CHAPTER V

OF INSECTS

There remains only the lowest order of animals, usually termed INSECTS, because they have an incision, as it were, which in a manner cuts them in two parts. Of these I would speak the more largely, because generally they are little known.

Rather they are despised, and purposely passed over, as unwor­thy of our consideration. And yet it is certain, the wisdom of the great Creator does most conspicuously shine in them.

I. As to the shape of their bodies, though it be somewhat different from that of birds, being for the most part not so sharp before, to cut and make way through the air, yet it is better adapted to their manner of life. For, considering they have little need of long flights, and that the strength and activity of their wings, far surpass the resistance they meet with from the air, there was no occasion for their bodies to be so sharpened. But the nature of their food, the manner of gathering it, and the great necessity they have of accurate Vision, and large eyes in order thereto, required the largeness õf the head, and its amplitude before the rest of the body is all well made, and nicely poised for their flight and other occasions.

The make of their bodies is no less admirable: not built throughout with bones, covered over with flesh, and then with skin, as in most other animals: but clothed with a curious mail of a middle nature, serving both as a skin and bone too; as it were on purpose to shew, that. the great Contriver of nature is not bound up to one way only.

How admirably are the legs and wings fitted for their intended service? Not to overload the body nor to retard it, but give it the most proper and convenient motion. What, for example, can be better contrived for this service than the wings? Distended and strengthened by the finest bones; and these covered with the’ finest and lightest membranes; and many of them provided with the finest articulations, and foldings, in order to be laid up in their cases, when they do not use them; and yet always ready to be extended for flight.

2. The structure of the EYE is in all creatures an admirable piece of mechanism. But this is peculiarly observable in that of an insect. Its hardness is an excellent guard against external injuries: and its outer coat is all over beset with curious, trans­parent inlets, enabling it to see every way, without any loss of time, or trouble to move the eye.

And their feelers, besides their use in cleaning the eyes, are a good guard to them in their walk or flight, enabling them by the sense of feeling to discover annoyances, which, by their nearness, might escape the sight.

The eye of a fly is in truth an assemblage of multitudes, often many thousands of small eyes. Nature has given each fly two large reticular eyes, that are covered with a kind of network. And as each contains such a multitude of smaller eyes, one would imagine this might suffice. Yet some flies have four reticular eyes; the two smaller are placed as usual, the two larger are behind the other, on the upper part of the head.

In different species the reticular eyes are of different colours. Some are brown, some yellow, green, red, and this in all the different shades of those colours. And some have the. gloss of metals highly polished,

But, besides these, many species of flies have a sort of eyes, which are not ‘reticular, but of a perfectly Smooth and even sur­face, and far’ smaller than the reticular. Three of these are on the back of the head of vast numbers, which are triangularly placed. Some have more, and some have less than three. Gnats have none of them- Their heads are in a manner covered with their reticular eyes, so as to leave no room or occasion for smooth ones.

Nor are these smooth eyes peculiar to flies. Other insects also have them: the grasshopper in particular has two, which are placed near the nose.

3. The species of insects are almost innumerable. All of these, some suppose to have no heart, as they have no sensible heat, none that can be perceived either by the touch, or by any other experi­ment. But this is a mistake. Many indeed have not such a heart as other animals have: but all have something analogous to it, something that answers the same purpose.

Some likewise have thought, that insects have no respira­tion. But later experiments shew, that there is no species of them which have not lungs, and these larger in proportion than other animals. In most of them they lie on or near the surface of the body. And hence it is, that if flies are besmeared with oil, or any other unctuous matter, they die in a short time, their respiration being stopt, so that they are properly suffocated.

4. Some also imagined, that insects were generated out of mere putrefaction, because they observed worms come out of putrified flesh, which afterwards turned to flies. But it is certain, if putrifying flesh be shut up close, no worms are ever generated from it. Hence we learn, that flies lay their eggs in flesh, which hatch when it putrifies: so that the animal just comes to life when its food is ready for it. All insects lay their eggs, where there is heat enough to hatch them, and proper food as soon as they are hatched. Those whose food is in the water, lay their eggs in the water: those to whom flesh is a proper food, in flesh those to whom the fruits or leaves of vegetables are food, are deposited on the proper fruits or leaves. And constantly the same kind is found on the same fruit or plant. Those that require more warmth, are lodged by the parent, in or near the body of some animal. And as for those to whom none of these methods are proper, the parents make their nests by perforations in the earth, in wood, in ‘combs: carrying in and sealing up provisions, that serve both to produce the young, and to feed them when pro­duced.

The eggs of all insects become worms, commonly called nymphæ. They are next changed into aurelia, so called, enclosed in a case; and these dying, a fly or butterfly succeeds.

Some aurelia shine like polished gold. From the beautiful and resplendent colour, some authors have called it a chrysalis, implying a creature made of gold. This brilliant hue, which does. not fall short of the best gilding, is formed in the same manner in which we see leather obtain a gold colour; though none of. that metal ever enters into’ the tincture. It’ is only formed by a brown varnish laid upon a white ground; and time light thus gleam­ing through the transparency of the brown, gives a charming golden yellow. These two colours are found one over the other in the aurelia, and the whole appears gilded, without any real gilding.

To trace these wonderful changes a little, In one kind of insects.

A SILK-WORM, from a small egg, becomes a worm of the cater pillar kind, and feeds on mulberry leaves, till it comes to maturity.

Then it’ winds itself up into a silken case, about the size and shape of a pigeon’s egg, and is metamorphosed into an aurelia, in which state it has no motion or sign of life: till at length it awakes, breaks through its silken sepulchre, and appears a butterfly.

As soon as the silk-worm has strength, he makes his web, a slight tissue, which is the ground of this admirable work. This is his first day’s employ. On the second, .he covers himself almost over with silk. The third, he is quite hid. The following days he employs in thickening his ball, always working from one single end so fine a thread, that those who have examined it, affirm it would reach six miles.

The SILK-SPIDER makes a thread, every whit as strong, glossy, and beautiful as the silk-worm. It spins from seven nipples. These, as so many wire-drawing irons, draw out a viscous liquor, which gradually dries in the air and becomes silk.*

Each of these nipples contain many smaller nipples, invisible to the naked eye; through the several perforations, whereof, numberless finer threads are drawn. Before the spiders begin to spin, they apply more or fewer of the large nipples to the body whence the web is begun. And as they apply them more or less strongly, more or fewer of the smaller nipples come to touch: and accordingly the whole thread will be compounded of more or fewer single threads. One compound thread frequently consists of fifteen or sixteen single ones.

Their threads are of two kinds: one serves only for the web with which they catch flies. The other is much thicker and stronger, in which they wrap up their eggs, in order to shelter them from the cold, as well as from devouring insects. These threads they wind loosely round, resembling the balls of silk­worms that have been loosened for the distaff.

* All boneless insects are hermaphrodites, as are snails, leeches and many sorts of worms. But such worms as become flies are not, being indeed of no sex.

The balls are gray at first, but turn blackish when long exposed to the air. From these balls a silk Is made, nothing inferior to the common silk; It takes all kinds of dyes, and may be made into all kinds of stuffs. Only there is a difficulty in keeping the spiders: for they are so extremely quarrelsome, that if a hundred of them. be put together, in a few hours scarce twenty will be alive.

5. Amazing wisdom is displayed In the make of the common spider. She has six teats, each furnished with innumerable holes. The tip of each ‘teat is divided into numberless little prominences, which serve to keep the threads apart at the- first exit, till they are hardened by the air. In every teat, threads may come out at above a thousand’ holes. But they are formed at a considerable distance, each of them having a little sheath, in which it is brought to the hole. In the belly are two little soft bodies, which are the first source of the silk. In shape and transparency they resemble glass beads, and the tip of each goes winding toward the teat. From the root of each bead proceeds another branch much thicker, which also winds towards the same part. In these beads and their branches is contained the matter of which the silk is formed, the body of the bead being a kind of reservoir; the two branching canals proceeding from it.

It was before observed, that the tip of each teat. may give passage to above a thousand threads, And yet the size of the teat in the largest spider does not exceed a small pin’s head. But the smallest spiders no sooner quit their eggs than they begin to spin. Indeed their threads can scarce be perceived, but the web formed thereof is as thick and close as any. And no wonder, as four or five hundred little spiders often concur’ in the same work. How minute are their teats! When perhaps the whole spider is less than the teat of its parent. Each parent lays four or five hundred eggs, all wrapt up in a bag. And as soon as the young ones have broken through the bag, they begin to spin.

And even this is not the utmost which nature does. There are some kinds of spiders so small, as not to be discerned without a microscope. And yet there are webs found under them! What must be the fineness of these threads! To one of these the finest hair is as a cat rope.

There are several species of spiders that fly, and that to a sur­prising height. “ The last October,” says an eminent writer, “ I took notice that the air was very full of webs. I forthwith mounted to the top, of the highest steeple on the minister (in York) and could thence discern them yet exceeding high above me. Some of the spiders that fell upon the pinnacles I took, arid found them to be of a kind, which seldom or never enter houses, and cannot be supposed to have taken their’ Right from the steeple."

