourite flowers ;
but above all, let each lover of well-hopped liquors drink in
his glass of “ October” destruction to “ the Fly,” and prosper-
ity to the Fly-destroying “house” and “children” of the
Lady -bird !

10

THE CAGED LADY-BIRDS.

A FRAGMENT.

Having given the natural history of the Lady-bird, we will
narrate a short “record of the heart,” in which one of these
parti-coloured favourites of childhood happened to play a
more than usually important part. We picked up the story
in the course of a ramble for the purpose of collecting insects,
So far, therefore, it comes connected with our main subject,
and if (however true) it should appear to some improbable,
and silly even as an old nurse’s tale, it follows not unaptly on
a nursery rhyme.

One evening last June, as we were strolling in the neigh-
bourhood of Highgate, wholly occupied in examination of the
hedges beside us, and never thinking of a heavy thunder-cloud
behind, which hung threateningly over the sun-lit spires of
the metropolis, a huge rain-drop, spreading to half-crown
diameter, suddenly darkened the dust at our feet. The fall
from the clouds of the coin itself could scarcely have sur-
prised us more. Down came a second — then patter— patter
— a hundred more of tokens similar, — largesse of Heaven’s
overwhelming bounty, from which it was high time to seek
escape. But how ! Ours was no high- way, but a bye- way,
— far from sight and sound of friendly omnibuses. Ho tree
was at hand with head large enough to make an umbrella ;

A SUMMER SHOWER.

11

there was only one solitary cottage which stood a few yards
distant, but that to our comfort had a porch, within which we
were presently ensconced. Yet as the torrents continued to
descend, we soon found our place of refuge less secure than we
had deemed it. The porch was merely a rough trellis thickly
covered with clematis, and as the creeper got gradually soaked,
its yielding branches falling inwards, served only as conductors
of the dripping deluge. Here we would take occasion to
observe how a favourite pursuit may serve in some sort as a
shield against annoyance and impatience ; for even while our
sorry shelter was each moment lessening, we could not but
admire the gnats that were dancing up and down between the
rain-drops — enabled by their acute sight and agile wings to
elude the falling streams which would else have been to them
as overwhelming water-spouts. We were not, however, so
entirely engrossed by thinking of the midges’ wondrous pre-
servation as to be quite regardless of our own predicament,
and now halted, in our shower-bath, between the two more
active measures of running desperately through the torrent
before us, or of invading the peace of the cottage in our rear.
Our mind was made up to adopt the latter alternative, and a
hand was already stretched towards the little black knocker,
when — the door opened and a tall thin old man, in appearance
what has been called the shabby-genteel, invited us to enter, with
a courteous expression of regret at not having seen us sooner.
Having stood long enough already, we did not stand on

12

A SUBURBAN PARLOUR.

ceremony, but stepping oyer the door-sill, found ourselves, at
once, in a snug little front parlour. The charity of our good
Samaritan did not stop here, for taking down from a con-
venient peg a long grey threadbare coat, he insisted on our
exchanging for it our dripping garment which he carried,
himself, to dry at his kitchen fire.

When, in pursuance of this hospitable purpose, the old gen-
tleman had unsuspiciously shut the door upon us, we took —
not the old-fashioned silver watch which hung over the man-
tle-piece, but — an honest survey of the room ; in a strange
apartment no uncommon procedure, often affording at a glance
some considerable insight into its occupant’s pursuits and
character. The very name of a small suburban parlour com-
prehends a kidderminster carpet, four or six heavy horse-hair
chairs which have once stood in a patrician dining-room, a
glazed corner-cupboard set out in glittering array, a sorry
looking-glass, a table whose quality is hidden by a checquered
cloth, red stuff curtains, a green fender, brass-footed, with stove
of narrow capacity, veiled (in summer) by a gaudy efflorescence
of cut paper. All these are general characters belonging to
the genus of parlours such as that into which the storm had
introduced us ; but amidst these, what we were looking for
was some distinctive mark of our new friend’s individuality.

Something like this was apparent in a small but well-filled
book-case ; and a much used copy of Thomson’s Seasons which
lay upon the table, bespoke him, half cockney as he was, not

A SUBURBAN PARLOUR.

13

insensible to the soft influences of nature. Flanking the watch-
tower on the mantle-shelf was a profusion of shells, in the midst
of which, like monsters of the deep, grinned, on each side one,
a pair of corpulent Chinese bronzes. Perhaps our friend, in his
youth, had “ occupied his business in great waters” — but yet
such maritime and oriental ornaments are prevailing decora-
tions in such apartments. — One thing was evident — there was
no womenkind about the good man’s house : not a work-basket,
a pair of scissors, a nutmeg-grater, or even a thread on the
carpet to indicate female occupancy. The old man must be
a bachelor ; — but no, — over the fire-place hung a portrait, and
a very good one, of a pretty woman in the dress of a lady some
forty years ago, and below it the miniature of a sweet little girl,
whose innocence looked out of a pair of large blue eyes cut
exactly after the same pattern as those of the elder portrait.
No doubt then he was a widower. So far satisfied, we turned
our eyes towards the window to see how long we were likely
to encroach on his hospitality — and then first noticed in the
window-seat a square glass-case, raised by some books to bring
it on a level with the light. It was roofed with gauze and
floored with wet sand, wherein was stuck a branch from, a
white rose-bush, which we perceived, on looking closer, to be
peopled by some half dozen of large Lady-birds. The insects
were almost too many to be there by accident : the rose-branch,
too, was well furnished with Aphides , their favourite fare, and
seemed therefore as if chosen expressly for their accommodation.

14

THE GLASS-CASE.

The glass-case was certainly then a cage for Lady -birds, and
the old gentleman must be, it followed, a brother entomolo-
gist. We had just arrived at this conclusion when the parlour
door re-opened and in came our stranger friend, followed by
a Hebe in curl-papers, bearing on a tea-tray a smoking jug, a
pint bottle, and two capacious goblets of different shapes and
sizes. “ The gentleman must take something warm as an an-
tidote against taking cold.” — There was no rejecting the prof-
fer without wounding the kindly spirit, — perhaps also the
pride of the offerer. We attempted indeed something about
the storm being now over; but partly against our will and
partly with it, (for we were curious to know what sort of ob-
servation our brother naturalist was making upon Lady -birds,)
we found ourselves reseated by the checquered table — our en-
tertainer’s vis a vis.

During the process of compounding the elements, and be-
fore the starting of another subject, we pointed to the glass-
case. “Ho doubt, Sir, an entomologist ?” A shake of the head
overset at once our previous conclusion. — “ Beg pardon, Sir —
I thought from that, that like myself you were fond of
studying the habits of Insects : but most likely you have some
little friend — perhaps some favourite grandchild, for whose

amusement ” “ Ho,” said the old gentleman, “ Ho — I

have no one — I am a solitary old man. — But indeed, Sir,”
he added with a melancholy smile, “you are not the first who
has wondered at my foolish fancy for keeping those little

AN INVITATION.

15

creatures. Some, I dare say, have set it down as the amuse-
ment of my second childhood ; and, — God help me ! — perhaps
they are not far wrong.”

As the level rays of the setting sun, which had gleamed
forth after the storm, entered the window and fell upon the
'old man’s face, we perceived his eyes glistening with unusual
moisture. But no rheum of imbecility did it seem : — an
effusion, rather, drawn up by memory and feelings, fresh and
powerful, from some well-spring of affection which age had
left unfrozen.

We were sorry to have touched upon what was at all events
a tender theme in return for the good man’s kindness : and
though our curiosity concerning the petted Lady-birds was
whetted rather than allayed, we took care to say nothing more
about them, and, fearing to commit a double error, forebore
all notice of the portraits. After an hour’s sitting, our well
dried coat was resumed and we rose to depart.

Yet, as with hearty acknowledgments we tendered our hand
to our kind entertainer, we relished not the thought of shaking
his for at once the first time and the last. Our card was prof-
fered— “ It would give me real pleasure, Sir, to return your hos-
pitality.”— The old gentleman bowed — “You are very kind,”
said he, a but I believe, Sir, that your rambles are generally
longer than mine, and if, in compassion to an old man’s in-
firmities, you would now and then take another rest at my
poor abode, you would make me even more your debtor.”

16

A TALE OF SORROW.

The sprinkling of romance which was once scattered over
the surface of our character, has long ago (like the painted
dust from off the wings of a chased butterfly) been brushed
away by the world’s rude collision. Nor indeed seems there a
shadow of romance in the meeting above described between
two elderly gentlemen — yet as we walked homewards, enjoy-
ing the sweetness of the freshened evening air, we almost felt as
if we had met with an adventure of which the denouement was
yet to come. Even as we turned restlessly upon our pillow,
floating visions of gigantic Lady -birds in gold frames, and
diminutive ladies in glass cases swam before our drowsy optics.
Our first morning thoughts turned also upon our friend of
yesterday. He was no entomologist, — he was not in his second
childhood (with the obsolete satirists of the last century, two
states of being almost synonymous) and yet — he kept a cage
of Lady -birds. — Were we destined ever to fathom this pro-
found mystery ? We were.

Our first visit to Providence Cottage led to many more, in
the course of which the old gentleman opened to us much of
his heart and history. He related to us, by snatches, a com-
mon tale. — He told us of losses in trade — loss of health —
loss of an affectionate devoted wife, one who for love of him
had left a higher station, and never by look, word, or deed
reminded him of the sacrifice. But chiefly did he speak of one
beloved child who, when wealth and health and wife were gone,
stood him for a while instead of all. Of this child only,

THE TIRED WATCHER.

17

and only of her as connected with the caged Lady -birds, shall
we repeat a part of his relation. In her seventh year she, —
his little Rachel, — was seized by severe illness, through which
her heart-stricken father was her sole and constant nurse. If
he had possessed the means, no hireling would he have paid to
tend his darling child : but he was poor, and thus poverty and
will met for once in sweet consent.

On the morning of the, fourth day after her attack, the rest-
less uneasiness of the little sufferer subsided into a deep and
quiet slumber. The tired watcher, who, while fatigue and
despair together weighed down his broken spirit, had found it
hard to resist the drowsiness of exhausted nature, was roused
to trembling wakefulness by the flutter of hope within his
heart. He knelt beside the bed — “ Oh ! let not this blessed
hope prove a mere delusion. Save, merciful God, my only

treasure ! or if The weakness of the flesh forbade

to express in words, the dread alternative, but with head
bowed low, the father remained for a few moments in an
attitude, at least, of resignation. When he rose from his
knees, the rush-light had expired, and a ray of bright sunshine,
entering at the round hole in the shutter, fell upon the
slumberer’s features which were still composed in quiet rest.
Poor Gregory drew the window-curtain quite close; then
quitted the chamber and descended to the garden. The air
refreshed his throbbing temples, but chilled by his night vigil,
the morning sun as it glistened on the dew-drops, seemed to

18

THE SICK CHILD.

impart no warmth, to his benumbed frame, and no good
augury to his trembling heart. Before this sun goes down
(thought he), — and fearing he scarce knew what each moment
he was absent from his post, he hastened to resume it, but not
till he had hastily plucked a little bunch of flowers. But one
day previous he would not have dared to gather them, to deco-
rate the sick chamber, then most likely to become, ere night,
the chamber of death ; but now there was hope, at least, in that
quiet slumber. It had not been broken when the father
returned, but in a few moments the sleeper’s eyes opened and,
as if the intense affection of her parent’s gaze had been felt
even through the closed lids, turned directly towards the fond
anxious face beside her.

“ I’ve brought my Rachel a pretty nosegay,” said he, as he
stooped forward to kiss her, and laid the flowers on the
coverlid. The child, grasping them in her little thin fingers,
raised them to her faded face.

“ Stay, darling, there’s a Lady -bird on that white rose, let
me put it out.”

“ Oh, pretty Lady -bird !” cried the little girl, her large
sunken eyes lighting up for a moment with childish delight.
“No, let me keep it only all to-day ; and to-morrow I’ll take
it out myself, and bid it fly away home, as poor mamma so
often told me.”

“ But suppose it should please to fly away to-day, how can
my little Rachel help it?”

THE PARTING SCENE.

19

“ Oh, I’ll put it in a box, and give it nice green leaves, as
many as it can eat, and ”

Poor Rachel’s voice was not strong enough to complete the
list of luxuries she would have promised her prisoner in lieu of
liberty ; but, as if already bribed to quietude, the insect, which
had hitherto been describing circles round the rose, stood still
near its centre. Delighted to find his little nurseling well
enough (for the first time in four days) to notice and seem
amused by any thing, the father separated the white rose from
the other flowers, and placing it on a table at the foot of the
bed, inverted a tumbler over it.

“There, sweet one,” said he, “your Lady -bird is safe.”
The child was satisfied, and went to sleep again, thinking of
her pleasure in letting it fly to-morrow.

When that morrow came, no daylight was allowed to pene-
trate through the darkened window of the chamber where the
Lady-bird still occupied its crystal prison, for the little child
who was to have bid it fly — her innocent spirit had taken its
own flight home — was beholding the face of her Father in
heaven, while he who had been her father on earth was kiss-
ing the pale lips through which that spirit had departed — be-
sieging, as it were, in bitter bereavement, the doors of that
clay prison-house from whence the captive was just set free.

*****

The funeral was over : the chief — the only mourner stood

20

THE SOLITARY MOURNER.

in the unwelcome daylight just admitted, beside the bed on
which he had seen depart successively, the two who had made
life dear: — he stood alone in the room — alone in the hard
mocking world. On the table — under the glass — just where
it had been placed to please the innocent eyes which would
never again reward with a smile his labours of love — lay the
white rose he had gathered on the morning before his little
one died. For lack of water the flower had withered even
before her cheek was cold, and now the lapse of a week had
turned it brown and shrivelled. But though there was no
life within the rose, there was life about it — near it. The
captive Lady -bird still survived; and as if shrinking from
contact with the vegetable death, was traversing uneasily the
sides of the tumbler.

The mourner’s eye followed the motions of the insect. It
was something living to look at when all else to him seemed
dead. It was the last object, except himself, on which his
little Bachel had smiled, — perhaps the last save himself, on
which her thoughts had wandered.

Remember the Bastille prisoner and his spider; Silvio
Pellico with his. — Their hearts could cling even to a loath-
some object, because they were alone — shut out from com-
munion with human life and human love ; yet they, in the
world beyond their prison walls, had other lives bound up
with theirs — other hearts with which theirs, at least in fancy,
could hold fond intercourse, and hope to meet again on earth.

DEATH OF THE LADY-BIRD.

21

The bereaved father was more alone than they. Care, and
poverty, and scorn, anxiety and grief, had made him weak in
body and in mind, perhaps childish — perhaps doating in his
desolation. He kept the dead rose, and he also kept the
living Lady -bird — watched it — tended it — even till he loved
and missed it, when it too died.

* * * * *

And this was the reason why onr old gentleman, who at
Providence Cottage had no garden, kept in a glass case white
roses and red Lady-birds.

COMING OUT.

Look at this beautiful world, and read the truth
In her fair page ; see every season brings
New change to her of everlasting youth —

Still the green soil, with joyous living things
Swarms — the wide air is full of joyous wings. — Brymt.

Old May Day. — Now is May arrived in earnest — the real
flowering May of the Old Style and the old Poets; when
kings and queens were “ wont to come out,” and meet, as
they went a Maying, all the more glorious things “ come out”
too, and u coming out” still, bright and beautiful as ever, now
that of all these royal personages even the old bones are
crumbled into dust.

COMING OUT.

23

“ Coming out !” wliat a multitude of pleasant notions are
associated with, this expression — the very motto for the season,
now inscribed in living characters on the unfolding scroll of
nature. Who can want an exhortation to “come out” and
read it ?

Not the flaxen-headed village children, who “coming out”
of school, hie shouting to the wood and meadow, where they
spell it (each after his fashion) with a merry laugh.

Not the captives set free, — be it from durance, from disease,
or labour. These from the dark-barred prison — from the
close sick chamber, — from the foetid factory “coming out”
themselves, all read the bright inscription in the glorious sun-
shine— in the free fresh air, — in the opening flowers : — read it
with eyes that glisten, and hearts that, if not crushed entirely,
expand with gratitude and joy.

And can there be of others — of all that are free to do it —
one who needs not the kind persuasion of nature to “ come
out?” Yes, more than can be numbered of such as sunk
deep in selfishness and sensual pleasure, and, loving the things
of darkness, care not to look upon the things of light, now
“coming out” daily, under the influence of the summer
sun.

And other “ comings out” are in progress, which, as com-
pared with these, are cold, conventional and artificial — yet not
without a something, in their way, of seasonable light and
gaiety and promise. Of such a?e the “coming out” of new

24

COMING OUT.

books — of new actors — of fair new flowers, not of the garden
or the wild, but of the world,

“ Witli eyes

That mock the hazel-nut and shame the violet.”

Last, not least, in eyes like these, are the fashions, “ coming
out” for summer “with the butterflies,” a phrase which
brings us back to the sweet natural, and gives occasion to
look more closely than our wont into some of those expansive
processes by which the youthful flutterers of summer are
“finished” for their “coming out” in the gay assemblies of
the insect world.

Now day by day do the garlands which adorn their verdant
ball-rooms grow thicker with opening flowers, and together
with these, and, emerging in numbers nicely proportioned, do

“ Throngs of insects in the shade
Try their thin wings, and dance in the warm beams
That waked them into life.”

We are thus reminded, at every step, that flower, leaf, and
insect, were intended for each other ; a fact already noticed,
together with various other analogies between their respective
“ comings out.”

It is no easy matter, watch it as we may, to see a flower in
the act of blowing — bursting forth from the confining calyx ;
nor is it much less difficult (out of doors) to catch an insect in
the act of emergement from the trammels of its chrysalis
estate. It needs, however^ but small pains and patience,

INSECT TEANSFOEM ATIONS.

25

which will be well rewarded, to become witnesses, within
doors, of the latter operation. This with a variety of insects
is equally curious and interesting, though most conspicuous
and easy of observation with the tribe of Butterflies and Moths.

Numerous Cabbage Butterflies, both of the larger and
smaller species, have “come out” already, and are now upon
the wing ; but as of these there are various successive broods,
there are almost as many still enwrapped in the skins of their
angular chrysalides, and hung pendent, horizontally, in their
chosen places of security, — such as under the copings and
ledges of garden walls and palings.* We have only to lay
gentle hands on a few of these seeming sleepers, and carefully
detaching with a knife their silken buttons of suspension, to
stick them by the same, with a thread girth round the body,
to the upper edge of a deep-sided box ; then placing this
beside us on the table, we shall hardly fail by an occasional
glance to have our curiosity gratified in their emergement
under our own eyes.

We must remember that, like the embryo of a plant in the
seed, or the rudiments of a leaf or flower in the bud, the
various parts of the butterfly have been pre-existent even in
the caterpillar; and when these are arrived at their full
maturity within their chrysalis cover, then approaches the
crisis of emergement. At this period there takes place a
violent agitation in the fluids of the insect, f by which they

* Vignette to “Life in Death,” vol. i. f Insect Transformations, p. 1S6.

Vol. II.— 3.

26

BUTTERFLY METAMORPHOSES.

are driven from the internal vessels into all the tubes and
nervures of the wings, which being at the same time filled
with air from the wind-pipe, increase considerably in size.
This, added to the restless motion of the legs, soon enables the
imprisoned creature to burst its enshrouding skin, which,
flying open at the back, discloses the head and shoulder of the
butterfly. Being then soon released entirely, it stands for
awhile, motionless, on the broken fragments of its late prison
— its wings damp and drooping, small and crumpled ; but dis-
tended by the fresh, supply of air, inhaled through the spi-
racles, they expand so rapidly, that in the space of a few
minutes their dimensions are increased five-fold !

Nothing can be more curious and interesting than to watch,
this marvellous expansion; and, as the crumpled membrane
of the wing grows smooth, to discern, emerging slowly from a
chaos of mingled hues, all the clearness of pattern and bril-
liancy of colour which bespeak it finished. As we gaze
with admiration on this process of perfection, we seem to have
gained admission for the moment into one of nature’s studios,
and to be tracing the progress of her unrivalled pencil, while
employed (under the guidance of her Divine Master) on the
last touches of what have been justly considered as her
favourite miniatures. In half an hour the pictured pinions
are complete.

Directly after emergement, the wings are thick, and capable
of great extension by stretching, but not so after full ex-

BUTTERFLY METAMORPHOSES.

27

pansion ; neither do butterflies or other winged insects ever
grow, when they have once attained their perfect form.

Besides that of the common White, or Cabbage,* the coming
out of the small Tortoise-shell Butterfly,! may also now or
early in June be easily observed. ' The gilded chrysalides of
this also common but very beautiful insect, are now, and again
in August, to be found almost everywhere, suspended head
downwards, either to the stalks of nettles whereon their cater-
pillars have subsisted, or upon adjacent walls and palings.
By detaching carefully, then re-suspending them in their
natural position, we shall be able to observe, at home and at
leisure, the exclusion of their richly coloured pinions from the
gilded cases which look not unworthy to enclose them. Or if
we choose to follow them through their two-fold transforma-
tions, thereby procuring to ourselves a two-fold pleasure, it is
now easy to collect and keep some half dozen of the caterpillars
themselves, of which the younger broods are still feeding in
company on the nettle. They are black and green, black-
headed, and spiny coated.

Our plan for observing them has been this : — W e place our
Caterpillars upon a few fresh-gathered nettle-tops, stuck in a
flower-pot of moist earth, tying over our prisoners, to prevent
their roaming, a piece of thin gauze or muslin. If, as is now
most likely, they are nearly arrived at full growth, we shall
not have had for many days the trouble of supplying them

* Pontia brassiea, &c. -J- Vanessa urtica.

28

BUTTERFLY METAMORPHOSES.

with, fresh food, before one, at least, of the company of feeders
desists from eating, and having first woven a suspending loop
or button, thereby hangs himself head downwards to a nettle-
stalk.* In this position, he succeeds after infinite trouble, —
testified by violent twistings, jerks and contortions — to rend
on the shoulders his spiny skin from whence he emerges a
chrysalis, perfect at all points ; though he requires most
usually a few hours’ exposure to air, to endue him with the
streaks and specks of mimic gold, which mingle with his
variegated hues of black and green. This now legless,
mummy-like animal must surely fall, as you would fancy,
prone to earth ; but not a bit of it — his tail is furnished with
a hook — his silken loop remains uninjured, and he knows a
trick which will make these together available for his support ;
in short, he contrives, somehow (partly by help of his cast-off
caterpillar coat, still pendent by his side) to hitch and wriggle
himself exactly into his former place, and hang, a chrysalis,
hooked into the same suspending button which upheld, in the
hour of change and peril, his caterpillar form. That such
important epochs in insect life are not unattended with danger
we have had ocular demonstration, in watching their arrival.
The suspended caterpillar sometimes dies, seemingly for lack
of power to cast off his skin — and we saw, in one instance,
that of a chrysalis just emerging, rent asunder by its violent
efforts in the same operation. After two or three weeks of

* Vignette.

MOTH TRANSFORMATIONS.

29

inanimate suspension, our little Tortoise-shell comes out
finally, a Butterfly complete.

The “coming out” of Moths bears a general resemblance
to that of Butterflies, only that owing to the chrysalides of the
former being usually enveloped in a cocoon, or outer covering,
they have not only to burst from their aurelian skin, but also
to effect their egress through a barrier, sometimes of silk only,
but often fortified by much harder material. The moth of
the Silk- worm, enveloped in her thick woven ball, is supposed
to facilitate her escape by a dissolving acid, an agent said to
be employed also by the Puss-Moth in breaking through — not
a mere silken web, however strongly wrought — but the wall
of a cell composed of woody fragments, silk, and gluten,
cemented by the latter into almost stone-like hardness. The
Caterpillar of the Great Goat-Moth (or Cossus ),* a dweller
within the interior of oaks and willows, on the wood of which
it is a feeder, constructs itself a compact cell or case, of mate-
rials nearly similar to those employed by the Pussf — namely
wood, reduced partly by decay, partly by its own jaws, to the
resemblance of saw-dust. With this, bound together by silk,
and cemented by glue, it usually composes the exterior of its
case, which is lined also by a silken web.

Our exploration of a hollow willow-tree was rewarded at
the beginning of last August, by the discovery of such a cell , J

* Frontispiece. f Frontispiece.

X Vignette to £ Moths as Operatives.’

30

MOTH TRANSFORMATIONS.

(an oval, wood-covered cocoon, two inches and a half long),
from whence, in a few days, we had the infinite satisfaction of
beholding its inhabitant come forth. The first intimation of
the approaching event, was a strange shaking of the solid
fabric, and presently, by dint, as it would seem, of violent
efforts, and the use of its hard bulky head as a battering-ram,
against its prison wall, the creature, still clad in chrysalis mail,
effected a breach at one end of the oval cell. Be it here
noticed that the rings of this Goat-Moth chrysalis are each
edged by a fringe of hook-like appendages, and now observe
their use. Grappling by these, it is enabled to push its brown
shining body half way out of its case, in the aperture of
which it remains then firmly fixed. In this position, supported
by its wooden walls, comes the crisis of its final change. The
glazed back-piece of the aurelian mail bursts asunder at the
shoulders and through the rent, slowly advancing, comes out
a gigantic brown-winged Moth* — the perfect form of three
years’ development.

The process of enlargement in beetles, bees, flies, and
other insects is no less worthy of observation than the above,
though, in most instances, somewhat more difficult to witness.
The clear wings of many exhibit instances of expansion no less
remarkable than those of Moths and Butterflies, and often, on
first emergement, differ as much in shape and colour from
what they afterwards become. “If a beetle,” says Kirby,

Frontispiece.

INSECT TRANSFORMATIONS.

31

“the elytra, or wing-cases, instead of covering the back, fold
over the breast, and their substance, soft, leathery, and whitish,
exhibits no traces of the tints (often most splendid) which are
to adorn them. If a bee or fly, the whole skin is white and
fleshy, quite unlike the coloured hairy crust to which in an
hour or two it will turn; and the wings, instead of a thin
transparent extended film, are a thick, opaque, wrinkled
mass.”

The last emergement of various Dragon-Flies, may, during
a great part of summer, be often witnessed, by inspecting the
stem of aquatic plants, to which they fix themselves on
leaving the water, (where their earlier stages have been passed),
and attached to which they are accustomed to leave their
pupa skins, after having come out as tenants of the air.* Last
summer, whilst awaiting the appearance of the small Tortoise-
shell butterflies above mentioned, from several of their chry-
salides, we gained an opportunity of observing, not only the
coming out of the insects inspected, but that also of others,
which in the character of parasites had been surreptitiously
introduced. One chrysalis out of five was full of small
Ichneumons, while two others contained, each, several of the
brown oval pupae of a species of Fly, nearly resembling the
common frequenter of our houses. Of these and the like
parasitic invaders — of their modes of getting in, as well as of
coming out, more at a future season.

Vignette.

32

EMBLEM OF THE SOUL.

Let us look, lastly, at the “coming out” of insects with
reference to that symbolic history of the soul, of which, as now
“ arrayed in all their glory ” they exhibit the concluding
page. And a cheerful history it is — -not always, indeed,
so brilliant as at present, but at all times full of promise ; for
even in seasons when to the eye all but a blank, we know
that its many-coloured characters (like those written in invis-
ible ink) are only as it were absorbed, to “come out” again,
fresh as ever, under the influence of each summer sun. Now,
after the return of at least six thousand years, it is as free from
mildew, and should, surely (to our perceptions) be more free
from mist, than when first spread open ; yet was it, probably
in common with other pages of the universal volume) more
clearly deciphered, and much more attentively marked, in
ages of antiquity than in our own.

While the book of nature, as a mere natural history (whether
relating to insects or other things) was almost, perhaps, a
sealed volume, the “coming out” of the butterfly had at-
tracted notice, and been hailed as a symbolic promise that
man also was to “ come out ” in due time, from the darkness
of the grave. The same Greek word Psyche was applied to
denote both a Butterfly and the human Soul; hence (say the
learned) the Egyptian fable of Cupid and Psyche, and the
reason that in Grecian sculptures Psyche is so often represented
as subject to Cupid, either under the form of a butterfly or
adorned with the wings of that most glorious of insect flutterers.

INSECT EMBLEMS.

33

A similar coincidence of names between tbe emblematic
insect and tbe immortal principle lias been observed to exist
in modern times.* In tbe north and west of England tbe
moths which fly into the candles are called Saules , perhaps
from the old notion that the souls of the dead fly about at
night in search of light ; and perhaps for the same reason the
common people in Germany call them ghosts (geistchen.)
When life and immortality were brought to light by the
Gospel, the insect type by which, in the midst of Pagan ob-
scurity, they had been dimly shadowed forth, acquired fresh
illumination. .Employed by the Fathers of the Church, the
beautiful symbol of the Butterfly shone on their ponderous
pages like a beam of sun-light, falling through a painted
window on the gloom of a cloister. So great, indeed, was the
value attached to this insect emblem by writers for the Church,
in the time of Reaumur, that they absolutely fought for it
with that great and good naturalist, because, with his newly
acquired light on its natural history, he saw reason to dispute
the entire fitness of insect transformation to represent the
mystery of human resurrection. And certainly, when it came
to be ascertained, by the experiments of Reaumur and others,
that a caterpillar is not in fact a simple but a compound
•animal, containing within it the rudiments of the future
butterfly in all its parts, it ceased to be an exact parallel of
the usual idea of the resurrection — namely, that of a decayed

* By Kirby, and Spence.

34

SYMBOLIC TEACHING.

body, recomposed of its elements, and re-united, after a cer-
tain interval, to the soul.

But whatever the views taken of the mode in which* we
shall put on immortality, or however modern science may
have impaired the fitness of the insect symbol employed to re-
present it, there yet remains a very obvious analogy between
the stages of insect development, and the progressive states
of our own being. The gross and grovelling habits of the
Caterpillar, with its repeated castings of shin as it advances
towards maturity — a maturity which it often fails to reach
owing to parasitic enemies (“ apt symbols of the vices which
prey upon the soul ”*) — still serve to parallel completely the
work of spiritual regeneration.

Although the butterfly seems to have been the first, if not
the only insect noticed by the ancients as representative of the
immortal principle, there are a multitude of others which fur-
nish emblems quite as fitting of the soul’s destination to a
higher sphere.

The fly, now regaling upon sweets, or buzzing in the sum-
mer sun, has come out from a shape, and most likely from a
substance, of disgust. The beetle, now careering it through
the summer evening sky, has emerged from the form of an
unsightly grub, and from a living burial within the earth.
And the gnat, now a graceful and agile sporter in the air, has

Kirby.

MORAL.

85

issued from perhaps a lrorse-pond, where it dwelt an hour ago
— a miniature monster of the mimic deep.

Thus by plain and pleasant symbols is Nature for ever
teaching us — entreating us to come out and sit with her at
the feet of her Great Author. Her “ tongues in the running
brooks” are always tuneful; her “sermons in stones” never
rugged; her “good in everything” is always easy of ex-
traction ; and her moralities are not adorned merely — but
wholly conveyed by picture and parabolic story. The French
Fabulist observes with truth, that

“ La morale nue apporte de 1’ ennui,

La conte fait passer le precepte avec Ini..”

But though Nature deals with us, her children, on this very
principle, we turn a deaf ear to “the voice of the charmer,” —
and while the Thousand and One Nights of the far-famed
Scherezade are in everybody’s memory, the 365 days of the
year, each with its tale within tale of wonders ever new, go
round unheeded or unheard.

36

THE BABON AND THE BUTTEBFLY.

A TALE.

“ Non v’accorgete voi che noi siam vermi
Nati a formare l’angelica ^ orfalla ?”

There lived, in tlie feudal times, a bulky baron, wbo wasted
bis patrimony and stripped bis wretched serfs to feed bis ap-
petites. He was like a great caterpillar, turning green leaves
into brown skeletons in order to fill bis ravenous maw.

Like most great caterpillars, and most great men, be was
infested by greedy parasites ; yet amongst tbe members of bis
bousebold there happened, by a strange accident, to be one
honest dependant, wbo, by a stranger still, was a priest — tbe
baron’s chaplain and ghostly adviser. As a mere man, there
was, of course, something of tbe caterpillar’s nature about tbe
servant of tbe Church, as well as about tbe servant of sen-
suality ; but we know of no caterpillar to which, in outward
seeming, tbe former could be likened, except to one of those
dry attenuated insect spectres known as “walking branches.”*
As the baron seemed nearly all body, so Father Ambrose
seemed nearly all soul, and like a house in progress, discernible
through a scaffold, the monk’s inner man (in progress also)

* Vignette to ‘ Resemblance and Relation.’

THE MONK.

37

appeared as if visible through the thin bony frame which
surrounded but hardly seemed to hide it.

The mere sight of him was enough to remind people of their
souls ; but however this might have been with those about him,
it is certain that the Grood Father never forgot that he had a
soul himself; and, what was more, he thought about the souls
of other people, especially about that of his portly patron.
He had long, indeed, entertained misgivings on account of
that precious jewel, — none the safer for the thickness of the
fleshy casket which enclosed it; but great, nevertheless, was
his horror on discovering, one day, perhaps by the probings
of the confessional, that the treasure committed (as he be-
lieved) to his own careful keeping, as well as its possessor’s
own heedless charge, had been actually stolen by the arch-
thief of souls, — in other words, that the baron, though a
Catholic in all outward observances was (in those days a thing
wonderful as horrible) an unbeliever.

Piercing swords from the word, — leaden bullets from the
Fathers, — threatened thunder-bolts from Eome, — all were at
the holy man’s disposal, and boldly and zealously (although
in secret) did he ply these sacred weapons for the ejection of
his patron’s spiritual foes ; but they still kept fast possession
of the baron’s soul ; and the baron (as well he might) swore
that he had not a soul to keep.

But Providence appoints its own means %s well as its own
times and seasons. There are certain shrouds of the Cater-

38

THE SICK BED.

pillar’s own weaving, from which the struggles of the self-
imprisoned insect, and the assisting hand of the entomologist
might combine in vain to free it, till the arrival of an appoint-
ed hour, and then a single drop of acid, the gift of nature,
bestows freedom on the imprisoned Moth.

The baron fell sick : his mountain of flesh heaved with the
volcanic throes of his fiery and troubled spirit. Now, good
Father Ambrose, now is thy time — now if ever — to aid in the
rescue of thy patron from the power of the enemy. W ell he
knows it, and there he stands beside the baron’s bed, which
fever of body, fever of mind, and fever heat (for it was a sultry
August noon) had converted into a sea of molten lava. As the
monkish labourer gazed, upon the huge dismasted vessel, which
lay tossing on its waves, hopeless almost of saving its perilled
cargo, his forehead streamed with perspiration, and drops hung
from the thick black fringe of his tonsure. After depicting
the terrors of judgment, he was now in milder mood, dilating
on the joys of heaven; but what to- the eyes of the blind are
the most glowing colours of the painter ?

11 Talk not to me, father ! — If there were a heaven such as
your idle words describe it, St. Boniface defend me,” (the
baron, though he scoffed at Gfod and the Devil, was always
calling on his patron saint) — u,St. Boniface defend me from
such a place ! No horse — no hound — no hawk — no venison
pasty — no garnislftd boar’s head — no Rhenish wine. — Call
ye this heaven ? — To sit upon a cloud, and sing Aves , like a

THE PHYSICIAN OF SOULS.

89

beardless chorister ! — A heaven for a man ! By my spurs, it
were a fitter for yonder Butterfly.”

“ Stay, my good lord,” said the monk, eagerly catching his
patron’s hand in one of his own, while he pointed with the
other to the large White Butterfly, which had just entered the
window ; “ you talk, my lord, of that Butterfly — in scorn ;
but know that the Butterfly is heaven’s own emblem of the
immortal soul !”

If the baron had been standing he would have turned upon
his mailed heel with a pshaw ! As it was, he turned upon his
bed with a groan. He knew as much about emblems as he
knew about the philosopher’s stone. The monk also turned
away despairingly ; for his alchemy seemed vain to extract
one drop of penitence (life’s true elixir) from his patron’s
stony heart. So, at least, it then appeared ; but Father Am-
brose, however unsuitable his tools, or unskilled his mode of
handling them, had been working in the zeal of real piety,
and therefore had not worked alone.

The baron awoke next morning with calmer pulse, and in
calmer mood than usual. The leech exulted in the success of
his remedies, and as he retired from his morning visit pressed
the rushes on the floor of the chamber with audible tread.
The Physician of souls also welcomed the patient’s clearer
brow and softened tone ; but, more modest than his brother in
the art of healing, took no credit to himself for the smoothing
of the troubled waters j and fearing the calm would prove

40

EXHORTATION.

but transient, forbore to ruffle it by the renewed breathing of
bis ardent spirit. He therefore stood beside the bed in silence,
watching and ministering, even with woman’s tenderness to
the sick man’s wants.

“ Ambrose,” said the baron, as he took from his hand some
cooling drink, “ I have been dreaming something — I hardly
know what, of that Butterfly heaven of yours ; only I just re-
member that I saw there (in sooth it was a foolish fancy) my
brother Hubert.”

“ And wherefore not, my lord? Thy brother Hubert was
a good gentleman — and, Grod rest his soul ! a pious Christian,
— also, a noble benefactor to our ancient house.”

“ Aye ! father, but he loved a venison pasty, and a stoup of
good Rhenish almost as well as — his sinful brother.”

“ True ; but these creature comforts, and other carnal lusts,
were not the gods of his idolatry, as ”

“ They have been of mine, good Ambrose, you would say;
but they are broken — broken — now, and so is their worshipper.

Do you know, Ambrose, I would give but, fool that

I am ! what have I left to give — to have been another man ?”

u My dear patron ! my brother in Christ !” exclaimed the
monk, falling on his knees, and grasping the baron’s hand in

ecstacy, “be then no longer what you are But what say I?

the spirit’s influence has already begun — and you , while it is
time, must work with it to complete a change.”

“ The time is past ; or, if I had years instead of hours, did

THE SINNER SOFTENED.

41

you not once tell me — no, I learnt it from my mother when I
was a little child — that the ‘leopard could not change his
spots, nor the Ethiop his skin.’ ”

“ Aye ! but I also told you yesterday that the Butterfly is
an emblem — an image of the soul — your soul. The Butterfly
was once a crawling greedy caterpillar — his world the heart
of a cabbage.”

* * * * *

“ The devil fell sick, the devil a monk would he ;

The devil got well — the devil a monk was he.”

The baron got well ; but his penitence did not exactly evapo-
rate in a whiff of brimstone, as is here recorded concerning that
of his late master. The genial drops of remorse which the
saving angel of sickness, assisted by Father Ambrose, had in-
fused into his heart, still worked and fomented there ; and he
thought , at least, about many things which had never before
entered his mind. Amongst other mementos of his sickness
unto death, he remembered something about the metaphor of
the Butterfly ; and when he first tottered abroad, an altered
man (at least in outward seeming), he could hardly do other-
wise than recollect it ; for it was in the month of May when
the White Cabbage Butterflies were again flying in all
directions, as he had seen them, from his bed, in August.

One day, while leaning, in his walk, on the arm of Ambrose,
a thought — a clever one as he believed it — entered the conva-
lescent’s head.

Vol. II.— 4.

42

EMBLEMATIC TEACHING.

11 Father,” said he, 11 what would have become of all these
flying creatures, if when, as you tell me, they were crawling
caterpillars, they had not ate their fill? Methinks their
bravery would have been finely clipped. See, some of them
are bigger than the others, — those, I warrant, who had a place
nearest to the cabbage heart. If your comparison held good,
the more a man indulged his carnal appetites, the better angel
he would make.”

u Satan, avaunt !” inwardly exclaimed the holy man,
shocked at the irreverent idea instilled into a yet darkened
mind, from, he believed, a darker source. “ Saint Dominick,
save us !” he presently returned, and somewhat pettishly —
“ thou speakest as if the carnal man were in reality a cater-
pillar, with no better teaching than his own craving appetites
— the immortal spirit really a short-lived Butterfly. Did I
not explain how these are only emblems? But, even thus
considered, thy objection is but vain. Perhaps thou knowest
not (and here my teaching was in fault) that no Butterfly ever
yet issued from a caterpillar’s skin — no crawling worm ever
yet changed, at once, into a glorious flutterer. The greedy
caterpillar must put off, first, his gross and grovelling nature ;
his sensual delights of cabbage or of nettle must become to
him as nothing.

“ Look here,” he continued, plucking from off an angle of
the castle wall a suspended chrysalis — u look at this seemingly
lifeless creature — this aurelia, shut up in its gilded skin, and

EMBLEMATIC TEACHING.

43

shut out from the creeping and flying things around it. You
deem it dead ; but its energies are now in fullest action, — its
various parts are maturing, and it will soon join its winged
brethren in the sky. See here an image of the retirement of
the sensualist — the sinner — within himself, and from the world.
See in this creature’s gilded coat of mail, the £ whole armour of
righteousness,’ which he, who would win heaven, must put on.”
*****

A few years saw the burly baron converted into a reverend
brother of the same order, and an inmate of the same monas-
tery, as Father Ambrose. Whether the baron’s caterpillar
soul ever emerged from its chrysalidan armour — the monastic
habit — an angelic butterfly, — only He can tell who gave the
immortal spirit, and created its fugacious emblem.

|f«, temrerp? onm mfifrn of tfje !'

THINGS OF A DAY.

“ Dans leur lueur de temps, dans leur goutte d’espace,

Ils ontleurs jours, leurs nuits, leurs destins, etleur place.”

“ Thy day without a cloud hath passed,

And thou wert lovely to the last,

Extinguished — not decayed ;

As stars that shoot along the sky
Shine brightest as they fall from high.”

We bought, towards the end of last November, a round
dozen of cotton bose, which (in our old-fashioned simplicity,
judging of things as they are by things as they were,) we had
fully expected to do their duty, in all integrity, for a term
extending certainly much beyond this twentieth day of May.

OLD MARTHA.

45

Yesterday, however, old Martha, the mistress and (eke) the
mender, of our wardrobe, announced the astonishing fact that
our “ stockings were beginning to go.”

“ Bless us !” we exclaimed ; “ why it was only in last
November that they came.”

“True enough, Sir,” responded our domestic with a sigh ;
“ there’s nothing lasts in our days ; but when I was a girl ”

“You were the prettiest in the village, eh ! Martha !”

We interrupted, hoping by means of this retrospective com-
pliment to cut short the accustomed comparisons, which were
always of opposite quality to our short-lived cotton hose. Our
manoeuvre was successful ; for the compliment itself, having
reference, like the yarn it was intended to break, to a remote
age, drew at once from out the stores of memory such an in-
tricate mass of tangled threads, that not one could poor Mar-
tha single from the mass. She thought no more of stockings,
ancient or modern, — so many other things came crowding into
head and heart. Confused, partly by these, partly by her old
master’s gallantry, not a word found utterance, but, with
cheeks which glowed like a shrivelled pippin, she dropped a
curtsey and withdrew.

We might have cared less to rid ourselves thus speedily of
good Martha’s not always unwelcome presence : but our mind
had been busy, on her entrance, in choosing a subject for this
day’s lucubration. Her unlooked-for announcement was not
sufficiently afflictive to divert our thoughts from the all-perfect

46

EPHEMERAS OF ART.

works of nature; but it served to introduce into tbe same
channel a few comparative reflections on the imperfection of
those of art.

We are no advocate, through thick and thin, for “the Good
Old Times,” into which we should be sorry to find ourselves
carried back in other than on the wings of Fancy; but, as
regards the fragility and unsoundness of most modern works
and ways, the judgment of Martha does not, perhaps, greatly
err. Few enough, certainly, in these days, are the things
made or done with a view to other than a temporary purpose,
and for this reason all our doings (sorry bunglers as we are at
best) are ten times more imperfect than they need be.

Look at that new street, in suburban London, called Atlas
Place. Wanting strength to support their own weight, two
of the end houses fell beneath the gales of last March. But
what of this ? They stood their intended c?ay, for they were
only built to sell, and were turned into money ; they served
to “ raise the wind” before the wind razed them. In the centre
of the row still stands Atlas House, a manufactory of boarding-
school misses, from whence they are to be turned out ex-
quisitely polished. The polish, it is true, will lie but on the
surface, soon to be rubbed off, instead of heightened, by the
wear and tear of life. And who can expect it otherwise,
knowing that the neat little articles “finished” at all such
establishments are but plated goods, got up only to last their

EPHEMERAE OF NATURE.

47

day, to pass with, the unwary for sterling metal, and fetch
above their value at the matrimonial mart ?

On a line with Atlas House, but with numbers enough
between, for protection of its gentility, is a chandler’s shop.
On the counter lie numerous echantillons , enveloped in the
letter-press of a modern author, — a clever writer whose pages
deserve no better fate. They were written, two years since,
only to please the taste of the day, and now that day is over.

In the house adjoining, at a front window But stay !

what have we here, just fallen upon the ledge of our own
cottage casement ? An Ephemeral or May-fly, one, doubtless,
of the early swarm which we noticed at nine o’clock this
morning rising and falling near the brook at the bottom of the
garden. They were then just risen from the water, new-born
into air, and into their perfect stage of being. How it is
scarce noon, yet of this, and of the greater number of its active
fellows, the life is over. Literally, as proverbially, this is the
creature of a day ; — a day ! say rather of a few brief hours ;
but only let us compare it with the works of art or artifice
intended by us for a day’s duration.

Here all is finish and perfection ; for Nature metes not the
quality of her workmanship by amount of time. Even
amongst the beautiful and short-lived flowers some of the
most beautiful of all are of all the briefest; — witness that
flower of an hour the Malva horaria. the Favonia , the Gum-
cistus , and the Night-blowing Cereus.

48

THE MAY-FLY.

But now examine more minutely our cloud-dropt insect
specimen,

“ Extinguished — not decayed.”*

Look at these four unequal wings, with nervures so deli-
cately reticulate, resembling the finest lace, the meshes filled
by }^ellowish glassy membrane, and 11 freaked” with dark brown
spots or squares. On the narrow chest, and long and flexible
body, the same colours are harmoniously disposed in spots and
rings, and even the three slender filaments which form the
tail are ringed, en suite , with black and yellow, the whole
being covered by a natural varnish. How nicely jointed, also,
and finely polished are the six tapering legs, of which the two
foremost are much longer than the others, forming, when
placed together and stretched forward, a sort of counterpoise
in flight to the filaments of the tail. Besides the large com-
pound eyes, which occupy a great portion of the head, we can
just discern without a magnifier (and clearly with one) three
shining spots disposed in a triangle close behind them. These
are the ocelli or simple eyes, common to most other perfect
insects.

And all this external beauty, with internal organism yet
more admirable, is intended but for the duration and uses of
less than a single day ! Fewer organs and far less adornment
might seem, in our contracted judgment, to have sufficed for
creatures destined during so short a time to employ the former,
and to have the latter, in most cases overlooked at least by

* Vignette.

THE MAY-FLY.

49

human observers. Occasionally indeed, as we are now doing,
we are led to amuse what we call an idle hour by bestowing a
little more than our wonted notice on the more fleeting and
fragile works of nature ; and then, as we admire the elegance
of form, the exquisite finish, the curious adaptation of parts,
so strikingly if not pre-eminently observable in the flower or
the insect of a day, there comes, mingled with our admiration,
a feeling somewhat akin to wondering regret that so much
pains should have been bestowed on the formation of an object
intended to exist but for so short a space. “ It’s almost a
pity! It’s scarcely worth the while!”' — are phrases which,
rising to our lips, are checked only by the monstrous unfitness
of applying them to the works of an infinite Being, with whom
to will is to create, and to whom a day is as a thousand years,
— a thousand years as a day.

To return to our insect of a day, or, to speak with more
precision, of from four to five hours, the supposed limit of
existence with those amongst the tribe of Ephemeras per-
mitted to reach a good old age. These, however, form pro-
bably but a minor portion of their countless swarms, liable as
they are to continual accidents by flood and field : if, indeed,
we may regard as accidents those common catastrophes by
which, for the benefit of other animals, they are designed to
perish. Their dangers and disasters are thus pathetically
enumerated by a naturalist of note.* “ Who,” says he, “ hath

* Swammerdam.

