for that purpose. This little maggot is at first rolled up, at the bottom of the cell, in the form of a ring; and, as soon as it is so far advanced as to require food, this is carefully supplied by the nursing bees, from stores of bee-bread, previously prepared from the pollen of flowers, by the forethought, or rather by the remarkable instinct, of the particular class to which this office belongs. In about ten days, the worm is full grown, and its attentive nurses, knowing that it will require no more food, seal up its cell with wax. It then spins for itself, like the caterpillar, a soft web, and is changed into a chrysalis. In this state, it undergoes its final transformation, and, after about ten days of sleep, breaks open the seal, assisted by the nurses, and comes forth a perfect bee. No sooner has it come to the surface of the comb, than it cleans itself with its legs, and then immediately unites with the rest of the swarm in the active duties of its caste.

As soon as the young bee is freed from its cradle, the queen, without waiting to clear away the silken swaddlingband with which it was enveloped, supplies the place with another egg. Thus the breeding-comb is kept full; and it is said that a single queen sometimes produces no fewer than sixty or seventy thousand young bees in one year. Of course, a hive of an ordinary size cannot possibly contain so numerous a progeny, and colonies are sent off; or, otherwise, contrivances, such as I have mentioned in the 'Winter' volume, are resorted to, to prevent the casting, as it is called, and to induce the supernumerary population to settle quietly down by the side of the parent stock.

Besides the domestic bee, whose instincts and habits are so well calculated to raise the mind to the contemplation of that Divine Intelligence, from whom it so obviously derives the whole mysterious impulse by which its actions are regulated, there are several other families of the same species, which differ from it, not only in their appearance, but in their modes of operation.

Of these, I shall first notice the carpenter bee, a solitary worker, one of the most remarkable of which, distinguished by beautiful wings, of a deep violet color, is

not found in Great Britain. With her two strong teeth, she chisels out a hole, in some decayed wooden post, to the depth of twelve or fourteen inches, making it as smooth and neat as if she had used the tools of the trades

man whose name she bears. Here she places her eggs, at intervals, in the following remarkable manner :-Having deposited an egg, along with such quantity of pollen as it will require in its state of a grub, she forms a compact covering for it, by gluing together, with her wax, pieces of the dust she had formed in boring. These she most ingeniously, and with great industry, unites to each other, till she has completed a partition, about the thickness of a halfpenny. This partition, which closes up the first-laid egg, forms a solid bottom, on which she deposits another, with an additional quantity of pollen; and so on, cell after cell, one above another, till, in the course of some weeks of hard labor, she has filled up the whole tube, carefully stopping up the entrance at last, to prevent the intrusion of enemies.

But this is not all. The little workman, as if foreseeing that the eggs which were first laid would be first hatched, and that, unless some provision were made for the escape of the elder bees, they would be kept prisoners till those which were younger by several days had come to maturity, and had made their escape, does not consider her maternal task completed, till she has bored a hole at the bottom of the tube, to the open air, by which they may effect their deliverance, one by one, according to their ages; each having only to gnaw through its own cell, into those left open by the bees which have already disengaged themselves. Another remarkable circumstance is, that, in turning into a chrysalis, each grub places itself with its head downwards, as if conscious of the way prepared for it to make its escape.

The wasp, another solitary laborer of this wonderful class, has no power of exuding wax from her body; but she is led, by her natural instinct, to supply this want in a very remarkable manner. By masticating the fibres of wood, and moistening them with a gummy liquid, which her mouth supplies, she kneads them into a kind of paste.

With this she lines the roof, sides, and bottom of a cell, which, if she has not been fortunate enough to find ready formed, she has excavated for herself in the earth, to the extent of about a foot square, or sometimes considerably more. The paste is spread, by means of her tongue and feet, into very thin layers, with spaces between, of which she employs fifteen or sixteen, as an envelope, to secure her habitation from damp and external injury, thus making the walls about two inches thick. She then forms her combs of the same material, across the interior like a hanging floor, supporting them with rods, of about an inch long, fixed to the roof. The cells are as neatly shaped as those of a bee-hive; and nothing can be more wonderful, than that one unaided and feeble insect should be able to perform so much, and with such singular art; and all, too, for the accomplishment of a future object-of which she cannot be believed to form any idea—the continuance of the species. Could it be supposed, that she was influenced by imitation and experience, the mystery would not be solved; because the question would still recur, Whence did the first wasp derive her skill, and how did she impart it to her progeny? But, in the present instance, even this modification of the wonder is entirely excluded; for it has been ascertained, that a wasp survives only one summer, and a female of this class can, therefore, never have seen the duties of a mother performed by her own parent. They lay up no winter provision, and the species is preserved by a very few of the youngest and strongest out-living the privations of the cold season in a torpid state, while all the rest, amounting to thirty or forty thousand in a swarm, perish in their nest.

