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AN HISTORY OF THE EARTH, AND ANIMATED NATURE:

BY OLIVER GOLDSMITH.

VOL. VIII.

LONDON: Printed for J. NOURSE, in the STRAND, BOOKSELLER TO HIS MAJESTY. MDCCLXXIV.

CONTENTS.

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Of INSECTS. PART. III.
PART IV.
PART V.

AN HISTORY OF INSECTS. PART III.

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AN HISTORY OF INSECTS.
CHAP. I. Of Caterpillars in General.

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IF we take a curſory view of inſects in general, caterpillars alone, and the butterflies and moths they give birth to, will make a third part of the number. Wherever we move, wherever we turn, theſe inſects, in one ſhape or another, preſent themſelves to our view. Some, in every ſtate, offer the moſt entertaining ſpectacle; others are beautiful only in their winged form. Many perſons, of which number I am one, have an invincible averſion to caterpillars, and worms of every ſpecies: there is ſomething diſagreeable in their ſlow crawling motion, for which the variety of their colouring can never compenſate. But others feel no repugnance at obſerving, and even handling them with the moſt attentive application.

[4]There is nothing in the butterfly ſtate, ſo beautiful or ſplendid as theſe inſects. They ſerve, not leſs than the birds themſelves, to baniſh ſolitude from our walks, and to fill up our idle intervals with the moſt pleaſing ſpeculations. The butterfly makes one of the principal ornaments of oriental poetry; but, in thoſe countries, the inſect is larger and more beautiful than with us.

The beauties of the fly may therefore very well excite our curioſity to examine the reptile. But we are ſtill more ſtrongly attached to this tribe, from the uſefulneſs of one of the number. The ſilkworm is, perhaps, the moſt ſerviceable of all other animals; ſince, from its labours, and the manufacture attending it, near a third part of the world are cloathed, adorned, and ſupported.

Caterpillars may be eaſily diſtinguiſhed from worms or maggots, by the number of their feet; and by their producing butterflies of moths. When the ſun calls up vegetation, and vivifies the various eggs of inſects, the caterpillars are the firſt that are ſeen, upon almoſt every vegetable and tree, eating its leaves, and preparing for a ſtate of greater perfection. They have feet both before and behind; which not only enable them to move forward by a ſort of ſteps made by their fore and hinder parts, but alſo to climb up vegetables, and to ſtretch themſelves out from the boughs and ſtalks, to reach their food at a [5] diſtance. All of this claſs have from eight feet at the leaſt, to ſixteen; and this may ſerve to diſtinguiſh them from the worm tribe, that never have ſo many. The animal into which they are converted, is always a butterfly or a moth; and theſe are always diſtinguiſhed from other flies, by having their wings covered over with a painted duſt, which gives them ſuch various beauty. The wings of flies are tranſparent, as we ſee in the common fleſh fly; while thoſe of beetles are hard, like horn: from ſuch the wing of a butterfly may be eaſily diſtinguiſhed; and words would obſcure their differences.

From hence it appears, that caterpillars, whether in the reptile ſtate, or advanced to their laſt ſtate of perfection into butterflies, may eaſily be diſtinguiſhed from all other inſects; being animals peculiarly formed, and alſo of a peculiar nature. The tranſmutations they undergo, are alſo more numerous than thoſe of any inſect hitherto mentioned; and, in conſequence, they have been placed in the third order of changes by Swammerdam, who has thrown ſuch lights upon this part of natural hiſtory. In the ſecond order of changes, mentioned before, we ſaw the graſshopper and the earwig, when excluded from the egg, aſſume a form very like that which they [6] were after to preſerve; and ſeemed arrived at a ſtate of perfection, in all reſpects, except in not having wings; which did not bud forth until they were come to maturity. But the inſects of this third order, that we are now about to deſcribe, go through a much greater variety of transformations: for, when they are excluded from the egg, they aſſume the form of a ſmall caterpillar, which feeds and grows larger every day, often changing its ſkin, but ſtill preſerving its form. When the animal has come to a certain magnitude in this ſtate, it diſcontinues eating, makes itſelf a covering or huſk, in which it remains wrapped up, ſeemingly without life or motion; and after having for ſome time continued in this ſtate, it once more burſts its confinement, and comes forth a beautiful butterfly. Thus we ſee this animal put on no leſs than three different appearances, from the time it is firſt excluded from the egg. It appears a crawling caterpillar; then an inſenſible aurelia, as it is called, without life or motion; and laſtly, a butterfly, variouſly painted, according to its different kind. Having thus diſtinguiſhed this claſs of inſects from all others, we will firſt ſurvey their hiſtory in general; and then enter particularly into the manners and nature of a few of them, which moſt deſerve our curioſity and attention.