50

MAY-FLY MISERIES.

so great a genius, or is so conversant in tlie art of writing, as
to be able to describe with, a due sense the trouble and mis-
fortunes to which this creature is subject during the short
continuance of its flying life. For my part, I confess, I am
by no means able to execute the task ; nor do I know whether
Nature ever produced a more innocent and simple little
creature, which is, nevertheless, destined to undergo so many
miseries and horrible changes. An infinite number are
destroyed in their birth (that is final transformation) by fish.
Clutius acquits no species of fish of this cruelty except perch
and pike. On land, when engaged in the work of changing
their skins, they are barbarously devoured by swallows and
other birds. Escaped this peril, when they approach for a
second time the surface of the water to sport and play, they
are again likely to fall a prey to fish which drag to the dark
bottom and devour them. If, again (instead of skimming,
dipping rather near the surface of the water) they take a higher
flight, birds often tear them to pieces and devour them. Thus,
though most innocent, no wild beast can be pursued with
greater cruelty.” The conscience of the fly -fisher will suggest
another misery more acute, perhaps, and prolonged than
either of the above, added by his own hands to the catalogue
of the poor May-flies’ sad calamities.

On looking, however, a little more closely into the history
of our persecuted insect, we shall find that the above, though a
picture perfectly true of the apparent ills which Ephemeral flesh

MAY-FLY CHANCES.

51

is heir to, is nevertheless only a partial one. It represents the
creature's condition merely in the last and brightest stage of its
existence, and gives, therefore, both a mistaken notion as to
the duration of its entire life, and an unjust one as to its being
made up of pains and perils. In the form of a brilliant flutterer
sporting on the morning or the evening sunbeam, and also for
ever on the brink of danger, it is true that the infancy, middle
life, and old age of an Ephemeral Fly are all comprehended in
less than the compass of a day ; yet by each one of the myriads
which rise, born as it were anew, from their native streamlet,
the boon of existence has been possessed, and, without doubt,
enjoyed for the space of two previous years.

Maternal instinct, wonderfully guided by Paternal Provi-
dence, directs each parent May-fly (heedless sporter as she
seems) to drop her eggs into the water while she hovers above
its surface. From each of these issues, in due time, a wingless
six-legged grub,* which bears no resemblance to the perfect in-
sect, except, perhaps, in the triple appendage of bristles issuing
from the tail. This little animal is provided with a set of breath-
ing tubes running along each side of its body, adapted for the
extraction of air from water ; also, on each side, eight fins,
which by aid of a microscope are clearly discernible. The
first care and labour of the larva’s life is to excavate for its
habitation, within the soft bank of the river, a hole or burrow,
proportioned to its size, and below the level of the water, of

* Vignette.

52

LARVA AND PUPA.

which, it is consequently always full. This cavernous abode
serves the double purpose of protecting it from the jaws of its
finny foes, and of providing it with a ready supply of that slimy
earth on which it is supposed chiefly to subsist.* It has how-
ever been suggested that the insect may, after all, only derive
nutriment from the decaying vegetable matter mixed with the
earth thus swallowed ; but that if, on the contrary, it really feeds
on earth, the fact would at once abolish the distinction laid
down by Mirbel between the animal and vegetable kingdoms.

In the above sub-merged, subterranean, sunless and earth-
eating existence the streams of life and of its native current
glide for four-and-twenty successive moons over the head of
our as yet misnamed Ephemera , which, during the latter part
of the same period, exchanges the first (or Larva) for the
second (or Pupa) state of insect life. It is then that on some
fine May morning (or may be evening) it bids adieu for ever
to its dark subaqueous dwelling, and rises to the surface, pre-
pared to enter on its third estate.

Having burst from the Pupa skin, which is left behind as
the badge and bandage of an inferior and confined condition,
it quits, in company with numerous fellows, the water for the
air, in the shape, to all appearance, of a perfect fly. As if,
however, the most fugacious of all insect forms was purposely
designed to be also the most elaborately finished, it has still to
pass through another and fourth stage of development. The

* See Insect Architecture, p. 206.

FOUKTH DEVELOPMENT.

53

singular process by which this additional and final change is
effected has been thus described.*

“After its release from the Puparium , and making use of
its wings for flight often to a considerable distance, the little
Ephemera fixes itself by its claws in a vertical position to some
convenient object, and withdraws every part of the body, even
legs and wings, from a thin pellicle which has enclosed them
like a glove the fingers, and so exactly do the exuviae , which
remain attached to the spot where the Ephemera has disrobed
itself, retain their former figure, that I have more than once
at first sight mistaken them for the perfect insect.”

To become eye-witnesses of this interesting operation we
have only, on a warm still morn or evening of May or early
June, to take our station beside a brook which they are known
to haunt, and we shall see them rise from the water, and set-
tling on some adjacent water plant, or perhaps on our own
sacred persons, proceed to cast off* and leave suspended the
outer garment which has hitherto concealed their last and most
perfect suit. This, though much resembling it, greatly exceeds
the former in polish of texture and clearness of colouring. In
Ephemerae , caught previous to this final casting off, we have
had opportunities of observing it effected in our own window.

When thus adorned in their best and what may properly be
called their bridal vestments, love and pleasure (unimpeded
even by the exigences of hunger, air being then their only

* By Kirby and Spence.

54

FLIGHT OF EPHEMERA.

food) form the brief and brilliant consummation of their lives.
Spite of the pathetic enumeration above quoted of ephemeral
miseries, what, after all, is less deserving pity than our own
merry May -fly, even in its last estate ? In happy ignorance of all
surrounding perils — sporting one moment on the sunset beam
— engulphed the next in dark unconsciousness by skimming
swallow or by rising fish — it is through the cruelty of man
alone that they are exposed, as they dangle on the line, to a
fate really worthy of commiseration. We have only to watch
their revels in the air, and instead of “ the most wretched ”
we shall be disposed to call them the most happy of created
insects. The dullest and most dispirited of solitary strollers
that ever marred by his cold melancholy visage the warm
glowing face of a summer's eve, could hardly behold a trans-
lucent cloud of these buoyant creatures, as it comes glittering
betwixt himself and the setting sun, without feeling his very
heart illumined as though by some scattered sparks struck from
this mass of bright existence. Assembled in jocund groups —
now sporting high above the tallest willows — now descending
to the surface of the meadows or the stream — now sailing like
hawks — now rising and falling in undulating motion — their
long triple tails disparted, and by turns elevated and de-
pressed with the movement of their lightsome bodies — thus
with the ephemeral crowd passes their live-long day, which,
unless prematurely ended, terminates at an hour of the day
natural, regulated by that of its commencement.

EPHEMERAE.

55

There are various species of Ephemeras , differing in size and
colour but similar in habits and economy. Of these, one kind*
is distinguished by having only two tail-like appendages in-
stead of three. But besides these Ephemeras , properly called
May -flies, the same appellation is often given by anglers to an-
other tribe of insects, perfectly distinct, known also as Caddis
or Case- flies, which only resemble the Ephemerae in passing
their early stages under water, and in serving as the staple
food of fish and swallows.

The seasons as well as hours of appearance vary with dif-
ferent sorts of Ephemerae , which are not therefore strictly May-
flies. That figured in our plate is a large common species, f
which we have noticed late in May, and early in June, sporting
in groups of few or many, near the banks of the New River at
Hornsey. Its most usual hours of appearance have been from
seven till eleven in the morning, and from about sunset until
dusk. We may here observe, that confinement, instead of
abridging, would seem sometimes to prolong the existence of
this short-lived creature ; for of some of the above species put
into a box, at night, several were found living in the morning.

Some of these insects appear in England even as late as
August : and Rennie speaks of having noticed them on the
Rhine in the same month of 1829, — when appearing in the
evening all were dead before sunrise. He describes them as
“ so. thickly strewn in the great square at Wiesbaden, that it

* Baetes.

f Ephemera mlgata.

56

STRAY MINUTES.

seemed as if a shower of snow had fallen in the night, their
wings being white, and about the size of a broad snow-flake.”*

The remarkable brevity of the Ephemera’s life seems to have
attracted the notice of the ancients, Aristotle speaking of little
animals on the river Hyparis which live but for a day : — those
(he observes) among them which die at eight in the morning
die in their youth ; those which live to see five in the after-
noon, in their old age.

With one more application to ourselves let us now review
the history, as, in the beginning, we examined the structure of
our little Day-fly : for in the former, no less than in the latter, is
contained a lesson written in characters Divine. What precious
time, made up of stray minutes and odd half hours, do we not
daily throw away, because “it is not worth while ” to employ
them? How many useful works do we deem it not “worth
while ” attempting, because life may probably be too short for
their completion ! How much of mind do we consider it not
“ worth while ” to cultivate, because hopeless perhaps of living
to reap the fruits of our mental labour, forgetting — creatures
of a day, as we strive to make ourselves — that we are sowing
not for time, but for Eternity ! In all these things an Ephem-
eral Fly may teach us wisdom. Although a few summer
hours constitute his all of life, not a moment of those hours
is thrown away : — with him all is ceaseless activity and con-
sequent enjoyment ; and, early as he dies, it is not until he
has performed the purpose of his creation.

* Insect Transformations, p. 316.

TO THE MAY-FLY.

57

True — but then (say we) he is only a creature of instinct.
Suppose he were endowed with understanding, and a know-
ledge of his own frail nature ; then perhaps, being aware that
his existence was so very brief, he might, on rising perfect
from his native streamlet, let himself drop back again and be
drowned, because to enjoy life till sunset would not be
“worth his while.” — Would our May-fly be, in this case,
veritably a creature of reason? We trow not, or his reason
would be, at best, but the reasoning of the day.

TO THE MAY-FLY.

Winged reveller of the glowing eve,

Born on the sunset beam to weave
Thy evolutions airy ;

One in a maze of living gems,

Bright as in fairy diadems,

Thyself a dancing fairy !

Thou and thy little comrades gay
Now clustering thick as flowers of May,
Yon hawthorn bush adorning ;

Will, like those blooms (but earlier) shed,
Find on the earth a dewy bed,

Ere next awakes the Morning.

58

TO THE MAY-FLY.

Thy joyous gambols as I see,

May-fly, I’d almost wish to be
Such thing of brief duration,

To sport, like thee, one little day,

Nor pass through years of slow decay,

To reach life’s termination.

But ah ! what graceless wish breathed I ?
How little knowledge, brilliant Fly,

Of thy existence shewing :

Still less of that I call my own,

How heedless of the precious boon,

And Him to whom ’tis owing !

Bright insect, ere thy filmy wing,
Expanding on the breath of spring,
Quivered with brief enjoyment ;

’Tis thine for years immured to dwell
"Within a lone and gloomy cell,

To eat, — thy sole employment.

Within that cavern dark and dank,
Scooped in a streamlet’s oozy bank,

Its walls the water laving,

Thy form and nature incomplete,

Earth was thy home, and earth thy meat,
So coarse and vile thy craving.

TO THE MAY-FLY.

59

To these long years, thy life’s dark part,
How much within my earth-bound heart,
Too close resemblance holding !

But light and joy, for one day thine,
From age to age may yet be mine,

Their endless beams unfolding.

/T

/ A

# it;";

INSECT MAGICIANS.

Lo ! at their Fairy touch at once springs forth
A magic growth of seeming fruits and flowers,
Fair to the eye, and animate within
By more than vegetative life.

The day approaches on which oak-apples, bearing their gilded
honours, will perpetuate the memory of those their ancestral
fruits, which hung, in company with a hunted monarch, on
the tree of Boscobel. Whether dressed in tinsel, or adorned
by Nature’s painting, these apples of royalty are pretty things
to look at ; and against the coming anniversary (the 29th of
May), which will bring them within the reach of all, it may

OAK APPLES.

61

be worth inquiring whether they have aught within deserv-
ing notice ; or whether, as with the merry monarch’s self, they
are to be estimated only for their outward bravery.

Pleasant to the taste these fair fruits are not (as well we
know by bitter experiences of childhood) ; so not daring to
bite, let us pull one of them asunder, or, dividing it with a
knife, reveal its secrets. We now see, surrounded and bounded
by spongy pulp, a set of cells, each with its solitary living oc-
cupant, for whose safe keeping, and that of his fellows, this
fruit-like tenement was called into existence, not by the labours
of a trifling artificer, but by the touch of a flying fairy. The
insect tenants of these pulpy palaces are not unlike, in one
condition of their being, to the scions of royal houses. It is
not improbable that before one of them has attained to the
majority of its winged estate, all may be despoiled of their
inheritance by a host of usurping parasites, such as, in palaces
reared by hands, have often enacted a resembling part.

The above description of a common oak-apple, its Gall-fly
occupant, and Ichneumon intruder, may seem over-fanciful ;
but in writing of Galls, our pen may possibly be carried from
the dry land of simple fact by some spirit of fiction in our ink,
— an infusion, it is likely, of gall-nuts, the produce of the
East, the very region of romance. With graver pens than ours,
Fancies would seem, indeed, to have been the very growth of
Gall ; for, descanting on their origin, an Italian entomologist,*

* Eedi.

Yol. II.— 5.

62

RABBINICAL FANCIES.

an observant naturalist, — one who waged war, moreover, with
Popular Fallacies, — imagined that Oak-apples and other Galls
were animated, nay, brought into being by a soul — not an
animal but a vegetative and sensitive soul — in the plant itself.
To account for the mysterious entrance of life into the centre
of an imperforate ball, he might just as well have adopted, and
slightly modified to suit his purpose, the no less imaginative
notion of some learned Jewish Rabbins, who believed, or, not
believing, taught that human souls transmigrate after death
into leaves and buds. 11 For certain crimes,” they would have
it, “a soul goes into the leaf of a tree; the wind then rises,
and shaking it about causes great torment. This punishment
ceases when the leaf falls to the ground : though sometimes,
indeed, such a soul passes from leaf to leaf through several.”

Before we throw these learned bubbles entirely away,
suppose we, in sport, toss up the last of them, just to
make with it another random hit at the origin of life in the
oak-apple. Let us fancy, with the sagacious Rabbins, an
erring soul incarcerate within a single leaf, or wandering from
one green prison to another. A portion of its guilt thus ex-
piated, we may imagine it in remittance of punishment, and,
as a first step towards restoration, permitted to throw aside its
more vegetable skin, and to put on an animal form (albeit one
of the very lowest) as the grub, or even egg of a gall-nut
insect. Under a transition so important as the recovery of an
animal shape, however insignificant, could a poor soul do other-

A KOYAL KETRIBUTION.

63

wise than cause a most irregular disturbance amongst the con-
tiguous vegetable juices, which, forthwith beginning to ferment,
and rise, and consolidate around it, soon constitute again its
vegetable prison, — a prison of no larger dimensions than the
narrow circle of an oak-apple, or a currant leaf-gall ?

To follow up the above notable ideas, the peculiar tree of
England, her mighty oak, were certainly no unfitting instru-
ment for the punishment of England’s erring potentates. Only
fancy, amongst others, the roistering spirit of the “merry
monarch” to have been condemned, in expiation of its in-
numerable naughtinesses, to wander, for nigh two hundred
summers, from leaf to leaf of the self-same tree, or a tree of
the same sort as that whereon he hung — a fugitive. Or sup-
posing him by this time permitted to exchange for an animal
the vegetable form, — think only of this animal king con-
demned to play the insect in the oak-apple ; and perhaps on this
oak-apple day of 1849, mounted in his gilded prison on the
beaver of a round-hat royalist! Then (oh, most crowning
consummation of a royal retribution !) the gilded apple with-
ers, and as the juices perish on which its occupant regaled,
the spirit of the Stewart, whose very God was appetite, pines
on starvation, dies as much as spirit can, and revives only to
animate another oak-apple, and tread again the same tiny
round of painted or gilded penance.

But a truce with fancy, and now for fact ; or perhaps we
should say rather for the probable instead of improbable con-

64

ORIGIN OF GALLS.

jectures to which the extraordinary birth of oak-galls, and galls
in general, have given rise. One thing is clearly ascertained,
namely, that their originator is none other than an insect, — the
winged parent of the wingless grub, or Larva , which begins life
within them ; but how the slight puncture made by the mother
fly upon a leaf, or stem, or bud, can produce, and that often in
a few hours, the extraneous vegetable products which arise for its
protection around the inserted egg, is still no little of a marvel
and a mystery. The common oak-apple (as becomes instantly
apparent on cutting one across) contains within its pulpy sub-
stance numerous oval cells, each enclosing a small grub, which
in due season, — June usually, or July, — will issue forth a little
four-winged insect, the image of its mother Gall-fly.* Such,
at least, is the result, when the legitimate possessors of the
apple are allowed to reach maturity ; but, in spite of the pro-
tecting bulwark which Nature has thrown up around them, a
parasitic invader, a brilliant fly of the usurping family Ichneu-
mon,,*)* often detects the hapless dwellers in the apple, pierces
with an instrument adapted for the purpose through the fleshy
pulp, and depositing an egg within each of the Gall-fly’s
grubs, leaves them a prey to the cravings of her own. The
latter, when arrived at maturity, emerge a set of winged im-
postors, which, besides having taken the lives and usurped the
dwellings of the Gall-fly brood, have sometimes also, through
error of observers, robbed them even of their name.

Vignette.

t Vignette.

GALLS OF THE OAK.

65

Besides the oak-apple, many other varieties of Gall (each the
produce of a distinct species of Gy nips ) are found on the same
tree. One of these is now common on the leaves. They are
either single or in groups ; are about the size of a currant,
green, tinged with red, and serve each as a protecting globe to
a single egg, or grub, which occupies a central cavity, surrounded
by the j uicy substance of the fruit. These berry -like productions
are sometimes seen attached also to the oak catkins, pendant
on which they are not unlike a half-plucked bunch of currants,

from their resemblance to which they have been named Currant

«

Galls.* Others, widely differing from the above in appearance,
but of similar origin, are also very abundant on the oak, near
the extremity of its branches. These, from their form, and the
arrangements of the small leaflets which compose them, have
been named after the artichoke, which they most resemble.f
Not only the most extreme and tender branches, but the
rugged bark, the solid wood, the root even of the giant oak,
is ready, at the touch of her wand-like piercers, to supply the
fairy Gall-fly with those rapid and extraneous growths, which
serve to protect her tender offspring. Most of these bark and
root-galls have the appearance of brown, woody, irregular ex-
crescences; but there are some which form a beautiful and
striking contrast with the coarse substances from which they
spring. An exceedingly pretty if not uncommon specimen of
the latter description we found in July, amongst some oak

* Vignette.

t Vignette.

66

FOREIGN GALLS.

underwood near Hornsey. These singular Galls, resembling
in form the buds of a flower, (those especially of the Mezereon)
sprung in thick clusters from the brown rooty stems just above
and below the surface of the ground ; and when first gathered
were of a delicate wax-like white, shaded, and striated by the
most brilliant rose colour. A single grub was ensconced in
the centre of each bud-like Gall ; but, owing to the piece of
root having been carelessly mislaid, we lost the opportunity
of seeing the perfect fly.

Several other of these curious productions of animal origin,
but vegetable growth, have been found upon the English oak ;
but it is to the oaks of other lands, those chiefly of Asia
Minor, that we are indebted for the Galls, which, exported
from Smyrna and Aleppo, make a prime ingredient of our
ink. Such as may be curious to look upon one of those
fairy-like Oriental flies, whose tiny wands have assisted to
feed their pens, perhaps also their purses and their pride, have
only to buy and bruise some half dozen of the best blue galls,
in one or more of which the perfect insect is almost certain to
be found imbedded.

Various are the other trees, shrubs, and herbaceous plants
which produce each their peculiar galls. As the towering oak
is not too lofty, neither is the trailing ground-ivy* too lowly,
to escape the impost levied on its juices for the protection and
support of Gall-fly infancy, which is also cradled on the

* The gall of the ground ivy is produced by a Gall-gnat.

ROSE GALLS.

67

branches of poplar, willow, rose, and broom. Very commonly
met with on the leaves of the hedge-rose, in July and August,
is a berry-shaped gall nearly resembling the currant-gall of
the oak. Like that, it is coloured much like an apple, usually
advancing with age from paly -green to rosy and mellow red ;
but instead of being always smooth, this miniature and mimic
fruit often displays a sprinkling of short sharp thorns indicative
of the character of its fostering, if not parent, stem.* Besides
the above, the dog-rose is accustomed to display one of the
most conspicuous and perhaps the very prettiest of all Gall-fly
productions. This, which is often called the rose Bedeguar ,
wears the - appearance of a mossy tuft, varying greatly in size
and in colour from green to brilliant red.f In some parts of
England it is said to be known by the name of Robin’s Pin-
cushion (we suppose Robin Good-fellow’s) — a term which would
serve to designate its fairy -like formation. The creative piercer
of the fairy insect is, on this occasion, usually applied to a
branch, sometimes to the main stalk of a leaf. The plant
obeys, as usual, the behest of the parent fly, and speedily
puts forth its energies to cover the group of eggs committed
to its care ; but, instead of surrounding them by a fruit-like
globule, it produces, for their protection, a fibrous spiny mass,
shooting in clusters from the several cells which include,
each, its life in embryo. It is justly observed, by Mr. Rennie,
that “the prospective wisdom of this curious structure is

* Vignette.

+ Vignette.

68

EOSE BEDEGUAES.

admirable. The Bedeguar grubs live in tbeir cells through the
winter, and, as their domicile is usually on one of the highest
branches, it must be exposed to every severity of the weather.
But the close non-conducting warm mossy collection of bristles,
with which it is surrounded, forms, for the soft tender grubs,
a snug protection against the winter’s cold ; till, through the
influence of the warmth of the succeeding summer, they un-
dergo the final change into the winged state, preparatory to
which they eat their way with their sharp mandibles through
the walls of the little cells, which are then so hard as to be cut
with difficulty by a knife.”*

The rightful possessors of this comfortable moss-covered
hybernaculum are four-winged flies of no extraordinary
beauty ;f but among the usurpers, which frequently deprive
them in infancy of life and lodging, are some splendid ichneu-
mon parasites,:): which have been pronounced unrivalled for
elegance of form and brilliancy of colour. Their bodies, re-
splendent with metallic hues, — gold and purple, green and
blue, and their wings (also four) with iridescent lustre, —
these insect gems, which want nothing but size to dazzle the
admiring eye, are beautiful objects for the microscope, and are
easily procurable by keeping some of the rose Bedeguars,
gathered in autumn or in spring, until about June ; when, if
placed under a glass, the egress of their occupants, whether
legitimate or surreptitious, may be conveniently observed.

* Insect Architecture. t Vignette. % Vignette.

ROSE WILLOW.

69

We must notice yet another common instance, though one
perhaps more beautiful than all the preceding, wherein, at the
Gall-fly’s creative touch, the willow is made to blossom like
the rose ; so closely to simulate, by extraneous foliage, the
floral form and colour, as to deceive the fathers of botany, as
well as no doubt many modern observers. One of the former,
old Gerade describes, and gives a figure of the rose ivillow ,
under the assured belief that all “ its blushing honours,” or,
as he designates them, all its “ gallant shew,” could be none
other than the tree’s natural produce ; whereas its mimic roses
spring forth in reality at insect instigation, much in the same
way as the moss-like tufts of the Bedeguar ; only that, instead
of spines, the willow shoots into leaflets resembling in colour
and arrangement the petals of a rose. The change of hue
from green to red has been attributed to an acid in the animal
juice infused with the intruded egg.

Besides the Gall-fly, properly so called, there are several
other insects which cause by their punctures a variety of
vegetable excrescences somewhat resembling those described.
Amongst these are the thistle-fly,* gall-gnat, f a few minute
beetles, and several sorts of Aphides.

As works of wonder, all the comparatively great effects
which arise from these tiny causes are worthy of description, as
well as notice ; but they are too large and too varied for the
little limits of our page. It remains, moreover, to complete our

* Tephritis Gardm.

t Cecidomyia.

70

GALL-FLY.

outline sketch of Insect Magicians by one or two of the most
plausible conjectures, as to the manner in which their natural
miracles are wrought through the prick of a needle, fit only
for the fingers of Queen Mab.

The Ovipositor , or egg-inserting piercer, of the mother Gall-
fly, is, in some instances, conspicuously long ; in others, only
partially visible, except on pressure, when it appears issuing
from a sheath, in form • of a small curved needle longer than
the insect’s body, wherein it is, however, rolled up by a curi-
ous internal apparatus. It is supposed, by Mr. Rennie,* that
<l after the Gall-fly has made a puncture with this instrument,
and pushed her egg into the hole, she covers it over with some
adhesive gluten ; or that the egg itself, as is usual among
moths, &c., may be thus coated over. In either of these cases
the gluten will prevent the sap that flows through the punc-
ture from being scattered over the leaf, and wasted ; and the
sap, being thus confined to the space occupied by the eggs,
will expand and force outwards the pellicle of gluten that con-
fines it ; till, becoming thickened by evaporation and exposure
to air, it at length shuts up the puncture, stops the further
escape of the sap, and the process is completed.” The above
explanation is, however, only given as conjectural, and the
one generally adopted by French naturalists is, that the gall
tubercle is caused by irritation, in the same way as an in-
flamed tumor in an animal body.

* Insect Architecture, p. 371-3.

ROYAL GALLS.

71

We have seen now that Grails, though common things, are
things produced in no common way, and things involved still
in a certain degree of mystery. On learning this, some of
you, our friends, may be led perhaps to avail yourselves of the
coming day of oak-apples, to look beneath their surface. If
there be one of you accustomed to estimate Nature only by
her economic uses, — one who has never thought of galls but
as associate with ink, — of willows, save as material for
baskets, — of roses, save as ingredients of a pot-pourri , — what
will you think, on finding that the oak, the willow, the briar-
rose, are, even in their excrescences, the supporters of ani-
mated worlds? What can you think but that your own
mind must have been limited within a little world indeed ? —
a world from which you will be as eager to emerge, as is the
Gall-fly from its oak-apple.

roved xdvibvdiiw'

“ Or who a two-fold apparatus share,

Natives of earth, and habitants of air,

Like warriors stride, oppressed with shining mail,

But furled beneath their silken pennons veil;

Deceived — our fellow-reptile we admire,

His bright endorsement and compact attire, —

When lo ! the latent springs of motion play,

And rising lids disclose the rich inlay ;

The tissued wing its folded membrane frees,

And with blithe quavers fans the gathering breeze ;

Elate towards heaven the beauteous wonder flies,

And leaves the mortal wrapt in deep surprise.” — Anon. 1735.

A LOME AMONG THE ROSES.

Young ladies, and old, and ladies of a certain age, all of you
wlio have propensities for petting, we can recommend to yon
a pet, — a novel sort of favourite.' We will describe his person

A NOVEL FAVOURITE.

73

and his qualities. In figure, he is a model of miniature pro-
portion, a match for the German Dwarfs, a rival of General
Tom Thumb, and a contrast to many of his pigmy order,
frightful in big-headedness, or bulk of limb. He is clad in a
coat of mail, which he never doffs ; yet be not alarmed at his
military array ; for its wearer is as little formidable as certain
field marshals, the marshal of the City, or the men in armour
at the Lord Mayor’s show. Never, indeed, was carpet knight
more gentle ; and though he wears spurs (badge of his order)
they were not won in fight ; nor does he ever plunge them into
ladies’ trains. His armour — how shall we describe it for lustre,
taste, and finish ? The finest suit that ever issued from the
work-shops of Milan, rich in the most cunning inlay of gold
or steel, would prove, if compared with it, a rude, unsightly
piece of workmanship. On the back of the corselet, burnished
green and gold are the prevailing hues, while in front, on
breast-plate, cuisse, and gauntlet, the lustre of the precious
metal is predominant, mingled with changeable reflections of
purplish crimson. But description fails in doing justice to an
array so brilliant. Let us proceed, therefore, to its owner’s
character and habits, which are in all respects consonant to
his polished exterior. His gentleness has been before advert-
ed to, and he is no less distinguished for taste and delicacy.
No gross and greedy appetite defiles his form or nature ; for
nothing coarser than honey or the golden farina of flowers,
moistened by the juice of fruits, makes up his table of regale-

74

EARLY PREJUDICE.

ment. He loves, while jet in freedom, to ride upon a sun-
beam ; but would be content, when once enthralled, to bask
only in the sunshine and his mistress’s smile, — to revel and
to sleep upon a bed of roses. What think you, ladies, of
this our candidate for your especial notice ? In proper and
euphonious parlance, 1 Cetonia aurata ’ is the fitting appellation
which he bears; but to you, probably, if already known at
all, he is more familiar as 1 a nasty beetle !’

Yes, it is thus, doubtless, that, blinded (as some are for
their live-long day) by the morning mist of early prejudice,
you have been led to miscall even that beautiful creature, the
Rose or Golden Chafer ; with a multitude of others scarcely
less worthy of admiring notice.

The first unlucky Scarabceus , which may have crossed the
toddling footsteps of our childhood, was made, perhaps in our
childish fearlessness, an object of manual examination, and that
with impunity, for the insect is almost always as innocent as we
were once. But only let nurse, or some other person grown up
in error, have been at hand, and our earliest experiment in en-
tomology would have been abruptly ended by a warning lecture,
rendered intelligible to our dawning apprehension in the sense,
at least, of fear and repugnance. With this false impression,
struck anew on every occasion, and deepening with our strength,
we grow up ; if to manhood, with dislike ; if to womanhood, with
terror of every thing that wears a beetle’s shape, although it is
one considered by entomologists as the most perfect (or per-

EARLY PREJUDICES.

75

haps, where all is perfection, we should say rather) the most
elaborate and certainly the most permanent of insect forms.

Let it not, however, be supposed that we would give the
rein, without restriction, to that spirit of inquiry which chil-
dren are so fond of putting into practical exercise upon insects
and other living objects. We should no more encourage them
to handle a spider or a beetle, harmless as they are, than a
wasp or hornet. We would only have them taught to leave
the creatures unmolested, by an appeal, as soon as reason and
feeling open, to the best, instead of to the worst, of their
dawning propensities. To tell them truly , that by molesting
they will cause pain and injury to a harmless little animal, is
calling forth their tenderness and self-denial. To tell them
falsely , that if touched the insect will cause pain to them , is at
once to instil an error, and to excite in them unnatural anti-
pathies and selfish fears.

To return to the Rose Chafer, of whom our recommendation
as a pet was more than half in earnest. We have now our-
selves a pair of these pretty insects caged in an open-worked
basket, with serious intent to test the extent of their longevity,
said by Roesel to have reached, in an individual of his own
keeping, to the term (for an insect patriarchal) of three years.
As was done by the German naturalist, we supply our captives,
in addition to their favourite roses, with fruit and sugared
moistened bread, — a fare with which they seem by no means
disposed to quarrel, any more than with each other, and such

76

ROSE CHAFERS.

excellent friends are they, as often (like an insect Helena and
Hermia) to

“Have with their” jaws “ sat working at one flower,”

or at the demolition of one strawberry.

Placed at a southern window, they seem quite content to
revel in the hearts of gathered roses — appearing to strip the
pollen form the golden anthers, and, when roused to more than
usual activity by the warmth of the sun, to traverse the open
bars of their straw prison, seldom attempting to unfurl their
“ silken pennons ” from beneath their golden mail. They
would prefer, doubtless, ever and anon, to “ fan the gathering
breeze,” in a transit from one flower to another, but they cer-
tainly submit to their thraldom with a better grace than the
wild bird under similar circumstances, and we therefore regard
ourselves, as their captors, something less hard-hearted than the
starling’s jailor. u But where is the use,” says somebody, “ of
keeping beetles? They do not sing to you — they do not love you
— they do not even know you.” “ True, — neither, we suspect,
do the golden fishes, kept in your window, in crystal captivity.
Your finny prisoners will rise perhaps to your hand for a bit of
bread, and our mailed ones will come to ours, drawn by th’e
magnet of a strawberry. But the main amusement afforded by
your swimming captives is pleasure to the eye, as it follows,
with admiration, the brilliant reflexes of their scaly sides : and
we affirm that our green and golden favourites, their “ bright

HABITS OF BOSE CHAFERS.

77

endorsement ” glittering amongst the roses as they revel in
their hearts, are objects to the full as pleasing. By keeping
them we are likely also to inform ourselves on the little-known
subject of insect economy. We find, for instance, that our
chafers of the rose, contrary to the usage of the cock-chafer,
go to bed with the sun; and just as the majority of beetles,
which have lurked all day under leafy coverts, stones, and in
other darksome hiding-places, begin to wheel their drowsy
flight, amidst the shades of evening, these lovers of the light
retire with its disappearance, and about sunset regularly hide
themselves, for the night, either beneath their roses, or within
the bed of light earth with which their basket cage is fur-
nished. We fancy also that by observation of our chafer’s
ways we have gained also a little insight into their characters,
as socially considered. Though their earthen bed is spacious
as a u bed of Ware ” they are almost invariably, when retired
for the night, to be found lying side by side, and, though lit-
tle enough of animal warmth is likely to be transferable
through their coats of mail, they must certainly derive some
sense of comfort from proximity.

That these little creatures, possessed of no audible voice
except the loud shrill buzz of their powerful wings while
passing through the air or lighting on a rose, have yet a lan-
guage of their own — a mode of communication and a way of
influencing each other’s movements — was further proved to
us by the following circumstance.

78

BEETLE CAGES.

From June to August of the last summer, instead of a pair
we kept a trio of these pretty beetles, which, as regularly as
night approached, were in the habit of betaking themselves to
rest. On introducing a fourth into the basket, we found that
the new-caught stranger, refusing to associate on the first night
with his more domesticated associates, remained at the top in-
stead of retiring to the bottom of his prison-house. By the
arrival of a second night, you might have supposed the rest-
less intruder somewhat reconciled to captivity, and ready to
go to rest quietly with his fellows ; but not a bit of it — he had
only communicated to them his own sitting-up propensity.
Another had accompanied him to the top, and, owing, as it
seemed, entirely to this “ evil communication,” our little
prisoners abandoned for a time their “good manners,” and, as
long as the warm weather lasted, were as often found, after
sunset, out of their beds as in them.

Now if any of our fair friends should feel disposed to try for
themselves the keeping of some of these “loves among the
roses ” they may lodge them, if they please, in a style of appro-
priate elegance. In the stead of a basket let them be provided
with a round closely- wired cage, high enough to contain in its
centre a bunch of roses, and wide enough to admit of a sur-
rounding bed of light earth or sand. An ornamental cage,
thus furnished with fresh roses, and tenanted by insects which
in resplendency of metallic lustre almost match the humming-
bird, would be no disgrace we take it to the window of a

CHAFER TRANSFORMATIONS.

79

drawing-room or ladies’ boudoir ; neither, we consider, would
it be employment unbefitting for ladies’ fingers to supply the
captives with fresh flowers, or treat them with ripe strawberries.

W ell, but perhaps say you, when the last rose of summer is
departed, and the last strawberry is gathered, what then will
become of our rose beetles ? Why, for lack of summer flowers,
the rose, the peony, and elder, they must content themselves
with flowers of autumn, dahlia, marigold, and aster, and with
autumn fruits, the plum and pear. But when winter comes
in earnest? Then it is likely that, according to the usage of
their out-door brethren, which retire for the season to cham-
bers underground, your domesticated chafers may betake
themselves, for the same, to the bed provided them. In the
case however (though this is not, we believe, in favour of their
longevity) of their being roused to activity by the warmth of
house or fire, a moistened fragment of our “ staff of life” will
suffice amply to support the light burden of their vitality.

We have said nothing, hitherto, of the earliest, which is
almost beyond doubt the longest period of the rose-chafer’s
existence, however far extended. Like the rest of its tribe,
this pretty beetle undergoes the usual triple metamorphoses of
insect life. From an egg laid within the earth, he emerges, a
grub or larva, to feed on roots, most usually those of the rose ;
the “family tree” from whence his parents, at all events his
mother, has descended. Thus, hermit-like, and upon this
hermit’s fare, he lives in dark seclusion for four years, and
Vol. II.— 6.

80

KING OF THE ANTS.

when these are over, constructs for himself, about the month of
March, a still more straitened cell, — an earth-formed case re-
sembling a pigeon’s egg. He proceeds, under its cover, to the
second stage of Pupa — from thence to the third and last
estate; and after remaining yet another fortnight under
ground, for his enamelled mail to acquire hardness, comes
forth in all his splendor to meet the opening roses. The an-
tennae of this as well as of the common cock-chafer, are of
curious and very elegant formation. They each terminate in a
knob composed of several laminae or plates, opening or shut-
ting like the leaves of a book, and which also like a book can
be put away at the pleasure of their insect owner, on a shelf
or deep cavity on either side its head. They are always thus
put carefully away when the chafer is inactive or asleep.

It has been noticed as a singular fact that the rose beetle
has been found not unfrequently, while in its two first stages,
the tenant of an ant-hill, and that, without being attacked by
its carnivorous inhabitants. It is hence called, in some
countries, “king of the ants and it is said also that German
cattle dealers invest it with supernatural powers, and feed it
carefully in boxes as a means of insuring prosperity to their
herds and fortunes.

Had the above superstition been Irish instead of German, it
might have been readily enough explained. Ant-hills were
formerly if they are not still called in Ireland “fairy mounts,”
and held, as such, in profound veneration by the common

NARCISSUS OF THE WILLOW.

81

people, wlio feared to disturb one of them, lest they should
incur the vengeance of the fairies. The rose chafer’s apparent
sovereignty over the ant-hill would have naturally therefore
invested him, in Hibernian eyes, with the dignity of King of
Fays, and have made him, in consequence, an object of pro-
pitiatory homage.

Although we have enlarged on the idea, we are not the first,
be it here observed, who has been bold enough to recommend “a
nasty beetle ” to the notice of the ladies. John Curtis, the cele-
brated botanist and entomologist, selects from another family
of the same order, the Cerambyx moschatus , or musk beetle, as
a worthy object of their observation, and as one amongst others
whose keeping would afford “ a rational amusement in the con-
templation of nature’s works,” a small sallow or willow, planted
in a garden pot, would afford, he says, a suitable station for
this brilliant and graceful creature. As regards elegance of
figure we must confess, freely, that our “Love among the
Roses” must resign the palm to this “ Narcissus of the Willow,”
often imaged in the glassy streamlet. In richness of enamelled
bravery, green, and gold, and purple, the recommended favour-
ites are much upon a par ; but there is one personal and peculiar
charm possessed by “he of the willow” over “he of the rose,”
from whom, however, we cannot help suspecting, that the
former must once have slily filched it. This gift, or stolen
jewel of attraction, which may very likely turn the scale at once
in its possessor’s favour, is none other than a delicious perfume,

82

MUSK-BEETLE.

not of musk, but roses, which the Musk-beetle always carries
about him, and at times scatters around him with more than
usual prodigality. So powerfully, in warm weather is this
scent emitted, that the air in the neighbourhood of an old wil-
low tree (one of their favourite resorts) has been described as
laden with it ; and a box wherein one of these insects had
been confined was said to have given evidence of the prisoner’s
sweet presence for six weeks after his release.

The usual food of this willow-beetle is, we believe, the
sap of its favourite tree ; but one is recorded to have been
found regaling on a ripe gooseberry, — a fruit which would, no
doubt, therefore, be received with acceptance from the hands
of a gentle keeper.

Taking a July ramble through the woods or lanes of some
of our southern counties — Essex, Kent, and Hants especially
— it is more than probable that we may fall in with a gigantic
forester, clad from top to toe in blackish mail, with head
broader than his shoulders, and jaws, armed with formidable
teeth, longer than his head.

“ Oh! the horrifying monster!” exclaims, with a shudder,
one of our lady-readers. “You can never, Mr. Cricket,
intend to add a Caliban like this to your list of pretenders to
our favour.” “ Most assuredly, dear Madam, we have intro-
duced him for the very purpose. Monster, as you call him,
he is one of the most harmless and gentle in the world. Aye,
and playful in the bargain. Only give heed, we prythee, to

STAG-BEETLE.

83

the written character (in a domestic situation) of one whom
you are pleased to designate a Caliban.” “ After a time (says
his master) he became quite tame and playful, and sometimes
amused himself by tossing about a ball of cotton with his
horns. He was very fond of sugar moistened, and the juice
of raspberries.' — There’s a pet for you ! so delicate in feeding
and playful as a fawn ; and now for his name. He is not a
fawn exactly ; but he is a stag — Lucanus cervus — Stag-beetle.
We have said not a word as yet about his horns ; but we have
told you of his jaws ; and though of horns he is not destitute,
the enormous toothed appendages to which he owes his name
are veritable grinders. To look at, they are in truth, tremen-
dous weapons ; but they are innocent of all save vegetable
blood ; and used only to wound the tender branches of oak, or
birch, or chestnut, for extraction of their circulating fluid. It
is possible, indeed, that, with intent most harmless, he might
mistake a lady’s finger for a silver birch-twig, or a peeled band
of hazel, and sorely pinch it even to the flowing of the
crimson sap : of this, therefore, let his mistresses beware.”

When speaking of our “Love among the roses,” we noted
the curious Lamince , or leaf-like appendages, with which each
of its antennas terminate. Those of the Stag-beetle are some-
what similarly furnished ; for which reason he, as well as
the chafer, has been classed as a Lamellicorn beetle, though
of a group or tribe entirely distinct. As connected and in
admirable adaptation with these elegant antennas and their

84

A DEATH-DEFYING FORM.

laminated knobs, is an instrument furnished by nature to the
Stag-beetle for the purpose of keeping them in proper order.
This is a brush of golden-coloured hair near the base of the
fore leg, “ evidently,” says a close observer,* “ for the purpose
of cleansing the antennae when rendered viscid by sap. The
insect has been noticed thus to employ this useful little
article, at all times ready to its hand. Like the majority of
his Beetle brethren, Lucanus Cervus is accustomed to keep
within covert during day, and take its flight about the hour
of sunset. Its appearance, when on wing, has been likened
to that of a flying duck in miniature. The wood of decaying
trees is the nursery wherein, as a grub or larva, this insect
forester passes the period of its infancy. We have now a
Stag-beetle “set up” before us, and we are compelled, as we
look upon this insect giant (a dwarf though, in comparison
with some of his foreign relatives) to confess that he is a
wonderful and admirable creature. So solid — so compact — so
perfect — so permanent ! — he has nothing about him of insect
lightness and fragility. Armed, not merely “to the teeth”
but to the very eyes, in his encasing panoply of ebon hue and
ebon hardness, even death makes no impression on his
outward form; and the ten years7 occupant of a collector’s
cabinet shows as fresh and life-like, in all but motion, as a
really living specimen. The same qualities of perfection and
permanence (added in some species, as in our favourites of

* Mr. Waterhouse, Entom. Mag.

GOLDEN APPLES.

85

the rose and willow, to extreme brilliancy of colour), belong,
more or less, to the whole order Coleoptera, comprising the
numerous varieties of the Beetle tribe.

Of a smaller size, but in no other way inferior to those
above described, there are many others of our natives, which,
for handsome exterior, pleasing habits, and as cheerfully asso-
ciated with summer sunshine and summer flowers, are well
worth looking after, not only without doors but within. Fore-
most among these are the Chrysomelidoe , “ Golden Apples ” —
at once the nonpareils and pippins of their kind, — so round and
plump, and streaked, and shining, and glowing (according to
their varieties) in scarlet, azure, gold, and green. Innocently
herbivorous, and socially gregarious, the dead nettle and the
broom afford some among them with favourite pasture, and
may therefore furnish to the gatherer a sprinkling of these
golden apples which are now in season.

Much more common than the above, certain almost to be
found on every group of thistles, is the little Tortoise-beetle,*
with wing cases, like an over -lapping shell, and green as the
leaf it feeds on.

Then (a striking contrast with the above rotundities) there
is the pretty and many-coloured tribe of Weevilsf — of form
elongate, and further lengthened by a slender beak or rostrum,
employed as a spiggot for the tapping of their favourite sappy
wine. One of these, now very abundant, especially on the

* Cassida equestris (Tortoise Beetle.)

t Weevil ( Cerculio .)

86

WEEVILS.

black thorn, is a little fellow, with a coat of green verditer —
sometimes glossed with gold. From its bright and unusual
colouring, this tiny beetle can hardly, we think, be otherwise
than known to many; who may have observed also that
“family feature” of a prodigious beak or snout, which will
serve as an index to the rest of its members.

TVe might add a score of others to our list of pretty English
Beetles ; but we shall conclude it with some insects of ex-
cellent beauty — the “ Cardinals,”* which assembled last
month, and are still to be found sitting in conclave on the
white blossoms of the hawthorn, with which their scarlet
robes and black stockings form a striking contrast. How
only let our readers make acquaintance for themselves with
all or some only of the insect individuals which we have en-
deavoured to introduce, and if, after having done so, there be
any yet among them determined to class every beetle under
the ill-applied epithet of “ nasty creature why then we must
condemn them as incorrigible offenders against good taste,
and would at once transport them to Brazil, or China, the
Indies, the Cape, or even to the penal settlements of Austra-
lia, where they would have an opportunity of beholding beetle
gems vying with the emerald, the amethyst, the ruby, and the
diamond ; and learn, perhaps, to estimate some of the very
jewels which, in only diminished lustre, they have trodden
under foot at home.

Pxp'ochroa coccinea (Cardinal Beetle.)

DOMESTICATED ANIMALS.

87

We are told by Koempfer, that the ladies in Japan have
long ago adopted with their brilliant beetles the custom we
would introduce with some of ours — that of “ keeping them v
for their incomparable beauty.

Nor are Beetles the only insects under foreign domestica-
tion. Our prototype, the cricket, is said to be kept in Spain,
and hung by the fire as a song-bird in a cage (of paper) for
the merriment, if not melody, of his chirp.

Again — not as a bird of song, nor yet as a bird of beauty,
but as a bird of flight — the cruel carnivorous Mantis is kept,
we are told, for sake of sport, by “Young China, ” as fighting
cocks were once kept or patronised by “ Young England.”
By the class which this term is used to designate, the latter
custom would now, we doubt not, be indignantly and with
justice disavowed ; and we would hope, therefore, that in our
new relations with the Celestial Empire we may never hear
of an exported main of regular bred game-cocks being returned
for an imported cage of regular trained fighting Mantes.

Insect imports, for better purpose, not merely as cabinet
specimens but as living objects of admiring interest, we should
indeed most gladly welcome from China, — that land where the
strange and grotesque, mingled with the splendid, prevails to
the full as much in insect as in artificial forms ; the latter bor-
rowed doubtless in a measure from the former.

Brought from their native climate in the egg or pupa, and
reared in adapted temperatures, we see no reason why our hot-

88

HOT-HOUSE INSECTS.

house exotics should want their insect adjuncts — glorious but-
terflies— glittering beetles — walking leaves — spectral branches
— living lanthorns, — which latter would afford us, by the way,
an opportunity of seeing for ourselves whether the Chinese
lanthorn-fly, as has been asserted by some recent traveller,
carries a lanthorn without a light — “ lucus a non lucendo .”

We have spoken elsewhere of the most interesting of all
objects for which insects can be kept — that of observing their
transformations, and the various processes of their construc-
tive skill — those especially of the Order Lepidoptera, com-
prising moths and butterflies. If this practice, instead of being
nearly confined to professed entomologists, were very gene-
rally followed, the country would have fewer idlers, nature
more admirers, and (it could not be otherwise) the God of
Nature more praise.

Were we to talk about pet caterpillars, we might be set
down as more monstrously absurd than even in our recom-
mendation of pet beetles ; but, however people may smile at
the idea, it is seriously and perfectly true that we have had
certain caterpillars long enough in our keeping to have
acquired for them a sort of fondness, and to have felt sorry
when their change came. Of these some were the beautiful
larvae* of the sphinx or hawk moths, which, with their gaily-
coloured and sometimes shagreened skins, mitre-shaped heads,
horn-like tails, and sphinx-like attitudes, seem to have so

* Larvae of tlie Sphingidae (Hawk moths or sphinxes.)

PUSS CATERPILLAR.

89

little of the crawling worm about them, that one can hardly
help regarding them almost as creatures sui generis. Speci-
mens of these may be found, next month, upon the poplar,
lime, and privet.

But foremost of our favourites, among their kind, are those
wonders of the willow, the gaudy caterpillars of the puss
moth,* which sitting up so demurely on their boughs look,
even more than the sphinxes, like animals which “ stand” as
well as sit “ alone. After having watched and tended one
of these singular creatures from its tiny kittenhood (and then
very like a kitten is it) up to the period of its caterpillar
growth, we have really missed it from its kustomed seat — a
perch of willow stretched across its box ; and whereon, when
nearly arrived at its bulky maturity, we have often upheld its
painted body, while, with head protruded from its hood-like
shoulders, it has set busily to work upon a fresh supply of
leafy provender.

Now only let some of those, who laugh at the idea of fond-
ness for a caterpillar, ask themselves if they have never felt
fondness for that whereon a caterpillar feeds — for a plant — we
mean that peculiar liking, distinct from general, which we are
apt to entertain for a favourite plant of our own. To tend
on anything day by day — to minister to its benefit — for that
thing to depend on us for life — though perfectly unconscious
of its dependence — is enough, it can hardly be disputed,

* Cirura mnula.

t See vignette to “ A Summer’s Day Dream.”