There are divers animals as well as spiders, that have some way of conveyance, utterly unknown to us. Thus the animals on the standing waters, so numerous as often to discolour them, and tinge them red, yellow or green. That these have some way of conveyance is certain, because not only most stagnated waters are stocked with them, yea, not only new pits and ponds, but even holes and gutters on the top of houses, churches and steeples. That they have not legs for travelling so far, is manifest; it is therefore probable, either that they dart out webs, and can make themselves buoyant and lighter than the air: or that their bodies are naturally lighter than air, and so they can swim from place to place. it is highly probable, that the eggs of such as are oviparous may be light enough to float therein.

To trace this matter farther: every one must have observed threads floating in the air; but few consider what end they serve.’ They are the works of spiders. Their usual method. is, to let down a thread, and then draw it after them. But in the midst of this work they sometimes desist; and turning their tail according to the wind, emit a thread with as great violence, as a jet of water discharged from a cock. Thus they continue darting it out, which the wind carries forward, till it is many yards long. Soon after, the spider throws herself off from her web, and trusting herself to the air, with this long tail, will ascend swift, and to a great height with it. These lines, which the spiders attach to them, though unobserved, make these air-threads, that waft them along the air, and enable them to prey on many insects, which they could not reach by any other means.

All spiders that spin, young as well as old, cast out their threads, and sail thereby in the air. And the threads themselves shew the use thereof, being usually hung with the fragments of devoured animals.

When the threads are newly spun, they are always single, and are generally seen ascending higher and higher. But when they are seen coming, down, they are sometimes composed of three or four, and either without any spider or with several. It is plain this happens from the threads meeting and entangling in the air, which of course brings them down.

It is common to see a spider mount to the topmost branch of a bush, and from thence dart out several threads one after another, trying, as it were, how she likes them. When she has darted one several yards, she will of a sudden draw it up again, and wind it into a link with her fore-feet, but more frequently break it off, and let it go. A spider will sometimes dart out and break off many threads, before it spins one that it will trust to. But at length she spins one to her liking, and commits herself to the air upon it.

The business of feeding is not all the use of these threads; but they evidently sport and entertain themselves by means of them, floating to and fro in the air, and changing their’ height at pleasure.

These air-threads are not only found in autumn, but even in the depth of winter. The serene days at Christmas bring out many: but they are Only short and slender, being the Work of young spiders, hatched in autumn, and are thrown out as it seems only in sport. The thicker ones of autumn are the only ones intended to support the old spiders, when there is plenty of small flies in the air, which make it worth their while to sail among them.

6. The TARANTULA is a kind of spider, chiefly found near the city of Tarentum, in Apulia. It is about the size of an acorn, and has eight eyes and eight feet. Its skin is hairy; from its mouth rise two trunks, a little crooked and exceeding sharp. Through these it conveys its poison’: they seem likewise to be a kind of moveable nostrils, being in continual motion, especially ‘when it is seeking its food. It is found in other parts of Italy, but is dangerous only in Apulia. And there it does little hurt in the mountains, which are cooler, but chiefly on the plains. Indeed it is not venomous, but in the heat of summer, particularly in the dog days. It is then so enraged as to fly upon any that ‘comes within its reach.,,

The bite causes a pain, like that of the stinging of a bee. Jim a few hours the patient feels a numbness, and the part is marked with a strong livid circle, which soon rises into a painful tumour. A little after he falls into a deep sadness, breathes with much difficulty, his pulse grows feeble and his senses dull. At length he looses all sense and motion and dies, unless speedily relieved. An aversion to blue and black, and an affection for white, red and green, are other unaccountable symptoms of its disorder

There is no remedy but one. While he lies senseless and motionless, a musician plays several tunes. When lie hits on the right, the patient immediately begins to make a faint motion. His fingers first move in cadence, then his feet; then his legs, and by degrees his whole body. At length he rises on his feet, and begins to dance, which some will do for six hours without intermission. After this he is put to bed, and when his strength is recruited, is called up by the same tune to a second dance.

This is continued for six or seven days at least, till he is so weak, that he can dance no longer. This is the sign of his being cured; for if the poison acted still, he would dance till he dropt down dead. When he is thoroughly tired he awakes as out of sleep, without remembering any thing that is past. And some­times he is totally cured; but if not, he finds a melancholy gloom, shuns men, seeks water, and if not carefully watched, often leaps into a river. In some the disorder returns that the twelvemonth, perhaps for twenty or thirty years. And each time it is removed as at first.

Equally unaccountable are the two relations published some years since, by a physician of undoubted credit. The first is, a gentleman was seized with a violent fever, attended with a delirium. On the third day he begged to hear a little concert in his chamber. It was with great difficulty the physician consented. From the first tune, his face assumed a serene air, his eyes were no longer wild, and the convulsions ceased. He was free from the fever during the concert; hut when that was ended, it returned. The remedy was repeated, and both the delirium and fever always ceased during the concerts, In ten days, music wrought an entire cure, and he relapsed no more.

The other case is that of a dancing master, who, ‘through fatigue, fell into a violent fever. On the fourth or fifth, day he was seized with a lethargy, which after some time changed into a furious delirium. He threatened all that were present, and obstinately refused all the medicines that ‘were offered him.. One of them saying, that perhaps music, might a little compose his imagination; a friend of his took up his violin, and began to play on it. The patient started up in his bed, like one agreeably surprised, and shewed by iris head (his arms being held) the pleasure he felt Those who held his arms, finding the effects of the violin, loosened their hold, and let him move them, according to the tunes. In about a quarter of an hour, he fell into a deep sleep. When he awoke he was out of all danger.

We have many other odd accounts of the power of music; and it must not be denied, but that on some particular occasions, musical sounds may have a very powerful effect. I have seen all the horses and cows in a field, where there were above a hundred, gather round a person that was blowing a French horn, and seeming to testify an awkward kind of satisfaction. Dogs are well known to be very sensible of different tones in music; and I have sometimes heard them sustain a very ridiculous part in a concert.

The great old lion which was some years since kept at the infirmary in Edinburgh, while he was roaring with the utmost fierceness, no sooner heard a bag-pipe, than all his fierceness ceased. lie laid his ear close to the front of the den, nibbled his nose and his teeth against the end of his pipe, and then rolled upon his back for very glee. I have seen a German flute have the same effect on an old lion and a young tyger in the tower of London.

7. There is found in America a kind of spider more mischiev­ous than even the tarantula, chiefly in the vallies of Neyba, and others within the jurisdiction of Popayon. It is called a COYA. It is much less than a bug, and is of a fiery red colour. It is found in the corners of walls and among the herbage. On squeezing it, if any moisture from it falls on the skin of either man or beast, it immediately penetrates the flesh, and causes large tumours, which are soon followed by death.

The only remedy is, on the first appearance of a swelling, to singe the person all over with a flame of straw, or of the long grass growing on those plains. This the Indians perform with great dexterity, some holding him by the feet, others by the hands.

Travellers here are warned by their Indian guides, if they feel any thing crawl on their neck or face, not even to lift their hand, the coya being so delicate a texture, that it would immediately burst. But let them tell the Indian what they feel, and he comes and blows it away.

The beasts which feed there, are taught by instinct, before they touch the herbage with their lips, to blow on it with all their force, in order to clear it of these pernicious vermin. And when their smell informs them, that a coya’s nest is near, they immediately leap and run to some other part. Yet sometimes a mule, after all his care, has taken in a coya with his pasture. In this case after swelling to a frightful degree, it expires upon the spot.’ Thus does even the irrational creation “ groan and travail in pain together,” until it shall be “ delivered into the glorious liberty of the children of God !“

Mention was made of the extreme smallness of some spiders.. But how much smaller are those ANIMALCULA, discerned by the microscope? These are in almost all water. Even in that wherein the best glasses can discover no particles of animated matter, after a few grains of pepper, or a small fragment of a plant of almost any kind, has been sometime in it, animals full of life are produced, and so numerous as to equal the fluid itself in quantity.

A small quantity of water taken from any ditch in summer, is found to abound with just such creatures, only larger. Nay any water, set in open vessels in the summer months, will, after a few days, yield multitudes of them.

These we know by their’ future changes are the FLY-WORMS of GNATS, and several other sorts of flies. And we easily judge, they owe their origin to the eggs of the parent-fly, there depo­sited. No doubt then but the air abounds with other animalcula, as minute as the worms in these fluids. And these are the flying-worms of these animalcula, which after a proper time spent in that state, will become flies like those to which they owe their origin.

The waters in which different liquors are infused afford a pro­per matter for the worms of different species of flies. And some of these doubtless are viviparous, others oviparous. This may occasion the different time taken up for producing insects in dif­ferent fluids. Those proper for the worms of a viviparous fly, will be soonest full of them: whereas a longer time is required to hatch the eggs of the oviparous.