CHAP. II. Of the Transformations of the Caterpillar into its correſponding Butterfly or Moth.

[7]

WHEN winter has diſrobed the trees of their leaves, Nature then ſeems to have loſt her inſects. There are thouſands of different kinds, with and without wings; which, though ſwarming at other ſeaſons, then entirely diſappear. Our fields are re-peopled, when the leaves begin to bud, by the genial influence of ſpring; and caterpillars, of various ſorts, are ſeen feeding upon the promiſe of the year, even before the leaves are completely unfolded. Thoſe caterpillars, which we then ſee, may ſerve to give us a view of the general means which Nature employs to preſerve ſuch a number of inſects during that ſeaſon, when they can no longer find ſubſiſtence. It is known, by united experience, that all theſe animals are hatched from the eggs of butterflies; and thoſe who obſerve them more cloſely, will find the fly very careful in depoſiting its eggs in thoſe places where they are likely to be hatched with the greateſt ſafety and ſucceſs. During winter, therefore, the greateſt number of caterpillars are in an egg ſtate; and in this lifeleſs [8] ſituation, brave all the rigours and the humidity of the climate: and though often expoſed to all its changes, ſtill preſerve the latent principles of life, which is more fully exerted at the approach of ſpring. That ſame power that puſhes forth the budding leaf, and the opening flower, impels the inſect into animation; and Nature at once ſeems to furniſh the gueſt and the banquet. When the inſect has found force to break its ſhell, it always finds its favourite aliments provided in abundance before it.

But all caterpillars are not ſent off from the egg in the beginning of ſpring; for many of them have ſubſiſted during the winter in their aurelia ſtate: in which, as we have briefly obſerved above, the animal is ſeemingly deprived of life and motion. In this ſtate of inſenſibility, many of theſe inſects continue during the rigours of winter; ſome encloſed in a kind of ſhell, which they have ſpun for themſelves at the end of autumn; ſome concealed under the bark of trees; others in the chinks of old walls; and many buried under ground. From all theſe, a variety of butterflies are ſeen to iſſue, in the beginning of ſpring; and adorn the earlieſt part of the year with their painted flutterings.

Some caterpillars do not make any change whatſoever at the approach of winter; but continue [9] to live in their reptile ſtate, through all the ſeverity of the ſeaſon. Theſe chuſe themſelves ſome retreat, where they may remain undiſturbed for ſome months together; and there they remain, quite motionleſs, and as inſenſible as if they were actually dead. Their conſtitution is ſuch, that food, at that time, would be uſeleſs; and the cold prevents their making thoſe diſſipations which require reſtoration. In general, caterpillars of this kind are found in great numbers together, encloſed in one common web, that covers them all, and ſerves to protect them from the injuries of the air.

Laſtly, there are ſome of the caterpillar kind, whoſe butterflies live all the winter; and who, having fluttered about for ſome part of the latter end of autumn, ſeek for ſome retreat during the winter, in order to anſwer the ends of propagation, at the approach of ſpring. Theſe are often found lifeleſs and motionleſs in the hollows of trees, or the clefts of timber; but, by being approached to the fire, they recover life and activity, and ſeem to anticipate the deſires of the ſpring.

In general, however, whether the animal has ſubſiſted in an egg ſtate, during the winter; or whether as a butterfly, bred from an aurelia, in the beginning of ſpring; or a butterfly that [10] has ſubſiſted during the winter, and lays eggs as ſoon as the leaves of plants are ſhot forward, the whole ſwarm of caterpillars are in motion to ſnare the banquet that Nature has provided. There is ſcarce a plant that has not its own peculiar inſects; and ſome are known to ſupport ſeveral of different kinds. Of theſe, many are hatched from the egg, at the foot of the tree, and climb up to its leaves for ſubſiſtence: the eggs of others, have been glued by the parent butterfly to the leaves; and they are no ſooner excluded from the ſhell, but they find themſelves in the midſt of plenty.

