driven into the sea by a N. W. wind, they formed upon the shore for 50 miles a bank three or four feet high, and when the wind was S. E. the stench was so powerful as to be smelt at the distance of 150 miles. . . . The noise the Locusts make when engaged in their work of destruction has been compared to the sound of a flame of fire driven by the wind, and the effect of their bite to that of fire.' pp. 214, 215, 217.

In this happy country we have seldom the misfortune to wit ́ness such desolating armies. Injuries, however, are often experienced from the more minute tribes which are so fatal to the labours of the agriculturist. They are generally spoken of by our farmers, under the names of the grub, and the fly; and still more loosely, the blight-a disease often incorrectly attributed to the parasitical Fungi, which, in most cases at least, are the comparatively innocent inhabitants of decaying vegetable matter, the organization of which has been previously destroyed by insect depredators.

The reader of this volume will turn with delight to that part which treats of the benefits derived from Insects.' Innumerable, no doubt, are the advantages derived from animals which form so large a portion of the living creation. Not a few of these may be distinctly traced, and many exist of which, from the imperfection of our knowledge, we are unconscious. The injuries we sustain, are more easily pointed out, than the benefits we derive, because the former force themselves upon our attention, while the latter are generally less palpable to the mass of mankind. In the natural, as in the moral world, what we pronounce evil, is easily perceived, because for the most part our view is confined to the immediate and insulated effect; but in tracing the instances of Divine goodness, we must take a more general view of its operations; we must disentangle complicated causes, we must watch the motions of wheels within wheels, if we would ascertain the ultimate effect of any particular part of the machine. In studying the wonderful works of nature, with what exquisite delight does the heart of a pious man expand, when pursuing such interesting trains of philosophical investigation. How delightful, for example, (to take a very familiar instance,) is it to observe that the very insect which appears to lurk about the petals of a flower, in some cases simply to rob it of its honey, in others to prey upon its lovely blossom, is, in innumerable instances, the unconscious instrument of a function essential to its fructification. While the little animal is revelling in the cowslip's bell, or the tube of the honeysuckle, it brushes the farina from the anthers, disperses it over the stigmas, and thus promotes the fructification of the plant, which may probably, in the succeeding year, be multiplied a hundred or a thousand fold! We shall select, for an extract, a passage which may be contrast

ed with the appalling increase of the Aphides, above mentioned.

• From none of the insectivorous larvæ do we derive more advantage, than from those which devour the destructive Aphides. A great variety of species are employed to keep them within due limits. There is a beautiful genus of four-winged flies, whose wings resemble the finest lace, and whose eyes are often as brilliant as burnished metals, (Hemerobius L.) the larvæ of which Reaumur, from their being insatiable devourers of them, has named the lions of the Aphides. The larvæ are furnished with a pair of long crooked mandibles, resembling horns, which terminate in a sharp point, serving the insect instead of a mouth; for through this orifice the nutriment passes down into the stomach. When among the Aphides, like wolves in a sheep fold, they make dreadful havoc : half a minute suffices them to suck the largest of them; and the individuals of one species clothe themselves, like Hercules, with the spoils of their hapless victims. Next in importance to these come the Aphidivorous Muscida, (many species of Syrphus F.) whose grubs are armed with a singular mandible, furnished like a trident with three points, with which they transfix their prey. When disposed to feed, he fixes himself by his tail, and, being blind, gropes about on every side, as the Cyclop did for Ulysses and his companions, till he touches one which he immediately transfixes with his trident, elevates into the air, that he may not be disturbed by its struggles, and soon devours. The Lady-bird, or Lady-cow (Coccinella L.) the favourite of our childhood, in its larva state feeds entirely on Aphides. In 1807, the shore at Brighton, and all the watering places on the south coast, were literally covered with them, to the great surprise and even alarm of the inhabitants, who were ignorant that their little visitors were emigrants from the neighbouring hop-grounds, where in their larva state each had slain its thousands and ten thousands of the Aphis. It is fortunate that in most countries the children have taken these friendly Coccinelle under their protection. In France they regard them as sacred to the Virgin, and call them Vaches à Dieu, Bêtes de la Vierge, &c.; and with us, commiseration for the hard fate of a mother, whose "house is on fire and her children at home," ensures them kind treatment and liberty.'-pp. 256-258.

