scious that thou art the same, and never, in any change, losest thy identity. Thou shalt be sensible that the whole system of thy hopes, and fears, and cares, is altered, and yet that thou art the same being that experienced them once, and experiences them no longer. There is something within thee that forms thyself, and thyself alone; and no event can deceive thee, or beguile thee into the belief that thou art another. Adam, the world's great patriarch, endowed with strength, without the consciousness that it could fail into weariness; with sight, that gazed upon the sun unquailing; with mind, that grasped and admired the wonders of creation; with soul, that communed with the Holy One, and trembled not, but rejoiced ;-Adam, poor Adam! the outcast, the toilworn, the defenceless, the weeping father of bleeding Abel, the soul-stricken father of vengeful Cain, still failed not to recognise himself; to feel his miserable identity clinging to him; to own in his bleeding heart's core, that he was the man,—that he is the man. And Adam, the subdued, the reduced to obedience, the atoned-for, the reconciled, though restored to the power of prayer, consoled, renewed in the spirit of his mind, conscious of another nature sprung up and growing within him,—still would look back to what no other man could contemplate, and, through the three solemn changes, each of which seems enough to extinguish identity, would feel that he was, and had ever been, the same.

Mysterious consciousness! hidden in thy springs, but efficacious in thy influence! like the power of conscience, clinging and cleaving still, unsought, unbidden, undesired by us, but ever present, ever influential !-the God who gave our being, gave us thee; and thou, a deathless principle, wilt adhere to us for ever. The grave will hide the hand that holds the pen; the worm will consume for its necessities the frame which now walketh upright on the earth; its ashes may be dissipated or scattered; but the spirit, that once inhabited that tabernacle, hath entered its place of waiting, naked, but not unmindful of its former dwelling; lingering till its reunion be completed, and O! solemn perfectly aware of that which was its own.

II.

12

VIII.

hour of reunion, when those who are in their graves shall hear; those who have been deaf and dead for centuries shall awake to the voice of the last trumpet, and, rising, find themselves again tenanted by the ancient partner, the companion, it may be, of many offences, many woes, many unbeliefs, many reasonings, many conflicts. He who "said, and it was done," who "commanded, and it stood fast," will restore all things to order and beauty, and gather into the mansions prepared by the gracious Forerunner, every renewed one, rejoicing in its conscious identity, and blessing and praising Him who hath made it another, and yet left it the same.

Reader! hast thou ever contemplated the certainty of this consummation of all things? Hast thou thought what may be thy position, when thy mortal is putting on its immortality, when thy now corruptible and perishing frame shall be assuming incorruptibility? How may it be with thee then? Would not Dives rejoice to exchange with Lazarus, even at the price of being extended at his own gate, subject to the mercies of the dogs? May it not be, that those who may have been the objects of thy contempt or derision, are now "comforted," and thou "tormented?" Wouldst thou change places with the humblest and most despised of the company of the redeemed? Think of it now, thou canst not. Thy identity, thy terrible identity, will adhere to thee. The soul that hath sinned, must die.

Shall the rivers return again to the ocean, whence they came; shall the wind veer about, till it recover its former position; shall all things exhibit a tendency to approximation towards that from whence they sprung; and shalt thou remain unchanged? Wilt thou not hasten to become another, and yet the same? Thou hast sprung from God, thou wert made for God, thou hast been ransomed by God;-Wilt thou not return to God? Rest not till the enigma is interpreted, how thou canst retain thy identity, yet change thy passions, thy hopes, thy very destination. And when thou shalt witness the new buds on the ancient trees, and the fresh verdure springing from the seemingly withered herbage, go and learn what is meant by bringing

forth fruit to His glory, whom hitherto thou mayest not have glorified, and by delighting in His service, whom in time past thou mayest not have served.

M. G. L. D.

FIFTH WEEK-MONDAY.

REPRODUCTION OF INSECTS.-CARE OF THEIR OFFSPRING, EXEMPLIFIED IN BEES AND WASPS.