90

OUR HOBBY IN THE HOUSE.

to create a feeling wliicli borders on attachment for even
an inanimate object. Is it strange, then, that from the like
causes the like results should follow with a creature endowed
with consciousness, and possessed of senses resembling our
own?

We know, indeed, that flowers are (as they should be) uni-
versally loved, while insects (the creatures of all others most
nearly allied to them) are, as they should not be, almost
universally disliked. But in proof that the latter prejudice
may be overcome — not by argument, nor yet by ridicule — but
by the seeing of the eye, we must be allowed to quote our old
domestic, in whom it was the growth of seventy years, and
deep-rooted in the weedy soil of ignorance. Like all persons
of her class and many of a higher, she held the orders of
beetle and caterpillar in especial abhorrence; and when we
first began to keep “ our hobby ” in the house, Martha was
almost as highly disconcerted as if we had brought home a
new housekeeper. It was bad enough to see the flower-pots
in our window-seat displaced for gauze-covered boxes, with
the half-veiled horrors they contained. It was too bad to
behold us returning from our daily walk — hands laden with
littering boughs and ugly weeds — pockets with pill-boxes,
each with a living pill — how hard for her to swallow ! — in the
conviction that some or all were to become new inmates of
the parlour. It was worst of all for us to come home (as in
spring-time not rarely happened) with mud-covered shoes

PREJUDICE COMBATED.

91

and bespattered gaiters — evidence of our having been out
fishing — not after wholesome perch or carp, but after insect
fry — “ poisonous pond varmints!” for whose domestic accom-
modation she looked upon the commonest of all her basins
as too good by half. Poor Martha! Time was when all
these, our harmless practices, brought thee both sore annoy-
ance and something worse ; since we believe, verily, that thou
didst take them for signs significant of thy old master’s ap-
proaching dotage.

We value our humble friend a great deal too highly ever
to feel quite indifferent about her opinion — far less her feel-
ings— however founded in lack of knowledge or in weakness.
We essayed, therefore, quite as much for our sake as for her’s,
to overcome her prejudice against the insect race, and we
have succeeded ; but it was by means of going to work very
gently with her antipathies.

We fanned them with the wings of butterflies — dazzled
them by the lustre of our golden chafers — amused and fairiy
deceived them by the oddity of our caterpillar “puss.” Hav-
ing thus cleared a loop-hole for its entrance, we threw in on
each of our subjects a ray of light, — by the double evidence
of eyes and spectacles, convinced our wondering convert that
butterflies are of caterpillars come — that there is no such
great difference, after all, betwixt the green chafer, our love
among the roses, and the black-beetle — her horror among
insects — and even that there are not wanting strong features

92

PREJUDICE OVERCOME.

of family likeness between tbe sitting “puss” of the willow
and the common crawler of the cabbage.

These were steps of progression ; and we have now brought
her — or, perhaps we should say more generously, she has
brought herself — to look with complacency on our insect
menagerie — nay, what is more, has brought her fingers to
bring us, and with a smile of triumph, what she (poor soul),
in spite of all our schooling, takes for something new — albeit,
perhaps, a caterpillar from a cauliflower, or a cockroach from
the kitchen. She even looks with a reconciled eye upon our
pet stag-beetle.

Apropos of this Goliath of British Coleopteri. Though re-
puted to live on sap, we have never, during the six weeks of
his captivity, seen him extract it from leaf or branch by pres-
sure of his pinching jaws. His preferred and chosen fare is
the syrup from sugared bread, and the only leaves he cares for
are those of which the surface is bespread with honey-dew.
He seems, in short, to dispense gladly with all labour inciden-
tal by nature to procurement of food, and, provided always
that he be defended from the unwelcome intrusion (by a leafy
canopy) of daylight, seldom evinces restlessness, not even of
an evening, — his time when at liberty for taking wing.

On two occasions only has he shown impatience under con-
finement, and these have been previous to and during thun-
der-storms, when atmospheric influence has urged to the most
energetic efforts at escape.

THE STAG BEETLE.

93

The interest we have taken ourselves in noting the ways of
the above and other living specimens, we would fain excite in
others ; but, without further instances or argument about the
matter, only let any body begin keeping insects, and, we answer
for it, he will soon begin to like them. With keeping and liking
must come of necessity increasing observation of their beauti-
ful and wondrous formation, and yet more admirable instincts,
exemplified especially in their constructive skill. With these
brought daily beneath our eyes, can we do otherwise than
raise our thoughts towards Him by whom these excellent
endowments were bestowed on — what we shall certainly con-
sider no longer as the meanest of his creatures ; and if we can
say and feel that this is, to us, the result of keeping insects —
laugh at us who will, it is a practice of which we need never
be ashamed.

THE TRIBES OF AH OAK.

“ While out the hollowed root, with sweets inlaide,

The murmuring bee her daintie hoarde betray’ de ;

Its sturdie side did brave the nippinge winde,

Where many a creepinge ewe mought gladlie reste.
Warm comforte here to all and everie kinde,

Where hunge the leaf, well sprint with honey-dew,
Whence dropt their cups, the gamboling fairie knew.”

We have ascended to a lofty eminence, whence, as a spectator
of London looking from the summit of St. Paul’s, we are
taking a bird’s-eye view over a populous city. In the high-
ways swarm a motley multitude, passing and repassing, some
on business, others on pleasure. Some are employed in the

A POPULOUS CITY.

95

erection of solid habitations — others are raising shady tents
upon the spots of verdure with which, above all other capitals,
this city abounds. Others, again, are weaving for their occu-
pation large silken hammocks, or are rocked within them by
the breeze, while they take refreshment or repose. Of these,
some are now issuing from their luxurious abodes ; and, as if
the footways (although of wood), were too rugged for their
tender feet, are laying down silken carpets on the ways they
are about to travel. Yonder, on one of the smooth green
areas, slowly advances a compact military -looking body, mar-
shalled in files, dressed in uniform, and headed by a leader.

And now what have we here ? A group, as it would seem,
of pantomimic players, belonging to some strolling company.
Truly, they are clever fellows in the art of posture-making.
Ye Grimaldis of Greenwich, and balancers of St. Bartholo-
mew ! hide your diminished heads behind your baize drop-
curtains ! Ye are but bunglers in your trade !

Look at one of the performers. He grasps with his feet an
upright pole, with which his body, extended horizontally, stiff
and motionless, forms a right angle, of which both sides,
instead of only one, look as if formed of wood. What pro-
digious strength of muscle ! He looks like a cataleptic patient
under the hands of a mesmeriser. See now one of his com-
panions— head and feet nearly met upon the ground — back
raised into an arch or Greek Q. This strange position would
seem but a part of his walking-movement ; for now, stretching

96

POSTURE-MAKERS.

forward, he plants, as it were, with, his hands, another step ;
then drawing up his rear, brings feet and heel again almost
together, and so progresses, looping as he goes, and measur-
ing the ground he treads on. A third of his comrades,
dressed in like manner, is sitting idle on a horizontal pole,
raised a tremendous height above the ground. But now —
powers of earth and air ! — he throws himself off his station,
and must be dashed to atoms ! Not he ! the rogue ! for there
he hangs suspended by a slender rope, mid- air, like “one that
gathers samphire.” Will he let himself drop, now, from that
still fearful height, or has he yet more length of rope (hid
nobody knows where) to let himself down easy. By J ove !
neither. He’s climbing up again by the line to which he
dangles : and now he’s reached the top — the place from
whence he fell. Bravo ! master tumbler ! Bravo ! most ex-
cellent posture-master! You shall have our interest for a
season at Vauxhall !

Contrasted with these, who seem the idlers of the city, we
see, here and there, tottering under enormous burthens, and
distinguished by their dingy hue, large heads and slender
frames, some who appear the most laborious of all the labour-
ing population. Occupying the lowest quarters of the metro-
polis, and emerging from underground, this class corresponds,
apparently, with the subterranean dwellers of London and all
great capitals — denizens of cellars and dark kitchens, and
drudges of the community.

A POPULOUS COMMUNITY.

97

This, and much more, though nothing perhaps altogether
new, is to be seen “under the sun” in the highways of this
extensive city ; and there are also other things (alas ! not new
either) going on in the shade and the bye-ways thereof.
There murder is boldly stalking, or slily lurking. The strong
are preying on the weak. Members of one society, nay of one
family, are openly attacking or secretly injuring each other;
while greedy parasites are for ever preying on the substance
of those by whom they live.

blow, shutting our eyes on the creations of Fancy, let us
open them on the realities of nature. — Where are we ? — Our
populous city, like Aladdin’s palace, has disappeared, and in
its stead stands, in solitary grandeur, a stately oak-tree. How !
exclaims, perhaps, some plodding follower of our wandering
lucubrations ; have we been all this while led astray by pre-
tended descriptions of what has no existence, save in the
realms of imagination? — By no means, we can assure you.
We may have given, indeed, both to our structures and their
inhabitants something of the form fantastic, such as is assumed
by the boughs of yonder oak, as they mount in airy evolutions
to the clouds ; but like those, also, they rest on solid bases,
and spring from vital roots. The oak itself, with certain of
its usual occupants, has stood, in fact, for our opening sketch.
The objects have been traced precisely as they exist. Let us

only fill up their outlines, and give to each a name, and we
Yol. II.— 7.

98

SOLID REFLECTIONS.

shall have no picture of fancy, but a faithful representation of
dwellings that are raised and of the dwellers which raise them,
if not on every oak tree, in every wood of oak.

Let the main thoroughfare and diverging streets of our city
be represented by the trunk and branches of the oak tree.
In its verdant foliage we may see the green places with which
those streets are surrounded and interspersed, while, to render
the analogy more complete, ‘the pipes by which a capital is
watered are not unaptly paralleled by the vessels which con-
vey and distribute the pervading sap.

Here is our capital ; now for its inhabitants — and these are
made up, as may have been surmised already, of an insect
multitude, such as on the oak, above every other tree of the
forest or the garden, are accustomed to populate every quarter
— root, branch, and foliage — and all of them engaged on some
purpose of utility or pleasure.

To begin with the builders, and their solid erections, com-
pleted or in progress. Following the course of some branch
(or highway) we shall presently perceive them. And here we
have one* — a covered structure of triangular form — its walls
composed, apparently of a sort of tiling, which resembles in
colour the back of the smooth branch whereon it is seated —
and there we see another — and another (call them what you
will, huts or palaces) — not contiguous, but as regular in plan,
aye, and more so, than the houses in our best-built streets.
On another diverging branch are several similar erections, in

* Vignette.

OAK-BARK BUILDERS.

99

different stages of progression, and employed on eacli of them
we can discern a single artizan, who is preparing the abode
for his own solitary occupation. This labourer is a small yel-
lowish white caterpillar, tinged with red, each segment of his
body being studded with tufts of red hair. He has fourteen
feet, and the upper part of his body is more flat than in the
generality of the caterpillar crew. He has also two brown
spots behind the head. On commencing operations he mea-
sures (using his body as a rule) the place intended for his
structure — the basement of which is of a triangular form,
with the apex at the lower end. “ The bricks or tiles of
which the building is composed are small rectangular strap-
shaped pieces of the outer bark, cut out from the immediate
vicinity. Upon the two longest sides of the triangular base
he proceeds to build uniform walls, also of triangular shape,
and both gradually diverging from each other as they increase
in height. When finished, the little architect proceeds to
draw them together by pulling them with silken cords till
they bend and converge and meet. When the two longest
sides are thus joined, an opening is still left at the upper and
broadest end of the triangle, which being filled up in a similar
manner, the building is complete”'* — without, and, when
tapestried with silk, is furnished within. This clever bark-
builder, for whose operations May is the usual season, is the
caterpillar of a moth.f

* Insect Architecture, p. 198.

f Pyralis Strigulalis. — Kirby.

100

TENT-MAKERS.

Next for the tent-makers — those who, not living in the
streets, set up their lighter tabernacles on the verdant spots —
the green parks of our embowered city ; in other words, upon
the foliage of the oak. These also are caterpillars, belonging
to a family of small moths,* which employ the leaves of
various trees, not only for food, but also as material for the
construction of most curious and elegant abodes. “ These
tentsf are from a quarter of an inch to an inch in length, and
usually about the breadth of an oat-straw. They are of the
colour of a withered leaf, being cut out, not from the whole
thickness, but artfully separated from the upper layer, as a
person might separate one of the leaves of paper from a piece
of pasteboard.” For a minute description of the ingenious
shaping of the pieces employed, and the mode of their joining
and elevation, we must refer our reader to the details of
“ Insect Architecture, and his own observation, only adding,
that when completed the constructor and occupier of this
pretty pavilion carries it upright on his back, as a snail its
shell ; and with body thus shaded and protected perambulates
the leaf on which he feeds. Tents of this description are
plentiful through the summer on the elm, the hawthorn, alder,
pear, and other fruit trees.

Next to these, and much more conspicuous, on a survey of
our insect city, come the silken hammocks and their luxurious
occupants and weavers. These are also caterpillars — those of

* Tineidtt. t Vignette. % Insect Arch. p. 225 ; also Reaumur.

SOCIAL TENEMENTS.

101

a moth, in some years very common, called the “ Brown Tail.*
Instead of, like the “ tent-makers,” working by themselves,
and for their own exclusive accommodation, these are a
social race, and labour together at the formation of their nest
or hammock,f which is composed of greyish silk, and in form
irregular, either roundish or angular, according to its situation
either in an angle or at the extremity of a branch, the leaves
of which are drawn together and included within the walls.
The most careless of strollers must often have noticed, towards
autumn and through the winter, not only upon oaks, but also
upon beech, apple, and pear trees, and very frequently on the
rose, large web-like masses of silk, with leaves enclosed, and
these are the abodes of which we speak. This common
dwelling is partitioned within into chambers for one or for
several occupants, which communicate by doorways. When
the frosts commence, the silken walls, both outer and inner,
are thickened by new layers of tapestry, and thus snugly forti-
fied, their inmates, who are also wrapped in sleep, bid defiance
to the autumn gales and cutting blasts of winter. When in-
vited abroad by the genial breath of spring, and the tender
leafy provender which spring provides them, the members of
this luxurious community begin to make excursions from
their protecting tabernacle ; and on these occasions the leader
of the band always lays down for the succeeding steps of

* Silken Hammock Weavers. Caterpillars of Brown Tail Moth ( Porthesia auri-
flua), and of Gold Tail, ditto. f Vignette.

102

MARCHING CORPS.

his companions a strip of woven carpet. This silken clue
serving as a guide, tlie caterpillar-ramblers, however far and
wide their predatory travels, have no difficulty in returning to
their home, to whose shelter they are always driven by heavy
rain or scorching sun. Both the hammocks and habits of
these social “Brown-Tails” nearly resemble those of the
black, scarlet, and white caterpillars of the “Gold Tails,” also
common on the oak. It is observed by Reaumur (speaking
of these treaders upon silk), “ Nous pavons nos grands che-
mins ; elles tapissent les leurs.”

With the above and other social caterpillars (as is usually
the case with associations amongst mankind), the sole bond
of union would seem to consist in mutual weakness and mu-
tual protection ; for when they have attained to a certain size,
and arrived at that season of the year when injuries from
weather are no longer to be dreaded, they disperse each upon
its individual range, while the winter home of their infancy is
abandoned to the spider, the ear-wig, or whatsoever stranger
may choose to take possession. Having thus rambled singly,
and ate their fill in solitude throughout the sunny month of
June, July sees the termination of their caterpillar life.

Where now is our corps of seeming soldiers? — the body
which we saw progressing in regular “rank and file ” across one
of the smooth green areas of our city. Most of the social cater-
pillars, whilst occupying a common abode, are accustomed to

GEOMETERS.

103

move in a certain degree of processional order ; but the species
more especially celebrated for the soldier-like regularity of
their marchings, which are performed in parallel files, from one
to six deep, and always headed by a single leader, is the “Oak
processionary,’7 a native of France, but not, we believe, of Eng-
land. The same military mode of progression is, however,
exemplified with scarcely less exactness, by several of our own
caterpillars, when in broods recently hatched, those, amongst
others, of the “Gold-tail” and “Buff-tip” moths, of whom
more in another place. A company of the latter,* when just
embodied (from the egg), and taking the field on the “ green
area” of an oak leaf, are accustomed to march slowly over it
in even files, and foraging as they march to mark their pro-
gress, by leaving all behind them brown and arid, whilst all
before them is fresh and verdant. Though, from the size of
these Lilliputian troops, the colour of their uniforms is not
very distinguishable, a close observer may readily discern that
they are black and yellow.

The Tumblers and Posture-masters, whom we have described
in the exhibition of their wonderful performances in the
branching streets of our leaf-embowered city, belong to another
and very peculiar tribe of Moth Caterpillars. From their
singular mode of progression — wherein they seem, as it were,
to measure the ground over which they pass — they are called
“ Measurers and Geometers ,’7 — also, “ Loopers” because they

* Vignette.

104

LABOURERS.

accomplish every step by alternately stretching out and looping
np their bodies in the form of a Greek Q. They are no less
remarkable for the singular positions which their extraordi-
nary muscular power enables them to assume, when quiescent.
Attached to a branch by the hinder legs, they will remain for
hours together, stiff and straight, stretched out at an angle
from it, or bent into some contorted curve. Of this descrip-
tion are the walking-branch caterpillars, elsewhere noted.*

On being touched, or shaken, these wary tumblers — who
are always provided, in their internal magazines, with a silken
cord to break their fall — allow themselves to drop sometimes
from the loftiest oak, and seldom fail to reach the ground in
safety. The same rope serves as a ladder for their re-ascension.
Numbers are sometimes seen thus suspended, resting midway
in their aerial transits, and it would require a ruder blast than
ordinary to break their strong, though almost invisible, sup-
porting cords.

After these, some of the most idle of our city’s population,
we took notice of the most laborious — the occupiers of subter-
ranean dwellings in its lowest quarter. Now, looking round
the oak tree for their insect representatives, we presently discern
them, in a dingy multitude of laborious ants — bearing their
bulky burthens, and issuing from their dark abodes, excavated
in the trunk or root. These are Jet Ants, or Emmets — black
and shining as well-fed negroes — and without whip, or master,

* Vignette.

CARPENTERS.

105

save their ruling instinct — as laborious as the hardest-driven
son of Afric. Instead of black, these,, however, might be
dusky, or they might be yellow; but, of whatever colour,
they must, of necessity, belong to that division of their tribe
which, from the woody material in which they work (using
their powerful jaws as a chisel), are denominated Carpenters.
Huber gives an interesting description of these labourers’ ex-
cavated dwellings ; though, from their working under cover,
he could not follow them in their operations. A fragment of
wood, cut from the root or trunk of a tree where one of their
colonies may be established, would give, therefore, to our
readers as good a view — though, to all, we will not say as clear
a notion — of their curious architecture as Huber himself was
able to obtain. At all events, it is no fault of the clever build-
ers, if they see nothing but a bored, mis-shapen mass, where he
beheld, with wonder, “ streets ” looking as sombre as the smoke-
dyed lanes of London — the structures of the “ Jet Ants”
always partaking of their own sombre hue, — “galleries” hori-
zontal and parallel, following the circular direction of the
layers of wood, and communicating by oval apertures, —
“ colonades” “arcades” “lodges” “vestibules ” and “chambers ”
divided by walls, reduced, sometimes, by laborious chiselling,
to the thinness of a sheet of paper.

Such are a few — and a few only — of the groups in activity
— the labours in progress, within and about the oak ; but under

106

OPEN MURDERERS.

our figure of a city, we have spoken of various deeds of dark-
ness as being also in constant committal within its precincts.
Here, indeed, there are, strictly speaking, no evil doings,
because each society and each individual is acting under in-
stinctive, in other words, Divine guidance — overruling all to
general good. But though ordered to this end, and free, in
themselves , from stain of moral guilt, there are not wanting, in
our city of the oak, deeds dark enough in outward seeming —
murderous — treacherous — revolting — such as serve to sym-
bolize proceedings much too parallel in the communities of
man. Where, amongst these, do the weak escape the ravages
of the strong ? and, amongst the tribes of an oak, numerous are
the helpless which are for ever falling a prey to the powerful.
Carnivorous ground-beetles are climbing, by day and night, up
the rugged sides of the tree, to devour the helpless caterpillars
which abound thereon. Of these destroyers, some are dark
and grim of aspect (such as the Devil’s Coach-horse),* but there
are some of them beautiful as ferocious ; one — a very demon
of destructiveness, with channelled armour, resplendent in
green and gold — clad, in the phrase of the poet, even as

“ A mailed angel on a battle day.”

But an angel verily of darkness, for ever engaged in attack
and slaughter of the defenceless and unarmed.

This brilliant destroyer is the Calosama Sycojphanta , a beetle
rarely seen in England ; but a species smaller and darker, the
Calosama Inquisitor — an insect also of no little beauty — is not

* Rose Beetle (Staphylinus.)

INSIDIOUS DESTKOYEKS.

107

at all uncommon, during the present month, on the oak and
hawthorn. The armour worn by him is, on the upper side,
black and striated, with reflections of reddish purple, changed,
on the margins of the scapulae, to brilliant green, which is the
prevailing colour on the under side. Besides the above, va-
rious predatory beetles* — fierce, and swift, and strong — are
accustomed to make the oak and its precincts the favourite
scene of their tragie performances.

In no other locality has the extensive tribe of Parasitic or
Ichneumon Flies more fertile field for its insidious practices,
than amidst the numerous tribes of an oak.

A corpulent caterpillar is stuffing its furred or velvet
doublet with the juicy pulp of a young and tender oak-leaf.
His thoughts — at all events his sensations — are completely
centred in the business which he has in hand — more properly,
in mouth ; and he dreams as little of approaching danger as an
alderman at a city feast, imbibing the green fat of turtle, while
a sparkling chandelier hangs, perhaps suspended by an all but
severed chain, over his devoted head. Ho chandelier, indeed,
but destruction, in a living form as brilliant, hangs suspended
over the unconscious glutton of the oak-leaf. An Ichneumon
Fly, poised in air above him, her iridiscent wings and black-
shining body glittering in the sun, is fearfully vibrating her
tail-like piercer, with intent to plunge it into the fleshy back
of her Avell-fed victim. She stoops — her weapon enters — is

* Carabi.

108

PARASITES AND MONSTERS.

withdrawn — and leaves behind it, in the wound, a germ of
nascent torture a thousand times more dreadful than a drop
of deadly poison- — -a tiny egg deposited within the warm orifice
pierced for its reception. In a few hours this egg becomes a
gnawing worm, which thrives and fattens on the vital juices,
leaving carefully untouched the vital organs of the hapless gor-
mandizer, thus compelled to foster it. Its growth completed,
the parasitic grub emerges, and then, in completion of its
murderous part, spins a silken thread, with which it proceeds
to bind the nearly exhausted body of its supporter (as Gulliver
by Lilliputian cords) to the surface of the oak-leaf. Thus
manacled, the shrunken remnant of the once plump crawler
exists yet a few miserable days, while the young Ichneumon,
having enclosed itself within a shroud of silk, undergoes its
transformations, and finally emerges into perfect life, a spark-
ling fly, like its parent, close beside the then dead body of the
creature by which it had been nourished to maturity.

ISTow for the last and crowning horror of the oak tree, — a
proceeding “foul and unnatural,” which far “ out-Herods ”
the Herodian performances just noted.

There is a certain black and yellow “ Monster,”* also a
caterpillar feeder on the oak-leaf, which is often accustomed
to vary its vegetable diet by making a meal off a brother or
sister crawler.

* “ Monster Caterpillar,” so called by collectors (Scopibsoma SateUita).

A “ MONSTER.”

109

Reaumur, speaking of this cannibal of cannibals, writes with
amusing naivete: u Elle n’a d’ailleurs rien qui la fit juger d’un
si mauvais naturel. Elle parait aussi douce qu’aucune chenille
que ce soit.” Out of a score of these fratricides, which he
kept in a box, taking care to supply them with fresh oak
leaves, one only remained, whose portrait he had taken while
in the act of gorging its last companion.

In the above general picture of an oak tree city, and its
occupants, we have taken the license of the dramatist and
painter to group together several insect personages, which are
not likely to be seen assembled under the sun of a single sum-
mer's day, though all are almost certain to be found in the
course of a summer — excepting the social Hammock Weavers,
who only occupy their abodes from autumn to spring.

Besides the very few of them above noticed, the oak has, at
all seasons, a variety of insect inhabitants, or frequenters. So
numerous are those already known, that the briefest descrip-
tion of them would fill a volume — and volumes accord not
with our purpose, which is merely to scatter leaves — acorns,
rather, of curiosity — to be productive, we would hope, of
growths of inquiry, — all, like the oak, tending heavenwards.

We shall attempt, however, before we leave the court of the
sylvan monarch, to introduce our country friends to some two
or three other of their insect neighbours, who are distinguished
by a residence within its precincts. A large number of Moth

110 “ lobster” caterpillar.

Caterpillars, besides those already mentioned (the Bark Build-
ers— the Hammock Weavers — the Tent Makers — the Leaf
Marchers — the Posture Masters — and the Cannibal Fratri-
cides of our city), begin, or pass a portion of, their lives upon
the oak.

From the earliest opening of the leaves up to the present
month, and beyond it, numerous varieties of these may be
obtained, by spreading a cloth, or holding an inverted um-
brella, under the shaken boughs of the tree; but the best
hours (as collectors well know) for the performance of such
operation are those which follow directly on the dawn of day,
when the gormandizing crew are accustomed to assemble at
their early breakfasts.

We have no room for description of the more common “ fry,”
which are likely to reward the early insect sportsman, by fall-
ing into his sheet, or umbrella net ; but we must not overlook
(nor must he) the queerest, perhaps, of all Caterpillar Fish — one
which may happen, if good luck attend him, to be found in
some August or September haul. This is the “ Lobster ” Cater-
pillar),— a prize, we can tell you ; and though it will not now,
when expanded into the u Lobster Moth,” fetch its fortunate
finder, as it would once, a five-pound note, it will draw upon
him for not a few notes of admiration, paid readily at sight.
Without even the trouble of spreading net or shaking bough
— with that, merely, of walking with our eyes open, we are
just as likely to obtain possession of this insect oddity.

LOBSTER MOTH.

Ill

Taking a sylvan stroll, in the above-named months of
August and September, and looking about and above us, we
may perceive, seated on a branch — probably of oak, or maybe
of beech, or lime, or hazel — a little monster, with head and
shoulders elevated, d la Sphinx , and, stretched out above
them, a pair of bony arms, jointed, long, and not unlike the
claws of a lobster, while, to balance these, a couple of slen-
der, horny appendages arise from near the tail.

This strange little animal, after having passed the winter as
a chrysalis, enclosed in a silken web, and that often between
leaves, comes forth, in the present month, a Moth, y’clept,
from the monstrous figure of its caterpillar, “the Lobster,7’
although, as a perfect insect, it displays, neither in form nor
colour, any of the singularity which distinguishes its earliest
stage. On the contrary, this beautiful Moth, like those well-
judging few who throw aside, in maturity, the conceited
eccentricities by which they love to be distinguished in youth,
is an insect as little conspicuous , though, withal, as richly clad,
as any of its tribe — for the hues of its wings, being grey,
brown, red, and ochre, harmoniously variegated, assimilate
very closely to the colouring of the oak bark and that of
other trees, whereon, by good fortune or by good looking for,
the “Lobster77 may sometimes, about noontide, be “ caught
napping.”

In following the “ Lobster ” to its winged estate, we have in-
advertently given to eccentricity precedence over rank, or we

112

LOVERS OF THE LIGHT.

should otherwise, in mention of the adult Lepidopterse of the
oak, have given honour due to the “ Purple Emperor” that
princely Butterfly, to whom the oak tree furnishes, succes-
sively, a nursery and a throne. As a green Caterpillar, dot-
ted with black and distinguished by horns, he feeds upon the
leaves, changes next into a green chrysalis, and, attaining in
July to the winged glory of his regal purple, cleaves the air
in flights high and rapid as a bird of prey ; but ever and anon
returns to his lofty throne on the summit of the paternal tree,
there to rejoin his empress, who is accustomed — as becomes
her — to abide at home in domestic dignity.

We have talked about the “Emperor’s” royal purple; but
when in his royal presence you may possibly declare that his
robes are only brown. Now if, on these his robes or pinions,
we chose to pin a disputation, the Chameleon’s self, as fabled,
could not have afforded a better theme. But rather than
quarrel on our subject, suppose we turn it towards the light,
and from it, and then we shall both agree that our “Em-
peror’s ” wings are, in one position, of the darkest brown — in
another, of the most resplendent purple.

Besides this monarch of English Butterflies, two other of
our latest and handsomest, the Admiral* and Peacock's Eye,\
are frequently found veiling their glories from the September
sun on the trunk or branches of the oak, or sipping in Octo-
ber the honeyed blossoms of the ivy.

* Venessa Atalitnta.

+ Vanessa lo.

HATEES OF THE SUN.

113

Strikingly contrasted with these gay and richly-coloured
Butterflies ( Lovers of the Light), there is a beautiful and
delicate oak moth, called the Miselia , meaning, literally, a
Hater of the Sun. In the “Emperor” of summer — the
“Admiral” and “ Peacock’s Eye ” of autumn — we have the
very sun flowers and dahlias of their tribe. In this, the
u April Miselia ,” we have the violet, which after, as a chrysalis,
sleeping all the winter under a mossy coverlet beneath the oak,
comes forth with the April flowers to meet the spring; but
hid from the sunshine, still loving to repose in the shady
covert of its own or some umbrageous tree. In unison with
the season of its appearance, the prevailing colours of this
pretty moth are tender green and silvery gray, elegantly
clouded, and striated, and spotted with darker hues. The
best method of obtaining this little insect gem is to dig for it,
while in chrysalis, beneath the oak.

We could go on for ever with descriptions of our sylvan
favourites — the forest flitting moths (most fairy -like beings of
these prosaic times), and of whom many besides the above are
wont to be found haunting the precincts of the oak. We must
be satisfied, however, with notice of one more tribe, peculiar
to the King of Woods, and now, and in July, to be seen, like
a bevy of fairest damsels, in full attendance at his court.

Only take your stroll this day through some oaken coppice,
and there is little doubt but that you will presently perceive

them, clad in the earliest and prettiest of summer garbs — light

Vol. II.— 8.

114

OAK-LEAF ROLLERS.

green and silver — flitting or falling from the boughs around.
In the course of a few weeks repair to the same wood, and then
you will perceive, on the very boughs from whence you were
saluted by a living shower of pea-green wings, a few, or
perhaps a number, of the oak leaves curled up at the end, and
confined in a roll by braces of white silk. Look within the
scroll, and you will detect, in his lurking place, there feeding
at his ease, a little green caterpillar, dotted with black (or,
if later in the season, a brown chrysalis), the mischievous
descendant of one of those pretty pea-green moths, which
looked so harmless. But where, perhaps you will ask, is even
the caterpillar’s great offence ? Bolling up an oak leaf and
gnawing a piece out of it may seem operations fraught with
no great mischief ; but light as the sin and mischief may indi-
vidually be, they assume, by multiplication, a most ugly and
bare-faced aspect : for just as little sins in little people (often
self-excused on the ground of insignificance), suffice to dis-
figure the whole aspect of society — so the united mischiefs of
these little leaf-rollers are sometimes sufficient to deface an
entire wood. That of a Oak of Honour,” near Shooter’s
Hill, was, in one season, we are told by Mr. Bennie, deprived
of its verdure by no grander agency — though this, perhaps,
may be an extreme case. The handsomest and largest species
of these pea-green moths of the oak have their upper wings
barred with white ; in both kinds the lower are silvery gray,
and all elegantly fringed. The caterpillars of the larger sort,

OAK FREQUENTERS.

115

in lieu of rolling a leaf, makes itself a curious boat-shaped
cocoon.

A variety of Beetles, besides the cruel “Inquisitor,” may
be seen on the trunk, dislodged from under the bark, or
found near the root of the oak. Conspicuous amongst these,
the scarlet, black-legged “ Cardinal,” though more partial to
the flowery May, is often found parading up the trunk, or
taking a circuit around this, his paternal tree — under the
bark of which he first saw darkness, and passed, monk-like,
the period of his grub estate.

The Cardbus aterrimus — a common dark destroyer of other
insects, and even of its own species — the C. nitens , and a
Dermestes , whose favourite food consists of the wood-lice
which assemble behind the bark, are also amongst the prey-
ing beetles which frequent the oak.

The Golden-green Cicada* is another insect often found
upon the oak, from June to September. This is a curious,
shovel-headed, leaping little animal, allied to the Cicada of
singing celebrity, and, less remotely, to that which, while in
its green state of infancy, produces and inhabits the frothy
secretion so common on various leaves, and known usually as
“cuckoo spit.”

We have spoken already of several tribes of ants which
reside within the demesne of the regal oak, from whom these
insect republicans may be said to levy contributions, not only

* Cicada aurita.

116

AN INSECT UNIVERSE.

by excavating his trunk to form their abodes, but by also ap-
propriating the honey-dew with which his leaves are “sprint.”
The latter may also be considered as affording pasture for the
Ant’s “ Aphis cattle.”* Of these more than one breed are to
be found, at all seasons, on the oak ; but the most distinguish-
ed and distinguishable is the large brown, remarkable for size
and for a sucker of prodigious length.

A single oak-bough will often present to our view an uni-
verse of insect worlds in the numerous galls on leaf, stem,
and catkin, differing in size and form, but all produced (as
we have seen already) by the puncture of a little fly.

Even the acorn has its peculiar and appropriate insect ; each

lichen, moss, and fungus — oak derived — swarms with its in-

%

sect denizens ; while the oak-supported ivy is the grand re-
sort, especially in autumn, of innumerable flies and bees,
which, when scarcely another flower is remaining, find food
in its honeyed blossoms and shelter under its glazed foliage.

In our most imperfect review of the insect tribes, which
depend for their all of life and enjoyment on the oak, one can
hardly help being reminded of other orders of being more or
less indebted to the same vegetable benefactor — even from
man, who building house and ship with oaken timber, is as-
sisted to perpetuate his thoughts by oaken and insect galls — to
the bird who, building his eyry on oaken branches, derives a

* Aphis of the Oak.

ORDER IN CREATION.

117

part of lier support from oak-residing insects, and, by dropping
the acorns, helps, in return, to extend the race of her protect-
ing and supporting tree.

Who can consider these things and not look up with double
admiration to the monarch of the forest ? And where better
than in his sylvan courts can we offer our adoration due to
the Monarch of Creation ? For where else shall we be sur-
rounded with instances more clear and beautiful of that
excellent order, whereby, in the bond of mutual uses, he
links together the kingdoms and subjects of His boundless
reign ?

Hj * fficern

il>» ttjjyr opruittfr

A FEW FRIENDS OF OUR SUMMER GLADNESS.

“ See her bright robes the butterfly unfold,

Broke from her wintry tomb in prime of May.”

Let ns fill up our slight sketch of “ Butterflies in general” by
a few outlines of the chief among their tribes, which are native
to our island.

In our winter’s pursuit of “ Life in Death,” we have ad-
verted already to the hardy few (survivors of the fugacious
many), which are accustomed to resort in autumn to some snug
recess, fold their wings, wrap round them their cloaks of
torpor, and thus, “taking no note of time,” to await the

THE BRIMSTONE BUTTERFLY.

119

spring, unless allured by the wintry sunshine to pay us a few
unseasonable, but ever welcome, visits. Among these, the
little “ Tortoise-shell,” and the beautiful “Peacock,” of whom
more by and bye, are the intrepid pair which most often
gladden and surprise us in the time of yellow aconites and
Christmas roses ; but after these, we may be on the watch,
towards the end of February, or on the first gentle mornings
of early March, for a flutterer more welcome still, as the
herald of a real and no fictitious spring. This is the “ Brim-
stone Butterfly,”* which, gaily painted,

“ Soon

Explores awhile the tepid noon,

And fondly trusts its tender dyes
To fickle suns and flattering skies.”

It has been supposed by some that this early visitant (also
a late one) is, like the above, a winter survivor ; but from the
trim of his yellow robes, usually so fresh and glossy, it would
seem more likely that, instead of being laid up — not “in
lavender,” but, perhaps, in ivy — they are of the newest spring
fashion. Be this as it may, he is the very pink, or, as he has
been more properly considered, the very primrose of Papil-
lons, sometimes to be seen, like a living shadow of the prim-
rose’s self, fluttering beside it in the sunny hedge-row or the
sheltered copse. We may know him by the cut of his bright
sulphur-coloured pinions — each, instead of being rounded,
ending in a smooth tail-like angle, f

* Gonopterm Ramni.

t For figures of nearly all the Butterflies here mentioned, see Vignette, or Frontis-
piece to vol. i.

120

THE BRIMSTONE.

Of all the wings of all the butterflies, these bear, perhaps,
the closest similitude to floral productions, and on each, as if
to perfect the resemblance of their delicate flower-like colour-
ing, is a reddish spot, an exact copy of that often produced by
decay or accident, on the surface of a yellow petal. In the
beautiful raised veining of their reverse, the pinions of the
“Brimstone” are no less correspondent with the same; but
those of the female which, instead of yellow, are of a greenish
white, resemble, perhaps yet more nearly, the leaf of a poplar
on its under side. The dye of the antennae — that purplish
pink, so frequent upon tender leaf and flower stems, — also the
clothing of the body — a soft, satiny down, like that by which
stalks and seed-pods are so often invested, are all alike accord-
ant with the floral character of this most elegant flutterer of
the spring. This pretty butterfly comes of a pretty caterpillar,
with a smooth, green coat, dotted or shagreened with black,
and marked by a whitish line along the back and sides. It
is said to feed usually on the leaves of buckthorn and alder.

The term Papilio, which was used by Linnaeus to designate
all diurnal or day-flying Lepidopterae, has now become much
restricted, including, amongst a company of brilliant foreign-
ers, only one or two native species.

Of the latter is the “ Swallow Tail,”* a beautiful insect, ap-
proaching more nearly to some of the tropic butterflies, both in

* PapUio Machaon.

THE SWALLOW TAIL.

121

form and colouring, than any others which our island produces.
Perhaps, in favour of its richer painting, we ought to have
given it the precedence usually assigned it over our favourite
Brimstone, with all its simple elegance ; but besides being of
later, it is also of more rare appearance, and we have a pre-
ference always for bespeaking attention to the beautiful things
that are most common, rather than to those which cross our
path less often. If, however, that path should lead us through
the counties of Hampshire, Middlesex, Cambridge, or Norfolk,
we are not unlikely, from May to August, to meet the Swallow
Tail ; and he is a Papilio, we can tell you, much too distin-
guished to pass by unrecognised, if we can possibly prevent
his cutting, at once, the air and our acquaintance.

Compared with the Brimstone he is truly a magnificent
bashaw ; but then, in the place of four, he can only boast him-
self of a 'pair of tails, of a peculiar fashion, appended to his
hinder wings, which are scalloped, and adorned each with a
red, eye-like spot, their prevailing colours being, like the an-
terior ones, black and yellow — a fitting case for the unfolding,
while latent, of so much beauty. The caterpillar of the Swal-
low Tail Butterfly is one of the handsomest of its race. It has
a smooth skin, beautifully variegated with black and green,
and carries, at the back of its head, a badge of distinction,
not however always visible, in the shape of a flexible horn,
forked like the letter Y, which, contrary to the usage of the
snail, it is said to put forth on occasions of alarm. It is a

122

WHITE BUTTERFLIES.

feeder on umbelliferous plants, chiefly the carrot, wild and
cultivated, from whence it has acquired, in France, the name
of “ Le grand Carottier.” Of another genus, with hinder
wings, rounded instead of angular, or tailed, is the pretty but-
terfly known as the “Clouded Yellow.”* In England, how-
ever, it is known but partially, appearing only in certain
seasons, and then chiefly on the coasts of Kent, Sussex, and
Suffolk. As its name imports, the prevailing hue of its wings
is yellow, clouded towards their outer edge with black. The
caterpillar, green with white lines, is said to feed upon legu-
minous plants, though the perfect insect delights chiefly in the
flowers of the thistle.

Coming out with the flowers of May, and almost as abun-
dant, are the pale-winged Butterflies, which, like bevies of
white-robed damsels, usher in the summer. From whence
have they issued forth ? ’Tis almost a pity that, as insect ge-
nealogists, we must trace their origin, and confess the most
of them to have been

“ Born in a ‘ cabbage,’ in a ‘ cabbage’ bred ” —

and that they have come, therefore, from purlieus — the walls —
most likely of the kitchen garden. But what matters it whence
they sprang, or whence they came, since they have left behind
them, buried in the hearts of kale, or transferred therewith to

* Colias edusa.

GARDEN WHITE.

123

cabbage-feeders of another sort, the vulgar tastes wbicb be-
longed to their caterpillar birth? The fragrant meadow, the
sunny hedgerow, the gay parterre, now constitute their range,
— their meat is honey, washed down by pearly dew-drops.
These are the butterflies of the genus Pontia, known univer-
sally as the common white — so universally, that description
is hardly needed for their general recognition, though requi-
site enough for distinction of their several (as many as about
seven) species. At the head of these is placed, usually, the
large “ Cabbage White ”* of the garden, with yellowish mealy
wings, the foremost nearly triangular, the hindermost rounded,
and as if sprinkled with grey towards the body. The anterior
pair, both of male and female, are tipped with black; but
those of the latter are marked, each with two black spots,
wanting in the pinions of the former. The caterpillar of this
primary Pontia is that devouring familiar of the potager, to
which gardeners, sparrows, and Ichneumon flies require not
a word of introduction ; but on account of others, who, for the
sake of the butterfly, may desire to make its acquaintance, we
may just notice that its general hue is bluish -grey, spotted
with black, besprinkled with short hairs, and marked by a
yellow line along the back with one on either side.

Also of the Pontia genus there are the “Little Whites —
come of little green caterpillars (the French Vers du Coeur),
feeders on cabbage-hearts — the “ Green-veined Whites ” — so

* Pontia Brassica.

t Pontia Brassicce.

124

LADY OF THE WOODS.

called from the nervures of their wings being marked on the
underside with duskj-green — and the large “ Hawthorn But-
terfly,” or “ Black- veined White.”* The latter is a handsome
insect, with semi-transparent cream-white wings, strongly
veined with black.

The pretty “Orange-Tip,” or “Lady of the Woods, ”f is
likewise of the cabbage family. In its green youth it is a feeder
also upon rape, cabbage, and other cruciform plants ; but this,
while a cater- pillar, is no pillager of cates of culture, preferring
the vegetable in its wild growth — a taste more accordant,
certainly, with the habits of its maturity and the favourite
spots — such as open glades, and lawns, and woodlands, whither
it delights to fly, a-Maying. Though we are accustomed to
designate this darling of the summer as the “Orange-Tip”
and “ The Lady of the Woods,” these epithets, applied in
conjunction, or indifferently, are not by any means of correct
application, seeing that with these butterflies it is the lord only
of the lady , whose white pinions, besides bearing a black cres-
cent, are adorned by the patch of deep orange, which makes
the title of “Orange-Tip” befitting to him alone — in both
himself and partner the wings on their reverse are beautifully
variegated in white and green.

A few words now for a singular and beautiful tribe of But-
terflies, whose greatest beauty, however, like that of the wood

* Pontia , or Pieris Crato&gi. f Pontia Cardamines.

FRITILLARIES.

125

violet (on which, in some species their caterpillars feed) is
usually overlooked, because usually concealed. Nature has
been said, in the wings of Butterflies, to have painted her
canvas on both sides ; — so she has ; but it is on the upper one,
though often not more delicately pencilled than the lower,
that she is accustomed to display the most brilliant and effec-
tive colouring. It is otherwise, however, with the majority
of the genus Argynis , comprising the richest and largest of
the butterflies, called “ Fritillaries, ”* reddish brown and black,
disposed in regular streaks or chequers, something resembling
the Fritillary or chequered daffodil, comprises nearly their
whole of outward bravery ; but on the reverse of their ample
scalloped wings there is abundance of rich adornment.

There is the “Dark Green Fritillary, with sober-suited
pinions, black and brown ; but their linings are golden green,
studded and bordered with spots of silver. And, again, there
is that Paphian Fritillary, known as the “ Silver- Washed.” J
Even in her exterior painting, black and orange, she is more
lively than the last ; but is only seen in all her splendour,
when, folding her wings, she invites the sunshine to play
upon the silvery streaks and golden green which ornament
their under surface.

These, which are the most beautiful, are also the most com-
mon of the British Fritillaries, being met with in most parts of

* G. Argynis.

t Argynis Aglaia.

X Argynis Paphia.

126

FAN-WINGED BUTTERFLIES.

England — in woods and meadows, heaths and downs — during
the months of June and July. Their caterpillars, which are
spiny, feed mostly on the dog-violet and raspberry.

The Fritillaries have a distinctive though not peculiar
mark, in the shortness and seeming imperfection of their fore-
most pair of legs, which are not usable for walking.

W e come now to the fan- winged genus Yanessa, comprising
some of our commonest, but also most beautiful and richly-
coloured, Butterflies — all, like the last, with the fore-legs im-
perfect. Among these is the little u Tortoise-shell,’7* noticed
already as a survivor of, and occasional visiter in, winter. It
derives its name from its orange black-spotted wings, mar-
gined by a border of blue-crescents, and thickly furred at
their base with golden hair, which also covering the body,
helps, doubtless, to protect it when exposed to frost. This
butterfly is among those which are called double-brooded,
one set of eggs being hatched in spring, the other towards
autumn, of which latter families are the winter survivors.

The caterpillars are greenish black, with yellow stripes, and
spiny, like the nettle on which they feed; while young, in
large societies, which afterwards disperse. The “ Great Tor-
toise-shell,” or “ Elm Butterfly,” is much larger, and less com-
mon than the above.

* Vanessa Urticce.

peacock’s eye and alderman.

127

A glorious insect of the same tribe is the Vanessa Io , or
“ Peacock’s Eye.” Its prevailing hue is a rich brown red, in-
clining to purple, each wing being adorned by a large eye or
ocellus, with a dark pupil, margined by a crescent or semi-
circle of blue and yellow.

The caterpillar, which is shining black, studded with white
points, is, like the last, a feeder on the nettle, and is found,
commonly in July, throughout the south of England. An old
naturalist styles this Io -Butterfly, the Omnium Regina , and
she well deserves the title. The above is an autumn Butterfly,
and so also is the Vanessa Atalanta , known, likewise, as the
“Alderman,” the “ Admiral,” and the “Admirable;”* — and
admirable truly are “ the colours ” displayed by this “ Admiral
of the Red, ” as he proudly unfurls them in the August or
September sun, and challenges the autumn flowers to eclipse
his glory. Nor is there one among them — neither velvet
dahlia, nor golden mary-flower, nor many-coloured aster,
which can boast of hues at once so rich and varied. The deep
black of his upper wings is enlivened by a broad cross band
of brilliant scarlet, white spots, and a scalloped edging of the
same; while on the secondary pinions the scarlet, which
instead of a bar forms a border, is enriched by a line of
black spots, a black and white scalloped edging, and a small
blue crescent at the inner extremity of both wings. Their

* Vignette to Butterflies in General, Vol. i.

128

THE PAINTED LADY.

under surface, if less rich, is even more varied in colour, and
more finely pencilled than the upper.

The caterpillar of this beautiful insect, which is greenish
black and spiny, is a solitary feeder on the nettle, found not
uncommonly in July and August. By means of a silken
thread he draws together, edge to edge, a single leaf, out of
which he thus forms himself a temporary tent or case, with
openings at either end which go on widening before the jaws
of its occupant. When he has thus fairly “ ate himself out
of house and home,” he betakes himself to another leafy abode
of similar construction. This u Alderman ” caterpillar is found
sometimes feasting on the seeds of the nettle ; but still under
cover of the upper leaves.

Closely allied to this beautiful genus Vanessa , though be*
longing to that of Cynthia , is the “ Painted Lady,”* or ‘‘Belle
Dame, ” a butterfly, as its name imports, of exceeding elegance.
Its upper wings, brown towards the base, and redder towards
the middle, are variegated and tipped with black, and marked
at the apex with a spot of white.

In some seasons our “Painted Ladies” are abundant, in
others scarce ; but of all the Lepidopteraz , these are considered
to have the widest geographical range, having been seen in
America, Africa, and Asia, also frequently out at sea. Their
caterpillars are feeders chiefly on the great spear-thistle, whose

Cynthia Cardui.

THE PURPLE EMPEROR.

129

unmanageable leaves they yet manage not only to eat but also
to roll, as well as those of the nettle and other spiny vegetables.