Now, every animalcule being an organized body, how delicate must the parts be that are necessary to make it such, and to pre­serve its vital actions? It is hard to conceive how, in so narrow a compass, there is a heart, to be the fountain of life, muscles necessary for its motion, glands to secrete its fluids, stomach and bowels to digest its food, and other innumerable parts, without which an animal cannot subsist, And every one of these must have fibres, membranes, coats, veins, arteries, nerves, and an infi­nite number of tubes, whose smallness exceeds all efforts of imagination. And yet there are parts that must be infinitely smaller than these, namely the fluids that move through them, the blood, lymph and animal spirits, whose subtilty, even in large animals, is incredible.

As to some of the animalcules observed by Lewenhoeck, he computed, that three or four hundred of them placed close together in a line, would only equal the diameter of a grain of sand. Twenty-seven millions then of these’ animals equal in bulk a grain of sand.

But Hartsoeker carries the matter still farther. If, says he, according to our’ present system of generation, all animals were formed from the beginning of the world, and enclosed one within another, and all of them in the first animal of each species: how minute must the animalcula produced now, have been at the beginning?

9. Even the meanest and most contemptible of insects, skews the wisdom of its Creator. FLEAS, for instance, deposite their eggs only on such animals, as afford them a proper food. These hatch into worms of a shining pearl-colour, which feed on the scurf of the cuticle. In a fortnight they are very active, and if disturbed, suddenly roll themselves into a ball. Soon after they begin to creep, with a very swift motion. When arrived at their full size, they spin a thread out of their mouth, wherewith they form them­selves a case. After a fortnight’s rest here, each of them bursts a perfect flea, leaving its exuviæ behind. It is milk-white till the second day before its eruption; then it changes colour and gets strength, so that upon its first delivery, it springs nimbly away.

Minute animals are found proportionably much stronger and more active than large ones. The spring of a flea in its leap vastly exceeds any thing greater animals are capable of. Mr. De Lisle has computed the velocity of a little creature, which ran three inches in half a second. Now supposing its feet to be the fifteenth part of a line, it must then, in order to travel over such a space in such a time, make five hundred steps in the space of three inches; that is, it must shift its feet five hundred times in a second, or in the ordinary pulsation of an artery. What is the motion of any large animal, in comparison of this? Or what is the swiftness of a greyhound or a race-horse, to that of such an animalcule?

The body of a flea appears, by a microscope, to be all over curiously adorned with a suit of polished sable armour, neatly jointed, and beset with multitudes of sharp pins. It has six legs, the joints of which are so adapted, that it can fold them up one within another; and when it leaps, they all spring out at once, whereby its whole strength is exerted, and the body raised above two hundred times its own diameter.

10. A LOUSE also affords to our observation, a very delicate structure of parts. It is divided into the head, the breast, and the tail. In the head appear two fine black eyes, with a horn that has five joints and is surrounded with hairs, standing before each eye. From the nose projects in a sheath the piercer or sucker, which it thrusts into the skin. This is judged to be seven hun­dred times finer than a hair. It has no other mouth than this.

The skin of the breast is transparent, and from the under part of it proceed six legs, each having five joints; each leg is termi­nated by two claws, which it’ uses as we would a thumb and middle finger.

If one of them, when hungry, be placed on the back of the hand, it will thrust its sucker into the skin, and the blood it sucks may be seen passing in a fine stream to the fore-part of the head. Falling into a roundish cavity there, it passes on to another recep­tacle in the middle of the head. Thence it runs to the breast, and then to a gut which reaches to the hinder part of the body, where in a curve it turns again a little upward. It then stands still, and seems to undergo a separation: some of it becoming clear and watery, while other black particles pass down to the anus.

Lice are not hermaphrodites; and the males have stings, which the females have not. A female lays in twelve days a hundred eggs, which hatch in six days. Suppose these produce fifty males, and as many females: these females coming to their full growth in eighteen days, may each in twelve days lay a hundred eggs more, . And these in six days more may produce a young’ brood of five thousand. So swiftly do these creatures multiply!

Most animals are subject to lice, but each of a different kind, and none of them like the human. Nay, even insects are not free. Beetles, ear-wigs and snails are- particularly subject to them.

Numberless little red lice are often seen about the legs of spiders.

A sort of whitish lice are common on bees. They are also on ants. Fishes, one would think, living in the water, and perpetually moving to and fro, should be free from lice. But they have their sorts too, which nest under their scales, the salmon in particular. Besides which, there are frequently found great numbers of long worms, in the stomach and other parts of fish. And these work themselves so deeply into their flesh, that they cannot easily be got out.

Many insects are bred in the nostrils of sheep. One may take out twenty or thirty rough maggots at a time. A rough, whitish maggot is found also within the intestinum rectum of horses. Others are generated in the backs of cows, which at first are only a small knot, being an egg laid there by some insect. Afterwards it grows bigger, and contains a maggot, lying in a purulent matter.

In Persia, slender worms, six or seven yards long, are bred in the legs and other parts of men’s bodies. Yea, there have been. divers instances of worms taken out of the tongue, gums, nose, and other parts, by a person of Leicester, before many witnesses.

11. A very extraordinary kind of insect, is that which is called a DEATH-WATCH, because, it makes a noise like the beating of a watch. One is a small beetle, somewhat more than a quarter of an inch long, of a dark brown, and spotted, having a large cap on the head, and two feelers springing from beneath the eyes. Dr. Derham observed it to draw back its mouth, and beat with its forehead. He kept two, a male and a female, in a box, for some months, and could bring one of them to beat when he pleased, by imitating its beating. And he soon found this ticking to be the. way, whereby they wooed one another.

The other kind is a grayish insect like a louse, which beats some hours together without intermission, and that slowly; whereas the former beats only seven or eight strokes at a time, and much quicker. It is very common in summer in all parts of our houses, is nimble in running to shelter, and shy of beating, if disturbed; but is free to beat, and to answer your beating, if you do not shake the place where it lies. This commonly, if not always, beats in or near paper. It is at first a small, white egg, like a nit. It hatches in March, and creeps about with its shell on. It is then smaller than the egg itself, but soon grows to the perfect size.

That death-watches sometimes beat, without wooing, we may learn from the account of an accurate observer. “As I was in my study, I happened to hear what is called a death-watch. Inclining my head towards a chair, I found it was beating there. The manner of its beating was this. It lifted up itself on its hinder legs, and extending its neck, struck its face upon the sedge, which was bared upon its outward coat, about the length of half an inch. The impression of its strokes was visible: the outward coat of the sedge being depressed, where it had just been beating, for about the compass of a silver penny. I am inclined to think it beats for food. There were several places on the sedge, where it had been at work, and where it had probably been sojourning for some days possibly the insect may sometimes woo its mate by beating thus: but it was not the case now. It had not any other of its kind near it. It seemed therefore to be preparing its food. It was about a quarter of an inch long, of a dark, dirty colour, having a broad helmet over its head, which he can draw up under it, so that is a notable defence against the falls, to which he is Continually exposed, creeping over rotten and decayed places.

“The second day after I took it, I opened the box, and set it in the sun. It was soon very brisk, and crept nimbly to and fro, till suddenly it struck out its wings, and was going to take its leave; but on my shading it over, it drew in its wings, and was quiet.”

This seems to be the smallest of the beetle kind. A gentleman describes one of a very, different sort, in the philosophical trans­actions. “On the removal of a large leaden cistern, I observed, at the bottom of it, black beetles. One of the largest I threw into a cup of spirits, (it being the way of killing and preparing insects for my purpose.) In a few minutes it appeared to be quite dead. I then shut it up in a box about an inch and a half diameter, and throwing it into a drawer, thought no more of it for two months, when opening the box, I found it alive and vigorous, though it had no food all the time, nor any more air than it could find in so small a box, whose cover shut very chose. A few days before, a friend had sent me three or four cock-roaches.

“These I had put under a large glass; I put my. beetle among them, and fed them with green ginger, which they ate greedily; but he would never taste it, for the five weeks they lived there. The cock-roaches would avoid the beetle, and seemed frightened at his approach: but he usually stalked along not at all regarding whether they came in his way or not. During the two years and a half that I have kept him, he has neither eat nor drank.

“ How then has he been kept alive? Is it by the air? There are particles in this, which supply a growth to some species of plants, as sempervive, orpine and house-leek: may not the same or the like particles supply nourishment to some species of animals? In the amazing plan of nature, the animal, vegetable and mineral kingdoms, are not separated from each other by wide distances, but near their boundaries, differ from each other, by such minute and insensible degrees, that we cannot find out certainly, where the one begins, or the other ends. As the air therefore nourishes some plants, so it may nourish some ani­mals: otherwise a link would seem to be wanting, in the mighty chain of beings. It is certain cameleons and snakes can live many months without any visible subsistence: and probably not merely by their slow digestion, but rather by means of particles contained in the air, as this beetle did; yet doubtless in its natural state, it used more substantial food. So the plants above-named thrive best with a little earth, although they flourish a long time, and send forth branches and flowers, when they are suspended in the air.