In the volume on Winter,' I particularized, among the hybernating instincts of other insects, those of the bee; and in turning to the reproductive instincts of this order of the animal creation, the bee seems still to claim our peculiar notice. It is true that Spring is not the season in which the bee, any more than numerous other tribes of the same genus, exercises, to any great extent, its reproductive powers, though it is in this season that it makes the first great preparations for the fulfilment of that important function ; and, were I to follow rigidly the precise order of time, I might, perhaps, be induced, either to postpone the whole subject as connected with this wonderful insect, to the Summer division of my labors, or at least to confine myself to the consideration of its building instinct. But it seems more convenient to connect together the various phenomena of reproduction, as exhibited in the different orders of living beings, without strict reference to the arrangement of time; and, therefore, I shall now treat of such of the habits and functions of this interesting little animal, as relate to the continuance of the species.

Referring to the sketch contained in the Winter' volume, of the instincts belonging to the four different castes which inhabit a hive of the common working bees, I begin by noticing the preparations which are made for the future progeny; and this necessarily includes some account of the construction of their cells. As soon as a swarm of bees enters a new hive, they begin to make

cradles for the residence of the expected offspring, as well as storehouses for the hoarding of their food. These are, in fact, the same little chambers, or at least chambers on a precisely similar construction. They are composed of wax,-a substance which was long believed to be extracted from flowers, but has now been ascertained, beyond all doubt, to be a secretion exuded through the openings of the rings formed by the scales of their bodies. Their mode of operation, which is sufficiently curious, is said to be as follows:-They commence by clustering, as it is called, which is effected by two bees taking hold of the roof of the hive, at a certain distance from each other, and others clinging to their legs, and to each other's, so as to form long rows, like garlands or strings of beads. Many such strings form a cluster. In this way, they remain for twenty-four hours, almost without motion, and meanwhile the necessary secretion has been going on, and by and by, the wax may be seen at the edge of the rings, which then appear bordered with white. "At last a bee comes out from the crowd, clears about an inch, by driving away the others with his head, and, settling in the middle of this space, begins to lay the foundation of a comb, which is a flat piece of wax, composed of a great number of cells. These cells are joined to each other's sides, and placed in a double row, end to end, so that each side of the comb is full of holes, fit for containing eggs or honey. The bee, we have just mentioned, pulls out the little cakes, one by one, from its wax-pockets, holds them in a pair of pincers, with which its legs are furnished, and works them about with its tongue, which is as useful as a trowel. When these are fixed to the roof of the hive, it disappears among its companions. Other bees follow this example, adding their little store of wax, until a lump is formed, large enough to work upon. The cells are then formed by another set of laborers; and a third party finish and polish the work, by drawing their mouths, their feet, and their whole bodies over it, again and again, until it is quite smooth."*

Insects and their Habitations.'-This pleasing little book for

While many laborers are thus employed, others are industriously engaged in collecting food, which, after satisfying their own appetite, they bring to those that are working at the cells, that they may not be interrupted. When the laborer is hungry, he bends down his trunk before the bee that is to feed him, which pours a few particles of honey into it, and, thus satisfied, he proceeds with his task.

The hexagonal form of the cells has been deservedly admired, as a remarkable instance of instinctive wisdom, —a wisdom not belonging to the bee, but to Him who created it. It may be demonstrated to be the best possible shape, for consuming the least wax, and filling the smallest space. The manner, too, in which the cells are constructed, the sides of one cell forming the centre of the bottom of the opposite, is a most skilful contrivance for strengthening the whole structure of the comb, which ought not to escape observation. Neither should it be forgotten, that, although the range of the comb is perpendicular, that of the cells is not precisely horizontal, as it would be, were they placed at rightangles to its plane; they are uniformly sloped slightly upwards, to such an extent as, when assisted by the pressure of the external air, prevents the liquid from flowing out.

When these preparations are sufficiently advanced, and the season is favorable, the queen-bee, which is the mother of the whole progeny belonging to the colony, having hitherto superintended the entire operations, and, by her presence, given vigor and animation to them all, without, however, taking part in the work herself, commences her peculiar functions. She begins to lay her eggs, which she deposits, one by one, in the cells, by the insertion of the hinder part of her body. In a day or two, a little worm is hatched from each egg, the heat of the hive, kept up by a numerous swarm, being sufficient

children contains distinct and accurate descriptions, of which, when they have answered my purpose, I have freely availed myself, as the information is drawn from the best sources, and the work, humble as are its pretensions, is exceedingly interesting and useful.