Of the following genus, Apatura, is the “Purple Emperor
of the Woods,”* well worthy of the title in favour of his regal
attire, as well as his soaring pride of station and of flight.
Though his reign in the south of England is not unfrequent,
he is rarely captured, because it is seldom that he lowers his
course sufficiently for the crossing of our humble paths.
Making at once a throne and footstool of the oak tree’s
“leafy crown,” he thence laughs in scorn at the anxious up-
turned face of baffled entomologist. Then, taking to a rapid
bird-like flight, he soars disdainfully above the gauzy hand-
net, which, though attached sometimes to a handle of thirty
feet, expressly for his capture, is often lowered in despair, as
the free-born monarch of the woods rises in unheeding pro-
gress through the blaze of a July sun. When, however, he
is surprised, by accident, within our reach, he is equally dis-
tinguished by that bold and lofty bearing which becomes his
rank, and, from disdaining to show the alarm of meaner in-
sects, sometimes graces (a sacrifice to his own courage) the
triumph of the proud collector.

We have spoken already of the Emperor’s voluntary flights
towards the source of day, which, lowered with the descending
luminary, are said usually to carry him by four o’clock (p. m.)

* Apatura Iris.

130

EMPEROR AND EMPRESS.

down to his leafy throne beside his empress. She, poor lady !
has been left at home the live-long morning — how employed
we know not, — perhaps by turns sipping her acorn cups of
honey-dew — by turns reposing, and by turns watching
through her argus optics — tinged, may be, with Love’s rosy
hue, jaundiced, may be, with a shade of jealousy — the pro-
gress of her royal spouse, as much at least of it as she may be
able to discern.

The upper wings of this most regal insect are rich brown,
changing with the light to a bright blue purple, or more pro-
perly seeming, as they have been well described, to emit fit-
ful flashes of this brilliant hue. They are also enlivened by
four patches of white, the secondary pinions being adorned
near their margin each with a black spot, surrounded by a
red circle.

The empress of this imperial butterfly, more sober in attire,
as well as more sedate in habits than her lord, displays no
purple in her deep brown wings, and keeps, as we have seen,
her solitary court upon the oak tree, whilst her royal partner
is engaged in pastime, or in fighting (as is his frequent wont)
with his brother potentates of air.

For the more lofty and more frequent flights of the Purple
Emperor, as compared with those of his empress, a physical
cause has been assigned, existing, it is said, in his peculiar
possession of a strong elastic spring, so contrived as to give
additional power to his nervous wings.

WHITE ADMIRAL.

181

Even in its estate of caterpillar, the Apatura Iris is a distin-
guished insect, — distinguished by a pair of horns, and by the
oblique stripes of yellow which lace his green doublet. By
good luck, or good looking for, we may light upon him, in
the month of May, in feeding “ for the Purple,” either on his
own royal oak, or on the broad-leaved’ sallow.

We have extolled already the glories of that beautiful
Vanessa, called the “Admiral of the Red;” nor must we over-
pass entirely the less showy endowments of the “Admiral of
the White,”* standing alone, we believe, in another division.
He displays no gorgeous colours — none more brilliant than
bars, and spots of white and sable, in a field of brown ; nor
has he gained celebrity in fight, though, for his sailing flights
— his graceful evolutions on the ocean of air — he has been
pronounced without a rival.

It is related by Mr. Haworth, that an old aurelian of Lon-
don was so enraptured with the elegance of this butterfly’s
mode of flight, that long after he was able to pursue it he used
to go to the woods, and sit down on a stile, for the sole pur-
pose of feasting his eyes on its fascinating movements. The
caterpillar is a feeder on the honeysuckle.

In the genus known to naturalists as that of Hipparchia, we
have another of the butterfly tribes, more distinguished for

* Imwriites CamiUa.

Yol. II.— 9.

132

MEADOW BROWN.

sombre than for lively colouring. Their caterpillars, usually
green, with forked tails, assimilate with the various grasses on
which they feed ; and even when arrayed in winged attire,
their prevailing shades of brown and orange bear still a de-
gree of correspondence with the hues of the ripened and sun-
burnt clothing of their favourite localities, the meadow and
the heath.

Amongst other species, not rare, the most common of this
brown brotherhood, perhaps, of all the race of butterflies, ex-
cepting the Cabbage Whites, is the “ Meadow Brown.”* The
wings of the male are of a uniform blackish brown, enliven-
ed by a small black eye with a white pupil. Beneath this
ocellus there is in those of the female a large irregular patch
of orange buff, and all her pinions are more prettily, and
somewhat more gaily, painted on their under than their upper
sides ; the foremost with dark orange, the hindmost with
shades of light brown. This 11 Brown,’ 1 of the Meadow is the
hardy flutterer noticed by Mr. Knapp, as being, of all its race,
the most indifferent to weather. On the most damp and
cheerless of summer days, it is seen, he says, in every tran-
sient gleam, drying its wings, and tripping from flower to
flower, left seemingly the sole possessor of their sweets. This,
as well as the rest of its genus, comprising, among others, the
u Heath” Butterfly and the “ Ringlet,” have the fore legs
very short.

Hipparchia Jarwra.

HAIR STREAK.

133

According to their usual arrangement, we come now to that
assemblage of pretty little butterflies, of the genus Theckla ,
known to collectors as the “Hair-Streaks.”* They are so
called from the fine hair-like lines streaking the under side
of their wings, of which the hindmost pair are further distin-
guished by one or two tail-like appendages. The caterpillars
of these little butterflies which feed on trees and shrubs —
never on herbaceous plants — might hardly be taken, save by
the entomologist, for caterpillars at all, being of an oval de-
pressed shape, resembling very nearly that of wood-lice, and
are hence called onisciform.

The prettiest of our Hair-streaks, the “ Purple, ”f is also the
most common, being found, it is said, in almost every wood
of oak, whereon its caterpillar, a greyish brown onisciform
slugglish creature, is to be sought for in the month of June.

Contrary to the habit of the Emperor of the woods, the lady
of this little lord of the oak has been said alone to wear the
purple. She displays it, indeed, far more conspicuously in a
broad irregular patch of Tyrian dye, in the centre of her
brown bordered upper wings ; but those of her spouse, though
on first-sight wholly brown, are not without their purple also,
when viewed in a proper light.

In the genus Lycama, we have, fresh from the mint of
nature, that bright coinage of meadow butterflies, y’clept the

* G. Theckla.

t Theckla Quercus.

134

COPPERS.

“ Coppers.”* Of these the most common, also the smallest,
is a splendid little flutterer,f with the primary wings of red
metallic lustre, spotted and bordered with deep black ; the se-
condary, brown and black, margined by a coppery band — en-
countered not unfrequently, early in the summer, also in
August. This is the little Copper Captain, the fiery Mars of
his radiant tribe, so renowned for making war upon his own
kindred, and even daring to engage with antagonists of twice
his bulk, but without his metal. The caterpillar of this most
common of the Coppers, is greenish yellow, onisciform, and,
like the majority of those belonging to its tribe, it is a feeder
upon sorrel and other herbs of the field.

Contrasted with the Metallic Coppers, and often seen side
by side, are the “Aerial Blues.”;): These are the little blue
butterflies, which, loving to disport over the thymy down, the
grassy glade, and flowering meadow, do literally “paint them
with their own delight.” Now, rising in sportive pairs or
trios, they enliven the fragrant air. Now, basking on the yel-
low buttercups, or chalk-sprung flowers of their own colour,
they reflect, in the hues of their expanded wings, every tint
of the summer sky, from deep, deep blue to lightest azure,
or the glowing lilac, which precedes the sun-set red; while
ever and anon, closing their pinions, and opening thereby the

G. Lyccena.

t Vignette to Butterflies in General.

X G. Polyommatus .

BLUES.

185

many eyes which bestud their under surface, they seem to
look out in smiling happiness at the beautiful things around
them. These belong to the genus Polyommatus , from Greek
words expressive of the many eyes, or eye-like spots which
adorn, as just noticed, the reverse side of their blue or brown
wings.

One of the commonest of these lovely little creatures, is
the Argus, or Alexis,* with plain cut wings of splendid blue
changing to lilac, bordered with black, and fringed with silky
white; on this under surface they are grey, with oscillated
spots. The female of this species, like those of several others
of the same genus, is by no means so splendidly attired, her
more sober pinions being brown, bordered, however, by
bluish spots, and ocellated on their reverse. Being one of
the double-brooded, there are two seasons, May and August,
which in most places afford frequent opportunities —

“ O’er the bladed mead to chase
This blue-winged butterfly.”

Its caterpillar (which like most of those belonging both to
the “ Coppers ” and the “ Blues/’ is of the onisciform or wood-
louse shape), is bright green, with rows of yellow spots, and
may be found, in April and July, feeding on various grasses,
lucerne, and the wild strawberry.

There is another larger and beautiful species of blue butter-
fly,f with black bordered wings of silvery azure, and the usual

* Polyommatus Alexis. t P. Corydon.

136

SKIPPERS.

ocellated spots, which delights in chalky districts, abounding
in blue flowers, and fragrant with the wild thyme, on which its
caterpillar feeds. This is the blue 11 Cory don,” — a shepherd
flutterer, wooing his brown Phillis over the Upland Downs.

Most people, however little they may know in general of
insect forms, are able at once to tell a butterfly from a moth.
There is, however, a very distinct family of Lepidoptera , called
Hesperidce. * the members of which, displaying certain features
which belong to butterflies with others which appertain to
moths, would puzzle any but an entomologist to say to which
of these grand divisions they belong. Their most proper place
would seem between the two, of which they have been con-
sidered the connecting link ; but, as with butterflies they are
usually classed, our brief notices of the chief among our
British Day-fliers would be more imperfect than they are,
without mention, in conclusion, of these Hesperian fliers of
the evening, which are, however, fliers also of the day.

Butterflies — when taking their repose, or resting in that
dubious state described by the poet, when he says —

“ I’ve watched you now one short half-hour,

Self-poised upon that yellow flower,

And, little butterfly, indeed
I know not if you sleep or feed ” —

are accustomed to have both pairs of wings perpendicularly
folded. Moths, on the contrary, rest usually with them all

* Skippers.

SKIPPEES.

137

open ; but some of our Hesperidce , following a sort of inter-
mediate habit, repose with their foremost pinions closed and
directed upwards, while the hindmost are open and divergent.

Their mode of transit from flower to flower, or from branch
to branch, whereon they are continually settling, is as peculiar
as their manner of resting : being performed by short, rapid,
jerking flights, from which they have acquired the name of
“ Skippers.” In their large heads and robust shoulders, they
assimilate to moths; while in their clubbed and sometimes
hooked antennae, they approach to butterflies. Amongst the
latter Linnaeus placed them ; but, from their wide divergence
from the usual papilionaceous type — their inferior elegance
of form and flight — their lesser size, and sober colouring,
usually brown and orange tawny — he has assigned them a
station at the bottom of butterfly society, where they figure
meanly as his Plebeii urbicoli. Many of the tropical species
cut, however, anything but a mean figure, being adorned with
pellucid spots and sporting tails of an imposing length.

Of our British Hesperidce , the most common is the larger
Skipper,* common in woods and lanes from May to August,
with variegated wings of brown and orange tawny, the fore-
most pair on the under side yellow, inclining at the tip to
green, and all plainly fringed.

Panvphila sylvanus.

138

SKIPPERS.

The “ Grizzled Skipper,”* also a common species in woods
and pastures, has upper wings of dark brown, enlivened by
squarish spots of cream or straw colour : the hinder pair pret-
tily variegated, and all edged by a fringe of alternate black and
white. The caterpillar of this, as well as of some other species,
is a leaf-roller, the teazle being the apparently uninviting plant
which, nevertheless, affords him board and lodging. Others
of the Hesjoeridm feed, in their caterpillar infancy, on other
low plants and grasses. In their partial habits of leaf-rolling,
(as well as their enclosure, for transformation, in slight cocoons),
they approach the moth, and diverge from the butterfly.

Till within comparatively recent years moths were included
even by entomologists under the general denomination of
Butterflies— of the day and of the night. Reaumur, describ-
ing the “Death’s-head Sphinx,” calls it the “Skull Butterfly.”
The “Oak-lappet,” or, as he designates it, “Le Pacquet de
feuilles seches ” — bundle of dry leaves — is spoken of as a but-
terfly also ; and we are told of others (smallest of butterflies,
properly moths), not exceeding in magnitude the size of a
small fly, the caterpillars of which spend their life’s total, with
its triple changes, on the leaves of the small “ Celandine,” —
Wordsworth’s sylvan favourite of the spring. Nothing in-
deed can be more defective, as to arrangement and nomencla-
ture, than the entomological works of the last century, — the
detailed accuracy (for the most part) of their description,

* Pyrgus Malvce-

BUTTERFLIES AND MOTHS.

139

•»

those especially of Reaumur, alone enabling us to recognise
the thing described. The field of insect research, some fifty
years ago, was like a country rich in beautiful and interesting
objects, of which even their admirer could gain but confused
notions for want of guides and beaten paths. The amateur
collector even of butterflies then found it less difficult to cap-
ture than to name and arrange them : but now, tout cela est
change, and by a variety of works,* some as elegant nearly as
the creatures they describe, we are invited and assisted to im-
prove our intimacy with these most fascinating u Friends of
our Summer Gladness.”

*To name a few of the best modern helps to butterfly collecting — Jermyn,
Haworth, Lewin.

LE LUCCIOLE.

A MIDSUMMER TALE.

“ Winged stars, pale in the moonshine;

But under the dark trees- a little sun

A meteor tamed ”

On Midsummer Eye, or the Eye of St. John (1679), the
palaces and hovels of Genoa la Superba were illuminated in
honour of the Baptist by an artificial blaze, contrasted with
which the lamps of nature looked cold and dim. Yet no-
where are summer evenings more brilliantly lit up than on the
shores which bound the Gulf of Genoa; for, besides the
“rulers of the night,” robed in the clearest of nocturnal

ITALIAN FIRE-FLIES.

141

blue, and shining forth in regal splendour, there are stars of
the earth — radiant galaxies of Italian fire-flies, which, rising
from the low underwood, or falling from the lofty trees, shoot
through the air in scintillating streams of living light.

Away from the glare of the city, and from its noisy revelry
which rose at intervals on their unheeding ears, a youth and
maiden were wandering in the garden of one of those villa
palaces then numerous on the outskirts of Genoa. They were,
of course, lovers ; for none others, so near their scene, would
have been absent from that evening’s festivities. The figure
of the young man was commanding, and correspondent with
his dress, which bespoke him to be of noble rank. His features
also were of uncommon beauty ; but an eye, well versed in the
lines of character, might have detected about them a certain
expression of weakness— a wandering of the eye, and an effem-
inate softness of the mouth, which gave suspicion of the like
defects of disposition ; and one, certainly, who should have so
read his countenance would not have very greatly wronged
the character of young Marco, only son to the Marchese Bas-
sano, owner of the stately villa, in the grounds of which he
and his companion wandered. The latter was a fair girl — a
fair Italian — with eyes deeply blue, like her native skies, and
rich brown hair which seemed to have stolen of its golden
gleams. She was this, and more ; but she was not, like her
lover, of patrician birth, and her lowly rank was indicated both
by her peasant’s dress and the air of simplicity ; yet, withal,

142

THE LOVEKS.

of gentle grace, with, which she wore it. The converse of Marco
and his sweet Bianca was so low as to be nearly overpowered
even by the gentle murmur of the sea, as it broke upon the ad-
jacent shore, and the slight stirring of the surrounding foliage ;
while, at intervals, their voices were wholly drowned by the
shouts of revelry which rose from the illumined city. Since,
however, the purport of their discourse may be readily sur-
mised, it is not worth our rescue from the orange-scented air
to which it was committed, and the words of Marco were all
the less deserving record, because, though soft and gentle as
the waves upon that summer night, they partook somewhat
also of that beguiling smoothness by which many a fair and
fragile barque had been lured to ruin in the gulf below. Not
that Marco was one of your cold calculating deceivers ; but he
was a creature almost as dangerous : he was not recklessly
false-hearted, but he was infirm of purpose — the sport of im-
pulses which had been of late vacillating between his love for
Bianca — certainly the most ardent of his present feelings —
and his love of family consequence, — perhaps of all his cha-
racteristics the least unsteady.

Heard clearly above the mingled sounds rising from the
city, the clock of the Annunciata struck nine. It was a signal
for the pair to separate — Marco to join a party of gay com-
panions at the festival — Bianca to return to the abode of her
father, and old vine-dresser, who had lived from his youth
upwards on the estate and in the service of the Marchese

LE LUCCIOLE.

143

Bassano. His cottage was in the midst of an olive grove,
which adjoined the garden of the villa, and communicated
with it by a gate opening on a terrace walk which overlooked
the sea and town. It was here the lovers had been walking ;
and Marco, having accompanied his innamorata through a
portion of the olive grove, they were repeating for the last
(perhaps the twentieth) time, their reluctant “ Buona notte ,”
when Bianca started — “Heard you not/’ said she, “a rustling
amongst those trees ?”

“ Hot I, sweet one,” returned Marco ; — but as he spoke
he plunged into the plantation in the direction towards which
she pointed, and shook the boughs as if to detect the presence
of a suspected lurker. Hone appeared ; but from the shaken
branches arose a swarm of fire-flies which, checked in their
upward flight by the thick foliage above them, kept wheel-
ing in radiant streams and circles near the disturbers of their
rest. “There, silly one! now art thou satisfied?” cried the
young man, returning to the pathway. “ The Lucciole have
displayed their lamps on purpose to show thee the empti-
ness of thy fears ; and see ! in honour of St. John, have we not
here a brave illumination? — a show of fire-works shaming
the brightest that are let off yonder? Aye, and my loved
one, thou shalt not want for diamonds in thy hair — gems
which the proudest of yon city dames display not one to
equal.”

Marco, as he spoke, opened and closed his hand upon seve-

144

THE PEASANT’S SUPERSTITION.

ral of the fire-flies which were flitting around him, and sport-
ively placed them in the coloured net-work which confined
the maiden’s luxuriant tresses. Bianca shrunk — almost
shrieked — as she tried to arrest the playful action of her noble
lover. “Marco! for the love of heaven, do not so? Those
Lucciole — if you knew how I dread them !”

“ Dread them ?”

“ Yes ; bright as they look, they come from the dark
graves; and with us, in our family, they have always been
omens — warnings of death and dolor. Before my poor
mother died ’ ’

“ Nay, nay,” cried Marco ; “ now art thou more silly than
I deemed thee.”

Yet he strove, at the same time, to remove the glittering
causes of alarm. When with some trouble he had disengaged
them from the net-work, one yet clung to his hand, and, on
shaking it off into the air, the insect, as if proud of the place
it had lately occupied, instead of joining its companions, flew
back, and settled on Bianca’s head. Not a word, this time,
escaped her lips ; but she turned pale and trembled. Her
lover again gently chid her — again displaced the Lucciola,
and threw it far into the underwood. Then, supporting the
steps of the frightened girl, accompanied her to within a few
paces of her father’s cottage, once more whispered his tender
“ Buona Notte” and departed to join in the revels of the night
— prolonged far into the morning.

THE EYE OF ST. JOHN.

145

Bianca's father, who only thought (poor old man) that she
had been out . to look at the fireworks, did not observe her
agitation and unwonted paleness. Parent and child, their
evening prayers having been, as usual, offered up together,
soon sought their humble pillows ; but when sleep, long ab-
sent, weighed down the maiden’s eye-lids, visions of terror
haunted her slumbers. These were at one moment clear and
defined, the next dim and indistinct ; but all seemed rendered
visible by the wavering, scintillating light of the fatal Lucciole ,
which themselves appeared ever and anon to assume gigantic
size, and to put on human faces, once known to the beautiful
dreamer, but long since numbered with the dead.

We may here observe, that Bianca’s superstitious dread of
the fire-flies, and her belief that they were animated by depart-
ed souls, were not peculiar to herself, but entertained in com-
mon with the peasantry of her country, though the prevalent
notions were in her case strengthened by some legendary tale
which ran current in her family.

***** 45-

Twelve months had brought round another Eve of St. John,
and brought with it, and on just such a summer night, the
like festivities — the like illuminations.

Had the year been productive of as little change to our
high-born youth and low-born maiden? To Bianca, the proud
noble, who should have been as nothing, was, in womanly
devotion, still everything. Yet had he become an everything

146

PATRICIAN AND PLEBEIAN.

which, she was now required, and, in womanly disinterested-
ness, was ready to resign.

And Marco ? Why, he still loved the peasant girl, as well,
perhaps, as ever — as well as a young patrician (though sprung
of merchant princes) might. His heart, such as it was, was
still Bianca’s ; but his hand, in accordance with the desire and
policy of his father, had been for many months pledged, and
in a few days was tcf be given, to the beautiful and haughty
Beatrice, a daughter of no meaner house than that of Doria.
With this purposed alliance, long known to all Genoa, Bianca
was of course acquainted. It was a finale to her misplaced
affection only such as might always, sooner or later, have been
looked for, and neither resentment nor jealousy embittered the
dispensation under which she meekly bowed, as the just and
inevitable penalty of her having dared to love before she knew
the meaning of either love or rank. In one respect, however,
the poor peasant girl was not wanting in strength and dignity ;
for she had firmly avoided, not in wounded pride, but in proud
yet penitent principle, all interviews with her noble lover, since
she had become acquainted with his purposed marriage. But
he had still urged her seeing him, and had even contrived
means of assuring her, that necessity, not choice, had driven
him to a union of policy, which need not, he signified, interfere
with one of love. His words of mockery Bianca had commit-
ted unanswered to the flames, with a cheek as glowing as the
fire which consumed them. Whether it were easy or other-

PARENTAL POLICY.

147

wise to banish their unworthy writer from her heart — easy it
was not for the' poor vine-dresser’s daughter to banish her
young master at all times from her sight. And here was the
misery, if nothing worse, to live, as heretofore, within the very
shadow of the house, which was to be the future residence of
Marco and his bride, who were to abide at the Palazzo of the
former’s father. How often had Bianca wished that she could
flee to some distant land, where, as she fondly but deceptively
believed, that if she could never quite forget him, she might
sometimes think of him without offence.

Before the arrival of the present Midsummer, this, her
desire, seemed likely of fulfilment. Whether the old Marquis
had suspected something of the attachment, commenced
almost in childhood, between his son and Bianca, and thought
that the latter would now, therefore, be better at a distance ;
or whether it were mere accident that favoured her wish ; but
so it was, that the Marquis having recently (as was a com-
mon custom with the Genoese nobility) purchased an estate in
the more fruitful territory of Naples, proposed to the old vine-
dresser that he should take the office of its superintendency.
The faithful servant, who would not for promotion have left
his “ own people,” but to whom his master’s will was law,
urged moreover by his daughter, agreed to the proposal, and
they were to sail together for their new southern home in a
galley now at anchor in the bay. This was one of a little
fleet, the poor remainder of that mighty merchant squadron

148

EXILE.

which had once proudly swept the Mediterranean, mastered
its islands, and gained triumphs upon half its shores; but
which was now employed, chiefly, to fetch corn and wine, or
for purposes of pleasure. On the Midsummer morrow the
old man and his child were to depart. This was the last Eve
of St. John— the last eve of any they were to spend in the
land of their birth.

Old Jacopo was sad, as the remembrances, both pleasant and
painful, of sixty years, all passed under that humble roof, came
back, like a mingled company of departed spirits, and seemed
to take possession of every corner — every bit of furniture in
the cottage, — all, with itself, to be left behind. He almost
felt as if he were about to part with everything he loved —
even his darling child — though she was to be the companion
of his exile. Hot only was he sad, but also weary with prepa-
rations for departure ; and that he might be all the fresher for
the morrow, Bianca persuaded him (after one last look from
between the olive trees at the illuminated city, and after they
had offered up together their evening orisons), to repair early
to his bed. With one hand clasped in his, she sat beside him,
till he fell into a quiet sleep ; then kneeling by the bedside
implored the Divine blessing on their morrow's voyage, and
the change it was to bring them ; and she prayed, also, that
no guilty repinings — no vain regrets — connected with one
left behind, should ever disincline her to the cheerful per-
formance of her duties, those especially she owed to him, her

A LAST LOOK.

149

her kind old father. On rising, she gently kissed his fore-
head, and treading lightly, left the chamber, meaning
presently to seek her own.

Ah, Bianca ! which of the sweet enticements of that Mid-
summer night could break thy purpose, and lure thee to go
forth? Was it the evening breeze whispering among the
trees close by, or the distant murmur of the placid sea? Was
it the breath of the evening-scented flowers, or the shouts of
revelry rising from the illumined city? It was none of these ;
but it was an impulse, sudden, irresistible, which urged her
to take one last, one little look at that dear garden, where she
had been used to play, and not alone always, in her childhood.
From the garden three minutes would take her through the
olive grove, and give her a parting glimpse — -just only one —
of the terrace walk beyond, — that walk connected with
remembrances more recent and more dear than all. But one
thought made her hesitate, — might she not meet him ? Oh
no. There was that night, at the Palazzo of the Marchese, a
grand masked ball in honour of the evening’s festival, and
also of the approaching bridal. The ducal family of Doria
was to be among the guests. Beatrice — in all the blaze of
jewels, rank, and beauty — queen of the night, — Marco, her
devoted subject, in a day or two to be her lord.

“ Oh no,” thought Bianca, as she hastened through the
grove ; “ there’s no fear that I shall meet with Mm .”

She found the gate open which ied from the olive planta-
Vol. II.— 10.

150

RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT.

tion into the Palazzo garden, and had only to step at once
upon the terrace walk, which lay in the bright moonlight,
clear and unoccupied. The maiden advanced a few paces,
looked for a moment towards the villa, which was brilliantly
illuminated, and as the light streamed through the Piazza
could discern figures moving beneath it. But what, to her,
was that abode of luxury,- — its picture-laden galleries, its
gilded halls ? what now even one amidst the motley throng
which filled them ? She turned away, and looked towards
the sea and the illumined city. To her, little were now its
gorgeous palaces, its humble dwellings, its glare, its bustle,
its numerous inhabitants, — few of whom she had ever known,
and of these not one was she likely to see again.

In all that wide expanse, teeming with life, and now, both
on land and sea, more than usually alive, the whole of interest
not dead to her, lay centred in the galley intended to convey
her on the morrow to another shore. It and its fellow vessels
she could plainly discern at anchor in the harbour, — the sea-
men, in honour of St. John, having hoisted their lamps in aid
of the general illumination, while the few left on board up-
lifted their hoarse voices in alternate hymns and strains less
sacred. Bianca, as she looked and listened, was, in fancy,
already, with her father, of their company, ploughing the deep
blue sea, — away, away from the receding shores of Genoa.

“Bianca — my Bianca!” whispered a well-known voice, and
Marco, wearing a Spanish dress and masked, but to her in no

TEMPTATION.

151

disguise, stood beside her. What could be, tbe young patri-
cian, tbe affianced, well nigb tbe wedded husband of a fitting
bride, have now to say to ber, tbe foolish maiden of low de-
gree, who bad too long listed to bis beguiling tales? Why,
even at this eleventh hour, be bad yet another for ber ear — a
tale of love and seeming madness. He bad stolen away, be
said, from yonder brilliant company, — from Beatrice, tbe
brightest of them all, to seek, bis Bianca, as be bad purposed,
at ber home. They , she and ber old father, should still sail
on tbe morrow, at early dawn ; but he would be tbe companion
of their voyage. The captain of tbe galley should be bribed
to convey them not to tbe Neapolitan estate but a port of
France, and there, without a thought of rank, of home, or
even of honour forfeited, be would make ber bis lawful bride.

Tbe maiden beard only to reject tbe dazzling, dangerous
proffer ; but Marco still urged ; when distant voices were beard
shouting out bis name, and turning towards tbe villa they saw
several persons issuing from under tbe piazza, and advancing
towards them. 11 Go, go, Marco ! May blessings ever attend
thee!” and Bianca, as she spoke, burst from ber lover’s de-
taining grasp, and retreated from tbe terrace, behind tbe screen
of a tall adjacent shrub. Tbe young man followed for a pace
or two, then stopped and hesitated. He distinguished,
amongst the approaching voices, that of Pietro Doria, Bea-
trice’s brother. Ho what be might it was as well to save
appearances; so with another look towards tbe spot where

152

LE LUCCIOLE.

Bianca stood concealed, and with inward maledictions on the
noisy group which was drawing near, he turned to meet it.
Some of the party had caught a momentary glimpse of a
retreating female figure ; but the Lady Beatrice, as well as
her betrothed, haying been missed from the ball-room, it was
only supposed that the lovers had stolen from the festive scene
for half an hour’s converse beneath the gentle moon. Maid-
enly bashfulness might explain the lady’s flight, and her
preference for returning to the palazzo alone rather than
accompanied by the merry maskers.

Having seen them all re-enter the building, Bianca issued
from her covert. As she left the moon-lit terrace, and regained
the olive grove, a thrill of terror, sudden as the transition
from light to darkness, shot through her frame; her limbs
trembled, and she was glad to seek the support of an aged
olive, the trunk of which, partially decayed, showed white in
the surrounding gloom. Not once that night had she thought
of the dreaded Lucciole — not one had flitted across her path —
but at the moment she touched the olive tree, they fell around
her from amongst its foliage in a shower of living sparks.

Well now might the maiden tremble ; well might the drops
of terror mingle with the night-dews on her marble brow ; not
for the harmless glitter of the Lucciole , but for a glimpse of
gleaming, and no fancied horrors, which their light revealed.
She saw (for an instant) the sparkling of diamonds amidst
raven tresses — the flashing of dark eyes distended with vin-

MESSENGERS OF DEATH.

158

dictive fury — the glittering of jewels on a white uplifted arm
— the gleaming of cold blue steel directed to her heart. In a
brief agony of fear she clung to the olive’s trunk ; in an
agony, as brief, of supplication, she raised her mild blue eyes
imploring mercy ; but mercy there was none in those dark
orbs of vengeance which returned their glance. The bright
stiletto did not miss its aim, and, clear in the encircling ra-
diance of the Lucciole , a crimson stain on the bleached trunk
of the olive, showed, even in that place of shade and hour of
darkness, that a deed of murder had been done.

Poor Bianca ! Then did thy simple superstition seem to
have met with terrible fulfilment. The Lucciole had come to
thee indeed as messengers of death ; but in their radiant guise
they were the more fitting representatives of ministers of
mercy, sent, perhaps, in good time to rescue thee from danger
and from sin.

******

Early next morning the old vine-dresser was up, and
dressed, ready for departure. He wondered why Bianca was
not stirring too; “but, poor thing!” thought he, “she shall
rest as long as may be. Yesterday she had a deal to do, and
to-day, parting from the old place, and all about it, will be
sad work for both of us, though she (God bless her !) will try
hard that I may not see her downcast.”

Jacopo, while this was passing through his mind, busied
himself in a few remaining preparations — even got ready

154

FATHER AND CHILD.

their simple breakfast, — ever and anon, in the midst of his
occupations, going to listen at his daughter’s chamber door.
“ How soundly she is sleeping,” whispered he; “ but hark!
there’s the Annunciata striking six ; we’re to be on board by
seven ; so wake her I must.”

He tapped gently — louder — more loudly. “ Bianca ! Bi-
anca ! — wilt thou never awake?”

A death-like silence answered, and something of chilling
augury smote upon the old man’s heart, even before he
opened the door, and saw that the room was tenantless — the
bed unruffled.

Then he ran wildly forth — calling as wildly on his child.
The early chirp of the birds in the garden and the olive
grove was his sole response.

But he soon found her, and he (poor miserable old man !)
was soon found with her, sitting under the half-dead olive
tree; her head supported on his knees, and he smiling in
childish vacuity, as he tried to disengage her luxuriant hair
from the clots of blood which confined it.

The father and his child were thus discovered by two
mariners, sent by the master of the galley to summon his
expected passengers, and assist in taking on board their
luggage.

Whilst one of the seamen remained with old Jacooo, who
would neither move from the body of his daughter, nor allow
it to be touched, the other hastened to the palazzo, with

A TALE OF HORROR.

155

tidings of the tragic event which had occurred. His tale of
horror was related first to the domestics ; but he must see, he
said, the Marchese or her son. The former, he was told by
the servants, could not be disturbed so early ; but their young
master, the Count Marco, had been up, they added, by times,
—if, indeed, he had gone to bed at all on the conclusion, at
no very early hour of the morning, of the last night’s enter-
tainment. One of the servants was about to apprize him of
the mariner’s business, when Marco himself appeared.

The terror-stricken faces of the seaman’s late auditors pre-
pared him for some correspondent recital ; but not for the
trembling, agonizing surmises which followed on the man’s
brief relation ; and wrhen, in a private interview, particulars
were detailed which left no doubts, as far at least as concerned
the person of the victim, it is difficult to say how the young
noble was able (if he did so) to disguise the fearful intensity
of his individual interest in that which had befallen.

It is more material to our narrative to notice that the
seaman’s chief motive for desiring to speak with the masters
of the palazzo, was to put into their hands a splendid jewel —
a bracelet — which he had picked up, he said, lying close be-
side the murdered maiden. Hone of hers (he suspected) could
be an ornament so unsuited to her rank and her attire, and it
might point to the hand by which she had fallen.

Marco, forcing himself to say something in praise of the
mariner’s honesty and sagacity, put a gold piece into his hand,

156

BEATRICE.

as lie received into his own the glittering bauble, on which
hung, perhaps, its owner’s life; and who that owner was
Marco knew well at a single glance. The' bracelet was a gift
of his own to Beatrice, and her’s, beyond a doubt, was the
hand which, instigated by jealousy and wounded pride, had
plunged the murderous steel into the heart of her humble
rival.

She must have seen, — perhaps heard — the purport of his
last meeting with Bianca on the terrace, and must have pre-
ceded and awaited her victim in the olive grove through
which lay her homeward path. All confirmed it ; — she had
been absent from the ball-room long after he and the party
of maskers had returned to it from the garden ; and when
she re-appeared, he could now remember that her demeanour
had been absent, her dark eye restless, her cheek alternately
flushed and pallid. And this was the beautiful fiend whom
another day would have made his bride ; for love, which with
the moon had ruled the, ascendant on the previous night, had
given place with the morning sun to pride, policy, and what
he would have called a sense of honour.

In an hour after the mariner had left his father’s villa,
Marco was closeted at the palazzo Doria with the Duke.
Their interview was long ; but to the curious eve’s-dropper
quiet as the grave.

Before sunset, the galley which was to have taken the old
man and his daughter had left the Gulf for Naples, with

RETRIBUTION.

157

Marco as its passenger, and, strange as it might seem, the
two seamen (who, after the unhappy father, had been the
first discoverers of the murder,) had also been permitted to
sail without their evidence being taken. Concerning the
manner of poor Bianca’s death there was of course much
talking, much surmise, even a slight mockery of investiga-
tion ; but the matter was soon hushed up.

Murders at Genoa, if not quite so common as at the rival
city Venice, were of no rare occurrence; and the voice, espe-
cially of plebeian blood, wras too often, as elsewhere, accus-
tomed to cry unheeded from the ground. Nor in the case of
Bianca was there any one to sue for the justice not likely to
have been obtained ; for her old father, her only relative and
only friend, was now helpless, almost heedless as a child, and
so remained, till, in a few months, he slept beside her. Marco
never returned to Genoa, and fell in battle a few years after,
having taken service in the army of the French, at that time
allies and almost masters of the once proud Bepublic. And
the miserable Beatrice ! — what became of her ? Never did
detected culprit, condemned by man’s erring judgment to give
up life for life, suffer a penalty so dread as her’s. The rank
and power which had served to shield her from public con-
demnation, did not stifle private suspicion: and though to
breathe a name like her’s in conjunction with a deed of mur-
der, was more, perhaps, than any inhabitant of Genoa, noble
or plebeian, would have dared to do, yet on the city walls,

158

RETRIBUTION.

which the Italians, with reference to such a use, have termed
proverbially u Fools Paper” some daring hand had ventured,
in ambiguous but intelligible terms, to write up her accusation.

But what was this to the “hand writing on the wall,” which
above every festive board, on the frescos of every sparkling
saloon, on the tapestry of her own chamber, presented itself
in characters of blood before the eye of Beatrice. For a sea-
son, and with a view by braving to disarm suspicion, did the
wretched lady compel herself, or was compelled, perhaps, by
her noble family, to face the world ; but the colour had fled
her cheek; her dark eye grew hollow, and at last she veiled
them from public notice in a convent of Benedictine Nuns.

There, none were more exemplary in their vigils, their pen-
ances, their prayers, than sister Agatha, the name by which
the once proud Beatrice Doria was known amongst the nuns.
Never to one of them (whatever she might have done in the
confessional) did she open the dark secret of her soul ; but
those of the sisterhood, who occupied adjoining dormitories,
told fearful tales of the sounds of agony — groans from the
depths of overwhelming dread, which, at times, were heard to
issue from her cell. Other of her habits caused remark. Sel-
dom in broad day -light, but never of an evening when the
nuns were assembled in the convent garden, was she of their
number; and always after sunset did she keep the window of
her cell close shut, however sultry might be the weather.
Could Beatrice have feared the gentle breezes of a summer’s

RETRIBUTION.

159

eve ? Them she loved not ; but far more had she learned to
hold in terror and aversion the fire-flies, the Lucciole which
came forth when they arose.

Once would she have laughed in derision at the simple su-
perstition of poor Bianca ; but upon her it had descended,
and in an aggravated form it clung to her guilty spirit. From
that Midsummer Eve, when the fire-flies had lighted her in
doing her deed of death, they never flitted across her path
without recalling its fearful memory. And if the spirit of the
murdered maiden had been permitted to revisit earth, and
stand before the eye of her destroyer, not more awful to
Beatrice would have been the apparition, than the intrusion,
into her lonely cell, of a simple harmless Lucciola.

LEASES OF LIFE.

“ He’s his own landlord, — his own tenant : — stay
Long as he will, he dreads no quarter-day.”

The Demon of Frost set out, one dark November morning, to
do the bidding of the grim monarch Death. He passed over a
forest, and the last leaves of autumn fell in countless thousands
at his touch. He passed over a desolate moor, and meeting a
benighted traveller, he heaped his snow bed, piped his shrill
lullaby, and whistled at knowing it was the wanderer’s last.
He entered a garden, and the surviving dahlias shrank in their
velvet mantles, and died at the bidding of his icy breath. Then
he laid one of his freezing fingers on a little caterpillar, and the

DEFIERS OF DEATH.

161

ramping worm grew stiff as iron, and chinked like a stone, as
it fell upon the ice-bound earth.

The Demon of Frost went home, well pleased with his
work, and after many another walk, upon the like death-
doing errands, traversed once more, towards the end of
February, the very path he had followed in dark November.
Then he saw in the forest but a few remains, half rotted, of
his victim leaves. On the desolate moor he passed over the
whitening bones of his victim man. In the flower garden not
a vestige was visible . of his victim dahlias. But where was
his supposed victim caterpillar ? Amidst the crystal gems of
his own scattering, as they melted in the smiles of his arch
enemy the sun, sat a saucy butterfly, and the Demon of Frost
shook his hoary locks, and gnashed his icy teelh ; for he
knew that the tiny spark of life which animated that winged
creature was the very same which must have laughed at his
power in the frost-stiffened caterpillar.

But what has the Demon of Frost, or frozen caterpillars, to
do with this melting season ? We will endeavour to explain
their unapparent relationship, or tell at least how they have
been brought to our own minds, as connected with the
present time of year.

Every particular season tells a particular tale or tales of
some prevailing and appropriate burthen. This, the season of
Midsummer, tells especially of life, — life in its maximum, like

162

STUBBORN TENANCY.

the sun at its highest, ■ — life on the earth, — life in the waters, —
life in the air, busy and joyous; and for every single tale of
life told by other things, a million are being repeated in the
world of insects.

This is also a season of leases , just expired or just renewed.
Some, a week ago, were leaving willingly, some reluctantly,
their old abodes, while others (contumacious tenants) are still
holding fast upon their roof-trees, laughing at notice, land-
lord, writ, and bailiff. ISTow of insects in general, save the
bee and the silk- worm, it may certainly be said, according to
our motto, that

“ He’s his own landlord, — his own tenant: — stay
Long as he will he dreads no quarter day.”

This, as respects his local habitation ; but if we consider the
principle of life as the tenant — the outward form the residence ,
held at will of the indulgent landlord — the Great Creator of
us all, — then the tiniest of midges holds, as the greatest of men,
a given lease. Regarded thus, the vital spark, or tenant,
■whose assigned abode is an insect tabernacle, is oftentimes a
most difficult spark to put out, — a lease-holder as troublesome
to eject (we mean, of course, at the bidding of subordinate
agents) as the most determined house-clinger that ever baffled
bailiff ingenuity.

It is a fact, proved by observation and experiment, that
caterpillars will retain their vitality, and pass through their
usual changes, after the congealment of their juices by intense

DEFIERS OF FROST.

163

cold. Those of the mag-pie moth, exposed all through the
winter on a leafless currant bush, will sometimes become stiff
as the twigs they occupy, and those of the cabbage butterfly
subjected to a frost which turned them into lumps of ice,*
arrived, nevertheless, at their perfect state.

Other insects would seem to be endowed with the same power
of resisting cold. Amongst these, are gnats and mosquitos,
which, as attested by recent travellers, have risen, an active
swarm, from dissolved masses of ice, wherein they have lain
imbedded thick as plums in a Christmas pudding.

Nor is it only against the “ Demon Frost ” that these de-
termined insect occupiers are accustomed to bar the doors of
their Lilliputian tenements, a variety of them having been
found to shew equal contempt of flood, fire, famine, and steel,
those other bailiffs employed as often, in executions, by the
universal tyrant.

To exemplify, next, the resistance of insect vitality against
the power of water. There is a certain beetle called the
Printer ,f because while feeding as a grub upon the under
bark of trees, it cuts out therein a variety of tracks resembling
letters ; and to such an extent was this species of type en-
graving once carried on, that a million and a half of pines are
said to have been sacrificed in the Hartz Forest;}: to supply
material for the work. It became, of course, desirable to

* By Reaumur. t Bostriclms typographicus.

X In 1783, Kirby and Spence.

164

AN INSECT MIRACLE.

knock up a business carried on at such serious public cost ; but
though these devils of printers were battered, together with
their type, within their books of bark — though the trees of
their habitation were laid upon ice, and finally plunged in
water, they remained alive and unhurt.

A somewhat similar, but yet more wonderful instance of
obstinate vitality has worthily obtained a place amongst the
“ Miracula Insectorum’' of Linnaeus. This is afforded by
certain tough-coated grubs,* with rat-like tails, which are
common inhabitants of drains and stagnant waters. These,
often becoming part and parcel of the turbid pulp used in paper
making, exposed afterwards to the action of wooden mallets,
and finally squeezed in strongest presses, are declared frequent-
ly to. have survived uninjured these annihilating operations.

In July or August these miraculous little animals assume
the chrysalis or pupa, still retaining their rattish tails, and,
early in September, cleave the air as black and yellow flies,
bearing some resemblance to drone bees.f We found last
summer, laid up in the decayed wood of an old willow, a
large assemblage of these rat-tailed pupa3, which had probably,
while yet grubs, deserted, for the hollow of the tree, some
stagnant and very uninviting pools adjacent.

But what is the tinge of the marvellous, investing the above
relations, compared with the red-hot hue of wonder which
colours the following almost incredible, yet (as it would seem)

* Rat-tailed larvae ( Eristalis tenax ) Sewer Fly.

t Vignette.

A MARVEL OF MARVELS.

165

not ill attested anecdote? The summoners here were the
united powers of fire and water — the sturdy spirits of bees
the little contumacious tenants which refused to dislodge for
all their combined authority.

Mr. Beddome, a respectable chemist of Tooley Street, Lon-
don, in a letter to the editor of the Times , which was copied
in the Times Telescope for 1822, thus writes : — “ I bought
twenty large hives, and a hogshead of Dutch honey in the
native state, not separated from the wax, which had been in
the warehouse above a year; and, after emptying the hives
as well as I could, I boiled them for a considerable time in
water, to obtain the honey from between the interstices. A
considerable number of bees, mixed with honey, floated on
the surface of the water. These I skimmed off, and placed
on flag-stones outside my laboratory, which was at the top of
the house, exposed to a July meridian sun. You may imagine
my astonishment, when in half an hour I saw scores of these
bees, that had been for months in a state of suffocation, and
then well boiled, gradually come to life and fly away. There
were so many of them that I closed the door, fearing that
they might be disposed to return, and punish me for the bar-
barous usage they had received at my hands.”

The above we must confess to be a marvel of marvels ;
but there is something scarcely less wonderful in the stubborn-
ness with which the vital sparks of many insects have been
known to hold out within the tiny citadels of their bodies

166

DEFIERS OF FAMINE.

when called on to surrender, not by flood or fire, but by
famine. We read of a chameleon fly subsisting nine months
upon air, — of a church-yard beetle living without food for
three years, — of sheep-lice existing twelve months in a shorn
fleece ; while the grub of an aphis-eating fly,* left under a
glass, was found alive three months afterwards, the thread of
its existence having been actually eight times doubled by the
very circumstance seeming most adapted to cut it short.

There is yet another agent of destruction, more piercing
than Frost, more overwhelming than Water, more consuming
than Fire, more wasting than Famine — a destroyer, not of
matter only, but of mind, which has, nevertheless, been set
at defiance by the principle of insect life.

This destroyer is a spirit — that deadly spirit drawn from
“ the vasty deeps ” of the distiller’s infernal shades, which, in
the shape of Geneva, was once tried by Kirby, without effect,
upon a lady -bird. But let us give the experiment in the words
of the relator, whose delightful work on insects might never
have been written, but for the interest and wonder it excited :
“ One morning,” he says, “ I observed on my study window
a little yellow lady -bird with black dots. ‘ You are very pret-
ty/ said I to myself, ‘and I should like to have a collection
of such creatures.” Immediately, I seized my prey, and not
knowing how to destroy plunged it in Geneva. After leaving
it in this situation a day and a night, and seeing it without

* By Kirby.

DEFIERS OF STEEL.

167

motion, I concluded it was dead, and laid it in the sun to dry.
It no sooner, however, felt the warmth than it began to move,
and afterwards dew away. From this time I began to attend to
insects.11

Lastly, it is not always that cutting steel, or festering brass,
are effectual in the severing of that slender thread on which,
nevertheless, the life of an insect hangs so strongly suspended.

We are told of beetles found living weeks after impalement
on a transfixing pin. We daily see crane-flies (more com-
monly known as father-longlegs) footing it featly over the
grass, or u upstairs and downstairs,” with one or more of its
half-dozen shanks deficient, and flying merrily, with scarce
even a leg left to walk on.

Indeed the famous fable of Agrippa would by no means
apply to many of the insect race ; for with them, certainly,
there does not seem to exist the same degree of mutual depen-
dency observable in other animals between the body and the
members. The severed head of a wasp will bite, while its
severed leg clutches a morsel of sugar, as if they were saying
to the detached stomach, “We have no need of a digester
and the dismembered body, in return, will sting furiously, as
if to reply, 4 And I have no need of a directing head or
assisting limbs.’ ;

The same is exemplified in the instance of a dragon-fly,
which deprived of its long abdomen, was seen* to devour two
* By Mr. Haworth.

Yol. II.— 11.

168

INSECT SENSIBILITY.

small flies. Connected with this obstinate vitality of insects,
comes naturally the question of their sensitivity, which from
this very vitality we may certainly infer to be less acute than
with other animals. Happily for them, and certainly much
to our own comfort, when we think upon the subject, we have
far more reason to doubt than to believe the oft-repeated
dictum, that

“ The poor beetle, which we tread upon,

In corporal sufferance feels as great a pang
As when a giant dies.”

The above facts alone are nearly enough to prove the con-
trary ; for did a poor beetle trod upon, or impaled, endure, in
proportion to its size, the same amount of suffering as a giant,
it is more than likely that life would be driven from its seat
long before the expiration of weeks of torture.

So with our other instances : a giant from whom one leg or
one arm, or both together, had just been forcibly subtracted,
would certainly feel no inclination, even if he had the power,
to perform steeple-chases over walls and hedges (not in a
moment’s agony, but for successive days of apparent enjoy-
ment), as the father-longlegs is accustomed to go vaulting over
great stones and high grass, under similar circumstances of
deprivation. Neither, we presume, would a giant’s decapitated
head, though furnished with the palate of a gourmand, feel
much in a humour, if it felt at all, to indulge in the pleasures
of a venison-pasty, as does, seemingly, the detached cranium

INSECT SENSIBILITY.

169

of a wasp in the pleasures of a peach, or that of a dragon-fly
in the discussion of its butterfly game.