When the caterpillar firſt burſts from the egg, it is ſmall and feeble; its appetites are in proportion to its ſize, and it ſeems to make no great conſumption: but as it encreaſes in magnitude, it improves in its appetites; ſo that, in its adult caterpillar ſtate, it is the moſt ravenous of all animals whatſoever. A ſingle caterpillar will eat double its own weight of leaves in a day, and yet ſeems no way diſordered by the meal.—What would mankind do, if their oxen or their horſes were ſo voracious!

Theſe voracious habits, with its ſlow crawling motion, but ſtill more a ſtinging like that of nettles, which follows upon handling the greateſt number of them, make theſe inſects not the moſt [11] agreeable objects of human curioſity. However, there are many philoſophers who have ſpent years in their contemplation; and who have not only attended to their habits and labours, but minutely examined their ſtructure and internal conformation.

The body of the caterpillar, when anatomically conſidered, is found compoſed of rings, whoſe circumference is pretty near circular or oval. They are generally twelve in number, and are all membraneous; by which caterpillars may be diſtinguiſhed from many other inſects, that nearly reſemble them in form. The head of the caterpillar is connected to the firſt ring by the neck; that is generally ſo ſhort and contracted, that it is ſcarce viſible. All the covering of the head in caterpillars ſeems to conſiſt of a ſhell; and they have neither upper nor under jaw, for they are both placed rather vertically, and each jaw armed with a large thick tooth, which is ſingly equal to numbers. With theſe the animals devour their food in ſuch amazing quantities; and with theſe, ſome of the kind defend themſelves againſt their enemies. Though the mouth be kept ſhut, the teeth are always uncovered; and while the inſect is in health, they are ſeldom without employment. Whatever the caterpillar devours, theſe [12] teeth ſerve to chop it into ſmall pieces, and render the parts of the leaf fit for ſwallowing. Many kinds, while they are yet young, eat only the ſucculent part of the leaf, and leave all the fibres untouched; others, however, attack the whole leaf, and eat it clean away. One may be amuſed, for a little time, in obſerving the avidity with which they are ſeen to feed; ſome are ſeen eating the whole day; others have their hours of repaſt; ſome chuſe the night, and others the day. When the caterpillar attacks a leaf, it places its body in ſuch a manner that the edge of the leaf ſhall fall between its feet, which keeps it ſteady, while the teeth are employed in cutting it: theſe fall upon the leaf, ſomewhat in the manner of a pair of gardener's ſheers; and every morſel is ſwallowed as ſoon as cut. Some caterpillars feed upon leaves ſo very narrow, that they are not broader than their mouths; in this caſe the animal is ſeen to devour it from the point, as we would eat a radiſh.

As there are various kinds of caterpillars, the numbers of their feet are various; ſome having eight, and ſome ſixteen. Of theſe feet the ſix foremoſt are covered with a ſort of ſhining griſtle; and are therefore called the ſhelly legs. The hindmoſt feet, whatever be [13] their number, are ſoft and flexible, and are called membranaceous. Caterpillars alſo, with regard to their external figure, are either ſmooth, or hairy. The ſkin of the firſt kind is ſoft to the touch, or hard, like ſhagreen; the ſkin of the latter, is hairy, and as it were thorny; and generally, if handled, ſtings like nettles. Some of them even cauſe this ſtinging pain, if but approached too nearly.

Caterpillars, in general, have ſix ſmall black ſpots placed on the circumference of the fore ring, and a little to the ſide of the head. Three of theſe are larger than the reſt, and are convex and tranſparent: theſe Reaumur takes to be the eyes of the caterpillar; however, moſt of theſe reptiles have very little occaſion for ſight, and ſeem only to be directed by their feeling.