“ Even in the exhausted receiver, after it had been there half an hour, it seemed perfectly unconcerned, walking about as briskly as ever. But on the admission of the air, it seemed to be in a surprize for a minute.

“ After I had kept him half a year longer, he got away, through the carelessness of a servant who took down the glass.”

12. A FEMALE FLY, within four and twenty hours after her congress with the male, begins to deposite her eggs on some sub­stance proper to give nourishment to the worm that is to be produced. These eggs in general are white and oblong. But there are some of them which are singular. To describe one species of them may suffice, the eggs laid on hog’s dung.

They are white and oblong, but of a peculiar make. At one end of each of these eggs, between that end and the middle, are two little wings, standing out on either side. As soon as the fly has laid her eggs, she thrusts them into the dung. This keeps the coat of the egg soft; otherwise the embryo could never get out. But if the whole egg were thrust in, the creature would be suffocated, as soon as it is hatched. Therefore part only is to be immersed, and part to be left out. nd this is admirably pro­vided for by these wings. For when the female thrusts in the egg, it easily enters at the smaller end, which is the part first protruded from her body: but it stops at the wings, and so the upper part remains open to the air.

Some species of flies fasten their eggs to the sides of vessels of water. All these eggs have a thin flake running down the two sides diametrically opposite. So that they look as if they were enclosed in a frame. The use of this frame is, to hold the body of the egg more firmly to the side of the vessel. Those eggs, which have it not, are deposited by the female fly with a viscous matter about them.

Some flies lay their eggs in the bodies of caterpillars. These are at great pains to carry those caterpillars to the places’ where it is proper their eggs should be hatched. There is one species whose worm can never succeed, unless it be both bred in the caterpillar, and that caterpillar buried under ground. To this purpose the parent, when ready to lay her eggs, forms a hole in the ground, and covers it with a little clod. Then she goes in search of a proper caterpillar, perhaps one much larger than herself,, which nevertheless she drags to her hole. This she uncovers, and goes in to see if all is right. Then she goes and draws the caterpillar in, deposites her eggs in his flesh, and stops up the hole with pellets of dirt and dust, carefully rammed in between. When the worms are hatched, they feed on the flesh of the caterpillar till they are full grown; then they change into aurelia, and afterwards into the form of the parent fly, in which state they easily make their way out of the ground.

Some of these lay their eggs in the bodies of smaller flies.’ They often fly with one of them in their legs, the head of it being close to their bellies. They carry these to little holes in the ground. In the first they lay their eggs. Then they bring others, to be food for their young when hatched. One fly is not enough; therefore their parents carry them more every day, crawling backward into the hole, and dragging in the flies after them. When the worms change into aurelia, their cases are made of the exuviæ of the flies they have been feeding on.

The eggs ‘of insects are usually the occasion of what are termed blights. These seldom happen but on the blowing of sharp easterly winds. Many insects attend those winds, and lay their eggs on proper plants. Indeed the large worms or cater­pillars, which attend some blights, seem to be only hatched by those winds. But they probably bring those swarms of insects, which occasion the curling of the leaves of trees.

Every insect feeds on one plant and no other. On this only it lays its eggs. Hence it is, that one kind of tree only is blighted, and the rest escape. All trees then cannot be blighted at once, unless one wind could bring the eggs of all insects, with as many different degrees of heat and cold, as are required to hatch and preserve each species.

And what though we do not always perceive animals in blights? By microscopes we discover animalcula, a million times less than those that are perceivable by the naked eye. The gentlest air’ may waft these from place to place: so that it is no wonder if they are brought to us from Great Tartary; even the cold air of which may give them life, and from whence there is not so much sea as to suffocate them in their passage, by the warmth and salt-ness of its vapours.

Trees are preserved from blights by sprinkling them with tobacco-dust or pepper-dust, which are death to all insects.

But one kind of blight is caused, merely by long continued, dry, easterly winds. These stop the perspiration in the tender blos­soms, so that in a short time they wither and decay: soon after, the tender leaves are affected; their perspiring matter becoming thick and glutinous, so as to be proper nutriment to the insects, which are then always found upon them. In this case the insects are riot the cause, but the effect of the blight.

It is a kind of blight that produces galls, which are the buds of oaks swelled out. The cause is, into the heart of the tender bud a fly thrusts one or more eggs. This egg soon becomes a worm, and eats itself a little cell in the pith of the bud, which would have grown into a branch. The sap, which was to nourish that branch, being diverted into the remaining parts of the bud, these grow large and flourishing, and become a covering for the cell of the insect

Not only the willow and some other trees, but plants also, net­tles, ground-ivy, and others, have such cases produced upon their leaves. The parent insect, with .its tail, bores the rib of the leaf when tender, ,and makes way for her egg into the very pith. Pro­bably she lays it there, with some propel juice, to prevent the vegetation of it. From this wound arises a small excrescence, which, when the egg is hatched, grows bigger and bigger, as the worm increases, swelling on each . side the leaf, between the two membranes. This worm turns afterwards to an aurelia, and then to a small green fly.

The Alleppo-galls, wherewith we make our ink, are of this number, being only cases of insects, which gnawed their way out, through the little holes we see in them.

For a sample of the tender galls, see the balls as round and sometimes as big as small musket bullets, growing under oaken leaves, close to the ribs, of a greenish yellowish colour. Their skin is smooth, with frequent risings therein. Inwardly they are very soft and spongy; and in the very centre is a case, with a white worm therein, which afterwards becomes a fly. As to this gall, there is one thing peculiar: the fly lies all winter within this ball, and does not come to maturity till the following spring. In the autumn these balls fall to the ground with their leaves. Yet the insect enclosed in them is fenced against the winter frosts, partly by other leaves lying upon them, and partly by the thick spungy wall, afforded by the galls themselves.

13.There are few insects more prolific than the GNAT. All its changes, from the egg to the perfect animal, are fulfilled in three weeks or a month: and there are usually seven generations of them in a year, in each of which the parent lays two or three hundred eggs. These she ranges in the form of a boat, and each egg is shaped like a nine-pin. The thicker ends of these are placed downward. They are firmly joined together by their middles, and their narrower parts stand upward.

Viewed with a microscope, the larger end is observed to be terminated by a short neck, the end of which is bordered by a kind of ridge. The neck of each is sunk in the water, on which the boat swims: for it is necessary they should keep on the sur­face, since otherwise the eggs could never be hatched.

The ranging these in so exact order, requires the utmost care of the parent. Gnats lay their eggs in the morning hours, and on such waters as will give support to their young. Here the parent places herself on a small stick, a leaf, or any such matter, near the water edge, in such a manner that the last ring but one of her body touches the surface of the water. The lašt ring of all, where there is the passage for the eggs, is turned upward, and every egg is thrust out vertically. When it is almost disengaged, she applies it to the sides of the Cluster already formed : ‘to which it readily .adheres by means of a viscous matter wherewith they are covered.

The great difficulty is, to place the first laid eggs in a proper position to receive the rest, and to sustain themselves and them, in a proper direction. These she with great precaution places exactly, by means of her hinder legs. And when a sufficient number of them are arranged, all the rest is easy: inasmuch as these are a firm support to all that follow them.

These are circumstances sufficiently extraordinary in this little animal; but it offers something still more curious in their method of its propagation. However similar insects of the gnat kind are in their appearances, yet they differ widely in the manner in which they are brought forth; for some are oviparous, some viviparous; some are males, some are females, some are of neither sex, yet still produce young, without any copulation whatsoever. This is one of the strangest discoveries in all natural history! A gnat, separated from the rest of its kind,, and enclosed in a glass vessel, with air sufficient to keep it alive, shall produce young, which also, when separated from each other, shall be the parents of a numerous progeny. Thus down for five or six generations do these extraordinary animals propa­gate in the manner of vegetables, the young bursting from the body of their parents, without any previous . impregnation. At the sixth generation, however, their propagation stops; the gnat no longer produces its like from itself, but requires the access of the male.

14. A CICADULA is a small insect found in May and June, on the stalks or leaves of plants, in a kind of froth, commonly called cuckoo-spit. This froth is not from time plant, but the mouth of the animal.; and if it be gently wiped away, will be presently seen issuing out of its mouth, till there is as large a quantity of it as before. ‘f hey are of the shape of a louse, some being whitish, some yellowish, and others green. They often change their skins, while they live in this froth, and only creep a little. But when they leave the plant they hop and fly, having wings which cover the whole body.

The COCHINEAL is an insect of the same species with the gall-insect. It is found adhering to several plants; but only one communicates its valuable qualities to it, the OPANTIA or’ PRICKLE PEAR. This consists of thick leaves, and its fruit, resembling a fig, is full of a crimson juice, to which the insect owes its colour.

When first hatched, it is scarce bigger than a mite, and runs about Very swiftly. But it soon loses its activity, and fixing on the least and most juicy part of the leaf, clings there for life, without moving any more, only for its subsistence, which it sucks in with its proboscis. The male has no appearance of belonging to the same species They are smaller than the Female, have wings, and like, the butterfly, are Continually in motion. They are constantly seen among the females, walking over them, as it were carelessly, and impregnating them. But it is the female only which is gathered for, use, four times in the year: for so many are the generations of them.