But there are other reasons more scientific, if not more con-
clusive, for supposing that the sensitivity of insects is inferior
to our own and that of other vertebrate and warm-blooded
animals, whose nervous system is altogether different. In the
latter, the nerves and spinal marrow are the roads by which
sensations travel to the brain (the common sensorium), the
detachment of which from the body deprives it of motion and
feeling ; whereas the nervous system of insects consists of a
double nervous chord, formed at intervals into knots or gang-
lions, from whence proceed, in pairs, principal nerves, with
branches distributed to every part of the frame.*

The existence of any insect brain has been denied by Lin-
nasus and subsequent naturalists ; but Cuvier and Lamarck so
denominate the upper knot of the nervous chord, because dis-
tinguished by the sending forth of nerves to the principal
organs of the senses. The multiplied and detached centres of
sensation, thus furnished by the knots or ganglions, sufficiently
account for life and motion in the divided portions of insect
frames; also for their seeming to feel comparatively little
general pain from the loss of limbs, or even head.

Last, not least, there is another reason, built on the moral
attributes of the Great Creator, for believing that the insect
frame is one of extreme sensibility to outward injury. Can

* See Kirby’s and Spence’s Introduction to Entomology, p. 278.

170

A MORAL INFERENCE.

we imagine that He whose “mercy is over all his works,”
would do other than protect by a shield of comparative ob-
tuseness that innumerable multitude of living things, which,
from their numbers and minuteness, often also in the seeming
end of their creation (that of affording food for others), are
exposed to continual mutilation, as well as violent destruction.
Were it otherwise, independently of what they would endure
from other agencies, of what an infinity of insect suffering
should we daily, hourly, minutely, be the involuntary cause !
Hot a summer ramble could we take — not a flower could we
pluck — not a fruit or vegetable eat — without exacting from
agonised multitudes a penalty for each enjoyment. Thought
too horrible to be a just one !

Conclude, however, what we may, it must still be admitted,
that unless we could for a season be conscious tenants of an
insect tabernacle, it is impossible to say exactly how, or how
much an insect tenant feels on being summoned, vainly or
otherwise, to give up its habitation ; and since on this point
a shade of uncertainty must ever rest, we are bound to give
our little fellow-beings all the benefit of the doubt, and ex-
tend even to them, as much as in us lies, the protection of
our golden rule.

Children are almost always disposed to the commission of
acts of cruelty ; but only in most cases from ignorance or want
of thought; for there is, we believe, in every unperverted
mind a natural repugnance to the taking of the life we cannot

OBSERVATIONS.

171

give. Long ago we attempted to make something of an ento-
mologic collection — were eager enough in pursuit — too rude,
doubtless, in triumphant capture; but when it came to the
cold-blooded business of impalement, the pin fell from our
grasp, and the prisoners regained their liberty. We were
then too happy in the bright buoyancy of our own spring-time
to bear to deprive one of them of an existence so much like
our own. Having grown, what some would call more callous,
others, less squeamish, we have, since, been the voluntary
agents of insect extinction, though only when absolutely
essential to the purposes of our pursuit. We have elsewhere
offered, as we hope, an ample defence for “our hobby” on
this, its seemingly objectionable side ; but that defence was
addressed to the reason rather than the feelings, consequently
not to the very young. We would not even desire that the
very young should be permitted to begin the study of insects
by their collection, because the habit of destroying them might
assuredly tend to blunt the feelings before the acquirement of
sufficient knowledge and reflection to counteract its influence.
But it is different as life advances : for ourselves, at least, we
can affirm safely that, though we do occasionally add a beetle
or a butterfly to our collection, the acquisition is always made
at the cost of a degree of not diminished pain, and we were
never so careful, as now, to avoid aught that may uselessly
injure or torment one of the insect crew. With a mere col-
lector for sale or exhibition the reverse of this may happen ;

172

INSECT EXTINCTION.

but none can bestow meet observance on tbeir exquisite beauty,
or due thought on their surpassing endowments of instinct
and adapted organs, without ranking them higher than they
were wont in the scale of being, and feeling of course a pro-
portionate reluctance to dislodge one from its assigned place.

Now this act of dislodgment would seem, from the in-
stances of insect vitality above recorded, to be a matter of no
easy accomplishment ; but it is not always, or even usually,
that these little spirits cling so firmly to their tiny tenements.
Notwithstanding the marvellous resuscitation of our “ boiled
bees,” heat is an agent whose notice to quit is seldom dis-
regarded by insect tenants.

The life of a moth or butterfly, placed in a cup closely
covered, then set in boiling water, is usually extinct in two or
three minutes; and moths that are small, flies, and other
lesser insects, put under a glass with a few fresh laurel leaves,
well bruised or cut, are soon, to all appearance, and often in
reality, killed by the emission of prussic acid. It is requisite,
however, to make the dose powerful, or repeat it, — the seem-
ingly extinguished spark of life being otherwise apt to rekin-
dle. Before stiffness follows death, subjects for the cabinet
are transfixed with slender pins, and set up on cork; small
angular slips of card being employed with other pins to keep
the wings and other parts in a natural position.

Lastly, though as matter of reasonable inference we feel
almost certain, that the sensitivity of insects to corporeal pain

LEASES OF LIFE.

173

is, if not below, at least proportioned to their size, we equally
believe that the benevolent Creator has endowed them with
capabilities of enjoyment far exceeding the measure of their
bulk.

With however little pain the insect may die, it is certain
that it lives with pleasure ; and we are not therefore justified,
through wantonness, or for any insufficient object, in shorten-
ing even for a moment (perhaps to it a year) its term of en-
joyment— its inherited “Lease of Life.”

•

' set me af etefumev !

A SYLVAN MORALITY ; OR, A WORD TO WIVES.

“ These summer wings
Have borne me in my days of idle pleasure ;

I do discard them.”

“ And, Benedict, love on ; I will requite thee,

Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand.”

We have a young relative, about whom we are going to
relate a little anecdote connected with insect history, which
requires, however, a few prefatory words.

At the age of 17, Emily S — “ came out,” gilt and lettered,
from the Minerva Press of a fashionable boarding-school, and
was, two years afterwards bound (in white satin) as a bride. In

EMILY.

175

the short period intervening between these two important
epochs, she had had a prodigious run of admiration. Sonnets
had been penned on her pencilled brow, and the brows of
rival beauties had contracted at the homage paid to hers.
All this Emily had liked well enough — perhaps a little better
than she ought ; but where was the wonder ? for besides
excuses general (such as early youth and early training) for
loving the world and the world’s vanities, she had an excuse
of her own, in the fact that she had nothing else to love —
no mother, no sister, no home, — no home at least in its largest
and loving sense. She was the orphan but not wealthy ward
of a fashionable aunt, in whom the selfish regrets of age had
entirely frozen the few sympathies left open by the selfish en-
joyments of youth.

"When Emily married, and for a few months previous, it was
of course to be presumed that she had found something better
than the world whereon to fix the affection of her warm young
heart. At all events, she had found a somebody to love Aer,
and one who was worthy to be loved in return. Indeed a
better fellow than our friend F — does not live ; but though
fairly good-looking, and the perfect gentleman, he was not
perhaps exactly the description of gentleman to excite any
rapid growth of romantic attachment in the bosom of an
admired girl of nineteen.

Why did she marry him ! Simply because amongst her
admirers she liked nobody better, and because her aunt, who

176

LOVE IN A COTTAGE.

was anxious to be relieved of her charge, liked nobody so
well ; — not because he had much to offer, but because it was
little he required.

Soon after their marriage the happy pair set out for Paris.
F — - , though his means were slender and tastes retired, made
every effort (as far as bridegroom could so feel it) to gratify his
lively young wife by a stay at the capital of pleasure. After
a subsequent excursion, they returned within a year to Eng-
land, and settled at a pretty cottage in Berkshire, to which
we speedily received a cordial invitation. It was no less
readily accepted ; for we were anxious to behold the i£ rural
felicity,” of which we little doubted that our friends were in
full possession.

The result, however, of a week’s sojourn at their quiet
abode, was the reluctant opinion that, somehow or another, the
marriage garments of the young couple did not sit quite easy ;
though to point out the defect in their make, or to discover
where they girted, were matters on which it required more
time to form a decided judgment. One thing, however, was
pretty obvious. With her matronly title, Emily had not
assumed an atom of that seriousness — not sad, but sober—
which became her new estate ; nor did she, as we shrewdly
suspected, pay quite as much attention to the cares of her
little menage as was rendered incumbent by the limited amount
of her husband’s income. She seemed, in short, the same
thoughtless pleasure-loving, pleasure-seeking girl as ever-

THE YOUNG WIFE.

177

now that she was captured, the same volatile butterfly as when
surrounded and chased by butterflies like herself. But her
captor? asks some modern Petruchio — had he not, or could
he not contrive to clip her pinions ? Poor F — ! not he ! he
would have feared to “ brush the dust” from off them; and,
from something of this over-tenderness, had been feeding, with
the honeyed pleasures of the French capital, those tastes which
(without them) might have been reconciled already to the
more spare and simple sociabilities of a retired English neigh-
bourhood. He was only now trying the experiment which
should have been made a year ago, and that with a reluctant
and undecided hand.

Poor Emily ! her love of gaiety had now, it is true, but little
scope for its display ; but it was still strongly apparent, in the
rapturous regret with which she referred to pleasures past, and
the rapturous delight with which she greeted certain occasional
breaks in the monotony of a country life. An approaching
dinner-party would raise her tide of spirits, and a distant ball
or bow-meeting make them swell into a flood. On one or two
of such occasions, we fancied that F — , though never stern,
looked grave — grave enough to have been set down as an un-
reasonable fellow ; if not by every one, at least by that com-
plex “ every body,” who declared that his wife was “ one of
the prettiest and sweetest little women in the world,’7 and,
as every body must be right, so of course it was.

Rarely, indeed, had our gentle Benedict beheld the face of

178

THE FANCY BALL.

his “ Young May Moon ” absolutely obscured ; but then it
had always been his care to chase away from it every passing,
or even approaching, cloud ; and he would certainly have liked,
in return, that its very brightest rays should have shone on
him direct, instead of reaching him only, as it were, reflected
from what in his eyes, certainly, were very inferior objects.

We had passed some weeks at our entertainer’s cottage,
when rumours got afloat, such as had not disturbed, for many
a year, the standing, and sometimes stagnant, pool of Gosling-
ton society. The son of Lord W — was about to come of age,
and the event was to be celebrated by grand doings ; a varied
string of entertainments, to be wound up, so it was whispered,
by a great parti -coloured or fancy ball. Kumours were soon
silenced by certainty, and our friends were amongst those who
received an invitation to meet all the world of Goslington and
a fragment of the world of London, about to be brought into
strange conjunction atW — castle. What shapes! grotesque,
and gay, and gorgeous — ghosts of things departed — started up
before the sparkling eyes of Emily, as she put the reviving
talisman into F — ’s hand. No wonder that her charmed
sight failed to discover what was, however, sufficiently appa-
rent, that her husband’s delight at the honour done them by
no means equalled her’s. Indeed we were pretty certain that
not merely dissatisfaction, but even dissent, was to be read in
his compressed lip, and, for once, forbidding eye.

Nothing was said then upon the subject; but we saw the

DISAPPROVAL.

179

next morning something very like coolness on the part of F —
towards his wife, which was returned on hers by something
very like petulance. Ah! thought we, it all comes of this
unlucky fancy ball! We had often heard it declared by our
friend, that he hated every species of masquerade, and would
never allow (though this was certainly before his marriage)
either sister, wife, or daughter of his to attend one. But, be-
sides this aversion for such entertainments in general, he had
reasons, as we afterwards gathered, for disliking, in particular,
this fancy ball of Lord W — ’s. Amongst the u London
World,” Emily would be sure to meet several of her quondam
acquaintances, perhaps admirers; and though he was no
jealous husband, he preferred, on many accounts, that such
meetings should be avoided.

The slight estrangement spoken of did not wholly pass
away, though so trifling were its tokens, that no eye less in-
terested than our own might have noticed their existence.
Indeed neither of the parties seemed really angry with the
other, appearing rather to think it incumbent on them to
keep up a certain show of coolness ; but whenever the sunny
smile of Emily broke even partially through the half trans-
parent cloud, it dissolved in an instant the half-formed ice of
her husband’s manner. By mutual consent the subject of the
fancy ball seemed left in abeyance, and while in every circle,
for miles round, it formed the central topic, in ours it was
the theme forbid. Thence we tried to infer that it was a

180

THE COTTAGE LIBRARY.

matter abandoned, and that Emily’s better judgment, if not
ber good feeling, bad determined ber to give up ber own
liking, on tbis tbe very first occasion on wbicb, we believe,
ber husband bad ever thwarted it.

Well — whether, as with us, awaited in silence, or, as with
tbe many, barbingered by tbe music of many voices — the grand
event marched on ; and a day was only wanted of its expected
arrival, when business called F — to London, from whence be
was not to return till late at night. Soon after bis departure,
wbicb followed an early breakfast, we left Emily, as we sup-
posed, to tbe business of ber little household, and repaired, as
was our wont, to tbe library, — a small apartment wbicb our
friend F — bad made tbe very bijou of his pretty cottage. It
was tastefully fitted up in tbe gothic style, with a window of
painted glass, — a window, by tbe way, especially suited to a
book-room, not merely as pleasing to tbe eye but for a corre-
spondence wbicb has often struck us. Tbe many-coloured
panes, through wbicb tbe light of day finds entrance, form no
unfitting symbol of a library’s contents, whereby tbe light of
intelligence is poured upon tbe mind through as many varied
mediums, from tbe deep, cold, black and blue of learned and
scientific lore, to tbe glowdng flame colour and crimson of
poetry and romance. Having taken down a choice copy of
tbe Faery Queen, we committed our person to an ebony arm-
chair, and our spirit to tbe magic guidance of our author’s
fancy. Obedient to its leading, we were careering somewhere

THE FAERY QUEEN-.

181

betwixt eartb and heaven, when a slight noise brought us
down for a moment to our proper sphere ; yet hardly, — for on
looking up we beheld, standing in the wake of a coloured sun-
beam, from which, on wings of gossamer, she seemed to have
just descended, an unexpected apparition of surpassing grace
and beauty. Titania’s self, just stepped upon the moonlit
earth, could scarcely have stood poised on an unbroken flower-
stalk, in form more airy, in attitude more graceful, with coun-
tenance more radiant than those of Emily F — , as, arrayed in
likeness of the Faery Queen, she thus burst upon our view,
and with an air half archly playful, half proudly triumphant,
enjoyed our bewildered surprise, and received the involuntary
homage of our admiration.

We saw in a moment how the matter stood; Emily was
really going to the fancy ball ; and this, of the Queen of Fays,
was the fantastic and too bewitching costume she had chosen
to assume. Knowing her kind heart, and having believed
that its best affections had been gained by her estimable hus-
band, if not bestowed on him at first, we were vexed and dis-
appointed in our young relation, and felt it only right to give,
if we could, a check to her buoyant vanity, by letting her feel
the weight of our disapproval, — shown, if not expressed.
“So I see, Emily,” said I, in the coldest tone; “I see, after
all, that you are going to this foolish ball.”

The beaming countenance of the beautiful sylph darkened
in a moment, like a cosmoramic landscape. “ And why

182

DISAPPROBATION.

not?” returned she pettishly;” “I suppose then you don’t
approve.”

11 My approbation can be of very little import, if you possess
that of your own heart, and that of your husband. Under
what character, pray, does he attend you ? I suppose he plays
Oberon to your Titania ?”

Emily’s face reddened. Some strong emotion heaved her
bosom, and I saw that pride alone kept the starting tears from
overflowing. “ Charles,” said she, with an attempt at assum-
ed indifference, “ will not be there at all ; I am to go with
Lady Forrester.”

We felt more vexed than ever, and wished to say something
which might yet hinder the young wife’s intention ; but while
considering what that something should be, or whether, indeed,
our age and slight relationship gave a sufficient right to say
anything, we looked down for a moment on our still open
book. Of that moment Emily availed herself to effect an
escape, and on raising our eyes we only caught a glimpse of her
glittering wings as she glided through the doorway. Our
first impulse was to recall her ; our next thought, to leave her
to herself. If her better nature still struggled, remonstrance
of ours, we considered, might only serve to set wounded pride
against it ; and wounded passions, like wounded bravoes, fight
most desperately. We saw no more of our young hostess till
the hour of dinner, to which we sat down tete-d-tete. Emily’s
sweet face had regained all its usual expression of good

AN EVENING WALK.

183

humour, and by almost an excess of attention, and an effort at
more than ordinary liveliness, she strove to make amends for
the slight ebullition of temper stirred up by the morning’s
incident ; but her sociability seemed forced, and we felt that
our own was much of the same description.

Our after dinner sitting was soon ended for an evening stroll.
It had been a sultry day towards the end of August ; the lazy
zephyrs had been all asleep since noontide ; so, with a view to
meet the first of them which should happen to be stirring, we
directed our steps towards a high open heath or common. Its
summit was crowned by a magnificent beach, towards which
we slowly ascended, under a shower of darts levelled by the
declining sun ; and, on arriving at the tree, were right glad
to seat ourselves on the circular bench which surrounded its
smooth and bulky bole.

Here, in addition to the welcome boons of rest and shade,
we were presented gratis with the exhibition of a finer pano-
rama than the Messrs. Barker ever yet produced.

What a scene of tranquil splendour lay before us ; one of
those glowing pictures of the declining day and declining year,
whereon, like a pair of dying painters, they seem to have com-
bined their utmost skill and richest colours in order to exceed,
in a last effort, all the productions of their meridian prime.

After a few moments of silent admiration, we were on the
point of exclaiming to our young companion, “ Oh ! who
could prefer the most brilliant ball-room to a scene like this ?

184

THE ANT-HILL.

but we checked the impulse ; for perhaps, thought we, the
“still small voice,” which speaks from all around us, is even
now whispering to her heart. But never, we believe, was adder
more deaf to the accents of the “ charmer,” than was Emily at
that moment to those of nature. Her mind, we are pretty
sure, was still running, and all the faster as she approached it,
on that fancy ball. Perhaps she suspected that ours was fol-
lowing the same turn, and knowing of old our habit of mak-
ing observations upon insects, she, by a little womanly artifice,
availed herself of it to divert their course. Pointing with her
parasol to a long procession of brown ants, which were cross-
ing the foot- worn area beneath the tree, — “look,” said she,
“ I suppose they are going home to bed.”

“ Or perhaps to a ball,” rejoined we, quite unable to resist
the pleasure of taking our fair cousin in her own ruse j “but
let us follow them, and see.”

Emily was delighted at having, as she thought, so ingeniously
set us on our hobby, and attended us to the spot whither we
had traced the little labourers. Their populous settlement
bore no appearanae of evening repose. Other trains were ap-
proaching in various directions, to meet that which we had
followed, and a multitude was covering the conical surface of
the ant-hill, as if taking a farewell bask in the glowing sunset.
Amidst the congregated many, and distinguished from the
common herd by very superior bulk and four resplendent wings,
were several individual ants, which Emily (as well she might)

DISCARDED WINGS.

185

mistook for flies, and inquired accordingly wliat could be
tbeir business in suck incongruous society. 11 They are no
flies,” said we, “ but ants themselves — female ants, — though
with somewhat of the air, certainly, of being in masquerade
or fancy costume. But say what we will of their attire, we
must needs confess that they are in their proper places ; for
they are the matrons of the community, and, as we see, they
are at home .”

Our young companion made no reply ; but stooping down,
seemed wholly engrossed by examination of the ant-hill.
“ Look,” exclaimed she, presently ; u there is one of these
portly dames without any wings at all. I suppose some of her
neighbours have taken up a spite against her, and combined
to strip her of her glittering appendages.”

“ By no means,” we answered, “ she has laid them aside by
her own voluntary act. Only see, my dear Emily, here is
one of her sisters even now employed in the business of
disrobing.”

We both stooped, and watched narrowly the curious opera-
tion to which we had directed our young friend’s attention.
One of the larger insects in question was actively employed in
agitating her wings, bringing them before her head, crossing
them in every direction, throwing them from side to side, and
producing so many singular contortions as to cause them all four
to fall off at the same moment, leaving her reduced to the same

condition as her wingless sister. Fatigued, apparently, by her
Yol. II.— 12.

186

THE INSECT MATRON.

late efforts, she reposed awhile, after the accomplishment of
her purpose, brushed her denuded corselet with her feet, and
then proceeding to burrow in the soft earth of the hillock,
was speedily lost to our observation. “How very odd!”
said Emily ; “ what can possibly be the meaning of such a
strange, unnatural proceeding?”

11 1 will tell you,” replied we, “ that which has been thought
fully to explain its intention. This insect female, in common
with her sisters, has hitherto been privileged to lead a life of
entire indolence and pleasure. A few days since, having risen
from her lowly birth-place on those discarded pinions, we
might have seen her disporting in the air with some gay and
gallant companions, of inferior size, but winged like herself.
But now her career of pleasure, though not of happiness, being
at an end, her life of usefulness is about to begin, and, in cha-
racter of a matron, she is called to the performance of such do-
mestic duties as will henceforth confine her to the precincts
of her home.

“ Of what use now, therefore, are the glittering wings
which adorned and became her in her earlier youth ? Their
possession might only, perchance, have tempted her to desert
the post which Nature, under Divine guidance, has instructed
her to fill. Obedient to its teaching, she has thus despoiled
herself of the showy pinions which (essential to her enjoy-
ment in the fields of air) would only have encumbered her in
the narrower but more important sphere of home.”

AN AGREEABLE SURPRISE.

187

Emily listened in silence to our lecture on Entomology,
winch must have been delivered, we suppose, with peculiar
clearness, as she did not, according to her usual custom, fol-
low it up by any further inquiry or comment. We soon
afterwards bid adieu to the insect community, and wended
our way homewards.

F — returned from London the same evening ; but availing
ourselves of an old friend’s freedom, we had retired to bed
before his arrival.

Next morning ushered in the day, “the great, the im-
portant day,” of the fancy-ball — neither “ heavily ” nor “ in
clouds ;” yet greatly did we fear that the pleasant sunshine
which greeted our opening eyes would be met with no an-
swering beams at the breakfast-table of our friends.

How agreeably, therefore, were we surprised, when, on
entering the parlour, we at once perceived an expression of
more perfect serenity, on the countenances both of F —
and his pretty wife, than had been worn by either since the
day of that confounded invitation.

“Ah!” thought we, “it’s pretty plain how the matter is
ended ; that wicked little fairy has wrought her charms for
something — has carried her point — and will carry him, her
willing captive, to the ball. What poor weak fools fond

husbands are ! Thank heaven that Well ! perhaps better

so than worse.”

Breakfast proceeded; chat in plenty; but not a syllable

188

A HAPPY FINALE.

about the fancy ball ; till bursting to know bow tbe case, so
long pending, bad really ended, we ventured on a pumping
query — “ At wbat bour, Emily,” said we, “ does Lady For-
rester come to take you to tbe ball ?’ ’

“ 1 bave written to prevent ber calling.”

“Ob, then, you are going under other escort?” and we
looked slyly at F — .

“ I am not going at all,” said Emily.

Here sbe put in our’s ber little white band, and looked up
archly in our face, — “ I am not going, for I have laid aside my
wings /”

“My good fellow!” said F — , as be took our other band;
“you deserve to be made President of tbe Entomological
Society.”

FEMALE AMTS.

189

Note.

That remarkable procedure of the matron ant, whereon
the preceding narrative is founded, is a well authenticated
fact. The circumstances attending it were partially noticed
by Gould, the historian of English ants, Linnaeus, and De
Geer; and observed and related with greater accuracy by
Huber, part of whose interesting account we shall combine
with a few introductory remarks by a living naturalist,*
whose own testimony is given to its veracity.

“ It was supposed by the ancients that all ants, at a certain
age, acquired wings ; but it was reserved for recent naturalists
to ascertain that it is only the males and females that are ever
winged, and that the latter lose them after pairing in the air,
as they have no longer any use for them.”

The younger Huber, by means of his artificial formicaries,
traced the development of the wings in the female from their
first commencement till he saw them stripped off by them-
selves, and laid aside like cast-off clothes. * * *

He one day visited some ant-hills which he knew to be filled
with winged inhabitants, whose departure could not be far
distant. “ Hardly,” says he, “ had I reached the spot, when
I saw several, both males and females, pass over my head,
while at the ant-hill I observed others take flight, the males
always preceding. Of these I took eight pairs, and placed

* Bennie, in Insect Miscellanies.

190

GAIN OF A LOSS.

them in a box to observe them on my retnrn home ; but a
violent shower, which came on at this moment, offered me a
sight as singular as unexpected. As soon as the rain was over,

I saw the earth strewed with females without wings. They
were most likely the very ones that I had seen in the air. * *
On my return home, I placed my eight prisoners with some
moist earth in a garden pot covered with a glass. It waS nine
o’clock in the evening : at ten the females had lost their wings,
which I observed scattered here and there, and were hiding
themselves under the earth.” Three of the insects placed in
a box, without earth at the bottom, did not, on this account,
divest themselves of their wings ; but another, furnished with
a light earthen bed, no sooner perceived it, than “ she extended
her wings with some effort , brought them before her head , crossed
them in all directions , threw them from side to side , and produced
so many singular contortions, that all four wings fell off at
the same moment. After this change she reposed, brushed
her corselet with her feet, then traversed the ground, appear-
ing to seek a place of shelter ; she partook of the honey I
gave her, and at last found a hiding place under some loose
earth that formed a little natural grotto.” Huber repeated,
and describes minutely, the like experiments on several
females of different species, and always with the same results.

Gould (writing about 1747, and calling the winged females

II large ant-flies,” the males small ones,) says — “If you place
a number (of the former) in a box, the wings of many of them

GAIN OF A LOSS.

191

will, after some time, gradually fall off like autumnal leaves.”
He also observes, that “a large ant-fly (contrary to other in-
sects) gains by the loss of her wings, is afterwards promoted
to a throne, and drops these external ornaments as emblems
of too much levity for a sovereign.” But as female ants hold
little of the state and none of the authority of queens, he
would have spoken of their wings more properly as incum-
brances to their new matronly duties, one of which is the con-
struction of chambers in the earth. July and August is
their usual season for disrobing.

j

Jlrra-pcb xnliktncfM of th X’aerv Qumt'

BUSINESS AND PLEASURE.

11 If all the year were playing holidays,

To sport would he as tedious as to work.”

All the worlds within our world of earth are now superemi-
nently busy. The fashionable world is making a weary
business of Pleasure — the trading world a weary pleasure of
Business. For the luxury of the one, and the profit of the
other, the working world (as always) is busy enough too ;
though as to pleasure, it is, alas ! seldom enough that we behold
her jocund ladyship tripping hand-in-hand with toil in the
barren land of labour as laid down in their chart politic. But

BEE LABOURERS.

193

of all the worlds now busy, the insect world (as busy as any )
combines, perhaps, with its labour the most equal amount of
pleasure. Here at least we may joy our eyes with the sight
of work and play as frequent companions, and when not
exactly seen together, they are here found almost always to
follow each other in close and orderly succession.

Some insects indeed there now are, neither merry at their
work nor merry at their play, yet are they, nevertheless, in
passive enjoyment of a summer holiday. These consist, for
the most part, of certain u Spinners and Knitters in the sun,”
whose chief work as caterpillars having been finished in spring
or early summer, are now, as aurelias, slumbering in golden
rest ; while others, occupied in their last laborious effort, are
bursting from their self-wrought trammels, whether of silk or
fabric more substantial, to employ themselves henceforth,
with other busy idlers, solely in pursuit of pleasure.

Distinguished from these active idlers, as most active of
workers, are the busy Bees ; and in these especially, as we
watch them half-labouring, half-revelling in the midst of
sunny odours, we seem to see business and pleasure mingled
in their very essences, and enclosed — a drop to each — within
those tiny vases “ aux milles fleurs ” — the bodies of our insect
gatherers.

Of the business seemingly so pleasant which makes up the
life of a Bee Labourer, be it now our business and our pleasure
to say a few words, at all events, in season. But how do

194

THE BEE-HIVE.

justice to the honeyed theme? How discourse sweetly and
wisely, yet withal briefly — above all, with aught of novelty —
of those favoured labours sung by a Virgil, chronicled by a
Varro, hymned by a Watts, dramatised in the “good old
times ” of our Virgin Queen — royally patronised in the better
new times of our wedded monarch ?

A bee-hive, however, is no easily exhausted store, con-
taining, as an object of thought, an infinite number of things
besides bees, or wrax, or honey. It is a perfect emblematic
treasury, filled with analogies, precepts, patterns, poetry,
morality, divinity.

In our sketch of bees as “a body politic,” we have seen
indeed how ill befitting is their waxen imagery to serve as a
model for human imitation — how frail to falling dynasties the
support of waxen pillars ; but there yet remains in the
economy of the hive (especially as exhibited in bee labour)
enough in plenty for counsel, for reproof, for pattern, for
reflection, for admiration — all resolving themselves into adora-
tion of Him to whom adoration alone is due.

But it is time, without further prelude, to open the straw
casket wherein so many jewels are contained ; though, in
truth, it is in their very profusion, full as much as in their
previous appropriation, that a difficulty lies. How from the
flowers of bee economy, in themselves so numerous, and nu-
merously culled, shall we select a small and simple posy, fit on
this summer day to refresh without overpowering ? How, in

FRANCIS HUBER.

195

short, tie up without spoiling the delicate sweets of bee la-
bour ?

Abridgments of all history make, as we think, and began to
feel when we were yet too young to think about it, the dull-
est of all dull reading. They strain the memory because they
do not interest the mind, and are therefore, by the way, the
least adapted to young people. To put epitomes into the
hands of children is, as an American writer justly observes,
as if we were to give them distilled spirits instead of diluted
liquids. It is detail and minutiae which make historic rela-
tions pleasant to follow ; and as with the history of men, so
it is tenfold with that of bees ; the miniature marvels of whose
proceedings require for due appreciation to be followed in the
minute records of insect biography.

Well, we are lingering still on the threshold of the hive;
and here, just as we have penned the words “insect biogra-
phy,” there meets us a venerable shade who must detain us
yet a little longer. How can we enter the bee-hive without a
tribute of admiration and respect to him, who for us and
for thousands has laid the secrets of the bee-hive open —
without a word as well as thought of Francis Huber, the bees’
best biographist ? — the great, the good, the gifted, yet bereft —
the clear-sighted, yet the sightless Huber. At this season,
nearly a century ago, did he first open on the summer sunshine
those admiring and inquiring eyes, which for only a brief por-
tion of a long life were permitted either to behold the glories

196

FRANCIS HUBER.

of day, or to look into the minuter wonders of the animate
creation. Yet most marvellously and kindly in his case, as
in many others of similar privation, was that privation bal-
anced. Through the eyes of others, aided by his own mental
vision of surpassing clearness, he was enabled to keep watch
on the works and ways of the little people of the hive, to
throw a blaze of light on their heretofore obscure history,
and to become, for the wise recreation of future generations,
as well as for the amusement of his own otherwise dark hours,
their most interesting and circumstantial chronicler.

Ocular observation has completely verified the marvellous
details of bee economy first related by their blind discoverer,
and in all that he describes, nothing, perhaps, is so won-
derful, more admirable, or more interesting, than the accuracy
of his details, — evidences as they are of the glorious supe-
riority of mind over matter — trophies of persevering victory
over a bodily impediment, which, but for the energy of all-
subduing will, would have shut him out for ever from that
field of research, to whose entrance only his sight had guided
him.

But besides being happy in his own energetic mind, Huber
was also happy in the providential blessing and possession of
friends — friends who, in the grand pursuit of his darkened
but not gloomy life, were without a metaphor “ eyes to the
blind ” — the blind object of their affectionate regard and
admiration. These were, in the first instance, Francis Burens,

FRANCIS HUBER.

197

an uneducated peasant, yet Inis faithful friend and constant
and efficient assistant ; next his wife ; and last, not least, his
son, P. Huber, afterwards celebrated for his own researches
into the history of ants.

In the circumstances attendant on Huber’s marriage we
meet with one of those pleasant romances of reality which
occasionally vary the monotony of every-day life. At an early
age, the sight of our persevering naturalist fell a sacrifice to
minute and intense observation exercised in his darling
study. As with our prince of poets, “a drop serene”* had
11 quenched” his “orbs” of vision; nor would he for their
recovery undergo the usual operation. Previous to this afflic-
tion he had formed an attachment to Mademoiselle Aimee
Pullein, daughter of a Swiss magistrate, who opposed the mar-
riage of the lovers on the ground of the young man’s blind-
ness. Ho sooner, however, did the lady arrive at an age which
gave her (at least in her own opinion) a right of judging for
herself, than (after refusing offers of greater promise) she united
her lot with that of the blind yet loving Huber, with whom
forty years of subsequent happiness, wherein she was his sec-
retary, his observer, and the sharer, not only of his researches,
but of the enthusiasm with which he followed them, gave her
no cause to repent her choice. Even when deprived by death
of his affectionate helpmate, the blind and then aged Huber
was not left destitute of woman’s supporting tenderness,

* Gutta serena.

198

EARLY RISERS.

which, in the person of a married daughter, Madame Molin,
waited on him to the hour of his death, in the year 1881, at
the age of eighty-one.*

From the bees’ historian come we at last to bees themselves,
though not yet exactly to the bee-hive ; for if we began with
the beginning — the birth — that is, of our busy workers — it
would carry us back to winds of March or frosts of February.
Let us take them, therefore, even as they are, humming about
us on this summer day. As we look around, it may perhaps,
however, strike us that our troop of winged labourers is not
mustering as strong as might have been expected on such a
glorious field-day as the present, when flowering sweets are
clustered “thick as autumnal leaves” — “in Vallombrosa,”
and when under the mid-day sunshine the flowers are throw-
ing out in abundance their honeyed perfumes, serving as
scented messengers betwixt them and their insect adorers. How
is it, in short, that, instead of many, the bees on wing are few?
Are the bulk of their labourers playing the part of drones ?

Suspect it not ; but know that working bees, like all the
busy who would be “healthy, happy, and wise,” rose this
morning with the lark ; and, while we were idle in our beds
of down, were here active in their beds of flowers. Having
filled their bottles with honey and their baskets with pollen,
most of them have gone home two hours ago (supposing it
now high noon), and are at present under cover of their hive,

* Huber died at Lausanne.

BEE BASKETS.

199

either resting or still busied in domestic occupation. From
four to ten in the morning are, in the warmer months, the
usual working hours of bees ; but in the spring, or when
newly entered on the occupation of a hive, they labour abroad
incessantly from morn till evening.

A sprinkling of workers have, however, kept on wing ;
and close at hand, from a border of mignionette, we hear the
voice of the “ Oriental Deburah,” humming cheerfully of
pleasure mingled with labour ; and who in this busy little
creature can doubt their union, as we see her rolling amidst
her golden riches, adroitly brushing the precious dust from
off her antlers into the curious panniers with which her
thighs are furnished to receive it ?

Now, her baskets are full laden, heaped with orange pollen
high above their brims ; but an elastic fringe of hairs by
which these are surrounded hinders their contents from being
overturned. Our collector’s task is completed for the morning,
and thus laden without, and doubtless lined within, by a full
measure of the nectared juices, “ sucked from buds and
bells,” she takes wing, and makes so light of all her lading,
that straight as an arrow from a bow (and eke as swiftly) she
cuts the air, even in the wind’s eye, in the exact direction of
her straw-built home.

How is her unerring flight directed ? Kirby thinks it is her
senses, aided by memory, which conduct the bee in her return-
ing course. But surely no senses with which we are acquainted,

200

bee’s homeward flight.

unless of subtle accuracy infinitely surpassing those boasted
by ourselves, could direct either bee or bird through miles
of pathless air to one desired point ; nor, in some cases, as in
a bee’s first excursion, can memory be the leading principle.
What, then, is the little traveller’s guide ? Who can exactly
say? but we are inclined to look upon it as a faculty by
itself — an additional sense, or a peculiar instinct — call it
which we will — whereby that Paternal Power, whose care is
over all, is pleased to conduct to their haunts of labour and
subsistence, and back again to their homes of safety — not
alone the bee or bird, but a variety of other creatures, who
want a tongue to inquire the way.

Howsoever guided, our bee labourer has arrived at her
“waxen city.” Its outer rampart of straw conceals her from
our view as she disappears within its entrance ; but, thanks
to the inventor of glass hives,* and to those who have turned
them to good account, we shall be able, through the eyes of
others, and through the observations of the eyeless Huber, to
give a tolerable guess at the home proceedings of our laden
forager and her busy sisterhood.

Our bee, as before noticed, was the bearer of a double load — -
pollen or dust of anthers in her thigh baskets, — nectar in her
internal honey -bag ; but neither of these floral treasures have
been collected for herself. A working bee is no selfish or
single individual — she is the devoted subject of an idle mon-

* Maraldi, an Italian mathematician, 1712.

DISPOSAL OF HONEY.

201

arch ; a member of a well ordered and numerous community ;
she knows her duties and performs them. On lately seeing
her unfold her tongue, and draw in, with seeming greediness,
the nectar of a flower, one might have fancied that she was
quaffing her luscious draught in the same luxurious sensual
spirit of self-regalement, as a human votary of Bacchus, and
with no more creditable end in view ; but if such were our
opinion we should soon perceive, on watching her home pro-
ceedings, how grievously we wronged her.

Fulfilling, in the first place, her duty of loyalty, she offers,
as a tribute to her queen, a portion of her honey, pure as at
the moment of swallowing, — an operation merely of transfer
from the nectary of the flowers to her own honey -bag, or first
stomach.

The remainder, all at least except that trifling portion re-
quired for her own support, she then deposits within one of
the store-cells of which the contents are appropriated to the
supply of the community ; or instead of this, on finding a group
of labourers employed in building, to some of them, hungry
and thirsty with their toil, she kindly gives of her abundance,
or perhaps of her scarcity, a draught of sweet refreshment.

Her honey thus disposed of — what does she do with her
pollen, the golden lading of her triangular thigh baskets ?
Perhaps she swallows it herself, or perhaps is spared that
trouble by some of her companions. But in thus gorging
neither she nor they are making it an object of greedy appro-

202

POLLEN" AND BEE BREAD.

priation. This pollen or farina of flowers — after undergoing
a certain process, of which swallowing forms a part — becomes
what is called bee-bread, and constitutes, as such, one of the
strongest supports of bee existence, especially before arrived
at maturity. After being swallowed, it may perhaps be im-
parted at once to some of the infant occupants of the nursery
cells ; or, if more is collected than immediate need requires,
this, as well as honey, is laid up in store, being diluted and
packed for future use.

We have seen how our busy gatherer has brought home
her quota of pollen or bee-bread, and honey or bee- wine ; but
has she contributed to the general magazine her share of
wax, — that material so indispensable to form the “ casks,” or
caskets wherein both these treasures are preserved ? She has
done her part (doubt it not !) in augmentation of this useful
commodity ; but on the present occasion she can furnish no
wax, because she has given away all her honey. But what
has this to do with it ? Might we not say as well, that a man
could not furnish wood for a cask because he had given away
all his wine !

Why a bee could not contribute wax because possessed of
no honey is a question, certainly, which people who know
little about bees would naturally ask now ; and the same
query might have been put less than a hundred years ago even
by those best acquainted with their habits. The old natu-
ralists were not aware of the least inaccuracy in the poetic

MATERIAL OF WAX.

208

idea of Shakspeare, when he makes his Titania, commanding
her fairies, hid them

“ The honey-bags steal from the humble bees,

And for night tapers crop their waxen thighs.”

That Humble-bees, and all bees, were in the habit either of
collecting wax ready made from flowers, or of manufacturing
it from this flowery pollen (the lading of their thigh baskets)
was the generally received opinion ; and even those close ob-
servers, Reaumur and Bonnet, seem to have thought much
the same ; whereas it is now well ascertained that honey, not
pollen, is the original material of wax, which indeed no Bee
can make without it.

That the primary foundation of wax is not pollen was first
concluded, by the celebrated John Hunter, on account of its
varied colour ; whereas that of wax is uniform ; and moreover
pollen continues to be collected by the workers of those hives
wherein the comb is already complete. Huber and others
further found, on experiment, that bees fed entirely upon
honey and sugar, and deprived, at the same time, of all op-
portunities of gathering pollen, were able without it to con-
struct combs, though utterly at a loss to feed their brood for
lack of the bee-bread derived from farina of flowers. From
these and other observations, it was proved beyond doubt,
that honey or sugar, not pollen, is essential to the formation
of wax, — a secretion which, exuding from the rings of the
bee’s stomach, is sometimes visible in the form of scales.

Relative to wax and its employ, Huber further discovered
Yol. II.— 13

204

WAX-WORKERS.

that certain bees, larger than the other workers, are endowed
with capabilities for secreting it on a much larger scale, — a
fact which led him to divide the labours of the hive into two
distinct classes, to which he gave the names of “Wax- work-
ers,and “ Nurses,’' — the employ of the former being chiefly
to found the cells and provision the hive, while the cares of
the latter are devoted more especially to the feeding and tend-
ing of the young, and to the completion of the combs when
substantially founded by their stronger and better provided
comrades. Herein has existed, from time immemorial, an in-
sect pattern, which only civilised man has learnt to copy, of
labour's best lightener and assistant — its division.

In addition to pollen and honey, with wax hence derived,
bees are accustomed to levy, from the vegetable world, another
contribution employed in their works of architecture. This
substance, as being chiefly applied outwardly and to the out-
works of their waxen structures, is called Propolis , from Greek
words signifying “before the city.” It consists of a brown
resin, which was supposed long ago to be the collection of
bees from trees producing gums of the same description, — a
conjecture since confirmed, — Huber having seen them strip
the resin from off buds of the wild poplar and branches
placed in their way ; while Kirby observed them busy, for a
like purpose, on the balsamic buds of the Tacamahaca.

In collection of propolis, as in that of pollen, the bee’s thigh
panniers are in high requisition ; but, to avoid their being be-

PROPOLIS.

205

gummed as well as beladen with this sticky resin, our little
gatherer has to knead and render it less adhesive, before she
transfers it from her fore feet to the convenient corbeilles
appended to her hinder limbs.

With this vegetable gum the honey -combs, heretofore pure
white, are varnished, and their edges strengthened and secured.
It is with propolis also that all accidental holes and interstices
are filled up ; and the same substance is made, moreover,
highly contributary to that scrupulous cleanliness for which
bees are conspicuous. The mode wherein they carry out, in
their waxen cities, the practice of this self-respecting and self-
preserving virtue, is worthy of imitation by those who draw
up sanitary regulations for the health of brick-built towns.

The removal of all things that offend infectiously, or, where
this is impossible, the disarming them of their offensive qualities,
stands, of course, foremost in the sanitary economy of the hive.
In pursuance thereof, the dead bodies of intruding insects,
stung to death for their temerity, are instantly cast out, when-
ever their size admits; but when too bulky for ejection, as in
the case of a snail, the body, when deprived of life and with-
drawn into its shell, is glued round the margin, thus fixed im-
moveable and innoxious, by help of propolis ; but, should
the slimy intruder happen to be shell-less, the same useful
substance is employed more extensively to completely cover
and embalm its body ; thus preventing entirely the escape
therefrom of all unwholesome effluvia.

206

COMB-MAKING.

Subsequent on the brief mention, as above, of the materials
employed by bee architects, should follow, properly, a descrip-
tion of the way in which they are accustomed to work them
up. We have never, ourselves, had an opportunity of fol-
lowing any of their wondrous operations as carried on within
the hive, which, by the way, would seem by no means an easy
matter, even when that hive is made of glass. We might
easily, however, copy, in an abbreviated form, some at least
of the relations given of their proceedings by Reaumur, the
indefatigable Huber, and other bee historians ; but these, shorn
of their detail, would proportionately lose in interest.

Since, therefore, our account of bee workmanship cannot
(consistently with our limits) be long enough to entertain, we
shall make it so very short, as at all events not to weary. We
would wish it, on the contrary, to stimulate, to serve just as an
incitement to the abundant but not cloying sweets of Huber’s
delightful pages. There will be found in detail, ample and ac-
curate,— how that, a<3 a first preparatory step towards the con-
struction of a comb, the bees (called Wax- workers) suspend
themselves, from the empty interior of the hive, in necklace-
like festoons, and thus remain motionless for hours together,
apparently to rest, but in reality to secrete the wax which be-
comes visible on the rings of their bodies ; — how that, in step
the second, the Bee foundress leaves the group, clears herself
a space, goes to work alone (hundreds of spectators watching
her proceedings), gathers from off her body, kneads with

THE BEE FOUNDRESS.

207

her mouth, then deposits the first portion of wax, in other
words lays the foundation of the waxen city ; — how this con-
spicuous individual, then retiring, leaves a second bee to
imitate her example ; then, in succession, a third and fourth,
and so on, till a block or wall of wax is formed at top of
the domed hive ; — how , subsequently, the shapeless mass thus
accumulated is excavated and moulded into honey-comb
cells, — those admirable solutions of that difficult geometric
problem which requires “ A quantity of wax being given, to
form thereof similar and equal cells of a determinate capacity,
but of the largest size in proportion to the quantity of matter
employed, and disposed in such a manner as to occupy the
least possible space.” These conditions are exactly fulfilled in
the six-sided cell of a bee, which is of a shape also the best
adapted to its body. In what manner the little mathemati-
cian is led to the end desired is matter of dispute, whether it
be the result of contriving mind, or consequent on the form
of the jaws and other fashioning instruments ; though betwixt
these and the work produced there is no apparent correspond-
ence. In either case, however, we must equally agree with
Dr. Reid, that u Geometry is not in the bee, but in the Great
Geometrician who made the bee, and made all things in num-
ber, weight, and measure.”

As the work of comb-making proceeds, we are presented
with another wonderful example of the division of labour
amongst Bee artificers. When the wax- workers have produc-

208

DIVISION OF LABOUR.

ed (as above noticed) first the material, then the cells in
rough-hewn formation, there comes a second band whose em-
ployment is to examine and adjust the angles, remove super-
fluous wax, and give the work perfection ; while, attendant on
these, is a third party which brings provisions ; of these, each
opening her honey-bag, imparts refreshment to the thirsty
labourer, who, without quitting her work, bends down her
head to receive it. It would seem, therefore, that at home as
well as abroad the toils of bee labourers are, even in a literal
sense, not without their sweets ; and in their well-ordered,
social, voluntary mode of working, we appear to see clearly
pleasure mingled with their labour.

The above notices, slight as they are, of bee notabilities,
must surely be sufficient to excite a wish for more knowledge
of their proceedings, as detailed by accurate observers ; and
not this only, but a desire also to become in person Asmodean
spectators of the doings in waxen cities. These, in their
foundation, progress, and completion afford, as we have just
seen, abundance of materiel , — matter to amuse both eye and
mind, — while the politics and passions of the little citizens
offer (as elsewhere noticed) plenty of moral subjects for com-
parison and curious speculation. Be it also remembered, that,
explored as the bee metropolis has of late years been, it has
still its hidden mysteries much more worthy, we take it, of
the trouble of unveiling, than the heart-sickening, heart-pol-
luting, though greedily devoured, “ Mysteries of London” and
of Paris.

BUTLER S BOOK OF BEES.

209

Many have prided themselves on their supposed knowledge
in the mysteries of bee cities. Amongst these, Butler (not the
author of Hudibras, but a clergyman who died about 1640,
and who figures amongst Fuller’s Worthies as a “ painful
preacher and a solid divine,”) wrote a “ Book of Bees, ” where-
in (says Fuller) “as if he had been their secretary, he appears
most knowing in the state mysteries of their commonwealth,
whence one wrote (in Latin) on his book : —

“ 4 Butler (lie’ll say who these thy writings sees,)

Bees counsel thee, or else thou counsellest bees.’ ”

Yet the knowledge of Butler, as compared with and tested
by that since acquired on the same subject is, after all, but
foolishness.

Plenty of the worldly wise are disposed, doubtless, to look
upon the study of bees, or of any such small people, as also
altogether foolishness. We know how the mental appetite,
accustomed to excitation by highly seasoned and unwholesome
viands, is likely to lack relish for simpler fare, and how many,
perhaps of our readers, may be inclined to condemn the sweets
of knowledge derivable from bee-hives as utterly flavourless
and insipid ; but let these take in evidence the experience 4of
the intellectual Huber for the fact, that communities divinely
ruled, may become, as well as communities humanly misguided,
objects of intense interest. Let them receive to the same effect
the word of another,* who says, writing of bees, “ Je n’ai

* Gelieu.

210

LOVE OF BEES A PASSION.

vu per sonne qui les aima mediocrement ; on se passionne pour
elles /” Or, if classic opinion and ancient practice weigh more
with them than “ modern instances,” let them remember how
that Aristomachus of Soles devoted fifty-eight years to their
study, — how that Philiscus the Thracian spent his whole life
in forests for the purpose of observing them, — and how,
finally, that Aristotle, Columella, and Pliny wrote of bees very
largely, if scarcely with more correctness than Yirgil, their
poetic painter.