Few, perhaps, have ever imagined, that among the more direct benefits' derived from insects, their utility, as articles of food, deserves a prominent place; and yet they are of more importance, even in this respect, than might at first be conceived. We think, however, that this topic is expanded to a rather ridiculous extent by our Authors; sometimes in a tone of irony, it is true, but with a greater mixture of gravity than most of their readers will be able to sustain. A slight specimen shall suffice.

Many larvæ that belong to the order Coleoptera, are eaten in different parts of the world. The grub of the palm-weevil (Calandra palmarum) which is the size of the thumb, has long been in request

in both the Indies. The late Sir Thomas La Forey, who was somewhat of an epicure, was extremely fond of it when properly cooked.' The larvæ, also, of the larger species of Cerambycidae are accounted very great delicacies in many countries; and the Cossus of Pliny, which he tells us the Roman epicures fattened with flour, most probably belonged to this tribe. The grub of Cerambyx damicornis, which is the thickness of a man's finger, is eaten at Surinam, in America, and in the West Indies, both by whites and blacks who empty, wash, and roast them, and find them delicious. No insects are more numerous in this island than the caterpil ars of Lepidoptera: if these could be used in aid of the stock of food in times of scarcity, it might subserve the double purpose of ridding us of a nuisance, and relieving the public pressure. If however we were to take to eating caterpillars, I should, for my own part, be of the mind of the red-breasts, and eat only the naked ones. The white ants (Termes) afford an abundance of food to some of the African nations. The Hottentots eat them, boiled and raw, and soon get into good condition upon this food. Mr. Smeatman says the Afri cans bring large kettles of them to their habitations, and parch them in iron pots over a gentle fire, stirring them about as is done in roasting coffee. In that state they eat them by handfuls as we do comfits. He has eaten them, and thought them delicate, nourishing, and wholesome, and resembling in taste sugared cream or white almond paste. The female ant, in particular, is supposed by the Hindoos to be endowed with highly nutritive properties, and was carefully sought after, and preserved for the use of the debilitated Surjee Rao, prime minister of Scindia, chief of the Mahrattas. Ants, I speak from experience, have no unpleasant flavour; they are very agreeably acid, and the taste of the trunk and abdomen is different. Mr. Consett states, that in some parts of Sweden, ants are distilled along with the rye, to give a flavour to the inferior kinds of brandy. Spiders form an article in Sparrman's Boshies-man's dainties; and Labillardiere tells us, that the inhabitants of New Caledonia seek for and eat with avidity large quantities of a spider nearly an inch long, and which they roast over the fire; if you could rise above vulgar prejudices, you would in all probability find them a most delicious morsel. If you require precedents, Reaumur tells us of a young lady who never saw a spider that she did not take and crack upon the spot. Anna Maria Schurman, another female, used to eat them like nuts, which she affirmed they much resembled in taste. Lalande, the celebrated French astronomer, was equally fond of these delicacies. The German, immortalized by Rösel, used to spread them upon his bread like butter. These edible aptera are all sufficiently disgusting; but we feel our nausea quite turned into horror when we read in Humboldt, that he has seen the Indian children drag out of the earth centipedes 18 inches long and more than half an inch broad, and devour them.'—pp. 293, 294, and 298–303.

Custom, doubtless, will reconcile us to the use of food from which, at first, we recoil with disgust. A shrimp has as forbidding a physiognomy as a locust. After all, however, there

is a natural antipathy against the race of reptiles, which few but savages are able to overcome and in countries sufficiently rich to produce corn, and to pasture cattle, the inhabitants will not readily be persuaded of the expediency of feasting upon beetles and caterpillars.