15. The most singular part of the life of a DRONE-FLY, is ‘that it passes in the form of a worm. It is then distinguished from all other worms by its long tail: at different times this is indeed of different lengths: but it is always longer than the worm itself. It is found, smooth, and very ‘small at the extremity; sometimes no thicker’- than a horse-hair. To know the use of this tail, we must first know the nature of the worm itself. It is an aquatic, and never leaves the water till it changes into its fly-state. They lie in multitudes in the mud at the bottom of vessels of stinking water. Put them into vessels of clean water, and they will soon shew the use of their tails. Though they live under water, they cannot live without breathing fresh air. This is the end to which their long tails serve. For even while they lie buried in the mud, their tails are extended to the top of the water, and being open at the extremity, let air into their bodies. And as soon as they’ are in a vessel of fresh water, they get to the bottom and thrust up their tails to ‘the surface. They can lengthen them at pleasure: to be assured of this, you need only pour in more water. The worms then lengthen their tails proportionably, in order to breathe from the surface: by adding more and more water you will finch they can extend their tails to the length of five inches: an extremely remarkable length for a creature little more than half an inch long. Beyond five inches however they cannot go.. And if you make the water a greater depth, they leave the bottom, and either travel up the. sides of the vessel to a proper height; or else swim in the water,, at the depth of five inches.

16. No species of flies is more remarkable than the larger FIRE-FLY, of Jamaica. It is above an inch long, and proportion-ably broad. Most of its internal parts are luminous; only the thickness of the covers hinders its appearing. But on forcing the rings that cover the body a little asunder, light issues from all the entrails. The head has two spots just behind the eyes, which emit streams of strong light. But though these flow naturally front the insect, yet it has a power of interrupting them at pleasure. And then these spots are as opaque as the surface of the body.

A person may read the smallest print by the light of one of these insects, if held between the fingers, and moved along the line, with the luminous spots over the letters. They are seldom seen in the day, but wake with the evening, and move and shine most part of the night. They readily fly toward, each other. Hence the negroes have learned, to hold one between their fingers, and wave it up and down, which others seeing fly direct toward it, and pitch upon the hand. They are so torpid by day, it is hard to make them discover signs of life; and if they do, they presently relapse into the same state of insensibility. As long as they remain awake, they emit light: but they are vigorous only in the night.

17.One more insect of the fly-kind, we cannot pass by unno­ticed: the EPHEMERON, or fly that lives but part of a day. It appears usually about midsummer. It is produced about six in the evening, and dies about eleven. But before it becomes a fly, it exists three years as a worm in a clay case. It never eats front the time of its change to its death, nor has any organs for receiv­ing or digesting foods The business of its life is summed up in a few words. As soon as it has dropt its clay coat, the poor, little animal, being now light and agile, spends the rest of its short, winged state, in frisking over the waters. During this the female, being impregnated, drops. her eggs upon the water. These sink to the bottom, where they are hatched by the heat of the sun into little worms, which make themselves cases in the’ clay, and feed on the same, or on what the waters afford, without any need of’ parental care. Thus they are inhabitants of the water, till the time comes for shaking off their shell, and emerg­ing into air.

Of one sort of ephemeron, Mr. Collinson writes thus. “ May 26, 1744: I was first shewn this, by the name of MAY-FLY. it lies all the year, but a few days, at the bottom of the river; then rises to the surface of the water, and splitting open its case, up springs the new animal, with a slender body’, four shining wings, and three long hairs in its tail. It next flies about to find a proper place, where it may wait for its approaching change. This comes in two or three days. I held one on my finger, while it performed this great work. It was surprising to see, how easily its back split, and produced the new birth, which leaves head, body, wings, legs and even its three-haired tail behind, or the cases of them. After it has rested a little, it flies nimbly to seek its mate. The males keep under the trees, remote from the river. Hither the females resorted, and when impregnated, soon left the males, sought the rivers, and kept continually plying up and down on the water. Every time they darted down, they ejected a cluster of eggs. They then sprang up again. Thus they went up and down, till they had exhausted their stock of eggs and spent their strength, being so weak that they can rise no more, but fall a prey to the fish. This is the end of the females. The males never resort to the river, but having done their office, drop down and die.

In a life of three or four days they eat nothing. They have no apparatus for that purpose ; yet they have strength to shed their skin, and to perform the ends of their life with great vivacity.

But how poor an end, to our apprehension, is answered by the life of tins, and innumerable other animals!

18. The eggs of BUTTERFLIES do not increase in bulk while in the body of the female. As soon as they are impregnated by the male, they are ready to be laid. But this requires some time, both because of their number, and the nicety with which she arranges them. This indeed is the whole business of her life for when they’ are laid, she dies.

The female does not deposite them at random, but searches out a sort of plant which the catterpillars can feed on as soon as they are hatched. Neither does she scatter them irregularly and without order, but disposes them with perfect symmetry, and fastens them together by a viscous liquor discharged from her own entrails. And those species whose hinder part is covered with long hairs, gradually throw them all off, and therewith make a nest, wherein the eggs are kept safely, till the time of their hatching.

19. Some CATERPILLARS are hatched in the spring, as soon as the leaves they are to be fed on begin to bud. After thirteen days, they change into aurelia, and having past three weeks in that state, they issue forth winged, with all the beauty of their parents.

The wings of butterflies fully distinguish them from flies of every other kind. They are four in number; and though two of them be cut off, the animal can fly with the two remaining. They are in their own subsistence transparent: but owe their opacity to the beautiful dust with which they are covered, and which has been likened, by some, to the feathers of birds: by others, to the scales of fishes. In fact, if we regard the wing of a butterfly with a good microscope, we shall perceive it studded over with a variety of little grains of different dimensions and forums, gene­rally supported on a footstalk, regularly laid upon the whole surface. Nothing can exceed the beautiful and regular arrangement of these little substances. Those of one rank are a little covered by those that follow; they are of many figures; here may be seen a succession of oval studs; there a cluster of studs, each in the form of a heart: in one place they resemble a hand open; and in another, they are long or triangular; while all are interspersed with taller studs that grow between the rest, like mushrooms upon a stalk.

The eyes of butterflies have not all the same form, for in some they are large, in others small. In all of them the outward coat has a lustre, in which may be discovered the various colours of the rainbow. When examined closely, it will be found to have the appearance of a, multiplying glass; having a great number of sides or facets, in the manner of a brilliant cut diamond. These animals, therefore, see not only with great clearness, but view every ‘ object multiplied in a surprising manner. Puget adapted the cornea of a fly in such a position, as to see objects through it by means of a microscope; and nothing could exceed the strangeness of its representations: a soldier who was seen through it, appeared like an army of pigmies; for while it multiplied, it also diminished the object. It still, however, remains a doubt, whether ‘the insect sees objects singly, as with one eye; or whether every facet is itself a complete eye, exhibiting its own object distinct from all the rest. The trunk, which few butterflies are without, is placed exactly between the eyes; which, when the animal is not seeking its nourishment, is ‘rolled up like a curl. A butterfly, when it is feeding, flies round some flower, and settles upon it. The trunk is then uncurled, and thrust out, searching the flower to its very bottom. This search being repeated seven or eight times, the butterfly then passes to another; and continues to hover over those agreeable to its taste, like a ‘bird over its prey. This trunk consists of two hollow tubes, nicely joined like the pipes of an organ.

Butterflies, as well as moths, employ their short lives in a variety of enjoyments. Their whole time is spent either in quest of food, which every flower offers; or in pursuit of the female, whose approach they often perceive at above two miles distance. Their sagacity in this particular is astonishing; but by what sense they are capable of doing this, is not easy to conceive. It cannot be by sight, since such small objects must be utterly imperceptible at half the distance: it can scarcely be by the sense of smelling, since the animal has no organs for that purpose. Whatever be their powers of perception, certain it is, that time male, after having fluttered, as if carelessly about, for some time, is seen to take wing and go forward, sometimes for two miles together, in a direct line to where the female is perched on a flower.

Caterpillars are of no sex, it not being their business to propa­gate, till they commence butterflies. Yet many of them are not so harmless as they seem; for they destroy their fellows when­ever they can. Put twenty caterpillars of the oak together in a box, with a sufficient quantity of leaves, their natural food. Yet their numbers will decrease daily, till one only remains alive. The stronger seizes the weaker by the throat, and gives him a mortal wound. When he is dead, the murderer begins to eat him up, and leaves only the skin with the head and feet. But this is not the case of all. Many species live peaceably and comfortably together.

Yet even these are exposed to dangers of a more terrible kind. The worms of several sorts of flies, continually prey upon them some are upon, some under the skin, and both eat up the poor defenceless animal alive.

It is surprising to see with what industry these little creatures weave the cases, in which they pass their aurelia state. Some are made of silk, mixt with their own hair, with pieces of bark, leaves, wood, or paper.