But some there are (though not we hope amongst our
readers) with whom the tastes and pursuits of the wise and
good weigh as nothing, and with whom the intrinsic interest
attached to natural objects (could they even be forced to their
study) would go for nothing too. These have no minds for
the common wonderful — no hearts for the natural poetic, with
both of which the works and ways of bees, and of insects in
general, are fully fraught.

With such as these, vain would be the effort,

“ When 1 glows ’ the sun, and 1 hum’ the cheery bees,

And all the air is full of odours warm,

* * * * *

To fill the vacant mind with ‘ wondrous things,’

That Nature works in fields, and floods, and air.”*

Supposing such despisers of Nature to be, as they commonly
are, worshippers of Mammon, how can we possibly contrive to
awaken their interest in the economy of bees? Why, only

* Howitt’s Martyr.

TRANSATLANTIC BEES.

211

through, the bees’ economic uses and the riches of the hive, if
we could but give them hopes of making the same available
— presently or prospectively — to the interest of themselves.
They would not care a rush (how should they ?) for the in-
formation of an American poet— the nature-painting Bryant
— when he tells us how that

“ The bee, a more adventurous colonist than man,

With whom he came across the eastern deep,”

is always (as becomes a wild-wood insect) the precursor of
civilization in the giant forests of his Transatlantic clime. He
there (or to speak more correctly) she there

“ Eills the Savannahs with her murmurings,

And hides her sweets, as in the golden age,

Within the hollow oak. I listen long
To her domestic hum, and think I hear
The sound of that advancing multitude,

Which soon shall fill these deserts.”

To the strains of the poet (sing he never so sweetly) the ears
of the mammon-worshipper — the mere utilitarian — are doubt-
less deaf enough ; but the American poet has (or had) a quaker
countryman, named (we think) John Schall, who, on the sub-
ject of bees, is much more likely to move a sordid spirit.

This gentleman, in the year 1845, was exhibiting in London
his American barrel hives of wood, constructed on the humane
principle of non-destruction to their busy inmates ; and in con-
nection therewith was the proposer of plans for bee cultivation
on an extensive and profitable scale. Some persons were in-

212

APIAN SPECULATIONS.

duced, we believe, to adopt bis method,' — with what success
we never heard. This, however, with all particulars of the
apian scheme in question, might doubtless be easily obtained,
and we would seriously advise such as are bent on golden ex-
periments (or gilded, as they may happen to turn out) to try
what they can make of the golden riches of the hive. May not
the eye of the speculator foresee in the improved and extended
cultivation of English bees the ultimate extinction of the colo-
nial sugar-canes, streams of honey flowing through the land, and
streams of gold, thence derived, flowing into his own coffers.

May not this speculative seer behold also, in the march of
Puseyism, England — Catholic England — become not only a
land of honey but a land of wax — of waxen tapers. May he
not anticipate in Britain a very Mexico for bees and bees’
wax, where, as at present in that most Catholic country, bees
may be turned to enormous profit through the immense con-
sumption of wax in church ceremonies.

Thus, with the lover of lucre, as well as the lover of Nature,
bees are not without their claim to notice ; but how shall we
interest, in behalf of our humming favourites, the lover of
fashion ?

Why, here again, incongruous as our advocacy may seem, we
must have recourse to Friend Schall. Did not the worthy
broad-brim attract, at the Society of Arts, the special attention
of the Prince Consort to himself and ingenious bee-hives?
and was he not honoured, moreover, with a royal order for a

AMERICAN BEE-HIYES.

218

pair of those cleverly-constructed habitations, wherein, unmo-
lested by “ oppressive steams” of sulphur, the little workers
may mingle business and pleasure through successive genera-
tions, and, occupied in their glazed tenements, may work under
the very eye of royalty, and under the sunshine of that queenly
smile wherein the quaker and his bees have basked together ?

After this, what woman of fashion can fail to look upon "a
glazed hive, on the American, or some yet newer principle, as
a piece of furniture quite as requisite to the balcony of her
drawing-room as a mirror to its walls ?

And believe us, my lady, when thou art tired of admiring
thy person in the latter, thou mayest, on turning to the former,
find therein no scanty material for the adornment of thy
mind !

• '

INSECT MINSTRELSY.

“ Sounds inharmonious in themselves and harsh,

Yet heard in scenes where peace for ever reigns,

And only there — please highly for their sake.”

“A populous solitude of bees and birds,

And fairy-formed, and many-coloured things,

Who worship [Him] with notes more sweet than words,

And innocently open their glad wings,

Fearless and full of life.”

If measured by their influence on the mind, those simple notes
of harmony or discord, produced by many of the insect race,
are of no mean importance in the scale of sounds. Their
power must certainly, however, be attributed rather to associate

CLASSIC MUSICIAN'S.

215

ideas than to any intrinsic excellence in the sounds themselves,
which, by means of such borrowed attributes, have often indeed
acquired a character and exercised an influence directly oppo-
site to their own inherent qualities. It accords not with our *
plan to say much of insect foreigners, whether musical or
mute ; but we may cite, as the earliest and one of the most
striking examples of what we mean, the song of the classic
Cicada or Tettix — the Tree- hopper ; by a misnomer — the Grass-
hopper of the ancients. This was the Insect Minstrel to whom
the Locrians erected a statue; some say for very love and
honour of its harmony ; others as a grateful record of a certain
victory obtained in a musical contest, solely by its aid. The
story goes, that on one of these occasions two harp-strings of
the Locrian candidate being snapt asunder in the ardour of
competition, a Cicada, lighting at the moment on the injured
instrument, more than atoned for its deficiencies, and achieved,
by its well-timed assistance, the triumph of the player.

Thus highly was this insect’s song accounted of, even at a
period when “ music, heavenly maid,” could scarcely be con-
sidered “young;” yet as various species of Cicadae have been
described by modern travellers, one can hardly suppose that
any better quality than shrilly loudness can have belonged to
the Tettix of ancient Greece.

We are told, indeed, by Madame Merian, that an insect of
a similar description was called the Lyre-player by the Dutch
in Surinam. The notes of a Brazilian species have been likened

216

TETTIX AND CICADA.

to the sound of a vibrating wire ; and those of another, in the
swamps of North America, to the ringing of horse-bells. Simil-
itudes these of sounds sufficiently agreeable ; but contrasted
• therewith, and almost drowning them, come the discordant
comparisons of numerous other travellers respecting the same
or insects of an allied species. One is called by Dr. Shaw,
“ an impertinent creature, stunning the ear with shrill un-
grateful squalling.’ ' The noise of a species in Java is de-
scribed by Thunberg, as shrill and piercing as the notes of a
trumpet ; while Smeathman speaks of another common in
Africa, which emits so loud a sound as to be heard at the dis-
tance of half a mile, or, when introduced into the house, to
silence by its song the voices of a whole company. The
mighty “ waits ” of the Fulgora, or Great Lanthorn Fly of
Guyana, an insect not of the same but an allied family, has
also obtained the name of “ Scare-sleep,” — its din being likened
to the sound of razor-grinding.

On the whole, therefore, it would appear pretty clearly that
loudness is the main characteristic of the Cicada’s song. Yet
when we recognise, in this insect minstrel, the “Anacreontic
Grasshopper,” the “ Son of Phoebus,” the “ Favourite of the
Muses,” the u Nightingale of the Nymphs,” the “ Emblem of
perpetual Youth and Joy,” the “ Prophet of the Summer,” we
no longer marvel that its notes, however harsh, should have
sounded melodious even in the ear of the polished Athenian.

To descend to present times and native performers, first,

ASSOCIATE SOUNDS.

217

there is our own familiar and representative, the Hearth
Cricket, for whose crinking chirp even we can scarcely chal-
lenge much intrinsic merit, yet do we regard it as a song, and
a merry one ; and why ? because the faggot always crackles,
and the kettle sings, if not in actual, in imaginative chorus.

In like manner, the music of the Cricket’s country cousin
(of the field), or that of the Grasshopper, though designated
by some, of more critical ear than pleasant temperament, u a
disagreeable crink,” can never grate harshly upon either ear
or heart which are in themselves attuned to nature’s har-
monies ; for to these, as it rises from the dewy ground, it as-
sumes the tone of an evening hymn of happiness, mingled in
memory if not in hearing with evening bells and the shouts
of emancipated village children. For the revival, doubtless, of
some such associate memories, even the grave Spaniard is
said to keep these insects after the manner of birds of song ;
and those that like it may do the same in England, Gilbert
White assuring us, on trial of the experiment, that the field
cricket, while supplied with moist green leaves, will sing as
merrily in a paper cage as in a grassy field.

To the man of transparent skin and opaque fancy — or no
fancy at all — the hum of the Gnat is suggestive, we know, of
nothing but angry cheeks and swollen temples, with corres-
ponding sounds of pshaws! and buffets; but to those who
are less outwardly but more inwardly sensitive, the u horn ”
even of this insect blood-hunter is not without its melody,

218

ASSOCIATE IMAGERY.

with sylvan accompaniments, such as the ploughboy’s whistle
a o’er the lea,” and the gurgle of pebbly brooks, red in the
glowing sunset.

When and wheresoever a bee may happen to flit, humming
past us, be it even near an apiary in the Adelphi, or a balcony
hive at Hammersmith, is one not borne at once upon her
musical wings to the side of some heathy hill? and does one
not forthwith hear in concert the bleating of flocks, the burst-
ing of ripened furze-pods, and the blithe carol of the rising
skylark? or, our thoughts taking a turn more homely, we
listen in fancy to the sound of tinkling cymbal played by re-
joicing housewife to celebrate and accompany the aerial march
of a departing swarm.

Thus sweet and infinitely varied is the concert of concord-
ant sounds, all of the allegro character, which may be assem- .
bled for the pleasing of the mental ear, even by the simple
and single, and passing strains of the above and other insects
which make melody in their mirth ; and then how numerous
are the correspondent images — glowing, smiling, dancing,
waving, glittering, — which are wont at their bidding to be
conjured up before the mental eye ! Glowing embers —
smiling flowers — dancing leaves — waving cornfields — glit-
tering waters — all intermingled in a haze of merry motion —
an imaged dance of life got up within “the chamber of the
mind,” at the stirring of, sometimes, but a note of Nature’s
living music.

MECHANISM OF INSECT MUSIC.

219

But besides tlie sensations of involuntary pleasure which
we have often owed, without knowing it, to Insect Minstrelsy,
it affords (though on this subject few perhaps ever think)
matter for thought-inquiry, concerning the way in which it is
produced. It is all of an instrumental and not vocal cha-
racter ; and, among the varied mechanisms of natural ob-
jects, the instruments of sound furnished to insect musicians
are none of the least curious.

That of the celebrated Cicada (the classic lyre-player) — an
insect rarely seen in England, but still common in the south
of Europe, — consists, as described by Reaumur, of a pair of
drums fixed one on each side of the trunk ; these are covered
on the exterior of two membranaceous plates, usually circular
or oval ; and beneath them is a cavity, part of which seems
to open into the belly. These drums form however but one
portion of a compound instrument ; for besides these, there is
attached to another drum-like membrane in the interior a
bundle of muscular strings ; on pulling which, and letting
them go again, a sound can be produced even after the ani-
mal’s death. For the issue of this sound a hole is expressly
provided, like the sound-hole of a violin, or the opening in
the human larynx.

The chirp of the cricket, both of house and field, is said, by
Kirby, to be produced by the friction of the bases of the
tegmina, or wing-cases, against each other, at their base ; but
these insects are also provided with their drums. In the

220

INSTRUMENT OF GRASSHOPPER.

large green field cricket* this drum is describedf as a round
plate of transparent membrane tensely stretched, and sur-
rounded by a prominent edge, or neryure. The instrument is
to be found in that part of the right wing-case which is folded
horizontally over the trunk, and is concealed under the left,
in which also there is a strong circular neryure corresponding
to the hoop of the drum beneath. The quick motion with
which these nervures are rubbed together producing a vibra-
tion in the membrane, is supposed to augment the sound.

What we call familiarly the singing or chirping of grass-
hoppers and locusts, is outwardly produced by application of
the hind shank to the thigh, rubbing it smartly against the
wing-cases, and alternating the right and left legs ; but these,
as well as the cicada and the cricket, are provided with their
“petits tambours,” — membrane-covered drums, or cavities of
somewhat varied construction, to augment the sound of ex-
terior origin.

Be it here observed, that the above-named professors of the
“joyeuse science” — the cicada lyre-players — the crickets of
our field and household bands — the roving grasshopper trou-
badours, are all, like the feathered minstrels of grove and
garden, of the masculine sex ; each doubtless playing his
mid-day sonata, or evening serenade, with intent mainly to
tickle the ear and fancy of his listening lady.

On the muteness of the latter was founded a sly joke on

* Acrida viridissima. (Vignette.)

t By De Geer.

INSTRUMENT OF GNAT.

221

the Xantippes of antiquity, which is equally applicable both
to scolding and to musical matrons of the present day.
“Happy,” says Zenachus the Rhodian,

“ Happy the cicadas’ lives,

Since they all have noiseless wives !”

The so-called “Horn” or “ Trumpet of the Grnat,” would
seem no wind instrument at all ; its buzz, or hum, as well as
that of other two- winged flies, appearing, says Kirby,* to be
produced by friction of the base of the wings against the chest.
This conclusion would seem, however, scarcely to be reconciled
with the fact remarked by Rennie, f that they sometimes, espe-
cially towards autumn, fly in silence, although, when flying,
the base of the wings must of necessity rub against the chest.

“ The roving bee proclaims aloud
Her flight by vocal wings.”

So says the poet ; and, in support of the accuracy as well as
elegance of the dictum, he has the testimony of that careful
naturalist Swammerdam, who opines that her humming pro-
ceeds from the wings alone, especially the small membrana-
ceous pair at the shoulders, when played upon by air propel-
led from the subjacent air-tubes or spiracles, aided by certain
adjacent cavities which open wide apertures under the wings.
That the wings alone do not, however, produce the bee’s hum,
seems sufficiently proved by an experiment of Hunter’s,
wherein he found that, after its wings were cut off, the poor

* Introduction to Entomology.

Yol. II. — 14.

t Insect Miscellanies.

222

MUSIC OF BEES.

insect could still utter (as well it might) a shrill peevish
sound ; and the same is confirmed by the silent flight of many
insects of the same order.

Speaking of the hum of bees, which, though monotonous,
is, through association, one of the most delightful of all insect
harmonies, Kirby remarks, u that it ceases when she alights ;
that of the wasp and hornet is more sonorous. The bombina-
tion of humble-bees may be heard from far, gradually in-
creasing, till, when in its wheeling flight it passes close to the
ear, almost stunning it by its sharp, shrill, deafening sound.”*

The buzz of flies has been supposed to arise from the strik-
ing of their wings upon the air ; but this would seem dis-
proved by the silent progress of many other rapid fliers, such
as the dragon and crane flies ; also by the power of some to
produce a loud buzz when not upon the wing. Kennief cites,
as an example, the buzz of a wasp-fly, when resting, apparently
motionless, on the window. Upon close observation, a vibra-
tory tremor, similar to that of a harp-string, though so rapid
as to be almost invisible, was perceptible in its wings ; and
when these were laid hold of, the sound ceased. It is supposed
by the same author that this sound was not referable, simply,
to any muscular movement, but that it must have arisen either
from air playing on the membranaceous edges of the wings at
their origin, as in the case of an JEolian harp-string, or by the
stroke or friction of some internal organ upon the roots of the

* Introduction to Entomology.

* In Insect Miscellanies.

NOTATION OF INSECT MUSIC.

223

nervures.* The drone of the dung beetle, the a Drowsy
Dorr,” which in the still twilight of a summer’s evening,

“ Come brushing by

With buzzing wing ”

owes also its origin to friction, — that of the wing-cases upon the
base of the wings. Loud hummers of the same order are the musk
beetle, the cock-chafer, and the beautiful green chafer of the
rose, which never fails, in alighting on the bosom of his favourite
flower, to salute her with a wing sonata of delighted homage.

The tones of insects, as well as the songs of birds, have been
deemed worth the trouble of notation. Gardiner, in his
u Music of Nature,” tells us that the gnat hums in the note A
on the second space ; the death-watch calls (as the owl hoots)
in B flat, and is answered in G ; the three notes of the cricket
are in B ; the buzz of a bee-hive in F ; that of the house-fly
F in the first space ; the humble-bee an octave lower ; the
cock-chafer D below the line.

Although in no case proceeding from the mouth, the sounds
we have been hitherto regarding as instrumental music are
no less to be considered as a veritable language, serving, in
lieu of voice, to communicate information and express pas-
sions, such as fear, anger, pleasure, — above all, love, that
ruler of the rest, which with insect no less than man may be
justly denominated the 11 Soul of Song.”

There is a peculiar sound often heard issuing from a bee-
hive previous to its sending forth a swarm, — a sharp, clear hum,

* Insect Miscellanies, p. 91. t Vignette.

224

BEE-TRUMPETER.

produced, seemingly, by tbe vibration of tbe wings of a single
bee. This has been interpreted into an harangue uttered by
the young queen, and intended to inspire a portion of the
community with courage to go forth, and colonize a new em-
pire. On the conclusion of this inspiriting address, her tone
changing to one of supplication, aided even by groans and
lamentation, she has been supposed, turning from the people,
to address the queen-mother of the hive, and, as candidate for
a new throne, entreat her permission to lead the division
about to emigrate. To this effect, at least, is the purport of
the royal speech, as translated, certes somewhat freely, by the
ear and pen of Butler, who wrote of music as well as of the
“Female Monarchic of the latter with such marvellous
minuteness as to draw, from one of his admiring readers, the
poetical apostrophe before quoted, f to the effect that he must
have been admitted into the counsels of the hive.

W e are not called upon certainly to give implicit credence
to all that this initiate in bee language has imparted of its
meaning, nor shall we positively assert, with Godart, till we
have ourselves ascertained the fact, that there is in every nest
of humble-bees a trumpeter, who at early morn, ascending to
its summit, sounds a reveille with its vibratory wings of a quar-
ter of an hour’s duration. But although on these points we
may at least suspend our judgment, we have plenty of common
evidence, plain even to our common perceptions, that insects
* Female Monarchic of Bees, 1634. t At page 209.

USE OF INSECT SOUNDS.

225

can make audible their anger and their fears. These we may
bear intermingled in the sharp, impatient scold of the first
humble-bee we may venture to imprison for a moment in the
hollow of our closed hand ; and we may listen to the fly’s
expression of intense terror, in the peculiar screaming buzz
which she utters, when — and only when — in the grasp of her
arch enemy the spider. The same passion in different degrees
is expressed also by the unwonted creaking of various beetles
when caught or molested.

It has been suggested that the hum of insects, while upon
the wing, may be useful as a means of informing them by
modulated sound of their proximity to or distance from ob-
structing objects. Most of the insect minstrels of whom we
have been speaking, being heard at early dawn, in mid-day
sunshine, or at dewy eve, may be considered as the singing
day -birds of their race ; but opposed to these they have their
birds of night — their bats and screech-owls — in a company of
lugubrious performers, headed by the Death’s-head and the
Death-watch. But of these in another place, and at a more
appropriate season ; for to ring the changes here upon their
boding melancholy strains would be to imitate the medley
arrangement of a fashionable music meeting, where alternate
impressions of the gay and grave — the worldly and the solemn
— are so contrived as to out-press each other, and thus leave
upon the mind scarce any impress whatsoever.

226

THE INSECT CHOIR.

But it is chiefly in the aggregate — in the multitudinous
combination of summer sounds, to which they so largely
contribute — that Insect Minstrelsy plays its most important
and pleasing part —

“ Resounds the living surface of the ground :

Nor undelightful is the ceaseless hum

To him who muses through the woods at noon.”

Besides those leaders of the band already noticed, choral
multitudes made up of creatures covering earth and filling
air, many too small, singly, for perception of eye or ear, aid
largely to swell those pervading harmonies more felt than
heard, which rise with the first breath of spring, and expire
with the last sigh of autumn. This insect choir, descending
in harmonious gradation (and scarcely completed by the
motes of music which float upon the sunbeam) has been thus
described by a celebrated French poet,* one of the very few
of them endowed with a heart as well as an eye and ear for
the delights which nature offers through our senses.

“ Comme ils gravitent en cadence !

Nouant et denouant leurs vols harmonieux.
******

L’oeuil ebloui se perd dans leur foule innombrable,

II en faudrait un monde a faire un grain de sable,

Le regard infini pourrait seul les compter.

Chaque parcel] e encore s’y poudraie en parcelle.

Ab ! c’est ici le pied de l’eclatante echelle,

Que de l’atome a Dieu l’lnfini voit monter.”

* De Lamartine.

MUSIC OF NATURE.

227

Insects may be the last in the scale of animated beings capa-
ble of making music to tbeir Maker’s praise, and the strains of
some of them may be the lowest in the scale of sounds percep-
tible to us. But if, with all true poets, we can hear sounds of
worship in the murmuring sea and running waters, and in
every tree played on by the breath of heaven — if we have an
ear for these, and the like harmonies, — for “the harp of uni-
versal nature, which is touched by the rays of the sun, and
whose song is the morning, the evening, and the seasons,” — if
for these, the voices of things inanimate, we are gifted with a
perceptive ear and receptive heart, can we refuse to reckon as
music the softest vibration of the tiniest insect’s wing, because
it is an audible token of happy existence, and, as such, a
hymn of gratitude to the Giver of the boon of life ?

MOTHS AS OPERATIVES.

“ Millions of spinning worms,

That in their green-shops weave the smooth-haired silk.”

“ The flowery leaf

Wants not its soft inhabitants. Secure
Within its winding citadel, the stone
Holds multitudes.”

Haying “ shewn up” already some of the most glaring enor-
mities committed by moth caterpillars in the character of
“Destructives,” we shall now, in justice, advocate their claim
to the title of Operatives. We might even consider them
under the name of Conservatives, both general and particular ;

MOTH MECHANICS.

229

— general, because even in tbeir very ravages, wherein they
feed themselves for the support of other creatures, they are
made subservient to upholding the universal government of
creation ; and particular, because, in a very remarkable de-
gree, their every proceeding has for its object the conserva-
tion of their kind ; or, to speak more accurately, because all
their doings, in obedience to this common law of nature, are
so strikingly adapted to fulfil it.

This principle of conservatism is carried out by moth cater-
pillars in a multitude of ingenious works, wherein, according
to their species, or rather according to their varied exigencies,
they become artificers or operatives, capable of being distin-
guished by distinct denominations, correspondent with many
of those which are applied to human occupations.

We believe it was Eeaumur, who, with the lively fancy of
his nation and character, first thought of arranging these
caterpillars, as well as some of the solitary workers among
wasps and bees, into the several crafts of “Stone-masons,”
“ Carpenters,’ ’ “Tent-makers,” “Muff-makers,” “Flask-
makers,’' and “Miners;” each of these mechanics exercising,
in addition to his particular art, that of the weaver, common
to them all ; from the silk worm — first manufacturer of royal
robes — down to the tiny grub of the clothes’-moth, making,
as we have seen, its own little body-coat, either from wool or
from the produce of its cousin’s labour.

With respect to the solidity, if not the ingenuity of his

230

STONE-MASONS.

fabric, let ns begin with the “Stone-mason.”* He is the
caterpillar of a little moth with wings of gilded bronze, smaller
but much resembling the clothes-moth, whose family name
{Tinea) he also bears, although in habits and locality, as well
as the material of his workmanship, he stands widely con-
trasted with the destructive of the wardrobe. Instead of
reposing, like the latter, in “Ladye’s Bowre,” encased in gar-,
ment of wool, or silk, or down, and regaling on the same soft
and delicate substances of animal derivation, our hardy little
operative finds himself, on emerging from the egg, exposed
without protection on the surface of some lichen-covered wall.
Instructed, however, by that kind Power which in this very
lichen provides him with an ample store of provender, he
knows perfectly well how to meet the other exigencies of his
exposed position. Of what avail to him would be a silken or
a leafen tent, liable to be overset and borne away by the sum-
mer breeze ? A stone-built tower suits his purpose better ;
and such is the structure he proceeds forthwith to erect. By
help of “ tooth and nail,” he detaches small particles of the
stone or brick with which the wall supplies him, — binds them
together with silk and a sort of natural cement, possessed in
common with his kind, — and thus, after four -and- twenty hours
of incessant labour, completes for himself a habitation of sugar-
loaf form, just large enough for his comfortable accommoda-
tion, and under cover of which he proceeds to perambulate his
world of wall, and regale on the vegetable viands with which,

* Vignette.

CARPENTERS.

231

for him, it is bespread. Well might it be observed, that
“never was Koman soldier so laden with the weight of arms
and armour as is the little tenant of this stone-built tower ;
but he both bears it and moves under it with an apparent
facility which proves his proportionate amount of muscle to
be infinitely greater than that allotted to the mightiest of hu-
man frames. When the caterpillar portion of his life is over,
and he is about to enter on that quiescent state which precedes
the development of his perfect form, he attaches to the wall,
by silken cables, the hitherto moveable tenement which has
accompanied his rambles. Within the interior of this now
immoveable pyramid, he becomes a chrysalis, and then,
leaving it behind (a self-erected monument and tomb of his
remains) he ascends on his bronzed and gilded pinions through
an opening left for the purpose at the top.

From their employment of a material next in solidity to
stone, namely, wood, the “Carpenters” among moth opera-
tives would seem best placed after the “Masons,” although
widely contrasted with the tiny builders last described both in
size and habits. At the head of this carpenter craft stands
the Cossus, or caterpillar of the Great Goat Moth* — a large,
smooth, unsightly crawler of a lurid red and salmon colour,
black-headed and black-clawed, whose extensive galleries,
chiselled through solid trunk of willow, oak, and poplar,
attest him to be a mechanic of only too much industry. In
Middlesex and adjacent counties he drives especially a most

* Vignette.

232

A MASTER CARPENTER.

flourishing business. A carpenter is said to be “ known by
his chips but the artizan in question, as if aware that his
operations are all trespasses, swallows (after the fashion of
some detected thieves) every particle of the saw- dust and
shavings which his trenchant jaws produce. In summer he is
content thus to proceed working and eating his way through
the winding wooden tunnels which afford him sufficient shel-
ter against all enemies — wind and weather included ; but as
soon as the gales of autumn whistle through the thinned
branches of the trunk he inhabits, he begins to provide him-
self with a more seasonable habitation. With this intent he
widens a portion of his gallery into a roomy chamber, and, no
longer satisfied with bare wooden walls, proceeds, by the ex-
eicise of his native skill in weaving, to hang them with an
impervious tapestry — a fabric (to use the words of a modern
naturalist) “ as thick as coarse broad-cloth, and equally warm,
composed of the raspings of wood scooped out of the cell and
united with strong silk.* In this snug dormitory he passes
the winter, in an idle fast, to resume his labours and feed with
the return of spring ; for this master Carpenter is a long liver,
working, and literally living by his work, for the space of three
years. At the end of this period he casts aside his working
(or caterpillar) garb, throws by his tools, and after an aurelian
slumber, passed in a summer cell, lined with a lighter tapestry
than that occupied in winter, he thence emerges (a dark-brown

* Rennie.

A FLASK-MAKER.

233

beautifully shaded moth) to repose by day and fly by night,
till required, by one of the economies of nature, to furnish the
supper of a bat or owl.

As the greatest Emperor of Russia was all the greater for
haying once been, by choice, a shipwright, so the great
“Emperor” of moths is all the worthier of note for being
always, by birth, a “Flask-maker.” The art by which he
works his way to the royalty of his winged estate may perhaps
be more properly considered as that of weaving, wherein he
shows himself, in truth, a king or deacon of his craft. Hay-
ing prepared for his labours by feeding on the tree, usually
a willow or black thorn,* which sheltered the infancy of his
caterpillar life, he begins, towards September, to prepare him-
self a private chamber, but of no common construction, for
the mysterious process of transformation. The peculiar excel-
lence of this royal cocoon consists, firstly, in its texture, which
is of silk, so thickly woven as almost to resemble leather ;
secondly, in the elegance of its shape, which has been com-
pared to that of a Florence flask ; and thirdly, in its singular
and ingenious formation. Instead of being wholly closed,
like the cocoon of the silk- worm and most others, this has a
small circular aperture formed at its upper end, by the con-
vergence of elastic narrow points. Within and beneath these,
and serving as a double defence, the imperial artificer weaves
also a canopy, which hangs suspended over his royal head while
wrapped in his aurelian slumber. When the time arrives for

* We have had a specimen found and fed upon the strawberry.

234

TENT-MAKERS.

his coming forth, the winged Emperor has only to push
against the elastic points above him, which, thus opened,
reclose after his egress, and leave the flask- shaped tenement
entire and unimpaired.

The “Emperor,”* as its name imports, is one of the largest
and handsomest of our English moths; its prevailing hue
(grayish tinged with purple) being banded and waved with
white, purplish, and dark brown. At the point of each ante-
rior wing is a patch of purple, and in the centre of all a large
black and white ocellus, or eye-like spot. It is said by Curtis
to be found frequently in most parts of England. The cater-
pillar is green, with black bands, and pink or yellow tuber-
cles, hairy and star-like.

From this imperial, flask-making weaver, we descend (an
abrupt transition) to the tiny tent-maker, which, though taber-
nacled in the frail tissue of a piece of leaf, belongs to the
same Tinea family as the sturdy little mason whom we have
seen to build himself a tower of brick or stone. Those who
in a green leaf, or a leaf turned yellow, are accustomed to see
a leaf and nothing more, will acquire large conceptions
even of a single leaf, when led to consider, that while to some
among the insect million it furnishes an extensive plain, to
others, it is absolutely a tented field. When the summer
breeze sings cheerily through a hawthorn hedge, or dances
merrily with the boughs of oak or elm, it is not with leaves

* Saturrvia pavoma.

TENT-MAKERS.

235

alone that the zephyrs are making sport. Mischievous rogues !
They are laughing also at the panic and commotion they
create among the tiny tribes which people those pleasant
places, tossing them now here now there, while our Insect
Arabs, with other shelterless wanderers, have much ado to sup-
port themselves on the quaking, shaking plains, which, bearing
their light pavilions, they are accustomed to perambulate.

The elegant and curious erections of these tent-making
caterpillars are commonly to be seen on various forest and
fruit trees, especially the elm, oak, hawthorn, and pear, of
which the leaves furnish them at once with food, and material
for the construction of their habitations. These are usually
about a quarter of an inch in length, and being formed out
of pieces of leaf, assume, as they wither, a feuille-morte , or
golden hue.*

By depriving one of these tent-makers of its habitation,
we entail on it the necessity of constructing another, which,
when furnished with material for the purpose, it will be sure
to do, under our inspection, since, as was observed even by
Pliny of the clothes-moth, it will rather die than feed unpro-
tected. The way in which it goes to work in the shaping,
cutting out, joining, and elevation of its tent, has been mi-
nutely described by Reaumur, also by Rennie, from whose
“ Insect Architecture” we subjoin a few details of the modus
operandi of one of these clever artificers found upon the haw-
thorn. In commencing a new tent after having been dislodged

* Vignette.

236

A LEAF-TENT.

from its old one, its first operation was to eat through one of
the two outer membranes which enclose the pulp of the leaf,
and then, by consuming the latter, to make a cavity large
enough to contain its body. When thus lodged between the
two membranes of the leaf, rendered transparent by removal
of the pulp, the subsequent movements of the little artificer
were easily watched, and proved not a little interesting as it
proceeded to make its tent with the membranes thus prepared,
using its mandibles (or jaws) as a tailor his scissors. This
operation, as remarked by Reaumur, is rendered by the
particular curves required, one of no less nicety than the cut-
ting out of a coat, the membranes having to be shaped con-
vex on one side, concave on the other, and at one end twice
as large as on the opposite. Beginning at the broadest
extremity, the insect gently bent the membranes on each side,
by pressing them with its body thrown into a curve. When
thus shaped, but before cutting them, it proceeded to join the
two edges, securing them firmly with silk, before it made a
single incision to detach them.

a Having thus joined the two edges along one of the sides,
it inserted its head on the outside of the joining, first at one
end, then at the other, gnawing the fibres till that entire side
was separated. It proceeded in the same manner with the other,
joining the edges before it cut them; and when it arrived at
the last fibre, the sole remaining support of its now finished
tent, it took the precaution, before snipping it, to moor the

MUFF-MAKERS.

237

whole to the uncut part of the leaf by a cable of its own silk.
Consequently, when it does cut the last neryure, it is secure
from falling, and can travel along the leaf, carrying its tent on
its back, as a snail does its shell.’7*

There is commonly to be seen about midsummer, upon
leaves of oak, hazel, dock, and other plants, what, on a cursory
glance, appears a bundle of little bits of stalk and straw, acci-
dentally collected and combined. On looking closer we find,
however, that the pieces are arranged longitudinally side by
side, and muck too regularly to have come together haphaz-
ard. W e shall perceive also that among several of these Lilli-
putian fagots, some are fixed perpendicularly to the leaf, while
others are in motion over the surface. The latter are attending
the progress of their occupants, each a small prettily-striped
caterpillar, which, with head and shoulders protruded, thus
travels under cover of what we may call a tent of sticks. The
sticks, however, which cover its exterior, form in fact only a
protecting palisade attached to a silk-woven central case, the
real tent which surrounds the body of its ingenious architect.

The “ muff-makers ” among moths do not show as much
ingenuity as the moths among muffs in the manufacture of
their body-coats; but they display even superior tact and
shrewdness in the appropriation of a ready-made article, admi-
rably adapted to serve their turn. The muffs in question are
of vegetable fur, that short silky down which clothes the seed-
catkins of the palm- willow, and is ofter chosen by a certain

* Insect Architecture, p. 22G.

238

SEED-BUILT FORTRESSES.

moth, caterpillar to clothe himself. With this felonious intent,
he burrows into the seed for the protection of which the furry
coat was originally designed, lines it with silk, detaches it
from the parent stem, then walks away clothed d la Russe , to
the annihilation of some incipient willow. These vegetable
muffs, with their insect appropriators, are sometimes found
floating on the waters beneath the pilfered tree, and it is sug-
gested by Eennie that the buoyant material of this muff-like
tent might be intended to furnish its little occupant with a
life-boat when blown from off* its native willow.

The heads of burdock, with which as troublesome hangers-
on most people are acquainted, afford another and common
instance of the appropriation of seeds by moth caterpillars,
which convert them to the double purpose of food and fortifi-
cation. Every burr or head of burdock, when arrived at
maturity, and divested of its hooked appendages, consists of a
collection of oblong, flatfish, hard-coated brown seeds, arranged
circularly, close together. Of these seeds we have been in
the habit of laying up a winter store for the consumption of
a pair of favourite gold-finches, which devour them with a
seeming relish inferior scarcely to that which they evince for a
meal of thistle or teazle-seed.* To separate this, their burdock

* So very hard-coated are the seeds of the burdock, that after they have become
quite dry, we have found it requisite to soak them in boiling water to render
their contents come-at-able by the bills of our goldfinches. The damp earth on
whioh they fall renders them no doubt equally accessible to biped consumers out
of doors. Goldfinches in a state of nature would seem to live wholly on the

BURDOCK MOTHS.

239

corn, from the chaff and numerous minute hairs bj which the
grains are surrounded, we are accustomed to rub it through a
piece of coarse open muslin ; but in breaking up the burrs for
this purpose we have often found an assemblage of the seeds
(sometimes as many as ten or a dozen) so firmly joined together
that to separate them has been no easy matter. When, however,
forcibly torn or cut asunder, there comes to light, embedded
in the centre of the united seeds, a little white, brown-headed
caterpillar, the agent of their firm conjunction and the devourer
of their bitter substance. This is the descendant of a small
gold-brown moth, which, scattering her eggs upon the heads of
burdock, thus secures to each of her progeny a provision
through the autumn, and a safe asylum for the winter. Having
conjoined, apparently with gluten, a group of adjacent seeds,
each caterpillar burrows into and feeds in solitude upon them.
In so doing, it forms a capacious cavity, which, after lining
with a silken web, it appropriates as its dormitory through the
bitter season. And a secure asylum does the little slumberer
possess ! The burr of his occupation may be shaken on its
stalk, borne to the earth, and despoiled of its grains by the
blasts of November; but, protected by the hard tough covering
of the cemented seeds which wall him round, his central cham-
ber remains impervious to wet and cold. Under its cover he
becomes, in May, a little brown chrysalis, to emerge, in June,

bitter seeds of compound flowers — those of dandelion , knap-weed , thistle , teazle, and
burdock seeming all in turn equally acceptable to our favourites.

Vol. II.— 15.

240

WINGED-ROLLERS.

a winged image of his parent moth. Thus, at least, it proved
(with the occupants of some of those seed-built fortresses
which we kept through winter in a box) out of doors ; their
appearance as moths may be somewhat later.

There is another and numerous company of caterpillar art-
izans, which, from their mode of leaf appropriation, have been
designated Leaf-rollers. Though the labours of this industri-
ous class do not correspond (like the above) with any particu-
lar craft of human exercise, they are much too ingenious, as
well as in their aggregate of mischief too important to be
passed over without notice, either here or within “their green
shops ” — the gardens, hedges, forests, where throughout the
summer they are to be seen incessantly at work. The rolling
or the folding of a leaf may be for our handy lingers but a
simple operation ; but it becomes a work of wonder when per-
formed by a worm , which, besides rolling or folding, has more-
over to retain its verdant scroll or turn-over in these artificial
forms, the leaf being thereby converted to a double purpose, that
of affording, by its outer folds, a cell of protection, and, by its
inner, a magazine of fresh provision to be consumed under cover.

There is scarcely a single tree or plant which does not afford
material for some caterpillar of the leaf-rolling crew, which,
according to their species, are accustomed to exercise their
ingenuity in forms of infinite variety. That of the simple
scroll* is very commonly exemplified in the leaves of the lilac

* Vignette.

OAK AND LILAC-ROLLERS.

241

and the oak, almost as soon as they expand. These are formed
by rolling the leaf from its extreme point towards the stalk, —
an operation which the caterpillar is only enabled to accomplish
by the aiding exercise of its art of weaving, since it is by silken
threads attached to the leaf that he contrives to pull it into the
desired form, wherein it is retained by silken braces. These
hold-fasts, which to the roll of the lilac-leaf are comparatively
slender, are numerous and strongly doubled in that of the oak,
to meet, seemingly, the greater resistance of its stiffer fibre.
The leaf-rollers which thus presume to bend to their purpose
the foliage of the forest’s monarch (and that often to a prodi-
gious and most mischievous extent) assume, in the month of
June, the shape of little green moths,* which, pretty and in-
nocent as they look, are progenitors of caterpillar marauders
resembling those which they have been themselves.

The leaves of the lilac are as often rolled in their length as
in their breadth ; but, when thus disposed of, the rollers are
of a different species, being sprung from the eggs (one on each
leaf) laid thereupon by the lilac-tree moth, a pretty insect, the
outline of whose chocolate-brown wings resembles, when she
is at rest, the form of a bell. The mode by which her cater-
pillars effect their operations is thus described by Mr. Rennie : —
“ As soon as [one of them] is hatched, it begins to secure itself
from birds and predatory insects, by rolling up the leaf into
the form of a gallery where it may feed in safety. We have

* Tortrix viridana, (green oak moth).

242

NETTLE AND THISTLE-ROLLERS.

repeatedly seen one of them, when just escaped from the egg,
fix several silk threads from one edge of a leaf to the other, or
from the edge to the mid-rib ; then, going to the middle of the
space, he shortened the threads by bending them with his feet,
and consequently pulling the edges of the leaves into a cir-
cular form, he retained them in that position by gluing down
each thread as he shortened it.”* Certain leaves are some-
what doggedly disposed to follow their own bent, in prefer-
ence to that which their insect fashioners attempt to give
them ; and in some of these cases the rolling artificers, after
having done their utmost to bring them together by pulling
the reluctant edges of their stubborn material, fill up, by spin-
ning, the open space between them.

Such is the proceeding of a very common caterpillar of a
greenish colour spotted with black, which commences opera-
tions in early spring, upon the nettle, 'f The leaves of the
same plant are often, in July and August, found folded, edge
to edge ; but the constructor and occupant of the verdant cell
thus formed, is no moth operative but the caterpillar of
the “ Admirable ” or “ Alderman Butterfly.” That of the
“Painted Lady” is also a leaf-roller; and the rigid material
which it contrives to bend to its purpose is usually a leaf of
thistle.

The leaf-rollers above-mentioned are only a few of those

* Insect Architecture, p. 160.

t See for this caterpillar’s mode of weaving, ‘Insect Architecture,’ p. 164-

LEAF-CUTTERS.

243

most commonly met with, and there are others which display
even a greater amount of ingenuity in their instinct-guided
operations. Of these there are many detailed descriptions ;
but, except as leaders to observation, these are somewhat
tedious, and, unless much illustrated, not easy to understand.
Were it even otherwise, our business, like that of the insect
artificers under review, is that of compression ; and, as these
little weavers shorten their silken threads to draw their leaves
into narrow compass, so must we manoeuvre with their inge-
nious labours to bring, even a few of them, within the limits
of a descriptive essay.

Portions of leaves, as well as entire ones, are sometimes em-
ployed in the operations of leaf- rolling caterpillars, which, in
these instances, using their jaws with all the precision of well
directed scissors, manage to cut out, but without entirely cut-
ting of] a piece of material shaped exactly to their purpose.
A worker of this description is a little smooth greenish- white
caterpillar, which, out of a piece of sorrel leaf thus excised and
not detached, forms a sort of conical pyramid, composed of five
or six enwrapping folds. Having cut out the required seg-
ment, the cunning artificer rolls it slowly up by means of
threads attached to the surface of the leaf, “and then, having
cut in a different direction, sets the cone upright by zueaving other
threads attached to the centre of the roll and the plane of the leaf
upon which it throws the weight of its body.”* After having de-
voured the interior folds of this ingeniously constructed cone,

* Insect Architecture, p. 167; also Reapmur.

244

LEAF-BUTTONS.

its little inhabitant, still protected by the exterior walls,
weaves within it a silken cocoon, and undergoes his final
transformations.

A June ramble in Highgate wood furnished us, last summer,
with two most elegant specimens of the leaf-rolling combined
with the leaf-cutting art. A number of young oak-leaves
having been each roughly cut across the centre from the edge
up to the mid-rib, the half comprising the tip was formed into
a hard compact roll, of exquisite neatness, closely resembling
a barrel-button.* In the centre of each was a bright yellow
egg, but how it had got there (seeing that there was no visible
opening for the ingress or egress of its layer) was and remains
a question as puzzling to us, as, according to Pindaric record,
was once to royal brains the advent of the apple in the dump-
ling. Neither do we know at present by what ingenious in-
sect these oak-leaf buttons were manufactured, or eggs depo-
sited within them, not one of the latter having come to light,
in a living form, out of numerous rolls which we have had in
our keeping for above a year ; this is owing perhaps to lack of
moisture ; for it has since occurred to us that the fall of the
leaves must supply their button-like appendages with a bed of
damp earth or moss, wanting in the box to which we con-
signed our gathered specimens.

In the same wood, on the same day, we noticed certain
leaves of the hazel, cut and rolled in a form much more grace-
ful if not more curious than the above. These leaves, as

* Vignette.

LEAF-TASSELS.

245

those of the oak, were severed, only more smoothly, across
their centres, the main stalk alone being left undivided ; but
the terminating halves, employed by the little artificers of the
oak to form their barrel-buttons, were, in this instance, simply
rolled or twisted into a spiral form, so as to have the appear-
ance, in their suspension by the mid-rib, of an ear-drop, or a
pendant tassel, — the serrated edge of the hazel-leaf adding to
the elegance of their appearance.* Whether these pretty leaf
pendants are the work of a caterpillar or some other insect is
at present unknown to us ; for at the time they first attracted
our observation we could discover no living tenant within
them, and in this June of the present year we have been
equally unsuccessful. In both cases our observations were
probably over late, the twisted portion of the leaves having
already turned brown, in evidence that they had been for at
least some days nearly severed from their living counterparts. f
With one more specimen of the skill of Leaf-rollers, we must
close our brief notice of their ingenious labours. On a cabbage
rose-bush, at Hornsey, we observed, in June of last summer, a
case of horn-like shape, wide and open at top, and pointed at
bottom, formed out of a leaf of the same shrub, twisted spirally,
and suspended by silken strings to the main stalk of a group
of young leaflets. One of the latter, nearest to the mouth of
the pendant horn, displayed recent marks of excising jaws;
and presently, protruding from the open end of this curious

* Vignette.

t The artificers above referred to we have discovered since to be the caterpillars of
a prettily variegated green moth.

246

ROSE-LEAF HAMMOCK.

leaf-case, appeared the head of a green Caterpillar, which,
thus protected, resumed its juicy meal.

Having gained possession of master Leaf-roller and his in-
genious tent, by cutting off the branch to which they were
appended, we placed it in a flower-pot filled with mould, and
when the twig withered took care to plant beside it a succes-
sion of others. To these our tabernacled feeder never failed
to transfer himself and habitation, slinging the latter, as we
originally found it, close beside the leaf of his pasture. In-
creasing in bulk and length as he thus regaled, he soon out-
grew his twisted tenement, which he then cleverly contrived
to lengthen by the addition of a piece of fresh leaf nicely
joined and fitted to the larger and upper end of the spiral
horn. Thus far, and no farther, can we carry, from observ-
ation, the history of this artificer in rose leaves ; for supposing
that when his caterpillar life approached its close, he would
either quietly spin himself up in his case, or bury himself in
the earth of the flower-pot, we trusted too confidingly to his
apparently non-roving propensities, as was proved one fine
morning in July, when we found our Leaf-roller absent with-
out leave, — his habitation being left (vacant) behind him.
That, barring accidents, he subsequently became a moth, there
is every reason to conclude from the nature of his constructive
labours while a caterpillar.

Lastly, a word or two about the Leaf-miner ; he, like the Leaf-
roller, and the Leaf-tent-maker, holds his verdant estate by the

LEAF-MINERS.

247

slight tenure of a fragile foot-stalk ; but compared with theirs,
indeed, without comparison his lot seems a highly favoured
one. His path, a covered way, is through a leaf, often of the
rose ; and each step of progression (for labour he has none)
would seem an act of self-gratification, as the little Sybarite,
lodged between the upper and the lower membranes of the
leaf, eats onwards through its soft green pulp, from the point
whence he issued from the egg even to that which terminates
his caterpillar career. Thus eating and progressing, he pro-
duces, by removal of the excavated pulp, a visible track, ap-
pearing on the leaf’s surface like a broad white tortuous line,
with a dark one running through its centre. This has been
compared to a valley watered by a winding stream — a “happy
valley,” we may well suppose it, to its little solitary inhabit-
ant, because, unlike the Abyssinian Prince, he knows no wish
to leave it. And truly, as we have said, the leaf-mining cater-
pillar would seem to have drawn a prize in the lottery or
allotment of insect life, inasmuch, at least, as his covered
position serves as a defence from various perils and enemies
to which some of his brethren are openly exposed, and from
which others (as he of the “tent” and the “roll”) are only
protected by laborious exertion of mechanic skill.

On first waking into life, the leaf-miner finds himself, through
the exercise of maternal care instinctively and prospectively
employed, placed on the surface of his green patrimony, — the
leaf exactly suited to his appetite, into the depths of which (a

248

LEAF-MINERS.

depth comprised within the thickness of a sheet of paper) he
at once plunges, — pursues, for his appointed span, his safe and
luxurious way, — then, in a quiet little plain or dell, which
forms the termination of his “ happy valley/’ passes the period
of his aurelian slumber, to emerge thence a minute moth, one
of the most brilliant and beautiful of nature’s miniature gems,
wanting only augmented size to vie with the diamond-beetle
and the humming-bird in metallic lustre.

A miner of the alder-leaf is described by Swammerdam as
having upper wings, which u shone and glittered most glo-
riously with crescents of gold, silver and brown, surrounded by
borders of delicate black;” and Bonnet, who calls them “tiny
miracles of nature,” only regrets that they are not “ en grand .”

There is hardly a tree or plant of which the leaves do not at
one time or another furnish specimens of the Leaf-miner’s
winding tunnels. However unacquainted with the outward
tokens of their inward presence, scarcely anybody can have
failed to perceive those white serpentine lines so especially
common on the leaves of the rose-tree, the bramble, the honey-
suckle, and the oak. Irregular tracts of the above description,
or brownish transparent blotches, are always certain signs
that the leaf, of whatsoever sort, whereon they are exhibited,
has been subjected to the operations of some insect-miner; but
they do not by any means as indubitably indicate that miner
to have been a moth caterpillar.

