them becomes too small, and in their exertions to be more at ease they split its thin sides. To fill up these breaches as fast as they occur with a patch of wax, is the office of the workers, who are constantly on the watch to discover when their services are wanted; and thus the cells daily increase in size, in a way which to an ob server ignorant of the process seems very extraordinary.

The last duty of these affectionate foster-parents is to assist the young bees in cutting open the cocoons which have inclosed them in the state of pupœ. A previous labour however must not be omitted. The workers adopt similar measures with the hive-bee for maintaining the young pupa concealed in these cocoons in a genial temperature. In cold weather and at night they get upon them and impart the necessary warmth by brooding over them in clusters. Connected with this part of their domestic economy, M. P. Huber, a worthy scion of a celebrated stock, and an inheritor of the science and merits of the great Huber as well as of his name, in his excellent paper on these insects in the sixth volume of the Linnean Transactions, from which most of these facts are drawn, relates a singularly curious anecdote.

In the course of his ingenious and numerous experiments, M. Huber put under a bell-glass about a dozen humble-bees without any store of wax, along with a comb of about ten silken cocoons so unequal in height that it was impossible the mass should stand firmly. Its unsteadiness disquieted the humble-bees extremely. Their affection for their young led them to mount upon the cocoons for the sake of imparting warmth to the inclosed little ones, but in attempting this the comb tot

1

tered so violently that the scheme was almost imprac ticable. To remedy this inconvenience, and to make the comb steady, they had recourse to a most ingenious expedient. Two or three bees got upon the comb, stretched themselves over its edge, and with their heads downwards fixed their fore feet on the table upon which it stood, whilst with their hind feet they kept it from falling. In this constrained and painful posture, fresh bees relieving their comrades when weary, did these affectionate little insects support the comb for nearly three days! At the end of this period they had prepared a sufficiency of wax with which they built pillars that kept it in a firm position: but by some accident afterwards these got displaced, when they had again recourse to their former manœuvre for supplying their place, and this operation they perseveringly continued until M. Huber, pitying their hard case, relieved them by fixing the object of their attention firmly on the table a.

It is impossible not to be struck with the reflection that this most singular fact is inexplicable on the supposition that insects are impelled to their operations by a blind instinct alone. How could mere machines have thus provided for a case which in a state of nature has probably never occurred to ten nests of humble-bees since the creation? If in this instance these little animals were not guided by a process of reasoning, what is the distinction between reason and instinct? could the most profound architect have better adapted the means to the end-how more dexterously shored up a tottering edifice, until his beams and his props were in readiness?

a Linn. Trans. vi, 247 &c.

How

With respect to the operations of the termites in rearing their young I have not much to observe. All that is known is, that they build commodious cells for their reception, into which the eggs of the queen are conveyed by the workers as soon as laid, and where when hatched they are assiduously fed by them until they are able to provide for themselves.

In concluding this subject, it may not be superfluous to advert to an objection which is sometimes thrown out against regarding with any particular sympathy the affection of the lower animals to their young, on the ground that this feeling is in them the result of corpo real sensation only, and wholly different from that love which human parents feel for their offspring. It is true that the latter involves moral considerations which cannot have place in the brute creation; but it would puzzle such objectors to explain in what respect the affection which a mother feels for her new-born infant the moment it has seen the light, differs from that of an insect for its progeny. The affection of both is purely physical, and in each case springs from sensations interwoven by the Creator in the constitution of his creatures. If the parental love of the former is worthy of our tenderest sympathies, that of the latter cannot be undeserving of some portion of similar feeling.

I am, &c,

LETTER XII.

ON THE FOOD OF INSECTS.

INSECTS like other animals draw their food from the vegetable and animal kingdoms, but a very slight survey will suffice to show that they enjoy a range over far more extensive territories.

To begin with the vegetable kingdom. Of this vast field the larger animals are confined to a comparatively small portion. Of the thousands of plants which clothe the face of the earth, when we have separated the grasses and a trifling number of herbs and shrubs, the rest are disgusting to them, if not absolute poisons. But how infinitely more plenteous is the feast to which Flora invites the insect tribes! From the gigantic banyan which covers acres with its shade, to the tiny fungus scarcely visible to the naked eye, the vegetable creation is one vast banquet at which her insect guests sit down. Perhaps not a single plant exists which does not afford a delicious food to some insect, not excluding even those most nauseous and poisonous to other animals-the acrid euphorbias, and the lurid henbane and nightshade. Nor is it a presumptuous supposition that a considerable proportion of these vegetables were created expressly for their entertainment and support. The common nettle is of little use either to mankind or the larger animals, but you will not doubt its importance to the class of insects, when told that at least

thirty distinct species feed upon it. But this is not all. The larger herbivorous animals are confined to a foliaceous or farinaceous diet. They can subsist on no other part of a plant than its leaves and seeds, either in a recent or dried state, with the addition sometimes of the tender twigs or bark. Not so the insect race; to different tribes of which every part of a plant supplies appropriate food. Some attack its roots; others select the trunk and branches; a third class feed upon the leaves; a fourth with yet more delicate appetite prefer the flowers; and a fifth the fruit or seeds. Even still further selection takes place. Of those which feed upon the roots, stem, and branches, of vegetables, some larvæ eat only the bark (Sphinx apiformis, &c.), others the alburnum (Tortrix Wœberana), others the exuding resinous or other excretions (Tinea Resinella), a third class the pith (Noctua Ochraceago, Lep. Brit.), and a fourth penetrate into the heart of the solid wood (Cerambyces). Of those which prefer the leaves, some taste nothing but the sap which fills their veins (Aphides in all their states), others eat only the parenchyma, never touching the cuticle (subcutaneous Tinea), others only the lower surface of the leaf (many Tortrices), while a fourth description devour the whole substance of the leaf (most Lepidoptera). And of the flower-feeders, while some eat the very petals (Noctua Verbasci, Lingriæ, &c.), others in their perfect state select the pollen which swells the anthers (bees, Lepturæ, and Mordellœ), and a still larger class of these the honey secreted in the nectaries (most of the Lepidoptera, Hymeno`plera, and Diptera).

Nor are insects confined to vegetables in their re