When the queen-wasp has finished a few cells, and laid her eggs in them, she intermits her building labors, to collect food for the young working grubs, which will soon be hatched. In a few weeks, these become perfect wasps, and work with the parents in making new cells for the future brood, and in the duties of feeding and nursing the young. By the end of summer, there are, on an average, not fewer than from fifteen to sixteen thousand cells; and, as several wasps are produced in succession from a single

cell, it has been calculated, that one female may produce a progeny of above three hundred thousand!

When we remember, that the astonishing labors we have been describing, belong but to one class of instincts impressed on a single order of tiny and feeble insects, in whose history, and in the history of whose whole genus, every thing is surpassingly wonderful, we feel that language has no words to express the admiration with which our hearts are filled. Let the contemplation exalt our views of the infinite and ever-glorious perfections of the Creator. Every where, His hand is visible; but it appears to me, that He never lays it more bare to the view of mortals, than in the instinctive propensities with which He guides the irrational world of living beings to fulfil His high behests.

FIFTH WEEK-TUESDAY.

REPRODUCTION OF

INSECTS.-THE

MOTH-THE BURYING

BEETLE THE ANT.

THIS paper shall be devoted to a detail of some other instances of peculiar instincts among the insect tribes, relating to the continuance of the species.

The previous observations on bees lead me to notice an insect, which seems intended by Providence to preserve the balance of living beings, by carrying destruction into the colonies of these industrious creatures,-an application of a principle which we have already observed to be established as a universal law of Nature, relating to organized existences.

Bees, like other animals, have many enemies, which prey upon themselves, or their stores. Among these, perhaps, there are none more formidable than various kinds of moths. Night is the time when the latter fly about, and, as bees do not see distinctly, except in a strong light, the moths frequently elude their vigilance, gliding in between the guards stationed at the mouth of the hive, which

these creatures take special care not to disturb. If, however, the approach of the enemy is discovered, the daring attempt proves fatal; for the watchers immediately utter a loud hum of alarm, which brings many to their assistance, armed with their deadly stings, and the intruder is despatched, without mercy. When, however, the wily moth succeeds in gaining admittance, she then, by the rapidity of her motions, generally escapes her pursuers, even when some of the watching bees become aware of her intrusion. Having accomplished this, and ensconced herself in a secure corner of the hive, she lays her eggs, which was the only object that induced her to incur the danger ; for neither the bees, nor any part of their stores, can afford the means of subsistence to herself, although the wax is the proper food of the young grubs, which are to proceed from the eggs. As soon as they are hatched, each grub forms a winding tube in the wax, sometimes eighteen inches long. These tubes are lined with silk, which the bees are unable to pierce, and thus the grubs remain secure amidst the poisoned weapons of their enemies. They bore through the wax in every direction,-no part is safe from their ravages, and the bees are frequently compelled to yield all the fruits of their industry to these formidable spoilers, and to leave them in entire possession of the hive.

I shall next advert to the extraordinary habits of another insect, of a nature altogether different from those already mentioned, but not less strikingly indicative of beneficent intention in the Creator, who formed its frame, and inspired its propensities: I allude to the burying-beetle.

It may seem strange, to those who reflect on the mortality which takes place among all the races of animated nature, that so few dead bodies meet our sight in our rural walks, and so few of those nauseous and pestilential smells, which arise from animal substances in a state of decay, assail our olfactory nerves. One obvious and very extensive cause of this is, doubtless, that natural law by which one animal is made to prey upon the dead carcass of another, or to seize and devour it while yet alive; and the evil consequences which might ensue, were ani