The leaves of Columbine are not unfrequently variegated by

FLY LEAF-MINERS.

249

these winding whitish paths, increasing in width from the point
of their commencement ; but the agent of their excavation,
instead of being the caterpillar of a tiny moth, is the grub of
a minute fly, which, when enclosed in its little brown barrel-
like puparium, may easily be detected, on holding up the leaf
against the light.

In speaking of the common house-fly, we have noticed
already a species closely resembling it, which, on a scale pro-
portioned to its size, carries on its mining operations between
the membranes of dock-leaves, causing thereby those brown-
ish-red transparent blotches by which they are so commonly
disfigured. Striking, certainly, is the contrast, in their early
stages, between the lives of our caterpillar “ Miners ” and those
of their little brethren the u Stone-masons ” and u Tent-makers.’7
These, instead of having only to enter at once upon a path of
peace and plenty, are compelled, before they touch a morsel of
their respective viands, to labour hard at the erection of houses
of defence, exposed meanwhile to the prying eyes and devour-
ing bills of insect and biped enemies. Herein, besides contrast,
would seem inequality of condition — and yet perhaps (as with
the seeming inequalities of human life) the balance of enjoyment
between these labouring and non-labouring insects maybe more
nicely adjusted than on first sight appears. In compensation
for his greater amount of labour, who knows but that certain
pleasant sensations of repose, satisfaction, and security, un-
known to the mining idler, may not be experienced by the

250

BALANCE OF ENJOYMENT.

“ Mason ” architect on weaving and cementing into the last mesh
the last stone of his tediously constructed pyramid ; or that he
may not, beneath its solid protection, betake himself, with pecu-
liar relish, to his first toil-earned meal of lichen ? And so with
the “Tent-maker,” — may we not, in like manner, suppose that,
after the pains of shaping and cutting and joining a portion of
one leaf to construct his light pavilion, he must proceed to regale
upon another with a greater degree of zest than the “ Miner ”
whose repasts are attended with no trouble but the eating ?

Amongst ourselves it is at all events indisputable that the
good things of existence are enjoyed in a measure very much
proportioned to the labour employed in their attainment ; the
exceptions to the rule resulting, usually, from disordered
economy, political and moral. If in our own world of reason
and humanity, things were but as rationally and humanely
ordered as in the insect world of instinct, the balance of ex-
ertion and enjoyment would almost invariably be maintained,
and the sentence of labour, our inherited portion, become our
best estate. That sentence, which our Supreme Ruler has
mercifully rendered capable of being transmuted into a blessing,
is only perpetuated as a curse through the permitted and
abused agency of man on man. Only, in other words, do
they owe misery to labour on whom labour, considered as a
tax, has been too severely levied, and with whom the labouring
powers, mental or corporeal, viewed as a possession, have been
defrauded of their due. But alas ! as society is at present

DUES OF LABOR.

251

framed, how numerous are the objects of such fraud and op-
pression ! — creatures, which like our insect “ Stone-masons” and
“ Tent-makers” have to begin life by labour; but, unlike them,
are robbed, through excess of it, of the best reward of toil —
the quiet repose, the relished meal, the open air and cheering
sunshine. The Clothes-moth weaver rests in the midst of
plenty ; but the factory -girl weaver, her toil for a brief season
intermitted, has no health for enjoyment of her scanty fare, or
scanty hour of repose. The moth “tent-maker” having woven
her tiny tabernacle, roams under its shelter over the verdant
leaf-plains which surround her ; while the woman shirt-maker
(with whom it is “ Stitch, stitch !” for ever) has no green spots
in all her weary wilderness of life.

A SUMMER DAY’S DREAM.

“Their shape would make them, had they hulk and size,
More hideous foes than fancy can devise ;

With helmet heads and dragon scales adorned,

The mighty myriads now securely scorned,

Would mock the majesty of man’s high birth,

Despise his bulwarks, and unpeople earth.”

It was a sultry day in August — such a day as is sometimes
denominated “ piping hot,” a term of which, by the way, the
meaning is not very apparent as applied to weather wherein
not a breath of air pipes for the benefit of dancing foliage —
when the piping of the feathered bands is discontinued for the

SUMMER-DAY PIPERS.

253

season, and when even the little plough-boy wipes his face,
and only wets his whistle. Wherein lies the music of such
times of muteness — nature’s u piping times of peace?” Ety-
mology can doubtless tell, and Entomology may, as we take
it, throw some light also on the subject.

Well, nothing could be more generally characteristic of
“ still life ” than the day and hour, about a year ago, which
we would now recall, when, book in hand, we crept from our
little sun-baked domicile, and throwing ourselves under the
shade of a huge elm-pollard, plunged not, we confess it, into
our provided volume, but into a reverie about as drowsy and
dreamy as the heated face of Dame Nature. And here we
must notice, that while all the other children, animal and
vegetable, of our nursing-mother Earth, were taking their
noontide slumber on her lap, one portion of her family, that,
namely, composed of the insect crew, seemed resolved to keep
the world stirring, or at least to make a stir in the world,
whose sunny places seemed to be entirely abandoned to their
use. These little impertinents, the pipers , and eke the dancers
of the hour, seemed, in truth, to have taken complete posses-
sion of three elements — air, earth, and water — together with
a large portion of the fourth, diffused through all by the fiery
sun ; and, in thus possessing, gave apparent life to the ele-
ments themselves, making them reel again with insect

“ Mirth and revelry,

Tipsy dance, and jollity.”

254

THE LACE-WINGED FLY.

We might have repeated appropriately, from the volume in
our hand,

“ Oh ! qui n’eut partage l’ivresse universelle,

Que l’air, le jour, l’insecte apportaient sur leur aile ?

“ This glad ebriety who could but share —

The winged mirth of insect-season — air ?”

The intoxication of the day was with us, however, entirely
of the somnolent character, and we had already closed our
eyes on the bulkiest moving object within our range of sight —
namely, the lashing tail of a solitary cow, ruminant in an ad-
jacent pond — when we were startled by a light footstep on the
back of our hand. It was not exactly a fairy who had come
to visit us ; but it was a little creature, both in form and attire,
of most fairy-like seeming. It was none other, in short, than
a lace- winged fly,* the most graceful insect of its elegant and
graceful tribe. “Truly,” said we, as we looked upon her
gauzy wings of delicate green, mingled in their iridescence
with rainbow hues — “ truly it is a pity, my little lady, that
there’s so precious little of you ; that all this tissued bravery,
and even those eyes of gold, should, only for lack of size, be
overlooked by nearly all other eyes, save those only of some
lace-winged lover, who for beauty, perhaps, may have no eye
at all!” Our winged fair-one had, at all events, no ear for
admiration expressed in (to her) an unknown tongue ; for before
our complimentary address was ended she had disappeared.

* Vignette to “Fair and Fierce.1

A MAGNIFIED FANCY.

255

Only suppose, thought we, pursuing the train of fancy-
brought and left behind by the gauze-winged sylph ; suppose,
that by the touch of some Circe’s wand, all the insect forms
creeping and flying and floating around us — now less seen than
heard and felt — were all at once enlarged to the proportions
they assume to the eye in that amusing raree-show, the solar
microscope — verily we should feel somewhat ill at ease in the
strange company wherein we should figure then — as insects
most insignificant — as performers playing certainly no first
fiddle.

“Gorgon and hydra and chimera dire,”

would not then exist only in the realms of imagination ; but
fill to suffocation the atmospheric and the aqueous fluids, and
walk in appalling reality on the solid earth. And amidst the
crowd of shapes terrific, small, we take it, would be our incli-
nation to single out for admiration such among them as our
lace-winged elegante ; or, with the poet, to admire in

“The beetle panoplied in gems of gold,”

the semblance of

“ A mailed angel on a battle day.”

At this moment a host — not of angels but of blood-thirsty
demons in the shape of gnats — rose from the adjacent pond,
and passed across our face. Using our book as a weapon of
destruction, we felled a multitude to the earth ; and, in com-
pletion of our angry purpose, trampled many of our fallen

256

AN ANGRY PHANTOM.

victims into the dusty ground. Scarcely had we done the
deed, when something like a qualm of conscience, arising
partly from our penchant for gnats before recorded, partly
from the magnifying turn our thoughts had taken, shot
through our heart. It passed, however, as rapidly away as
the remnant of the insect host, whose enjoyment we had so
murderously interrupted; and in a few minutes the drowsy
incubus which had so long hovered over our head, fairly
wrapped us in its leaden wings — in short, we fell asleep. Still
our waking fancies followed us. It seemed as though one of
the gnats we had just exterminated rose from the ground, and,
poised in air on a level with our face, set up a shrill hum,
which presently assumed the distinctness of angry high-toned
speech. “By what right,” cried the little apparition, “ didst
thou cut short the thread of my joyous life?”

“Because,” answered we, “as one of creation’s lords, we
have the privilege of destroying every thing that invades our
peace.”

“ And by what right art thou a lord of creation ?”

“ By the right of reason.”

“ Reason !” exclaimed the insect ghost ; “ say rather by
right of size. Only let my stature equal thine, and see which
would then possess the mastery!”

As the winged phantom thus addressed us, her tiny form
expanded ; her long hairy shanks stretching downwards reached
the ground, and upwards waved like spectral arms above our

A MONSTER MULTITUDE.

257

head ; her enormous eyes, motionless and prominent, seemed
bursting with malignant spleen ; her antlers quivered with
rage, and, pointing towards us her blood-extracting weapon,
straight *and long as the stiletto of Italian bandit, she
seemed about to plunge it in our heart! We started to our
feet in terror ; and at that instant a sudden gloom, as of coming
twilight, overspread the sky, while a flapping as of the canvass
of ten thousand vessels proceeded from a winged multitude,
monstrous now in bulk as in number, which filled the air.
Attempting to escape, we nearly stumbled over — not a stone
— but an enormous beetle (bigger than the biggest turtle ever
captured on the shores of the Antilles), and only regained
our footing to tread upon the loathsome yielding body of a
caterpillar swollen to a serpent’s size, and rolling its mutilated
length about our ankles. All around, the darkened day-light
presented only similar objects, half-revealed: ground, grass,
flower, shrub, and tree, all laden or crushed by living masses
through which we had, if possible, to force our way in order
to gain the shelter of our roof. Armed by desperation, we
continued to advance ; — and what an advance it was ! Pierced
by poisoned arrows, swords, and spears, in the shape of what,
as stings, we once despised — lacerated by forcep-jaws armed
with shark-like teeth — bruised by violent contact with the
mail-clad limbs of grasshopper Groliahs and beetle Be vis’s —
deafened and bewildered by sounds most strange and threat-
ening, and of volume augmented in proportion to their ut-
Vol. II.— 16.

258

ACCUMULATED HORRORS.

terer’s bulk — we ran the gauntlet through this infernal crew,
and at length, when almost exhausted, reached our door. But
entrance was even then not easy, for our portal was barricaded
by thick silken ropes stretched across it in all directions.
Unable to break, we contrived to sever them with our pocket-
knife; but (horror of horrors!) no sooner were the cords
divided, than rapidly descending by one of them which hung
loose above our head, a spider, big as a baboon, alighted on
our shoulders, and made her long hairy legs meet around our
neck. By a desperate effort we threw off our disgusting bur-
then, and, opening the house-door, shut it with all possible
celerity ; but one of the spider’s arms, stretched out to renew
her grasp, crackled like a lobster’s claw as we jammed it be-
twixt door and door-frame. As we entered our parlour a
deafening buzz was our first salutation, and the daylight,
obscured as it was without, could here scarcely penetrate at
all by reason of a swarm of gigantic flies, which, unable to
find room in the window, were crowding in double and triple
ranks around it. Hastily retreating, we descended to the
kitchen ; but here — how shall we proceed ? We had escaped
with life from the hideous assemblage through which we had
achieved a passage. We had managed to avoid the fangs of
the murderous bloated creature which had fastened upon our
door, and then fastened upon us. We had shut her out, and
we had shut in the swollen sickening blue-bottles ; but what
we had left behind was nothing to what awaited us — an ap-

AN APPALLING SIGHT.

259

palling horror which we shndder to describe. On entering the
kitchen we saw not a living thing, not even Martha — old
Martha — onr faithful factotem, upon whom we called, albeit
in a trembling voice, fearful to attract the notice of some hid-
den lurker amongst our new and hideous enemies ; but no
Martha replied, as expected, from the scullery ; and with a
dread of we scarce knew what, well nigh exhausted also by
terror and exertion, we sat us down in her arm chair. The
sky was still partially obscured by monstrous creatures on the
wing, and evening was now approaching, so that there was
little light in the apartment but what proceeded from the fire,
which had burnt very low. We had not been seated long be-
fore we were startled by a slight noise proceeding from one
of the deep and dark recesses on either side the chimney ; and,
on looking into it, we could just discern, indistinctly, some
moving object. What this might be we dreaded to ascertain;
but with a shaking hand we lit a candle by the dying embers,
and held it up within the recess. Then, oh! the spectacle
that we beheld ! Supported by her enormous web — a tissue
of mingled cable — sat an elephantine spider, to which our
assailant at the house-door was a mere pigmy, — a spider of
most hideous aspect, her eight glassy eyes sparkling with
greedy ecstasy as she gorged upon a fresh-caught, fresh-killed
victim, and that victim no heedless, idle fly, but, alas ! that
busy bee, Martha — our faithful Martha ! For a moment we
stood horror-stricken ; then, armed by rage and grief and the

260

A NIGHT OF TERROR.

kitchen poker, we rushed upon the loathsome murderess,
who, intent upon her prey, heeded not our approach, and,
with a single blow, brought her bloated body lifeless to the
ground, that of her victim falling with it.

What a night of terror did we pass, holding our vigil by
the dead ; but we held it not alone, for beside poor Martha’s
hearth, mocking or mourning its desolation, sat a monstrous
cricket, piercing our ear and heart with his shrilly chirp ;
while at intervals — loud as the ticking of a church-clock —
rose the warning click of an enormous death-watch.

Two dreadful days passed over, at the end of which the
prospect out of doors was completely changed. Every tree and
herb were stripped of their foliage — every blade of grass
mown down. The air was no longer laden with gigantic flut-
terers, nor, as before, did the ground seem alive with crawling
monsters. Nearly all the devouring creatures whose aliment
consisted of herbivorous products, having almost exhausted
their store of provision, had either perished for want of food,
or fallen a prey to carnivorous enemies of their kind. The
ant-lion had left his pit-fall — the spider her snare, artifice
being no longer needed to entrap her exhausted victims — the
wasp rifled without combat the shrunken honey -bag of the
starveling bee — the dragon-fly glutted his voracious maw on
expiring butterflies — and, like a hideous Ghoul battening at
midnight on the dead, the cockroach crawled forth with the
shades of evening, and polluted the air with his offensive

A RAVAGED WORLD.

261

odour, while he made his disgusting meal unseen and unmo-
lested. Amidst this abhorrent crew — some of whose gigantic
forms occasionally crossed our window — we could not per-
ceive a single human being, or one domestic quadruped or
bird. The latter had no doubt been nearly exterminated by
parasitic and blood-sucking infesters turned from mites to
monsters, with appetites augmented in proportion to their
bulk. As for our fellow-men, we could only conclude, that
what with the ravages of swollen vermin of the like descrip-
tion, the wounds of monstrous biters and stingers, lack of
food, and terror, numbers had been brought to a fearful end ;
while others, hidden within the temporary and partial shelter
of their houses, were probably awaiting a fate such as must
soon inevitably befall ourself.

“ The sooner the better !” we mentally groaned, as we
turned with loathing from the window to a sight yet more
sickening within — that, to wit, of the body of the hapless
Martha, as it lay beside that of her bloated murderess ; — “but
first,” we continued, “ let us inter these poor remains ; and
that will we do in the very teeth of these demoniac monsters
which have taken possession of the earth.” We took a spade
from a corner of the kitchen, and were just about to issue
forth in pursuance of our purpose, when we felt the floor
tremble beneath our feet — the walls shook — and in another
second we found ourselves in the midst of ruins, and in nearly
total darkness. Stunned and stupefied, we knew not at first

262

A CATASTROPHE.

what had happened — much less how the catastrophe had been
brought about ; and our first feeling of consciousness did not
partake so much of terror as of a sort of satisfaction at the
idea of our miserable existence having been by some means or
other brought nearer to its close. We soon became aware
that we had fallen from the kitchen to the cellar beneath,
which Martha (poor careful soul !) had not failed to lock on
the outside. A partial light was admitted through apertures
in the broken floor above, and to reach one of these openings,
for the purpose of effecting our escape, was an attempt which,
under other circumstances, would have been immediately es-
sayed ; but whither could we go to escape from the hideous
creatures which had taken possession of the earth ? and, as
smarting with the wounds they had inflicted, and aching with
bruises, we lay crouched upon the cellar floor, which we verily
believed would be our last bed, we felt a ray of comfort in the
thought, that here at least we were secure from their attacks.
While indulging in this imagined safety, we were startled by
the sound of something astir amongst the surrounding rubbish,
and presently from a large mass of it, in heaving motion, there
protruded the enormous head and prodigious jaws (black and
shining as polished jet) of a mining ant of Brobdignagian
proportions. It and its fellows had evidently been the cause
of the late catastrophe ; their subterranean operations having
undermined the walls of our residence, and thus reduced it to
its present state of ruin. Though the moment before indif-

ATTEMPTED ESCAPE.

263

ferent to life, we now felt an involuntary desire to escape from
this dark agent of destruction and its unseen comrades, whose
labours might in another instant crush us to atoms. The
spade we had purposed using for poor Martha’s interment had
accompanied our fall, and assisted by this implement we
amassed a heap of rubbish whereon we climbed to the opening
above. We thus regained a footing on the broken floor of
what had been but three days previous our well-ordered, well-
swept domicile. Oh ! that giant spider ! she had well avenged
her pigmy sisterhood, — victims of the broom ! Her victim
was buried in the ruins, where, with a sigh, we were com-
pelled to leave her, making our way in fear and sadness across
our so lately trim little garden, now a spot of barrenness, not
to be distinguished from the wider wilderness around. It
was a summer’s evening ; but the glowing west, against which
the defoliated trees were exhibited in all their bareness, wore
much more the appearance of a frosty winter sunset. In the
midst of these skeleton trees we could discern the outline
of a cottage — the habitation of a neighbour some half-mile
distant from what had been our own abode ; and though it
seemed but too probable that its occupiers might have per-
ished, or be now perishing under the monstrous visitation
which had befallen, we felt impelled towards it, in hopes, at
least, of the brief companionship of some survivor like our-
self. Looking fearfully around, and perceiving no living
thing, we crawled onwards as well as our failing strength per-

264

DESOLATION.

mitted, over impending obstacles which would have been
formidable to the strongest frame. In place of verdant herb-
age and fragrant flowers, the ground was thickly bestrewn
and the air infected by relics of destroyed life, both vegetable
and animal. Dry stubble, skeleton leaves, stripped branches^
and over these, thick as the slain upon a field of battle, the
remains of herbivorous insect giants, which had fallen a prey
to their carnivorous fellows. These consisted of prodigious
pinions and enormous empty carcases of butterfly, moth, and
bee, and fly — vacant armour-pieces of many a mail-clad beetle
of the gentler tribes, such as in magnitude would have matched
the helmet of Otranto, — and, here and there, scattered amongst
them (of all these relics most insignificant in point of size) the
closely-picked skeletons of sheep, horse, or ox, with others
which we shuddered to behold. The further we advanced the
more ortr heart sickened, for though the ruddy sunset was fast
giving place to the gloom of evening, no cheering light was
discernible through the leafless trees in the windows of the
cottage we were approaching, or those of any other adjacent
habitations. Our remaining strength and resolution were on
the point of utterly failing, when there suddenly appeared
against the sky, on the brow of the eminence we were ascend-
ing, two moving figures of (as it seemed to us) human size
and proportions. W ere they indeed human ? or only some
frightful variety of that once despicable crew, displaced, sim-
ply by augmented size, from their former place in creation’s

HOPE AND FEAR.

265

scale, to become, as it seemed, creation’s destroyers? The
pair, of what kind soever they might prove, continued on the
summit of the hill, while we, in breathless anxiety, stood
scanning intently, though from the deepening gloom not with
any satisfying degree of clearness, their shape and movements.
Presently, we perceived one of them assume a kneeling pos-
ture. “ Thank heaven !” we exclaimed, “ then they are indeed
human ! Brethren are still left us in this world of monstrous
desolation ; and they are praying, like ourself, for deliverance
from its horrors.” The idea of companionship invested us
with renewed strength, and we again pressed forward over
every obstacle. Having descended from the brow of the hill,
the figures we were hastening to meet, and who were now
apparently on their way to meet us. had become nearly indis-
cernible, and were presently quite hidden by the trunks of
some bulky intervening trees. By the time we had passed
this temporary screen, the twilight had deepened into nearly
total darkness; but we were now so close upon the com-
panions whom our desolate heart bounded to meet, that we
could hear their advancing tread, as they crushed the scattered
debris lying on the ground. There was something, in the sound
of these approaching footfalls, which inspired us with mingled
doubt and dread. We called to mind, however, the figure we
had seen on the hill in an attitude of prayer, and thus endea-
vouring to subdue our misgivings, called aloud on the
advancing individuals. No voice responded; but the steps

266

A HIDEOUS PAIR.

continued to approach till they seemed but a few paces dis-
tant, though the walkers were still concealed in darkness. We
strove to speak again, but our tongue refused its office.

At this moment the scene wras suddenly illumined by a
blaze of light proceeding from the enormous lanthorn of a
giant glow-worm (one of the last survivors of its harmless
race) suddenly protruded from a heap of half-devoured leaves
on a bank by the way-side. Then we beheld (oh ! sight of
terror and sickening disappointment !) instead of the fellow-
men we had fondly hoped to encounter, two hideous shapes,
human in naught but bulk — so hideous that our blood ran
cold at their very aspect. On a level with our head (on either
side one) were a pair of long triangular bony faces, motionless
as visages of the dead, save for the fierce twinkle of their pro-
minent green eyes, each studded by a blood-red pupil. Fitting
pedestals for capitals so frightful were the figures of these
monstrous creatures — their bodies gaunt and lanky, their
limbs angular and rigid, resembling rather the skeleton
branches of a blasted tree than any animal form of life and
motion. Yet of motion, fierce and threatening, there was no
lack in the long spectral arms waved above their heads and
brandishing in all directions as many tremendous weapons,
knife-like and saw-like, which, being part and parcel of them-
selves, could never be wrested from their grasp. The horrid
pair seemed about to rush upon us, when they both turned
suddenly towards the bank — stopped — bent under them their

A DESPERATE CONFLICT.

267

hinder limbs, and raising and clasping together their hideous
arms, again assumed the attitude of prayer — that attitude by
which we had been so cruelly deceived.

We knew them now (the wretches !) for the Mantes — the
Praying Mantes* — of all carnivorous insects the most strange
and frightful — even when of insect size, objects of dread and
superstition — as insect monsters, oh ! most horrible ! That
attitude of seeming devotion was only one of riveted attention
to a new object of attack in the unfortunate glow-worm,
whose soft bulky body, revealed in her own self-betraying
light, seemed to tempt more strongly than our own shrunken
carcass, the devouring appetite of these cruel gormandizers.
One of them began to climb the bank whereon the helpless
lamp-bearer reposed, but was speedily pulled backwards by
his jealous comrade. Then began a determined combat, each
monster throwing up his head, and brandishing his murderous
weapons, preparatory to mutual attack. Using, sabre-like,
their tremendous arms alternately to guard and cut, both
combatants maintained for awhile a nearly equal contest.
Then, as if resolved to end it, both threw open their rustling
leaf-like wings, and darted like lightning on each other. A
deadly struggle followed, till at last the weakest fell a headless
trunk — but not lifeless body, for it was speedily again erect ;
the arms again waved, and shook, and grasped, in the desperate

* The Mantes aratoria , the Prie Dieu , the Pater noster , the Louva Dios of Southern
Europe.

268

A DEMONIAC MEAL.

convulsions of expiring agony, while the hideous head, with
jaws gnashing and eyes turning from vivid green and red to
feuille morte brown, and black — seemed to watch, in impotent
fury, the hopeless efforts of its detached body. At the com-
mencement of this hideous combat we attempted to escape by
creeping gently towards the confines of that sphere of light
proceeding from the lamp of the glow-worm ; but when we
reached its verge, we feared to plunge into the thick darkness
beyond, lest other monstrous creatures, horrible as those left
behind, should be lurking in its cover. Bather than encounter
we knew not what, we climbed, during the sanguinary contest,
to the top of a lofty tree, whose matted branches, leafless as they
were, might serve, as we hoped, for concealment and protection.

The struggle between the headed and headless monsters was
soon ended, and the victor, while the limbs of his late antago-
nist yet quivered, began to glut his cannibal appetite on the
body. How can we describe the horror and disgust with
which we watched, from our lofty station, the progress of this
demoniac repast? and yet we awaited its conclusion with
something like a feeling of hope. a The creature,” thought
we, “ will completely gorge himself, and when, like a boa
constrictor, he has become torpid and helpless through reple-
tion, we may be able to destroy him, or at least, when morn-
ing comes, effect our escape ; though, alas ! we scarce know
whither.” Too soon, however, we found ourselves deceived ;
for deserting, when about half devoured, the body of its late

FEARFUL ANTICIPATION.

269

comrade, the monster again erected itself into that appalling
attitude of prayer — thus watched for a few moments the slow
unconscious movements of the glow-worm on the bank ; then
sprang upwards and seized in its terrible saw-like arms the
yielding body of the luminous beetle. Its phosphorescent
light flickered — disappeared — again shone with dimmed and
scattered radiance,- — then was utterly extinguished, as the
enormous living lamp was tossed and turned, and finally
crushed in the grasp of its destroyer.

Then it seemed to us as if the last light of the devastated earth
had expired with the life of its harmless bearer, and that we,
in a world of darkness and destruction, were left alone with
one devouring hideous monster. We could hear nothing but
the “ champ, — champ ” of its ravening jaws, and the clashing
movements of its rigid limbs, as it now and then turned its
prey for the more convenient discussion of its loathsome meal.

The dews of that summer night were lighter than the drops
which fell from our reeking forehead, and our trembling arms
could scarcely retain their grasp of the leafless branches which
secured our seat upon the elm.

The monster’s meal was followed by a dead silence — but it
was not of long duration ; and then we found him to be again
in motion by the renewed sound of his long horny limbs
which approached nearer and nearer, as he seemed to draw
them after him, in cat-like crawling progress, towards the
bottom of our tree. The darkness still hid him from our

270

THE FINALE.

view ; but to him our proximity was evidently obvious, either
by vision of more nocturnal power than our own, or through
that sense by which the blood-hound tracks his victim. We
heard him slowly ascend the rugged trunk, then climb, rust-
ling, through the branches under us ! — We heard no more —
our heart sickened — our head swam — our powerless arms

quitted their hold — and we fell into the insect monster’s

jaw? Not a bit of it, dear reader. We only fell (having
suddenly awoke) from the appalling position to which our
sleeping fancy had raised us, to the flowery bank which had
been our bed beneath the old elm-pollard.

11 What a precious extravaganza !” we mentally exclaimed,
as sitting up we recovered a joyful consciousness of the reali-
ties around — the pleasant realities of a summer’s evening —
for the sun had declined, and a refreshing breeze was waving
the silken, silvery heads of the reeds below us.

We are no interpreters of visions — our own or other
people’s ; but being, in our way, a sort of utilitarian, we have
always fancied that dreams (not merely those which would
seem sent expressly for reproof or warning, but dreams in
general) may be made available to good by the process of
recalling and turning their purport over in our minds, even
as we should muse habitually over our waking thoughts ; a
mental exercise than which, according to philosophers, there
is none more useful.

With a view to some such purpose of improvement, we

DEDUCTIONS FROM A DREAM.

271

thought over, as we walked homewards, the late vagary of our
napping fancy, and were not long in deducing from it some
admiring reflections on the nice proportion as to numbers,
size , and power, preserved through every order of creation ; a
proportion to destroy which, in any one department, would
be to bring destruction upon all.

This conclusion and our own threshold we reached at the
same moment, and then occurred to us a subordinate and
domestic purpose, to which our recent dream was also applicable.
11 I’ll tell it, or a part of it, to Martha, and perhaps through
very fear she will grow more lenient towards the spiders, and
I shall hear less of her incessant broom !”

whin no tM> ffy ,

FAIR AND FIERCE.

“We are

Like warlike as the wolf for what we eat ;

Our valour is to chase what flies.”

There are now to be seen almost every where, hawking about
lanes and hedges in search of prey — fair as the sunshine, and
fierce as its meridian rays — three insect families of the Linnasan
order Neuroptera , which are well worth observing for their
beauty, and studying for the peculiarities of their economy.
These comprise dragon-flies, scorpion- flies, and lace-wing flies ;
the former, from their imposing size, well known by sight to
everybody ; while the two latter, though both, especially the

DRAGON-FLIES.

278

lace-wing, of surpassing elegance and beauty, are as com-
monly overlooked, on account of their comparatively incon-
spicuous size.

To begin, then, in deference to their superior magnitude
(wbicli in some species constitute them the largest of British
insects) with the dragon-flies, popularly called by the French,
“ Demoiselles ,” partly, perhaps, in compliment to their beauty,
partly as a satire on Amazonian propensities. By the ignorant
among ourselves they are known as “horse-stingers,” a com-
plete misnomer, seeing that the blood wherewith they delight
to moisten their carnivorous jaws is never, by any accident,
taken from those warm red streams which flow through the
veins of beast or man, but consists of that colder, whiter fluid,
which pervades the tender frames of butterfly and case-fly —
the innocent creatures they are ever seeking to devour.

Since our readers may not, just at pleasure, be able to cap-
ture a living specimen of the large green dragon-fly ,* now so
abundant, let them look, en attendant , at one of a smaller
speciesf depicted by our pencil. Though a minim of his
kind, is he not a glorious yet formidable-looking creature ?
Mark his four large ever-expanded wings of glassy membrane,
with their beautiful lace-like nervures, not distributed for
mere adornment, but in every meander serving as channels for
the circulating air, which, thus spread over the surface of the
pinion, confers on this insect a marked pre-eminence in power
and permanence of flight. Observe his straight, slender body

t Agrion.

* AEshna mria.

274

THE BUTTERFLY’S ARCH ENEMY.

— so long and light — contrasting with his muscular chest and
bulky shoulders, fit receptacles for the insertion of those
powerful pinions ; and the legs, six in number, strong and
rigid, and armed with claws. But notice, above all, the head
— the round enormous head — nearly the whole of its upper
half occupied by large prominent eyes, which, in their crystal-
line transparency, differ remarkably from the generality of
visual organs among insects, with their lifeless appearance of
dull opacity. In these there is no lack of vivid expression, as
the numerous hexagons of which they are composed seem to
be for ever in motion, now appearing visible, then seeming
lost beneath their translucent common covering or cornea.
With the threatening animation of these rapacious-looking
eyes, the mouth and powerful jaws are in formidable accord-
ance ; and if, in the sight of its insect victims, this veritable
dragon of their tribes wears anything like the aspect he bears
in ours, (his terrors magnified by superior size, and perhaps,
also, by instinctive dread,) with what trepidation must defence-
less case-flies flee before him, and what a panic must be created
by his very shadow amongst a bevy of white-robed butterflies,
when assembled, according to their wont, in a water-drinking
party round a pond. W ell may ye tremble, ye harmless sip-
pers, at the approach of this, your arch-destroyer, as ye catch
the sound of his rapid flight — audible, perhaps, to your
delicate antennae, though silent to our coarser ears. Well
may ye rise in terror and confusion, when ye behold his terrible

LARVA AND DRAGON-FLY.

275

image reflected, with your own fair forms, upon the surface of
the liquid mirror at your feet ! But little will your feathered
wings avail you when matched in flight against his bare and
nervous pinions. Whether you await or endeavour to escape
him — whether at rest or in the air — he will pounce upon you,
tear off, without mercy, your painted pinions ; and, when re-
duced to a disfigured mutilated trunk, bear you off in triumph
to the first convenient resting-place — some bough or paling —
there to glut his maw upon your honeyed juices, while repose
gives him new vigour for the pursuit and massacre of others
of your race !

Such is the dragon-fly in his form of maturity ; and, even
in his earliest stage — that of a crawling, wingless grub, gro-
ping in the mire, or swimming through the water of the pond
over which he subsequently soars, he exhibits the same savage
propensities, only modified by form and situation. He is, in
short, a a murderer from the beginning,” distinguished for re-
markable rapacity, with endowments yet more remarkable for
its gratification. These we have already noticed under the
head of “ water devils,” amongst which, while a grub or larva,
the dragon-fly figures as a very Beelzebub. In the present
month (August), and on to October, the large green dragon-
fly* is commonly seen on the wing, in sunshine, near streams
and hedges, or found resting, of an evening, on water-plants
or low bushes.

* Figured with its puparium in the Vignette to “ Coming Out.”

Vol. II.— 17.

276

POSITION OF WINGS.

Few insects lose their beauty more rapidly with the ex-
tinction of life than this and others of its tribe. The beautiful
markings on the body soon lose their distinctive colours — vari-
egated green, and black and yellow — and the eye, so brilliant
and translucent in life, growing dark in death, changes finally
to a lump of blackness. In order to preserve the colours of
the body, in this and other species, collectors are in the habit
of emptying the trunk through a longitudinal suture beneath,
stuffing it with cotton, after having cleared it ; but we are not
aware of any process by which the large lustrous eyes can be
preserved with any semblance of life.

We have spoken of the dragon-fly’s four powerful pinions
as always open, in readiness for flight. This is generally the
case with the families of JEshna and Libellula ; but in some,
the wings, when at rest, are applied to the body, as in the in-
stances of a very common but very pretty little species,* with
bodies variously coloured (as blue and black — red and black
— green and black) which are, in most places, numerous over
ditches in May and June ; in which months another species
(the large black and yellow), is also not uncommon. About
two hundred different kinds are said to haunt the woods and
streams of Britain.

From the dragon-fly, the above redoubtable giant among
English insects — we come, by no very abrupt transition, except
in the great difference of their bulk, to the scorpion-fly, f a

* Of this is the insect figured in Vignette. f Panorpa, also in Vignette.

THE SCORPION-FLY.

277

lesser but no less striking specimen of the “ fair and fierce.”
It would even seem that with reference to the quality of fierce-
ness, or more properly of valour, this latter insect is well
worthy of precedence over its bulkier class-fellow, of which,
being invariably the foe, it is not unfrequently the conqueror.
Only look at these enemies by nature, the great dragon and
the little scorpion flies, in juxta-position, and, on comparison
of their respective sizes and apparent powers, you will hardly
admit the possibility that when opposed in single combat the
latter should come off victor. Yet thus it stands recorded in
the chronicles of insect doings, wherein, on good authority, it
is written, that the tyrant of our lakes and pools (cowardly as
tyrants are wont to be) is terrified even at sight of a scorpion-
fly assailant. One of these valorous pygmies is related by
Lyonnet to have attacked, in his presence, a dragon-fly ten
times its own size — to have brought it to the ground, pierced
it with its sharp proboscis, and have left it with life only
through the interference of the naturalist spectator.

This insect “ hero of a thousand fights,” bears in his tail a
formidable-looking, sting-like weapon, which might seem
mainly instrumental to victory in such unequal combats ; but
dangerous as this may appear, his nasal dagger, or stiletto, does
him, we believe, the most good service both in attack and
demolition of his bulky foes. He doubtless, however, finds a
use for the appendage at his tail, and albeit we have found it
harmless within our capturing grasp, its bearer owes the name

278

LACE-WINGED FLY.

of “ Scorpion-fly ” to its great resemblance outwardly to the
deadly sting of the scorpion of tropic climates.

From May to November these pretty flies are everywhere
common upon hedges and in gardens, where, with predacious
activity they make cruel sport under the summer sun, cooling
down, with advance of autumn, into a milder state of com-
parative inactivity, which renders them an easy prey alike to
bird and entomologist.

Last, in our trio of “the fair and fierce,” but for either
attribute not least, comes the beautiful green and golden-eyed
lace-winged day-fly* — like the daisy (day’s eye) loving sunny
weather, and the most elegant perhaps of all insects upon which
the sun (in Britain) ever shines — wanting only augmented
bulk to render it an object of universal admiration.

The form of the “lace-wing” is always graceful — whether
at rest, with her ample folded wings, arching and sweeping,
train-like, over her slender limbs and body — or whether by
expansion of these her gauzy pinions, she displays to more
advantage their most delicate workmanship — a net of nervures,
interlaced over a thin transparent tissue, beautifully iridescent
with varying hues of azure-blue and rose colour. But above
all may this insect beauty, if she ever takes flattering counsel
at a dew-drop mirror, pride herself on the peculiar lustre of
her eyes — a metallic brilliance closely resembling that of bur-
nished gold. There lurks, however, under these glittering
orbs, as much deception (though of a much more harmless

* Hcmerobi/us (Vignette.)

LACE-WINGED FLY.

279

character) as belongs frequently to others — hazel, black, and
blue. Their burnish is but gilding, being (like that on the
skins of various chrysalides) produced only by an opaque
varnish under the cornea.*

To look at this fairy -like creature with nothing fierce in her
exterior, save perhaps the golden fire of her eye, one might
naturally suppose that from fruits, or flowers, or foliage, she
must derive her slender nutriment — that she must have bor-
rowed from the sappy leaf her prevailing hue of emerald green
— from the petals of the rose and hyacinth the evanescent
gleams of crimson which mingle with the azure of her filmy
wings — and from the golden anthers of these, or other blos-
soms, the golden seeming of her lustrous eyes ; but “fair and
fierce ” were then appellatives, which in their compound
would ill beseem the pretty u lace-wing;” whereas, in point
of fact, they both equally befit her.

With all her beauty, and all her seeming gentleness, she
bears about her no odour of sweetness— on the contrary, an
ill-conditioned scent ; and could we but inquire of her character
amongst insect nations, especially amongst the tribes of
Aphides, f which people the waving foliage, we should find her
name, amongst them, in worse odour even than her person.
The very story that flocks might bleat about the wolf, or
turkeys gabble of the fox, these aphides would certainly relate
to us of the lace- winged fly. f She invades,” would they de-

* See Painting, Carving, and Gilding. f See article on Aphides.

280

EGGS OF THE LACE-WING.

clare u our verdant pastures, drains our blood, sometimes even
dresses herself in the skins of our slaughtered brethren, and
for this, as well for the harmless mien which cloaks her ruth-
less nature, may be looked on, not merely as a wolf, but as a
wolf in sheep’s clothing.” Thus would say the little aphides ;
and the same character, with features somewhat enlarged, but
by no means softened, we are compelled in justice to assign to
their arch enemy, who even before she has lacy wings to boast
of, or golden eyes to look upon the day, begins her murder-
ous ravages among their leaf-sucking tribes.

But let us commence the history of the lace- wing at its be-
ginning— even from the egg — which in itself presents (by the
way) a tiny object too singular as well as pretty to be over-
looked. There are to be seen, from May to August, attached
to various leaves, but those chiefly of the rose-tree, certain
slender filaments, green or white, surmounted by an oval head,
and arranged — sometimes, fringe-like, round the edge — some-
times in groups on the surface of the leaf — standing sometimes
singly and distinct — sometimes with heads united in a cluster.*
These heads, with their delicate stalk-like appendages, are none
other than the eggs of the lace- wing fly ; but it hardly needs
to be observed, that from no such minute envelopes could pos-
sibly emerge her winged descendants, which, like all nearly
of the insect race, have to reach their perfect form through
three successive stages of development.

* See Vignette.

LACE-WING LARYA.

281

Looking now upon the lace-wing in its earliest shape of
animation, that of larva — a flat, wingless, six-legged crawler,
wanting only size to make it frightful as well as hideous — we
exclaim, 11 Can it be possible that an object so unsightly can
contain within it the germs of grace and beauty ?” Even so;
and here, when without disguise — “fierce” but not yet “fair”
— we behold the wolf of aphides playing havoc amongst these
flocks of foliage, which, with more than lamb-like passiveness,
permit themselves to be individually picked out and slaugh-
tered by their terrible but apparently undreaded enemy, — to
her their green pellucid bodies, filled with saccharine juice,
are so many honey-pots, which she knows well the trick of
emptying (at the rate of three in half a minute) by means of
her imperforate as well as pointed jaws. When thus reduced
to skins, the spoils of victim aphides are frequently observed
so heaped up around their destroyer, as to seem purposely
collected to serve it for a cover — a proceeding which Kirby
has illustrated by comparing it to that of Hercules in clothing
himself with the skin of the Nemean lion. That the skins of
aphides are really employed by the grub of the lace- wing as
a covering, is indeed a fact sufficiently established by an ex-
periment of Reaumur, who, on putting one of these creatures
under a glass case with a silken cocoon and raspings of paper,
found it convert both materials successively into similar
cloaks of concealment.

When our wolf of aphis flocks assumes the second form of

282

LACE-WING PUPA.

her existence, and becomes from an active grub or larva (cor-
respondent to the caterpillar of Lepidopterce ) an inanimate
pnpa (the likeness of a chrysalis), she furnishes of course but
slender matter for the historian of insects. Yet, even in this,
her stage of passive transition, our u Lace- wing ” in progress
affords us something worth observing. After being wearied
of aphis slaughter, whereon she has attained her full growth,
her last active operation is to enwrap her body in a silken
shroud or cocoon, spun previously, not after caterpillar usage
by an apparatus at the mouth, but by one provided for the
purpose at the tail.

Within this woven wrapper is effected the usual secondary
change, and our grub or larva becomes a pupa. In this form,
or rather in her emergement thence a perfect fly, our lace-
wing offers another remarkable peculiarity ; or, perhaps we
should say more correctly, exemplifies, in a remarkable man-
ner, a circumstance more or less note-worthy with various in-
sect tribes. This is the extraordinary disproportion in size ob-
servable between the winged creature, or Imago, and the pupa
from whence it is developed. In the curious folding of their
members within the chrysalidan cover, and the no less curious
expansion of their wings after emergement, the generality of
moths and butterflies furnish a beautiful example of this com-
pressive and comprehensive work of nature; but the same
operation assumes almost the air of what we call a miracle in our
elegant lace-wing fly, which, in one of its species,* exhibits a

* Ghrysopa perla.

A MIRACLE OF NATURE.

283

body nearly balf an inch in length, with wings which, when
expanded, coyer the snface of an inch square ; and yet has
made its exit from a round puparium, or mummy ease, smaller
than a pea !

Before dismissing our trio of the “Fair and Fierce” — the
dragon, the scorpion, and the lace- wing flies — we must bespeak
indulgence for their fierceness — not in favour of their beauty,
but on account of the usefulness of their devouring propen-
sities.

The fair and gentle objects of earth and air must always be
the most pleasing to contemplate ; but let* us be satisfied, as
the world at present stands, with the moral certainty that, as
all other permitted combinations of good and evil are made to
work together for general benefit, so it is with our insect trio
of the “ Fair and Fierce.”

RESEMBLANCE AND RELATION.

“ Oft on tlie dappled turf at ease
I sit, and play with similes, —

Loose types of things through all degrees.”

The last time we were in the public insect-room of the British
Museum, our notice was attracted by a buzz of admiration
raised by a cluster of a Monday’s swarm gathered round one
particular case of the entomologic collection. “ W ell, I never !”
“Queer creatures!” “Neither grass nor grasshoppers!”
“ How curious !” “ Perfectly exquisite !” “ What strange

similitudes !” “ Links between the animal and the vegetable,”

and so on, ascending.

WALKING LEAVES.

285

The above notes of admiration, varied according to the
mental compass of each observer, were drawn forth by different
specimens of those curious tropical insects, known popularly as
“Walking Leaves/’ — an appropriate appellation, presenting as
they do, a perfect resemblance in form, colour, texture, and
veining to vegetable foliage in every stage of progression, from
verdant expansion to shrivelled decay. These strange copies,
not of leaves only but also of branches, are found in several
insect tribes and families, but chiefly those of Locusta, Mantis ,
and Phasma. The locusts alone afford imitations, so close as
almost to deceive a botanical eye, of the leaves of the olive,
myrtle, citron, laurel, camella, thyme, grass, &c. ; after which
plants the species are even named. Not only do the wing-
cases resemble a leaf, but in many instances the first joint of
every limb simulates a small leaflet, the leg itself forming the
mid-rib, and in its prolongation beyond the tip resembling a
jointed stalk; while the animal’s head, even to the palpi, or
feelers, is so formed as to harmonise with the rest.

Some of the tribe of Mantis — treacherous and cruel crea-
tures, with long, desiccate, skeleton limbs — are like spectral
anatomies of vegetable death — yet living and locomotive.
But we need not visit India or China — or even the British
Museum or other collections of foreign insects — to find similar
resemblances, and sometimes such perfect ones between the
insect and the plant that both would seem to have been cast
in a common mould — then endowed, the one with an animal,

286

WALKING BRANCHES.

the other with what Dr. Darwin would have called “ a vege-
table soul.” To discover an English specimen of such curious
similitude, we have only, in this present month of August, to
shake some boughs of a hawthorn hedge over an inverted
parasol or umbrella, into which will almost of a surety then
fall some two or three living and moving sticks, or caterpillars
of stick-like form,* quite as “ queer ” and closely imitative as
some of the foreigners above noted. These strange little
animals have a brown skin, wrinkled and furrowed just like
the bark of the branches they are accustomed to occupy, with
a forked protuberance on the back resembling diverging twigs
or nascent thorns ; while, to render his mimicry the more com-
plete, this caterpillar sprig of the hawthorn, in common with
others of branch-like semblance, is in the habit, when at rest,
of stretching himself out stiff and straight, at right angles with
the twig whereon he reposes ; and thus remaining for hours
motionless, supported only by the grasp of his hind legs and
a single thread proceeding from his mouth. This is the cater-
pillar of a very common yellow moth, with reddish markings,
called the Brimstone, f and belongs to a family known to col-
lectors as Geometers , Measurers , Lookers , and Surveyors. They
are so called from their mode of walking, which is quite as re-
markable as their attitudes when at rest. Their bodies, on
commencement of their march, being looped up in the form
of a Greek they hold by the hind legs, and stretch them*

* Vignette.

f Bumia cratcegata.

WALKING BRANCHES.

287

selves out to their fullest length ; then, steadied by the grasp
of the fore-feet, bring forward the hind ones to meet them ;
thus with every step looping up the body as before.

In the month of May, or beginning of June, we may often,
by careful looking for, find a branch of elder supporting its
very image in a caterpillar,* which is perhaps the most re-
markable of the above singular family — a withered-looking
stick-like creature, knobbed and ringed and coloured, and even
cracked after the exact pattern of the browner stalks of its
native tree. This most perfect simulator, like others of his
simulating relatives, aids the deception of his figure by his
branch-like attitudes and branch-like quietude (often main-
tained from morning till night), at which latter period he
mostly prefers to exercise both his jaws and locomotive powers.
After the usual changes, this curious caterpillar becomes, about
July, a pale sulphur-coloured moth, remarkable for the elegant
cut of its angular pinions, of which the hinder pair, being prolong-
ed into acute tails, have given it the name of “ Swalloiv Tail” f

When we look at the winged development of this stick-
animal (a form of grace and beauty strikingly contrasted with
the stiff rigidity of its cast-off covering) we can still trace a
resemblance to the stick -vegetable, in its likeness to floral pro-
ducts, stalk-derived. The Brimstone Butterfly, that darling
of the spring, has been long noticed for the resemblance of its
delicate pinions to the petals of a primrose fluttering in the

* Vignette.

f Ourapterix sambucaria.

288

SWALLOW-TAIL MOTH.

breeze. Scarcely less elegant, and somewhat resembling them
in shape and hue, are the wings of our Swallow-tail moth,
sprung of the walking branch. So, if we may fairly liken the
earliest of our spring papilons to a primrose of the day, we
may quite as justly compare our graceful flitter through the
summer twilight to a primrose of the evening.

The prevailing hue of the above and other branch-like
crawlers, found not unfrequently on the oak, elm, and other
trees, is brown, varied, like bark, with tints of green and
gray ; thus, in their colouring as well as in their dry rigidity
of outline, corresponding to their name of walkin g-branches ;
but there are a few much more delicate and tender-looking
sprigs of the same family, which would be better designated
by that of walking-stafe Of this kind is a slender green
Looper which, in the months of May and June, we have found
feeding on the leaflets of the rose, or stretched out motionless,
at some angle with the ravaged leaf-stalk, which it then ex-
actly mimics. When this rampant stalk becomes a quiet chry-
salis, self-suspended to a branch, it still retains its colour of
bright vernal green, exchanged for orange and brown when
it emerges, a pretty moth.