There is one sort that builds in wood, and gives its case a hard­ness greater than that of the wood itself. This is the catterpillar of the willow, which is one of those that eat their exuviæ. He has sharp teeth, wherewith he cuts the wood into a number of small fragments. These he Unites together into a case, by means of a peculiar silk, which is a viscous juice that hardens as it dries. In order to make this silk enter into the very substance of the fragments, he moistens every one of them, by holding them successively in his mouth for a considerable time. In this firm case he is afterward to be included till he becomes a butterfly. But how can a creature of this helpless kind, which has neither legs to dig, nor teeth to gnaw, get out of so firm and strong a lodgment as that wherein it is hatched? Nature has provided for this also. As soon as it is hatched, it discharges a liquor which dissolves the viscous matter that holds the case together, so that the fragments fall in pieces of themselves. And, accordingly, near its mouth, there is always found a bladder of the size of a small pea, full of this liquor.

Some caterpillars spin all the way they walk, a thread of silk ‘which marks their journey. Now what end does this serve? A little observation will shew. Trace one of them till he chances to fall, and you will see the use of this thread. Being fastened to the leaves and twigs, it stops the creatures fall. Nor is this all. It can also, by means of this thread, reascend to the place from whence it fell. And when it is safe got up again, it continues its motion as before.

Another curious artifice is that by which the same species of caterpillars make themselves cases of leaves before they change into aurelia. The nicest hands could not roll these up so regu­larly, as they do without hands or anything like them. They per­form it thus: the caterpillar places itself on the upper side of the leaf, so far from the edge that he can reach it with his head. Turning himself round, he then brings the edge of the leaf to the point just opposite to it. It next draws lines from the edge of this leaf to that point; and doing this all the way along the leaf; its narrowness towards the point makes it form a close case there. It strengthens the first bending of the leaf, by many parallel threads, and then fastening other threads to the back part of the leaf, draws them as tight as it can. The case is then formed. The same method repeated makes the additional cases, five or six over each other. And every one of these is sufficiently strong, so as to make the inner ones useless. He then enters his cell, and undergoes his change. Mean time his covering serves him also for food. For so long as he has need to eat, he may feed upon the walls of his castle: all of which may he eaten away except the outer one of all. Probably every caterpillar makes his case thick enough to serve the necessary calls of his future hunger.

Many species of butterflies lay a great number of eggs in the same place. These all hatch very nearly at the same time. And one would naturally suppose, that the young brood of all, would be inclined to continue and live together. But it is not so: the different species have different inclinations. Some keep together from the time they, are hatched, till they change into aurelia. Others separate as soon as able to crawl, and hunt their fortune single.’ And others live in community till a certain time, and then each shifts for itself. Those that live wholly together, begin by forming a line with their little bodies upon a leaf; their heads all standing even, and in this manner they move and eat together. And often there are several ranges of this sort, which make so many phalanxes, and eat into the leaf they stand on, with perfect equality.

Many do this while young, who, when they grow large, make one common habitation, surrounded by a web, which is the joint Work of all: within which, each has a nest of its own spinning.

When they have made their common lodging, each takes its course over the tree or bush for food. Thus many hundreds of them form a regular republic. The separate cell of each is finally the place where it passes its change into the aurelia and perfect state. But many species do not separate even then; but are found in their aurelia state all huddled together; numbers of their cases making one confused mass.

One thing more is highly observable in them. The regularity of their marches. They are exactly obedient to their chief. When they change their quarters, one marches single first; two others follow, and keep their bodies very nicely in the same position with his. After these there follows a large party. These regulate their motions by the former: and so the order is continued through the whole company. When the leader turns to the right or left, the whole body does the same instantly. When he stops, they all immediately stop, and march again the moment he advances.

20. The outward covering of the body, is in many animals changed several times: but in few more frequently than tile caterpillar. Most of these throw it off at least once in ten days. Indeed, in the whole insect class, the most numerous of all animated beings, there is scarce one which does not cast its skin, at least once, before it arrives at its full growth. But the cater­pillar changes more than his skin; even the outward covering of every, the minutest part of its body. And what they throw off has the appearance of a complete insect, presenting us with all the external parts of a living animal. If the caterpillar be of the hairy kind, the skin it throws of is hairy, containing the covering of every hair. And even the claws and other parts, that are not visible without a microscope, are as plain in this .as in the living animal. But what is more amazing is, that the solid Parts of the head, the skull and teeth are distinguishable therein. The throwing off an old skull and teeth, to make way for new ones, is an act beyond all comprehension! A day or two before, the creature refuses to eat, and walks very slowly, or not at all. He turns from side’ to side, and often raises his beak, and gently depresses it again. He frequently raises his head, and strikes it down rudely against any thing he stands upon. Frequently the forepart of the body is raised from the place, and thrust very briskly backward and forward, three or four times together. There are likewise distinct motions within every ring. These are severally inflated and contracted alternately, by which the skin is loosened from them; till by this means, and its remaining without food, the body is quite disengaged from its covering.

When this, time approaches, all the colours of the skin grow faint, and loose their beauty, receiving no nourishment from the body. And as the creature continues swelling and shrinking, the skin, being no longer supple, cracks along his back. The crack always begins, ,at the second or third ring from the head. As it opens, the new skin is seen within. This opening he easily enlarges, thrusting his body like a wedge, out of the slit, till he lengthens it through four rings. Then he has room to draw out the whole body. First, the head is by several motions loosened, drawn out of the old skull, and raised through the crack: this is then laid softly on the old skin of the part. By the same motions the tail end is disengaged, drawn out, and laid smoothly on the old skin. It takes the animal several days to prepare for the last operation. But when the crack is once made, the whole remaining work is done in less than a minute.

The hairs found on the cast skins of the hairy caterpillars seem at first, like the other part of the exuviæ, to be only the covering of the hairs enclosed. But that is not the case. They are solid things themselves, not barely coverings. In truth, the creature when first hatched has all its skins perfectly formed, one under another, each furnished with its hairs, so that the old ones fall off with the old skins. And probably the erecting these is one great means of forcing off the old skins.

Perhaps the same sort of mechanism is used even by those caterpillars which do not appear to be hairy. For they really are so, as the microscope shews. When the upper skin of one just ready to change, is slit longitudinally in the place where the crack would be, the skin may be taken off; and it is easily seen, how the new one lies below. The hairs are disposed in the nicest manner, for lying smooth under the upper skin. They grow in separate tufts, which never lie one upon another, but together form one surface.

It is remarkable, that immediately after this change, they appear much larger than they did before. And they really are so. The very head and skull are greatly larger than before the change. The operation of the cray-fish in changing its shell may explain this. This also is found considerably larger, when out of the shell than before. In both cases, the body had grown so much, that it was too big for its covering. However, while it remained in it, the parts were compressed, arid forced to lie in that narrow room. But as soon as that covering is off, every part distends itself to its proper size.

- Indeed, so large a skull, being a hard substance in the catter­pillar, could not have been compressed into a smaller. But the fact is, the new skull never hardens till the change approaches, and then imperfectly. At the same time it necessarily takes, from the place it is in, an oblong form. In this shape it is found a few hours before the old skin is cast off; not enclosed within it, but extended under the skin of the first ring of the body. When the old skull is thrown off, the new one soon hardens, and takes its proper figure.

We call the creature hatched from the egg of a butterfly, a caterpillar. But it is a real . butterfly all that time. A cater­pillar changes its skin four or five times, and when it throws off one, appears in another of the same form. But when it throws off the last, it is now so perfect, as to need no farther nourish­ment, so there is no farther need of teeth, or any other parts of a caterpillar.

It is plain from hence, that the change of a caterpillar into an aurelia, is not the work of a moment, but is carrying on from the very time of its hatching from the egg. But while the butterfly lies in the body of the caterpillar, its wings al-c long and narrow, and wound up into the form of a cord, and the feelers are rolled up on the head. The trunk also is twisted up, and laid on the head, but in a very different manner from what it is in the perfect animal, or indeed in the aurelia.

A butterfly, then, in all its parts, is in the caterpillar in all its states. But it is more easily traced, as it comes nearer the time of being changed into an aurelia. The very eggs hereafter to be laid by the butterfly, are to be found not only in the aurelia, but even in the caterpillar, all arranged in their natural, regular order. In the caterpillar indeed they are transparent: but in the aurelia, they have their proper colour.

As soon as the limbs of the butterfly are fit to be exposed to the more open air, they are thrown out from the body of the caterpillar, surrounded only with thin membranes. And as soon as they arrive at a proper degree of strength and solidity, they break through these, and appear in their perfect form.

The animal then Creeps a little on, and there rests; the wings being quite folded up. But by degrees they expand, and in less than half an hour appear in all their beauty.