Less ambiguous benefits, derived from insects,' are pointed out in some highly interesting matter, upon those which are used in the Materia Medica; such as the Cantharides, and one or two other species of Lytta, of so incalculable importance, as ocsicatories; those which supply valuable products in the arts, as the Cynips, which produces the gall-nut; the Coccus Cacti L. which furnishes that beautiful dye Cochineal;-wax, the well known secretion of the common hive-bee, and silk, which is procured, not only from the cocoons of the silk-worm, (Phalena bombyx,) but also from those spun by the larvæ of many other moths. With respect to the latter, without which courts would lose half their external splendour and luxury, and would be deprived of its richest appendages, though long since thousands of the Chinese peasantry were clothed with this material, we are playfully reminded, that it was once so scarce in this country, that James the First, while king of Scotland, was forced to beg of the Earl of Mar, the loan of a pair of silk stockings, to appear before the English ambassador, enforcing his request with the cogent appeal: "For ye would not, sure, that your King should appear as a scrub before strangers!” p. 325.

Upon these interesting topics we could dwell far beyond the limits which we must prescribe to ourselves. The ground is tempting, and we dare not venture too far among its inviting attractions. We cannot, however, quit this subject, without making one more extract. The food of insects,' suggests the following well-written description of the exquisite contrivance for producing the web of the spider.

• The thread spun by spiders, is in substance similar to the silk of the silk worm and other caterpillars, but of a much finer quality. As in them, it proceeds from reservoirs, into which it is secreted in the form of a viscid gum; but in the mode of its extrication, it is very dissimilar, issuing not from the month, but the hinder part of the abdomen. If you examine a spider you will find in this part four little teat-like protuberances or spinners. These are the machinery through which, by a process more singular than that of rope spinning, the thread is drawn. Each spinner is pierced like the plate of a wire

* Wax has been indubitably proved, (by the experiments of the indefatigable Huber,) to be a secretion from the body of the bee, and not an extract from plants.

drawer with a multitude of holes, so numerous, and so exquisitely fine, that a space often not bigger than a pin's point includes above 1000. Through each of these holes proceeds a thread of inconceivable tenuity, which immediately after issuing from the orifice, unites with all the other threads from the same spinners into one. Hence from each spinner proceeds a compound thread; and these 4 threads, at the distance of about one tenth part of an inch from the apex of the spinners, again unite, and form the thread we are accustomed to see. Thus a spider's thread is not, as we suppose, a single line, but a rope composed of at least 4000 strands. How astonishing! But to feel all the wonder of this fact, we must follow Leeuwenhoeck in one of his calculations on the subject. This renowned microscopic observer found, by an accurate estimation, that the threads of the minutest spiders, some of which are not larger than a grain of sand, are so fine that 4,000,000 of them would not exceed in thickness the hairs of his beard. Now we know that each of these threads is composed of above 4,000 still finer. It follows, therefore, that above 16,000,000,000 of the finest threads which issue from such spiders, are not together thicker than a human hair! Of such tenuity it is utterly beyond the power of the imagination to conceive; the very idea overwhelms our faculties, and humbles us under a sense of their imperfection. . . You must not conceive that the toils of spiders are in every part of the world composed of such fragile materials. An author in the Philosophical Transactions asserts, that the spiders of Bermudas spin webs strong enough to ensnare a thrush. (Phil. Trans. 1668, p. 792.) And Sir G. Staunton informs us, that in the forests of Java, spiders webs are met with of so strong a texture, as to require a sharp cutting instrument to make way through them. pp. 399, 400, 416.'

From these extracts our readers will be fully able to judge of the nature of this work, and of the manner of its execution. If we have succeeded in imparting to them but a hundredth part of that lively interest we experienced in its perusal, they will conceive no slight desire to become better acquainted with its contents. To the man of science it must be highly acceptable, as a philosophical treatise upon one of the most interesting departments of animated nature. At the same time, it is written in a style perfectly intelligible even to the elementary entomologist, and can scarcely fail to inspire him with ardour in the prosecution of the more dry, but necessary details of the science. We think it our duty particularly to recommend it as a book well calculated for the young; as eminently adapted to improve the mind, and to lead it from the view of his works, to contemplate the God of Nature. Many excellent religious reflections are interspersed throughout the work. It is pleasing, indeed, to observe, that one great design of its Authors has been, to mark the power, wisdom, and goodness of the Creator, in the exhibition of the wonderful works of his hands.

Some few faults we have observed, which we cannot suffer to pass by altogether unnoticed, but upon which we have no dis