So much for walking-SrcmcAes of British growth ; neither,
as aforesaid, is a walking-feet/1 a wonder to be seen alive only
in foreign parts. We must wait, perhaps, till the arrival of
July ; but then, if, with eyes prepared, we look amongst the
foliage of a mingled hedge, we are likely to detect, on a

OAK-LAPPET.

289

bramble, a hawthorn, or a blackthorn, or may be on a willow,
a leaf endued with life more than vegetative, albeit of feuille
rnorte hue, and wearing little of motive semblance. We have
said a leaf; but we should rather, perhaps, direct the unprac-
tised eye to seek what more resembles a leafy group or clus-
ter ;* an object for which, on a transitory glance, the four
large wings of the Lappet Mothf are very likely to be mis-
taken. These are of shaded brown, glossed with violet, stiff,
strongly-ribbed, and deeply scalloped, and when the insect
is in repose (its usual state in the day-time) they are so dis-
posed by projection of the hinder pair beyond the foremost,
as to deviate from the usual moth-like contour, and thus ap-
proach more nearly to that of congregated leaves.

The seeming vagaries of Dame Nature in thus, as it were,
dressing up some few among her children in masquerade attire,
have led to a deal of curious inquiry into the “ why and be-
cause ” of such unusual proceeding. Besides such copies as
those above noted, wherein the animal is made to put on the
vegetable form, there are noticeable among insects a number
of remarkable similarities in colouring with the leaves, or
flowers, or bark of the plants and trees they feed on, or
frequent; and, what is yet more curious, with the dead
and artificially-wrought substances, such as stone walls and
wooden palings, on which they are most frequently seen rest-

Vignette.

t Gast/ropacha quercifolia.

290

CORRESPONDENCE OF COLOUR.

ing.* Of the kind of imitation last mentioned we have noticed
several instances in the colouring of moths found commonly
on oak palings. We have one in our possession wherein not
only does the painting of the wings resemble the broader sur-
face of the wood, copied as accurately as by the most skilful
grainer ; but even the transverse cutting at the pale’s end
would seem to have served as a pattern for the striated cover-
ing of the insect’s shoulders.

It was supposed by Dr. Darwin that there is a general cor-
respondence in colour between butterflies and the flowers they
most frequent, and, theorist as he was, he concluded that such
resemblance was certainly designed as a protection from their
natural enemies ; but, as well objected by a living naturalist, f
it is only when the insect is at rest, that this similarity of hue
with the object rested on (supposing its prevalence admitted)
can serve it for an illusory defence against birds, dragon-flies,
and other of its clear-sighted destroyers. The same protective
purpose has been assigned to the more singular resemblances
in form and coincidences of colour which we have just been
noting ; but such protection (if protection it be) is so partially

* A common but very beautiful moth, called the Buff-tip (Pygczra bucephala ),
displays a curious correspondence of colouring with the oak on which its caterpillar
most often feeds, and whereon, as a winged insect, it is frequently found resting.
The general hue of the wings is that purplish brown, mottled or powdered with sil-
very gray, s q prevalent in the bark, especially of decayed oak-branches ; while the
buff-tip of each wing (to which it owes its name) resembles exactly the end of such
a branch when obliquely truncated.

t Rennie.

PURPOSE OF SIMILITUDES.

291

afforded, and would, if more generally given, go so very far to
subvert nature’s own provision for tbe support of birds and
carnivorous insects, that the opinion would seem scarcely tena-
ble. Besides, there are not wanting, in the vegetable world, re-
semblances of objects in the animal almost as close as when
the latter furnishes the copy. Yet no one, on the same pre-
servative principle, has pretended to assume that the vegetable
snail, star -fish, bee, fly, or spider, were endowed with sem-
blances of living forms in order to protect them from their
natural consumers, nor, we believe, in these latter instances
has any “final cause ” been ingeniously assigned. With these,
in truth, as with various other of nature’s proceedings, whether
common or unwonted, it might doubtless be as well if philoso-
phers would look longer before they “ leap ” to her supposed
ends ; thus adding to the treasures of their knowledge that
acquirement (so difficult to human self-sufficiency) which a
French naturalist terms, with French felicity of phrase, “ V art
d'ignorery* Thus much, however, we may perhaps be per-
mitted to suggest on the subjects of the above and other
singular deviations from the usual type of natural forms, — may
they not, at least in part, have been designated by the Great
Creator to awaken by the uncommon a greater measure of at-
tention to the common wonders of his hand ? May not these
eccentric resemblances, in which, shooting beyond its regular
orbit, one kingdom of nature seems to touch the exterior of

* Bonnet.

292

THE BOOK OF SYMBOLS.

another, be likened, in effect on the observer, to comets in the
firmament, which attract the gaze of the most incurious, while
the glorious stars and brilliant planets are suspended motion-
less, or keep their equal courses without an eye or a thought
uplifted towards their far-off mysteries? — From these curious
outward resemblances, so obvious to the common eye, and
striking even to the common mind, we are led, naturally, to
consider other likenesses — or more properly analogies — which
subsist, not only between the insect and the vegetable, but be-
tween all other orders of created being. In the delightful work
of Kirby and Spence,* it has been justly noticed that “ which-
ever way we turn our eyes on the objects of creation — above,
below, athwart — analogies meet us in every direction ; and it
appears clear that the book of Nature is a book of symbols, in
which one thing represents another in endless succession.”
And how speaks the eloquent Coleridge — the metaphysician
and the poet — of the same exhaustless volume ? “ That, in its

obvious sense and literal interpretation, it declares the being
and attributes of the Almighty Father, none but the fool in
heart has ever dared to gainsay ; but it has been the music of
gentle and pious minds in all ages ; — it is the poetry of all hu-
man nature to read it likewise in a figurative sense, and to find
therein correspondences and symbols of the spiritual world.”

Suppose we now con over, though but a child’s lesson, out
of this universal volume, trying, however, imperfectly, to spell

* Introduction to Entomology.

REFLECTIONS OF THINGS UNSEEN.

293

and put together a few of its living characters as they stand
connected by similitude, by mutual uses, or as mutually,
symbolic. By their similitudes we recognise them for the work
of one Great Creator ; in their adaptations for mutual use we read
his skill and beneficence and providing care ; and, in as much
as we can decipher of their symbolic meaning , we adore the
condescending goodness which, through the correspondent
beauties of created objects, has surrounded us by images, faint
but faithful, of all the qualities of that Divine Mind from
whence they spring. Nor this alone ; for, reflected in the same
natural mirror, numerous also are the images for which we
must seek originals — not in the attributes of the Divine Mind
— nor yet in the corresponding features, which (marred though
they be) still pronounce the human to have been moulded
“after its likeness.” Destroying instincts and hideous forms
are, no less than their opposites, reflections of things unseen ;
and where do these exist but within ourselves ? in those
spiritual evils (made natural) which have been permitted, in
accordance with a law not more mysterious than unerring , to
stamp with defacing impress a portion of every inferior order
of Creation ?

Our subject was commenced by a notice of a few remarkable
objects in the insect world, which bear a particular resemblance
to others in the vegetable kingdom. Let us now point out, as
equally worthy of notice, though less likely to excite it, a few

resemblances of a more general kind between these two

Vol. II.— 18.

294

PLANTS AND INSECTS.

departments of the reign of nature. In external form, hues,
and clothing, there is quite sufficient of general likeness betwixt
plants and insects to stamp them as productions of the same
designing mind and matchless skill. In clothing, wool, hair,
spines, and scales, are common to both. Flowers alone emulate
the colours of the more splendid butterflies and beetles. The
delicate veined leaflet or petal are prevailing similitudes of
form drawn yet closer in the papilionaceous tribe ; the purple
pea-flower and yellow broom telling us, in poetic person-
ality,

“ The butterfly all green and gold
To me hath often flown,

Here in my blossoms to behold
Wings lovely as his own.” — Wordsworth.

A general analogy of internal structure is well known to
prevail throughout the animal and vegetable kingdoms ; but
of this correspondence there is perhaps no particular instance
so close and striking as that which has been noticed between
the origin and development of lepidopterous insects (moths
and butterflies) and those of perfect plants. The egg and the
seed — the caterpillar and the bud — the expanded insect and
the expanded flower — are correspondences not fanciful but
existent ; and, as a flower in its rudiments can be discerned
within the bud, where, protected by successive leaf-scales, it
sometimes remains throughout the winter,* so the future
butterfly lies enfolded within the numerous successive skins of

* As in buds of the pear-tree and laburnum. See experiments of Grew and Du
Hamel, quoted in “ Insect Transformations,” p. 136.

THEIR RESEMBLANCES.

295

caterpillar and of chrysalis. Again, we may notice that the
vital principle common to the insect and the plant — though in
the latter unaccompanied by indication of mind — often puts on
no less curious correspondences.

As well as ephemeral flowers there are ephemeral insects.
The gauzy wings of the May-fly, like the delicate petals of the
cistus, strew the ground in a few brief hours after their ex-
pansion; and the Favonia,* which displays its crimson glories
in the beams of morning (as is the case often with the ephe-
meral insect) is, like it, dead by noomday. There are certain
flowers, such as the goat’s-beard, &c., which are known to time
their opening at certain hours of the day ; and so, in like
manner, various moths have been observed to emerge from
their chrysalis-covering with equal regularity.

Again, the daisy, the pimpernel, and many other flowers,
show the nicest sensibility to atmospheric changes, by always
shutting up their petals at the approach of bad weather ; and
the bee, the butterfly, and other insects, with an instinctive
prescience of coming showers, hide within the flower-cups, or
close their wings, fearfully resting from their labours or their
pleasures.

Numerous also are the properties and productions common
to plants and insects, with a few of which we must close our
very imperfect enumeration of resembling points between
them. In fragrance, even the rose is emulated by a pretty

* Tigridia favoivia.

296

PLANTS AND INSECTS.

green beetle* not uncommonly found near willow-trees, around
which it perfumes the air. Per contra — and opposed to all
“ the sweets of Arabia ” — there are the cockroach — the church-
yard beetle — the foetid centipede, and other lurkers in damp
dark places, both above ground and below, which resemble in
ill odour, as they do in gloomy localities, the hellebores, the
hemlocks, and the mandrakes of the vegetable world. And
as a few among the flowers of the sun are not a whit behind
their darker fellows in this one repulsive quality, so among
insects, to say nothing of the pretty lady -bird, there is the green,
golden-eyed, lace-winged fly,f that exhales an odour which,
even pour V amour de ses beaux yeux , and for the elegance of its
form, one can scarcely pardon, any more than for its splendour,
one can cordially admire that pride of the hot house, the most
beautiful but most foetid of the Stapelias , named, by the Dutch
inhabitants of the Cape, the Arabische Bose.

The power of emitting light is another property, common, in
some peculiar instances, both to plants and insects, the fire-
fly— the glow-worm — and the electric centipede, each having
its vegetable representative in the luminous Fraxinella , the
Euphorbia phosphorea , and various plants and fungi in a state
of decay.

For almost every vegetable production there is an analogous
insect secretion. To say nothing of honey and bees’ wax,
which may be viewed rather as vegetable products animalized,

* Cerambyx moschatus (musk beetle.) t Chrysopa perla.

THEIR RELATIONS.

297

there is the white insect wax of China produced by the Cicada
limbata, made into candles, and paralleled both in quality and
use by the tallow-tree, — a native of the same empire. For
vegetable gums, we have the insect gum-lac; for vegetable
dyes , the insect cochineal , galls, and chermes.

From the above and various other mutual resemblances, let
us take a glance now at that obvious and beautiful relation
between insects and the vegetable kingdom, which consists in
their mutual dependency and use. As one of its most strik-
ing examples, we must notice again the appearance of various
caterpillars as being generally simultaneous with that of the
leaves on which they usually feed, and that of butterflies with
the opening of flowers on whose nectar they regale.

The bee and the blossom are no less evidently of mutual
assistance. Everybody knows that the bee could not live
without the flower, and every botanist is equally aware that
many flowers would become extinct, were not bees and other
insects, by the transmission of pollen, to be unconscious agents
in their propagation. Besides affording them a supply of
food, there is no part of a plant — root, stem, bark, leaf, calyx,
flower, fruit — which does not serve as an abode to many in-
sects in one or all of their successive stages. Indeed, without
plants, we see clearly that insects would have no existence—
not even the carnivorous tribes, since even these prey upon
vegetable-feeders. The uses, also, of insects to plants, besides
that already noticed, though less obvious, may probably bear

298

INSECT DEVELOPMENT.

a greater proportion to their evident injnriousness than we are
apt to think. A curious though certainly very partial service
of this nature, received on the side of the vegetable, is exem-
plified in the nourishment which some fly-catching plants are
supposed to derive from the putridity of dead insects impri-
soned within their flower- traps, their pitcher-shaped leaves, or
in the viscid exudations of their joints.

If, leaving the vegetable world, we were to mount upwards
in the scale of animated being, we should find amongst fish,
reptiles, birds, and quadrupeds, a variety of similar instances,
wherein, by resemblances or analogy, by dependence, or as
mutually representative, these all stand connected with ob-
jects in the insect kingdom. We may from time to time, no-
tice some of these relations incidentally ; but to pass over,
now, the intermediate orders of creation, let us see whether
lordly man, as well as the lowly plant, has not his analogies,
at least symbolic, with the insect he despises.

The mind of man, as it exists in infancy, has been aptly
likened to the seed of a plant — considered as possessing, in
miniature, the trunk, branches, leaves, and fruit of the future
tree ; and, agreeably to such a notion, it has been observed
that the highest degree of cultivation, of which it is capable,
consists in the perfect development of that peculiar organiza-
tion which as really exists in infancy as in mature years.

Having noted already the analogy of insect development,
from the egg up to the winged estate, with that of a vegetable,

SYMBOLIC ANALOGIES.

299

from, the seed up to the flower and fruit — it scarcely needs,
the above admitted, to remark that the human mind finds its
natural parallel (only one yet more striking) in the insect as
well as in the vegetable world.

In the shapes also of good or evil, which the expanding
mind assumes, we shall still find, in insect forms and their
marked characteristics, similitudes — if not more apt, at least
more easily observed, than those presented by larger tribes.
In proportion as, diverging by perversity of free will from
our divine type and pattern, we resemble or make ourselves
the moral counterparts of the tiger, the fox, the hawk, the
serpent, we are of course as justly symbolized by those in-
sects which have been observed to concentrate in their pigmy
forms the very essence of the same instinctive dispositions, such
as the cruel Mantis, the fierce predatory beetles, the wily ant-
lion, the treacherous and cruel spider.

The same applies to those among us of gentler frame, the
lambs and doves amidst the wolves and hawks of human
society, which are in like manner aptly symbolized by insect
tribes of gentle habits (especially the horned and vegetable-
feeding beetles), wrhich have been considered to represent the
grazing quadrupeds.

Others of our qualities — our industry, our prudence, our
fickleness, our temerity — are exhibited also in the tiny in-
dividualities and miniature institutions of insects and insect
societies, none of the larger animals, solitary or gregarious,

300

SYMBOLIC ANALOGIES.

reflecting us in these respects so faithfully as the bee, the ant,
the butterfly, and self-destructive moth.

Or if, lastly, and as more generally considered, we view
both insect development and insect perfection as strictly re-
presentative of our spiritual progression and final state, then,
while we look delighted on a host of innocent and beautiful
flutterers, as creatures progressing towards that happy state,
can we shut our eyes upon their numerous opposites — winged
creatures, fierce and destructive, or creeping things in prepa-
ration only for such perfection? And if the former, then
must the latter have corresponding forms of spirit — forms
which, in all their dire maturity, are existent in the world un-
seen, though nearer than we think of, and which may be also
(and awful is the thought !) in course of daily development and
progression within ourselves.

Besides these insect 11 Beelzebubs and Belials,” so named
from their figure, attributes, and dark localities, and more de-
structive than them all, though in outward semblance less re-
pulsive, there is the insidious tribe of Ichneumon flies, the slow
devourers of living caterpillars ; and herein the striking em-
blems of those lurking, parasitic vices which prey on and
destroy the soul,* the “ Angelica forfalla ” which they never
suffer to arrive at the bright maturity for w’hich it was created.

In connection with Insect Development regarded as a typq
of our spiritual progress, we may mention here a speculative

* Kirby.

SPIRITUAL DEVELOPMENT.

301

notion with, which the former is particularly accordant. It is
an idea entertained by some, that within the material cover
which constitutes our natural frame there exists a spiritual
body, endowed with spiritual organs. This (in their opinion)
constitutes the man, — this, the inward form in constant course
of being moulded into beauty or deformity by moral discipline
and culture, — this, the building to which the corporeal frame
is but a scaffold, thrown down after performance of its pur-
pose, in a spiritual erection, — or (returning to our insect
analogy) this, the winged Imago, which, on entrance to its
highest stage of being, casts off for ever its material encase-
ment, as an emancipated butterfly the confining shell which
served once as its chrysalidan cover.

"i mciaxm\ mifrergmls vm

MOTHS AS IDLEES.

11 painted populace

That live in fields, and lead ambrosial lives.”

When a man, having wove himself a robe of dignity, built
himself a tower of fame, or worked himself into a mine of
riches, is able to throw aside his tools, and put on his holiday
attire, — then good bye (usually) to the interest, curiosity, and
sympathy with which we may have been following his laborious
career. We may look up with admiration, but we tire of
looking up very long, at an object of any description which
stands still at its culminating point, — which has reached its

EVENING AND NIGHT FLIERS.

308

utmost degree of height or perfection. We may pronounce
it very grand, or very good ; but there is little more to be said
about it.

Much, then, as it is with a man on the pinnacle of a laborious
ascent, it is with a moth in the completed stage of its existence.
In the caterpillar’s state of labour and progression (that in
which we have already briefly viewed him), whole volumes
have been written, and others may be yet to write, concerning
his destructiveness, his ingenuity, his perseverance ; but when,
after an interval of rest and concealment, he re-appears in a
winged form, his other characteristics seem, as it were, lost
in his exterior perfection. We look and admire, but have
little, comparatively, to record about him.

Various, as we have seen, are the resources — curiously con-
trasted the instincts, of different species of moth caterpillars ;
but the history of one moth is pretty nearly the history of all
— especially with the tribes which fly by night ; their proceed-
ings being on that account involved, of course, in additional
obscurity. The chief diversity of these insects, in their perfect
state, belongs then mostly to their outward form and colouring ;
and in these is to be found a variety, endless and admirable.

Moths have been arranged under two general divisions:
crepuscular , or those that are seen on wing at twilight ; and
nocturnal , or night-fliers ; the latter comprising by far the
largest number. The twilight family consists chiefly of hawk-
moths or sphinxes ; the former appellative being founded on

304

HAWK-MOTHS AND SPHINXES.

the moth’s hovering mode of flight, — the latter, on the cater-
pillar’s remarkable form and position when at rest. This is
a beautiful and interesting tribe of insects, . associated with
summer dawns and summer twilights — opening and closing
flowers — morning and evening stars — and all that is calm and
subdued, opposed to the glare and gloom of nature.

When the gaudy butterfly has folded her wings for sleep,
and while the dark night-flying moth is still lurking under
leafy covert, various sphinxes may be seen darting rapidly from
flower to flower, or busied in rifling their sweets as they hang
suspended over their honeyed cups, like the bird of rapine

“ that, poised in air,

Flaps his broad wing, but moves not.”

These insect tipplers imbibe their deep potations by unrolling
their usually coiled tongues, which are hollow tubes, often of
prodigious length, and plunging them to the bottom of the
nectaries they drain.

Many of the hawk-moths are named after the trees and
plants which furnish the favourite food of their caterpillar
life ; and from among these we shall select, as greatly distin-
guished for size and beauty, the u Convolvulus ”* and the
“ Privet.” The former, called also the “ Bind- weed ” and the
“ Unicorn” hawk-moth, is a splendid specimen of its kind, if
the term “ splendid ” — so often ridiculously mis-applied — may
be aptly employed with reference to its wide expanse of wing

* Sphinx convolvuli. (Frontispiece.)

CONVOLVULUS AND PRIVET MOTHS.

305

(reaching often to an extension of four inches and a half), and
to the exquisitely varied yet sober pencilling, black on a
ground of ashy gray, wherewith these ample pinions are ela-
borately adorned. The body-colouring of this fine insect is of
a gayer description, being composed of alternate stripes of
black and rose-colour ; and on the shoulders — or what, in en-
tomological phrase, is termed the thorax — -is a singular black
badge, resembling a horse-shoe. This thorax, as well as the
body, is of bulk proportioned to the powerful wings which
have to transport or uphold it in suspension ; while the
massive head, large projecting eyes — dark by day and lumi-
nous by night — the broad, straight, rigid horns or antennae,
and the trunk or sucker, when uncoiled of prodigious length,
are all in accordance with its elephantine character among the
race of moths. The Convolvulus sphinx, though not very com-
mon, is said to be well distributed through Britain. In one
September we met with two specimens at Hornsey.

The hawk moth of the Privet,* can boast dimensions, both
of wing and body, but little inferior to his cousin of the Con-
volvulus. In richness of colouring, he greatly excels him, in-
asmuch as the prevailing gray of his upper wings is contrasted
in the lower by a fine rose-colour, laced with black bars ; the
body, likewise, being banded with black and deep rose or
purple.

Of a different genus, f and of size very much inferior to the

* Sphinx ligustri.

t Macroglyossa.

306

HUMMING-BIRD MOTH.

two last, but more interesting, perhaps, than either in its
habits and associations, is the hawk-moth called the “ Hum-
ming-bird.”* This name is derived from the vibratory sound
emitted by the wings of this pretty insect, as it hangs sus-
pended, morning and evening, above the flowers, of which the
honeyed treasures, however deeply hidden, are never inacces-
sible to its prying tongue. Hot even the long, narrow flagons
of Marvel of Peru, or trumpet honeysuckle, can protect their
delicious nectar from the long, pliant trunk of the humming-
bird hawk, who delights, also, in the assembled honey-cups of
composite flowers — likewise in sweet geraniums, — tempted by
which, it often commits its harmless robberies in greenhouse
as well as garden. The anterior wings of this curious moth
are dusky brown, striated and barred ; the hinder, white or
rusty yellow ; and the body, which is short, is variegated at
the sides with small tufts of black and white, finished by a
large black bush at its extremity. The “humming-bird” is
seen frequently in most parts of England, but especially near
the sea-side, from May to October.

A word now for the; hawk-moth “ Death’s head,”* to whom,
perhaps, we ought to have given precedence over all the
above, on account of his yet superior size and the dark cele-
brity of his name; but though called a “hawk,” and long
classed with the sphinxes, he is not considered now as belong-

* Macroglossa Stellatarum. (Vignette.) + Acherontia atropos. (Frontispiece.)

death’s-head moth.

307

ing strictly to that family, from which he is distinguished by
the very inferior length of his trunk, and also of his antennae.
His upper wings, which reach often to the extent of five inches,
are of deep brown, beautifully variegated with black, mingled
with rusty red, and powdered with gray ; the lower being of
a deep ochreous yellow, barred with black. The body is
somewhat similarly coloured in black and yellow stripes, and
on the shoulders or thorax, in lieu of the black horse-shoe
borne by the Sphinx Convolvuli , he exhibits (awfully con-
spicuous in yellowish white upon a ground of darkness !) the
grim cranium — the death’s head and collar bones — to which
he owes his redoubted name.

We shall have occasion to speak elsewhere of a few other
notabilities belonging to this singular insect — especially of his
melancholy cry and the superstitious dread wherewith he was
once, and is still partially, regarded by man. We shall now,
therefore, only advert to one other of his peculiar habits,
which has given him, amongst other appellations, that of the
“Bee Tiger.”

We have noticed already the shortness of the Death’s-head
trunk, as compared with that of a true sphinx ; it consists, in
fact, of only a short, stiff proboscis, instead of a long pliant
sucker. In common, however, with the hawk-moth family,
he is a prodigious lover of honey. Either, then, for want of a
more convenient instrument for extracting nectar, fresh drawn
from tubular flowers, or in order that he may quaff it on a

308

death’s-head moth.

scale proportioned to his bulk, he will frequently brave, singly,
and unarmed as he is, the numerous poisoned arrows of a bee-
hive garrison, with a view to pilfering and regaling on its
stores. In this bold undertaking he seldom fails, owing im-
punity, as it v^ould appear, almost entirely to the paralyzing
power of his formidable voice. His approach to a hive by
twilight, or the glow of a harvest moon, is a signal for general
alarm and commotion, and each individual bee, at sight of this
dreaded visitant, or sound of his boding cry, shakes its wings
in fearful tremor, or responds to the wailing trumpet of the
invader by a peculiar buzz, expressive of alarm. Even the bee
sentinels, keeping their moonlight watch around the gate of
their waxen city, shrink appalled as before an apparition, when
the dark wings of the Death’s-head overshadow their beat ;
and the robber, entering, proceeds to regale unmolested by the
trembling bees, whose wonted courage and sagacity seem on
this occasion to give place to human ignorance and folly. As
soon, however, as the departure of the satiated marauder re-
lieves the panic-stricken citizens of their terror, they commence
taking the most active measures to guard, in future, against
being thus robbed before their faces ; and the chances are,
that should the death’s-head visitant return again on the en-
suing night, he will find all entrance barred by a strong waxen
wall, built within the doorway of the hive, and leaving only
just sufficient space for the exit or entrance of a single bee.

The hawk-moths (so called) of the Lime , the Poplar — also

HAWK-MOTH CATERPILLARS.

309

the “j Eyed,” are each beautiful insects in their way ; but in the
absence of long tubular trunks, and consequent inability to
feed hovering on wing, the appellation of “hawks ” scarcely
befits them. They are also distinguished from the true
sphinxes by the form of their antennae, and by the dentated
margins of their foremost wings.

We have no space here for minute description of the mark-
ings, variously shaded, striated, and clouded, of their usually
somewhat sober-suited pinions, of which, in the “ Lime”*
the prevailing shades are olive-green; in the “ Poplar ,”f
grayish brown and rust colour ; in the u Eyed" \ likewise gray
and brown, relieved in the hinder pair by carmine red, with
a large ocellus (or eye) of blue, brown, and black.

In order, however, that our unscientific readers may have
a better chance of observing for themselves both the last-
named and preceding moths (all well worthy of admiration),
we shall give a short description of each in its caterpillar
state — that wherein it may be the most easily procured and
reared to perfection.

The caterpillars of hawk-moths are, for the most part, very
distinguished animals of their kind. They are generally large,
with skins smooth or curiously shagreened ; most frequently
coloured green, and adorned on each side by oblique stripes
of yellow, blue, or crimson. They may be further and easily

* SmermtJms Tillcz (Lime Hawk). f S. PojouU (Poplar Hawk.)

\ S. ocellatus (Eyed Hawk.)

310

HAWK- MOTH CATERPILLARS.

discriminated from the “ vulgar crew,” by a stiff-pointed horn
rising from near the tail ; also bj the remarkable elevation
(when at rest) of the head and shoulders, while the hinder
legs attach them firmly to a supporting branch. From this
peculiar position, they have derived the Linnsean name of
Sphinx — after the fabled monster of antiquity. — Now for a
few more of the distinctive features which belong, in their
first estate, to the “ Hawks ” above noticed, namely, the
“Convolvulus,” “Privet,” “Humming-bird,” “Death’s-head,”
“Lime,” “Poplar,” and “Eyed.”

The Caterpillar of the “ Convolvulus,” so called from its
frequenting and feeding on that most destructive of weeds,
but most elegant of wild flowers, the large white bindweed,
is somewhat variously coloured ; but usually of a bright green,
with black or brown spots, and oblique stripes of yellow at
the sides.

The beautiful Sphinx of the Privet is produced from a
caterpillar* well worthy of the perfect insect. Its smooth
doublet of bright apple-green is laced by seven oblique stripes
of white and purple, and buttoned (as we may fancifully term
it) with golden studs, — the little circlets of orange-yellow
which surround the stigma, or breathing-holes, on either side.
A black and yellow horn completes its exterior adornment.
It may be found in July, August, or even as late as September,
feeding on the leaves of privet, lilac, ash, and elder.

* Vignette to “ A Summer’s Day Dream.”

HAWK-MOTH CATERPILLARS.

311

The caterpillar of that curious and pretty little honey-sipper,
the Humming-bird hawk, is green, variegated with white, and
it sports a tail somewhat more conspicuous, as proportioned to
its size, than those of its bulkier cousins above mentioned.
It is a feeder on that rough and trailing clinger, well known as
cleavers, clivers, and goose-grass, also on the ladies’ bed-straw.

The Death’s-head caterpillar does not partake at all of the
lugubrious character or colouring of its perfect form, being
gaily painted of a fine yellow, obliquely striped with green,
and further adorned on the back by longitudinal blue and
black spots. It is sometimes found in August, full grown, on
the potato and the jasmine ; and, after self-interment, bursts
its temporary grave, to flit, a shape of terror, through the
autumn twilight.

The Hawk-moth of the Lime affords us, in its caterpillar,
a pretty specimen of that shagreened skin, roughened by raised
dots, which is common to several of its tribe. Its colour is a
delicate green, adorned with the usual oblique stripes, gener-
ally of carmine red ; but these are varied, and sometimes
wanting. The body of this caterpillar, as well as most of the
preceding, lessens towards the head, which is small, with a
front of mitre-like form.

Some of the hawk caterpillars of another genus deviate
yet further from the common shape, by this tapering of
the body towards the front being so considerable as to

give to the head and neck, combined, the semblance of

Vol. II.— 19.

312

NOCTURNAL MOTHS.

a swine’s snout. They are hence called by the French,
“ Tetes de Cochon .”

The Elephant Hawk, though in size no elephant of its
kind, is produced from a “ pig-face” of this description, found
not uncommonly on the willow herb and ladies’ bed-straw.

But we must no longer creep with the hawk caterpillars,
or even hover, at morn or eve, with the “ hawks ” themselves,
over the dewy flowers, for we have yet to accompany, in their
gloomier flights, a select few from the nocturnal Phalcence
which compose the main body of moths proper, or second
grand division of Lepidopterous insects. Among these, the
night-fliers (holding a reverse proportion to those amongst the
feathered race) far exceed in number, not only the evening
flitters of their own division, but also the “painted populace”
which sip honey in open day.

To sixty species of British butterfly, Kirby tells us of one
thousand of moth ; and in all countries moths are considered to
be infinitely more numerous than butterflies, though the foreign
specimens in cabinets are comparatively few. Independent
of their usual time of flight, the nocturnal are distinguished
from the twilight moths, by the shape of their antennae,
which, instead of enlarging gradually towards the end (as in
“hawks”) or ending in a club (as in butterflies), diminish
in thickness from base to apex, and are generally long, flexi-
ble, and often toothed, or resembling feathers.

Now for our select few amongst the numerous night-fliers.

GREAT GOAT MOTH.

818

But how to choose out of such a phalanx? That is the
question ; and suppose — taking a cursory review of it, with
reference to size , colour , and form — we note a few individuals
among the most distinguished for either attribute.

For size , we may give priority to the Great Goat Moth/ of
whose bulky body and dusky wings, of from three to four
inches of expansion, we are not unlikely to catch a glimpse
by the light of this August moon. This is the great Cossus,
of whose proceedings as a carpenter caterpillar we have
already given some description,* leaving but little to be said
of him here, except that he is wont, about July, or early in
the present month, to emerge from his wooden cell, in the
heart of oak or willow, in the winged form of perfection,
which has taken four years to complete, but which now, in
fewer weeks, will cease to exist !

“ And no great loss either, this dingy insect owl, to the
world of grace and beauty !” might some, perhaps, be ready to
exclaim, on seeing a specimen of the Great Goat Moth. But
differing, with all courtesy, from the taste which can discern
no beauty save in varied colours, we must be allowed to ex-
press, for ourselves, no little admiration of the sober painting
— the silvery or ashy gray, clouded with brown and striated
with black, which, not unlike the plumage of some veritable
owls, adorns the plain-cut pinions of this “ owlish ” moth.

But come, ye lovers of the brilliant ! we can now bring

* See “ Moths as Operatives.1

314

THE EMPEROR MOTH.

before your notice a night-flier, worthy, you must allow, to
compete with the gaudier butterflies of day. This is none
other than the Emperor Moth, a right royal insect, arrayed in
royal purple. A shade of gray, in unison with his nocturnal
character, forms indeed the groundwork of his wings ; but
these are enlivened by white bands, contrasted with others of
dark brown, and tinged, and waved, and tipped with purple,
while from the centre of each looks out a large eye (ocellus),
conspicuous in its white iris and black pupil. Though in re-
spect of size inferior to the u Great Goat,” the Emperor can
boast his inches , — in his own wings two and a half’s expansion,
— in those of his empress, nearly three ; though these truly are
nothing compared to the inches (eight or ten !) displayed by
the “ Atlas Moth ” of South America and China ; a giant be-
longing to the same family as our Emperor and the “Peacock ”
of Southern Europe. Having described already, in a more
proper place, the ingenious labours of a certain flask-making
weaver,* we have only here to remind our readers that this
king of his craft is none other than the caterpillar of our Em-
peror Moth. Whensoever they may be so lucky as to find
him (most likely on a willow or a blackthorn), they may at
once recognise him by his handsome green doublet, banded
with black, and studded with pink, hairy, star-like tubercles,
— badges of distinction, which mark, even in his meanest
state, this moth-monarch of the night.

* See “Moths as Operatives.”

TIGER MOTHS.

315

In accordance with that beautiful harmony prevalent
throughout the works of nature, the general colouring of
moths, both of evening and night, is of that subdued tone
which, like night-blowing flowers — the “ Flores tristes colore et
odore ” — seems to correspond best with the hours of their ap-
pearance. This usual absence of brilliant tints is, as we have
already exemplified, amply atoned for by the soft, richly-
blended shading, and exquisitely pencilled variety of pattern,
which render the wings of moths perfect bijoux of natural
mosaic; but there are not wanting among them scattered
specimens painted in another style — in bright and glowing
colours, laid on in broad effective masses. Of this we have a
ready example in one of the commonest, yet withal hand-
somest of our night-fliers, yclept “ the Tiger the rich em-
blazonment of whose ample pinions has been likened by no
mean poet to that of an ancient window :

“ All diamonded with panes of quaint device,

Innumerable of stains, and splendid dyes,

As are the Tiger Moth’s deep damask wings.”*

The prevailing hues of this beautiful genus are black, crim-
son, and yellow, or cream-colour, disposed elegantly in spots
and bars. The most common of several species is the “ Great
Tiger, found in all parts of Britain from June to August.
Its foremost wings are of rich dark brown, varied by zigzag
bars of cream colour; the hinder, of brilliant scarlet with

* Keats.

+ Arctiacaja.

316

MOTHS OF GAY COLOURING.

black spots, surrounded mostly by a yellow circlet, tbe body
being also scarlet barred with black.

The Tiger caterpillar, seen more frequently even than the
moth, and sometimes in winter as well as summer, has a black
velvety skin, covered with long brown-tipped hairs, proceed-
ing from white tubercles. It is a feeder on dandelion, lettuce,
and other salad plants, and, from its habit, when touched, of
rolling round (an innocent measure of self-defence), has ac-
quired the misnomer of Devil’s Ring.*

A few among other very differing night-fliers are distin-
guished by gay colouring. There is the beautiful Red Under-
wing, the Yellow Brimstone , the little bright Green Moths of
the Oak , and the more splendid 11 Emerald'1' of the elm and
lime ; with many conspicuous in the gloom from their robes
of white. And there wants not gilding and lacquering, as
well as painting, in the blazonry of moth “ standards,” as in
the “Y” so called from that character inscribed in gold or
silver on its wings, and in the u Burnished Brass f a name de-
rived from its metallic yellow lustre. The two last, though
classed among those composing the nocturnal division of their
tribe, are frequently, as well as some others, to be seen

“floating amid the liquid noon.”

The “ Y” especially, may be noticed now and on through
October, suspended vibrating on wing; while it sips, after

* Vignette to “Life in Death,” vol. i.

MOTHS OF LEAF-MINERS.

317

hawk-moth fashion, the sweets of various flowers; those, in
particular, of its favourite Knapweed .*

We must reserve for another place some notice more in
detail of the exquisite painting and gilding bestowed by
Nature’s hand upon various gems of the insect race ; but
while speaking of moths with reference to remarkable colour-
ing or remarkable size, we cannot here entirely pass over that
tiny tribe which begin life as leaf-mining caterpillars, f These
have been justly designated as “Miracles of Nature,” resplen-
dent with gold, silver, and pearl blended with infinite taste
and beauty, and it is of these that Keaumur has spoken as of
u Papillons de la petitesse desquels on est fa, dies .”

Yes, we regret their minuteness, because our own capacities
are so little, and our senses so limited. We may be inclined
to wonder, also, that so much ornament should be lavished
upon forms well-nigh lost (to us) for want of magnitude ; but
when we remember that He to whom the immeasurable mass
and the invisible atom are both alike, has seen fit to bestow

well-nigh as large a portion of a gift more precious, that of in-

\

stinct, or “animal mindf upon an ant as upon an elephant,
we can wonder no longer that the wing of the tiniest moth
that ever issued from between the membranes of a leaf or the
skin of a barleycorn, should be deemed worthy of an inlay as
beautiful and more rich than that of the comparatively giant
Death’s-head, or yet bulkier Phaloena Atlas.

Phrygia, mgra.

t See p. 228, “Moths as Operatives.”

318

OAK LAPPET.

Having said as much of our night-fliers, with reference to
peculiarities of size and colour , as our prescribed limits will
permit, we shall now notice a few of them distinguished
especially with regard to form. Amongst the latter is the
moth called the Oak Lappet,* already made known to our
readers as a “ Walking Leaf ” — the only specimen of British
growth ; and the very image of a a feuille mortef or, more
properly, of several dead leaves together, does it present, in
its large wings of rusty brown, deeply indented, and project-
ing, the hindmost beyond the foremost pair.f

These moths are further remarkable for corporations of most
portly dimensions, especially in the female, from whence their
scientific name of Gastropacha , — signifying, thick bodies.
Their caterpillars are dusky gray or brown, with two velvety
blue spots or slits behind the head, and along each side is a
row of pendulous projections, which, from their fancied re-
semblance to lappets, gave rise to the popular name of u Lap-
pet Moth.” It is found, as a caterpillar, on various grasses,
the sloe, pear, willow, bramble, and hawthorn — survives the
winter, enters in May the chrysalidan cover, and thence ex-
pands about mid-summer a mimic leaf of autumn.

In the majority of moths the hinder wings are rounded ;
but in the u Swallow-tail ” we meet with a remarkable devi-
ation from this usual form — the hindmost pinions being pro-
longed, as well as the foremost, into an acute tail.

* Gastropacha querdfolia. * Vignette to “Resemblance and Relation.”

SWALLOW-TAIL.

819

Commencing its nocturnal rambles before the usual con-
clusion of our evening walks, the delicate sulphur-coloured
pinions of this pretty insect often flit past us in the June and
July twilights ; when, in accordance with a comparison already
suggested, we might fancy it an evening primrose on the
wing. We have noted also its earlier and certainly much
closer resemblance to a vegetable form, while yet in the shape
of a “ walking -branch” caterpillar of the elder, whereon, in the
month of May, it is often to be found, either as a brown stick,
or as a brown chrysalis, enclosed elegantly and curiously in a
cradle of leaves, wherein it hangs suspended like the nests of
certain foreign birds.*

The wing of the moth, as of the butterfly, generally owes
its beauty to the rich mosaic of minute scales or feathers by
which it is overlaid, entirely, as it would seem, by way of
ornament ; for the creature can use its pinions when reduced
to transparent membranes, as well as other insects, or a few
of its own tribe in which they are naturally clear. Its pro-
gress through the air is no more impeded by the rough hand-
ling of wantonness or weather, than the flight of true genius
by the rough rubs of fortune, however they may strip its soar-
ing energies of the variegated trappings of worldly splendour.
* There exists, however, a singular and beautiful family of
moths, called the “ Plumed,” to which the above remark is
by no means applicable— the wing feathers of this tribe being

* Vignette to “Moths as Operatives.”

320

PLUMED MOTHS.

as essential to flight, and serving as much to form its organ,
as those in the pinions of the feathered race.

Who has not noticed, in gardens and by hedge-rows, float-
ing towards evening in the summer, an object resembling a
large tuft of down, or a snow-flake dropped (a marvel !) from
a summer cloud ? When followed to its place of settlement
(usually some plant or lowly shrub) this questionable wanderer
will prove one of the moths just mentioned, — that, probably,
designated the “ Large White Plume a little creature (large
only by comparison) with wings consisting each of a single
row of long quilled feathers of spotless white and silken gloss,
the delicate body and slender legs being of the same unsullied
hue, contrasted only by large black eyes. This fairy moth,
than which few more elegant and graceful flit beneath the
moon, comes of a greenish white, dusky-spotted caterpillar,
common on the nettles of every hedge ; and the 11 White
Plume ” has a cousin, less fair and less in size, but not less
beautiful than herself, yclept the “ Twenty Plume, ”f from the
number of separate feathers of which her variegated brown
pinions are composed.

Though of course less conspicuous than the former, the
latter is even more easily and frequently to be met with ; for,
as if inviting the admiration she so well deserves, this beau-
tiful little flutterer often enters our dwellings, and spreads her
feather -fans for our inspection as she dances in the window —

* Pterophorus pentadactylus.

f Alucita hexadactyla.

CLEAR-WINGED MOTHS.

321

a place of shelter to which she often resorts from the bleak
winds of March, or the early frosts of late October ; for our
little “ Twenty Plume,” fragile as she looks, is no mere bird
of summer.

Having made allusion to certain moths wherein are altoge-
ther wanting those merely ornamental appendages, the colour-
ed scales or feathers which usually clothe the wings of their
tribe, we must say a little more about them ; though that little
will here be somewhat out of place, inasmuch as the few
“ clear- winged ” belong more nearly, by habits and other affin-
ities, to the Hawk and Twilight Moths first discoursed of,
than to the nocturnal division from which our subjects have
been subsequently drawn.

Towards the end of May there may be seen, sipping honey
on the wing, (chiefly, however, in the woods and gardens of
Surrey, Kent, and Essex), an insect with a short, robust, yel-
lowish-olive body, not very dissimilar to that of a drone bee,
except that it is distinguished by some terminating rings of
deep red, finished at the extremity by a black and yellow tuft.
From its clear, transparent, brown-bordered wings, none but
the 11 initiate ” would take it for other than a curious sort of
fly or bee, whereas it is in fact the 11 Bee Hawk-moth,”* one of
those above alluded to. Of another family, f but resembling
the last in naked transparency of pinion, there is the u Bee
Clear -wing ,” which, in the heat of noonday, is accustomed to

* Sesiafusiformis. f That of JEgeridw.

322

WINGLESS MOTHS.

flit rapidly from flower to flower, alighting on their corollas to
extract their sweets.

From moths with wings painted in mosaic, wings of
feathers, and wings naked, we come lastly to moths without
any wings at all.

Wingless moths! Yes, such there are; but all, like that
wingless beetle called the glow-worm, to be found among the
females of their race. Of these, a few cannot boast even the
vestige of a pinion, and only mere apologies for such appen-
dages are given in the instance by which, as one of the most
common, we shall illustrate this somewhat niggardly vagary
of Dame Nature.

There is a certain moth, classed among the nocturnal, but
often to be seen abroad in August sunshine — an active, rest-
less, prying little fellow, who can boast, besides a single pair
of horns or antennae magnificently feathered, a double pair of
bright brown wings, the foremost dotted each with a spot of
white, and of as ample dimensions as any reasonable little moth
need desire. This gay, sunshiny “ nocturnal ” is called the
“ Vajoourer but, if we may be allowed a pun upon his name,
it is his lady to whom the malady of vapours might seem the
most likely to be incidental, seeing that while her mate is
taking his winged pleasure abroad, she (poor soul !) is com-
pelled to sit at home, or just creep about its precincts, because
she has not a single wing to fly with. In truth, a strange,

* Orgyia antiqua.

A PARADOXICAL PENCHANT.

323

homely-looking creature for a moth is this Lady Yapourer,
with her great heavy brown body, making her seem all body
and nothing else ; for not only wings, but even head, horns,
legs — each of which are of the smallest possible dimensions —
seem sacrificed to the formation of that bulky corporation — a
perfect sackfull of eggs, which are actually discernible through
the skin.* How this most matronly insect (being from her
earliest moth-hood thus a stay-at-home) is accustomed to de-
posit these her eggs upon the silk cocoon, which, after having
shrouded herself, becomes a warm winter cradle for her
embryo offspring ; how the latter, in due season, grow up into
handsome tufted caterpillars ; — these, and perhaps a few other
particulars, which concern the domestic economy of the “Ya-
pourer,” have they not been already written in our brief
Chronicles of the Moths of England? These we must, for
the present, bring to a close by a few random and general
observations.

In a creature shunning usually the light of day, it would
seem a strange infatuation to be lured by the glare of a taper
to its own destruction ; and wherein consists, to a misguided
moth, the charm of light, remains, we believe, somewhat of
a mystery, though the doubt is not destitute of at least
conjectural elucidation. It has been discovered that many
moths carry about with them lights of their own, being fur-
nished, like grimalkin and her night-prowling cousins of the

* See vignette for figures of the “ Yapourer,” male and female.

324

TAPER-BEARING MOTHS.

wood and wild, with “ een of burning coal ” — luminous eyes,
which either serve as travelling lamps in their nocturnal
flights, or are intended for the purpose of hero torches or
lights of love. The latter is the general supposition ; but in
this case they might be expected to belong more peculiarly (as
with the glow-worm) to such wingless females as the “ Lady
Yapourer ” above noted, or to the winged ones, which are, for
the most part, of a scarcely less stay-at-home character;
whereas it has been observed,* that the candle-light sufferers
(many of them taper-bearers) are generally of the opposite sex.

But for whatever purpose they may be bestowed, the fre-
quent possession by moths of these tiny sparks, and probable
perception of them in one another, may fairly account for
light, artificial, and on a scale of such comparative magnifi-
cence as that of a wax taper, or even a farthing dip, being an
attractive object to the bamboozled instinct of our nocturnal
fliers. Yet why, then, are gnats and that large Tipula known
as Father Longlegs, tempted so often by the like allurements
to the like act of involuntary self-destruction ? In truth, we
cannot say ; so, leaving conjecture as to the uses and the con-
sequences of possessing eyes of light , we shall only add, that
among the moths by which they are possessed, are the a Con-
volvulus Hawk,” the “ Great Goat,” the “ Golden Tail,” and
the “ Y although the latter, as we have noticed, flies mostly
in the sunshine.

* By Reaumur.

MOTHS AS SLEEPERS.

325

Those who are in the habit of ever thinking at all about
things not present to their sight, may sometimes wonder what
has become, in broad daylight, of the numerous moths which
they may have seen flitting in the warm twilight of the evening
before. A good number of them will never so flit again
(unless in the shape of ghosts), because, in fulfilment of their
being’s end, their bodies have served to pack the craw of some
rapacious dorhawk, or bat, or fern-owl; but the more for-
tunate survivors — making to themselves a night in noon-day—
are to be found on the gloomy north of trunks of trees, or
beneath their leafy coverts, enwrapped in what appears to us
like slumber; — their wings overlapping, — very rarely, like
the butterfly’s, erectly folded ; their antennae curiously curled.
Sometimes, as if in veritable sleep, they will fall from their
green couches like a shower of blossoms, when the bow they
occupy is shaken. Of this the little green moths of the oak
have been adduced as a familiar instance ; but others, as
though their open-eyed repose were lighter or more fictitious
than any cattish slumber, will fly off alert and active on the
flutter of a bird, the sound of a foot-fall, or the rustle
of a leaf.

With regard to one habit, that of feeding, our faineant
flutterers widely differ. We have given a notion of the
luxurious labours, in this way, of the honey-sipping “ hawks”
and sphinxes ; and we have seen a Y moth suck sugar for two
hours on a stretch, dissolving it from the lump by a liquid let

826

MOTHS AS FEEDERS.

down through the tubular pipe wherewith he drew it up in
syrup. Reaumur speaks of others which regaled on sweets
from off his finger, “ comme aurait pu faire un oiseau prive.”

To many, on the contrary, of the moth fraternity, eating
would seem a thing not only undesired, but absolutely for-
bidden, by the absence of any perceptible organ wherewith
to eat. It is thus, amongst others, with the “ Great Goat,”
the “ Emperor,” and the moth of the silk- worm, which latter,
besides having no tongue to use, seldom takes the trouble to
employ its wings.

Thus is the most noted and useful of all “Moth Opera-
tives,” of all “ Moth Idlers” one of the most pre-eminently
lazy.

I

s