In the beginning of May, 1737, the cornel trees, near Mona­ghan in Ireland appeared covered with small caterpillars, employed partly in feeding on the leaves, partly in crawling over the bark of the tree. Each as it crawled, left a fine thread sticking to the bark. By the end of May, there was not a leaf on any of the trees, except a few reserved for a curious purpose. But instead of the green, a white clothing covered the whole bark, from the ground to the point of the smallest twigs, and that so glossy, that it shewed, in the sun, as if it was cased in burnished silver. Then they covered with the same all the ash, beech, lime, yea the very weeds that’ grew near them.

But how did they travel from tree to tree Many crawled along the ground. But Mary had a quicker way.. They hung by their own threads from the utmost branches of the tree, so that a small breeze wafted them to the next tree, as spiders pass from one bush to another.

As they made no use of the threads left behind them, probably they wrought for no other purpose, than to rid themselves of that glutinous matter, out of which it was spun.

In the beginning of June, they retired to rest. Their manner of executing this, was very ingenious. Some chose the under side of the branches, just where they spring from the trunk, that they might be defended from the water, which in a shower, running down the bar-k of the tree, is parted by the branches,. and sent off on each side. Here they draw their threads across the angle made by the trunk and branch: and crossing those with other threads, make a strong covering. Within this they place themselves lengthways among the threads, and rolling their bodies round, spin themselves into little hammocks, in the mean time shrinking into half their length. These hammocks, being suspended by the transverse threads, do not press each other. That they may take up the less room, they lie parallel to each other, in the most convenient order possible. Others, still more ingenious, fasten their threads to the edge of the leaves which they had su.ved for that purpose: and with that slender cordage pulling in the extremities of the leaves, draw themselves into a kind of purse, within which they form the same sort of work, and lay themselves up as above. They lay themselves up in great numbers together, both because many were necessary to the ‘work of providing a common covering, and also to keep one another warm, while preparing for the great change

Between the worm thus laid up, and the hammock enclosing it, there is a tough, brown shell, probably formed of some glutinous matter, transuding through the pores. In the end of June, they gnaw through the shells and. hammocks, and come forth most beautiful. fly. After its resurrection, it needs no food. Those that came out in a room, lived as long there as the rest did abroad. After awhile several of them discharged a drop of brown liquor, probably containing the egg. But as it was not lodged in a proper receptacle, it produced no worm the next year.

As the cornel only supplies this worm with food, so it is the only nurse of its egg. There is not an animal or a vegetable, but yields habitation and food to its peculiar insect. The scheme of life begins in vegetation: and whenever nature produces vege­tables, she obliges them to pay for their nourishment, to certain animals which she billets upon them. Each of these again, is to diet and lodge another set of living creatures. This just community in nature, which suffers nothing to subsist merely for itself, is found not only every where on the earth, but likewise every where in the waters. By microscopes we discover an infinity of little creatures, feeding on the floating vegetables, or on one another. Indeed, as to the sea, we know only what happens near the shores, where we find vegetables of various kinds, which breed and nourish a like variety of insects. These, with a mul­titude of others bred in the mud, are the prey of the smaller kinds of fish, and they again of a greater. That this scheme of nature, found every where else, dives into the depths of the ocean, we may gather from the wonderful kind of fishes, washed up by the storms now and then from the deep waters.

Now it is on the cornel alone, that the worms we have spoken of can be propagated and fed. The specific qualities with which its juices are impregnated, are peculiarly suitable to this insect. If these reside in the essential oil of the plant, this, as well as the other insects, subsisting on vegetables, have the skill to extract, nicer than any chemist can do, the essential oil of caclm plant, nothing else therein, being of a nature sufficiently peculiar, either to assist the propagation, or supply the nourishment of the insect.

21. The ANT lays eggs like flies, from which are hatched small worms without legs. These are sharp at one end, and blunt at the other: after a short time they change into a large, white aurelia, vulgarly called ants’ eggs: whereas they are larger than the ants themselves. They move these at their pleasure. When an ant’s nest is disturbed, and the aurelia scattered abroad, the ants are at infinite pains to gather them and make them a nest again. Nay, those of one nest will often do this for the aurelia of another.

At the bottom of an ant’s nest, which is built with small pieces of dry earth, there Is always a large quantity of eggs, worms, and aurelia. The aurelia are covered only with a thin skin, and if opened shew the ant in its several stages toward perfection.

In every nest, as in every bee-hive, there are three kinds of the insect: males, females, and working ants, or labourers. These last are neither male nor female, nor have any business, but tak­ing care of the young brood. Male ants have four wings and three lucid points on their head, and their eyes are larger than those of the female, or labourers. They are not found in the nests at all seasons, but only at particular times. It seems they are killed, like drone bees, as soon as the season for impregnating the females is over.

The body of the female is larger and thicker than that of the male, or labourer; and contains a great number of eggs, placed in regular lines. She has also three lucid points on her head, ‘which seem to be three eyes.

The ant, examined by the microscope, appears a very beautiful creature. Its head is adorned with two horns, each having twelve points. Its jaws are indented with seven little teeth, which exactly tally. They open sideways exceeding wide, by which means the ant is often seen grasping and carrying away bodies of three times its own bulk. It is naturally divided into the head, the breast, and the belly, each joined to the other by a slender ligament. From the breast proceed three legs on each side. The whole body is cased over with a sort of armour, so hard as scarce to be pene­trated by a lancet, and thick set with shining, whitish bristles.

They bring out not corn, but their young every day, and spread them near their nest, in little heaps, on a kind of dry earth, pro­vided for that purpose. They carry them back at night. But, it is observed, they never bring them out, unless in a day that pro­mises to be fair. In the prognostics of this they shew great saga­city. Where it is dangerous to expose them in the day time, by reason of the birds, they vary their rule, bringing them out in the night, and carrying them back in the morning.

They do not eat at all in winter, but sleep like most other insects. There is a straight hole in every ant’s nest, about half an inch deep; after which it goes sloping into their magazine, which is a different place from that where they eat and rest. Over the hole they lay a flat stone or tile, to secure them from their great enemy the rain. In a fair day the hole is open; but when they foresee it will rain, and every night, the cover is drawn over, with great ingenuity as well as labour. Fifty of the strongest of them surround the stone, and draw and shove in concert. The like pains they take every morning to thrust it back again.

An ant seldom goes into any nest but her own: if she did, she would be severely punished. And if she returned again after this warning, the others would tear her in pieces. Therefore they never attempt it, but in the last extremity; sometimes they will rather suffer themselves to be taken.

Ants do not bite, as is vulgarly supposed. But red ants have a sting, which expresses a corrosive liquor, and raises a slight inflammation. The black ants have no sting. On opening an ant-hill, a great number of eggs is usually found. They look like the scatterings of fine salt, .and are too minute to be seen distinctly by the’ naked eye. Through a micro­scope they appear like the eggs of small birds, and are as clear as the air-bladder of fishes. They lie in clusters under cover of some light earth.’ The ants seem to brood over them, till every granule is hatched into a worm, not much larger than a mite. In a short time these turn yellowish and hairy, and grow to near as big as their parent. They then get a whitish film over them, and are of an oval form. If this cover be opened after some days, all the lineaments of an ant may be traced; though the whole is transparent, except the eyes, which are two dark specks.

The care these creatures take of their young is amazing. Whenever a hill is disturbed, all the ants are found busy, in con­sulting the safety, not of themselves, but of their offspring. They carry them out of sight as soon as possible; and will do it over and over, as often as they are disturbed. They carry the eggs and worms together in their haste; but as soon as the danger is over, they carefully separate them, and place each by themselves, under shelter of different kinds, and at Various depths, accord­ing to the different degrees of warmth which their different states require.

In the summer they every morning bring up the aurelia near the surface of the earth: and from ten in the morning till about five in the afternoon, they may be found just under the surface. But if you search at eight in the evening they will be found to have carried them all down. And if rainy weather be coming on, they lodge them at least a foot deep.

Though ants unite in colonies, in such places as are agreeable to their different natures, yet they often vary their residence. But the several species never intermix, though they will be good neighbours one to another.

Their architecture is adjusted with remarkable art. The whole structure is divided into numerous cells, communicating with each other by small subterraneous channels, Which are circular and smooth. They carry on all their works by means of their double saws, and the hooks at the extremity of them.

A colony from the latter end of August, to the beginning of June, consists of a female, and various companies of workers: and besides these, in the latter end of June, all July and part of August, of a number of winged ants.

The labouring ants, being of no sex, are wholly employed in providing for the young, which the queen deposites in the cells. In whatever apartment she is present, universal joy is shewn. They have a particular way of skipping, leaping, prancing, and standing on their hind legs. Some walk gently over her, others dance round her, all express their loyalty and affection; of all which you may be convinced in a few moments, by placing the queen and her retinue under a glass.

The queen lays three different sorts of eggs, male and female in spring, neutral in July and part of August. The common ants then brood over them in little clusters, and remove them to and fro, for a just degree of heat. The young disengage themselves from the membranes that enclose the eggs, just as the silk-worms do. The female eggs, put on the form of worms, some time in February; the male, by the latter end of March, the neutral by September. The first summer they grow little, and less in winter. In the beginning of April, the second year, they visibly increase• every day. By the end of May the male and female attain their full growth, and are ready for another change. This long conti­nuance of ants in the vermicular state, has nothing like it in any other class .of insects. The vermicles in a few days infold them­selves in a soft silken covering, and so commence aurileas, which are commonly mistaken for ants' eggs. As soon as they tend to life, the workers give them air, by an aperture in the end of the covering. T his they gradually enlarge for a day or two, and then take out their young.

There is a larger and a smaller sort, of winged ants, the latter male, the former female. Those females, which escape being devoured by other creatures, become queens, and give birth to new colonies.

In all other insects the loss of their wings lessons their beauty; and shortens their lives. But ants gain by that loss: this being the prelude of their ascending the throne.

The young are fed by the juices of most sorts of fruits, which the labourers extract, and receive into their own stomach; where they are prepared, and afterwards transfused into the tender vermicles.

Perhaps in warm climates, ants do not pass the winter in sleep, as they do with us. if so, they need a store of food, which in our climate is quite needless. Accordingly those who have accurately’ examined their most numerous settlements, could never find out any reservoir of corn or other aliments. And they that have care­fully observed their excursions from, and return to their colonies, could never observe that they returned with any wheat, corn, or any other vegetable seed: though they would eagerly attack a pot of honey, or a jar of sweetmeats.

But is it not said, Prov. vi. 8. “She provideth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food in the harvest ?“ It is: but this does not necessarily mean any more, than that she collects her food in the proper season. Nor is any thing more declared, ch. xxx. 35. than that ants carry food into their repositories. That they do this against winter, is not said neither is it true in fact.

In England, ant-hills are formed with but little apparent regu­larity. In the southern provinces of Europe, they are constructed with wonderful contrivance. They are generally forthed in the neighbourhood of some large tree and a stream of water. The one is the proper place for getting food; the other for supplying the animals with moisture, which they, cannot well dispense with. The shape of the ant-hill is that of a sugar-loaf, about three feet high, composed of various substances; leaves, bits of wood, sand, earth, bits of” gum, and grains of corn. These are all united into a compact body, perforated with galleries down to the bottom, and winding ways within the structure. From this retreat to the water, as well as to the tree, in different directions, there are many paths worn by constant assiduity, and along these the busy insects pass and repass continually ; so that from May or the beginning of June they work continually till the bad weather comes on.

The chief employment of working ants is in finding a suffi­ciency of food. They live upon various provisions, as well of the vegetable as the animal kind. Small insects they kill and devour; sweets of all kinds they are particularly fond of. They seldom, however, think of their community till themselves are first satiated. Having found a juicy fruit, they swallow what they can, and then tearing it in pieces, carry home their load. If they meet With an insect above their match, several’ of them will fall upon it at once, and having torn it to pieces, each will carry off a part of the spoil. If they meet with any thing that is too heavy for one to bear, and yet which they are unable to divide, several of them endeavour to force it along, some dragging, others pushing. If any one of them makes a lucky discovery, it immediately gives advice to others, and then, at once, the whole republic put themselves in motion. if in these struggles one of them happens to be killed, some survivor carries him off to a great distance, to prevent the obstructions his body might give to the general spirit of industry.

In autumn they prepare for the severity of winter, and bury their wheat as deep in the earth as they can. It is now found that the grains of corn, and other substances with which they furnish their hill, are only meant as fences to keep off the rigour of the weather. They pass four or five months without taking any nou­rishment, and seem to be dead all that time. It would be to no purpose therefore for ants to lay up corn for the winter, since they lie all that time without motion, heaped upon each other, and are so far from eating, that they are utterly unable to stir. Thus what authors have dignified by the name of a magazine, appears to be no more than a cavity, which serves for a common retreat when they return to their lethargic state.

But what has been falsely said of the European ant, is true of those of the tropical climates. They do lay up provisions, and as they probably live the whole year, submit to the regula­tions unknown among the ants in Europe. Those of Africa are of three kinds, the red, the green, and the black; the latter are above an inch long, and in every respect, a most formidable insect. They build an ant-hill from six to twelve feet high, made of viscous clay, and in a pyrand form. The cells are so numerous and even, that a honeycomb scarce exceeds them. The inhabitants of this edifice seem to be under’ a very strict regulation. At the slightest warning they sally out upon what­ever disturbs them, and if they arrest their enemy, he is sure to find no mercy. Sheep, hens and even rats are often destroyed by these merciless insects, and their flesh devoured to the bone. No anatomist can strip a skeleton so clean as they.

If a frog be put into a box with holes bored therein, and the box laid near a nest of ants, they will entirely dissect him, and make the finest skeleton possible, leaving even the ligaments unhurt.

22. One of the most dreadful enemies of the ants is the formica-leo or ANT-EATER: it is soft as a spider, but has in its form some resemblance of a wood-louse. Its body is composed of several rings: it has six legs, four joined to the breast; and the other two to a long part, which may be termed the neck. Its head is small and flat, and it has two remarkable ‘horns, the sixth of an inch long, as thick as a hair, hard, hollow and hooked at the end. At the origin of each of these horns, it has a clear and bright black eye.

He is not able to hunt after prey, nor to destroy large insects. He can only ensnare such as come by his habitation, and of these, few are such as he can manage. All the winged tribe escape by flight, and those that have hard shells are of no use to him. The smallness of the ant, and its want of wings, make it his destined prey. The manner wherein he proceeds is this.. He usually encamps under an old wall for shelter, and always chooses a place where the soil is composed of a light, dry sand. In this he makes a pit in the shape of a funnel, which he does in the following manner

If he intends the pit to be but small, he thrusts his hinder parts into the sand, and by degrees works himself into it. When he is deep enough, he tosses out with his head the loose sand which is run down, artfully throwing it off, beyond the edges of the pit. Then he lies at the bottom of the small hollow, which comes sloping down to his body.

But if he is to make a larger pit, he first traces a larger -circle in the sand. Then he buries himself in it, arid carefully throws off the sand, beyond the circle. Thus he continues running down backward, in a spiral line, and throwing off the sand above him all the way, till he comes to the point of the hollow cone, which he has formed by his passage. The length of his neck, and the flatness of his head, enable him to use the whole as a spade. And his strength is so great, that he can throw a quantity of sand, to six inches distance. He likewise throws away the remains of the animals he has devoured, that they may riot fright other creatures of the same species.

Where the sand is unmixed, he makes and repairs his pit with great ease. But it is not so where other substances are mixed with it. If when he has half formed his pit, he comes to a stone not too large, he goes on leaving that to the last. When the pit is finished, he creeps up backwards to the stone, and getting his backside under it, takes great pains to get it on a true poise, and then creeps backward with it, to the top of the pit.

We may .often see one thus labouring at a Stone four times as big as its own body. And as it can only move backward, and the poise is hard to keep, especially up a slope of crumbly sand, the stone frequently slips when near the verge, and rolls down to the bottom. In this case he attacks it again, and .is not discouraged by five or six miscarriages; but attempts it again, till at length he gets it over the verge of his place. Yet he does not leave it there, lest it should roll in again, but always removes it to a convenient distance.

When his pit is finished, lie buries himself ‘at the bottom of it in the sand, leaving no part above it, but the tips of his horns, which he extends to the two sides of the pit. Thus he waits for his prey. If an ant walk on the edge of his pit, it throws down a little of the sand. This gives notice, to toss up the sand from his head, on the ant; of which he throws more and more, till he brings him down to the bottom, between his horns. These he then plunges into the ant, and having sucked all the blood, throws out the skin as far as possible. This done, he mounts up the edges of his pit, and if they have suffered any injury, repairs it carefully, lie then immediately buries himself again in the centre, to wait for another meal.

This creature has no mouth, but it is through its horns that it receives all its nourishment. And as they are so necessary for its life, nature has provided for the restoring them, in case of accidents: so that if they are cut off, they soon grow again.

When he has lived his stated time, he leaves his pit, and is only seen drawing traces on the sand. After this he buries himself under it, and encloses himself in a case. This is made of a sort of silk with grains of sand cemented together by a glutinous humour which he emits. But this would be too harsh for his body: so it serves only for the outward covering. He spins within it one of pure, fine, pearl-coloured silk, which covers his whole body. When he has lain some time in this case, he throws off his outer skin, with the eyes, the horns, and and all other exterior parts, and becomes an oblong worm, in which may be traced the form of the future fly. Through its transparent skin may be seen new eyes, new horns, and all other parts of the perfect animal. This worm makes its way about half out of the case, and so remains, without farther life or motion, till the perfect fly makes its way out of a slit in the back. It much resembles the dragon-fly. The male then couples with the female and dies,

23. The sagacity of BEES, in making their combs, cannot be too much admired, The labour is distributed regularly among them. The same bees, Sometimes carry the wax in their jaws, and moisten it with a liquor which they distil upon it, and some­times build the walls of their cells. But they that form the cells, never- polish them. Others make the angles exact, and smooth the surface. The bits of wax which are scraped off in doing this, others pick up, that none’ may be lost.