But the parts of the caterpillar's body which moſt juſtly demand our attention, are the ſtigmata, as they are called; or thoſe holes on the ſides of its body, through which the animal is ſuppoſed to breathe. All along this inſect's body, on each ſide, theſe holes are eaſily diſcoverable. They are eighteen in number, nine on a ſide, rather nearer the belly than the back; a hole for every ring, of which the animal's body is compoſed, except the ſecond, the third, and the laſt. Theſe oval openings may be conſidered [14] as ſo many mouths, through which the inſect breathes; but with this difference, that as we have but one pair of lungs, the caterpillar has no leſs than eighteen. It requires no great anatomical dexterity to diſcover theſe lungs in the larger kind of caterpillars: they appear, at firſt view, to be hollow cartilaginous tubes, and of the colour of mother-of-pearl. Theſe tubes are often ſeen to unite with each other; ſome are perceived to open into the inteſtines; and ſome go to different parts of the ſurface of the body. That theſe veſſels ſerve to convey the air, appears evidently, from the famous experiment of Malpighi; who, by ſtopping up the mouths of the ſtigmata with oil, quickly ſuffocated the animal, which was ſeen to die convulſed the inſtant after. In order to aſcertain his theory, he rubbed oil upon other parts of the inſect's body, leaving the ſtigmata free; and this ſeemed to have no effect upon the animal's health, but it continued to move and eat as uſual: he rubbed oil on the ſtigmata of one ſide, and the animal underwent a partial convulſion, but recovered ſoon after. However, it ought to be obſerved, that air is not ſo neceſſary to theſe as to the nobler ranks of animals, ſince caterpillars will live in an exhauſted receiver for ſeveral days together; and though [15] they ſeem dead at the bottom, yet, when taken out, recover, and reſume their former vivacity.

If the caterpillar be cut open longitudinally along the back, its inteſtines will be perceived running directly in a ſtraight line from the mouth to the anus. They reſemble a number of ſmall bags opening into each other; and ſtrengthened on both ſides by a fleſhy cord, by which they are united. Theſe inſects are, upon many occaſions, ſeen to caſt forth the internal coat of their inteſtines with their food, in the changes which they ſo frequently undergo. But the inteſtines take up but a ſmall part of the animal's body, if compared to the fatty ſubſtance in which they are involved. This ſubſtance changes its colour when the inſect's metamorphoſis begins to approach; and from white it is uſually ſeen to become yellow. If to theſe parts, we add the caterpillar's implements for ſpinning, (for all caterpillars ſpin at one time or another) we ſhall have a rude ſketch of this animal's conformation: however, we ſhall reſerve the deſcription of thoſe parts, till we come to the hiſtory of the ſilk-worm, where the manner in which theſe inſects ſpin their webs, will moſt properly find place.

The life of a caterpillar ſeems one continued ſucceſſion of changes; and it is ſeen to throw off [16] one ſkin only to aſſume another; which alſo is diveſted in its turn: and thus for eight or ten times ſucceſſively. We muſt not, however, confound this changing of the ſkin with the great metamorphoſis which it is afterwards to undergo. The throwing off one ſkin, and aſſuming another, ſeems, in compariſon, but a ſlight operation among theſe animals: this is but the work of a day; the other is the great adventure of their lives. Indeed, this faculty of changing the ſkin, is not peculiar to caterpillars only, but is common to all the inſect kind; and even to ſome animals that claim a higher rank in nature. We have already ſeen the lobſter and the crab out-growing their firſt ſhells, and then burſting from their confinement, in order to aſſume a covering more roomy and convenient. It is probable that the louſe, the flea, and the ſpider, change their covering from the ſame neceſſity; and growing too large for the cruſt in which they have been for ſome time encloſed, burſt it for another. This period is probably that of their growth; for as ſoon as their new ſkin is hardened round them, the animal's growth is neceſſarily circumſcribed, while it remains within it. With reſpect to caterpillars, many of them change their ſkins five or ſix times in a ſeaſon; and [17] this covering, when caſt off, often ſeems ſo complete, that many might miſtake the empty ſkin for the real inſect. Among the hairy caterpillars, for inſtance, the caſt ſkin is covered with hair; the feet, as well griſtly as membraneous, remain fixed to it; even the parts which nothing but a microſcope can diſcover, are viſible in it; in ſhort, all the parts of the head; not only the ſkull, but the teeth.

In proportion as the time approaches in which the caterpillar is to caſt its old ſkin, its colours become more feeble, the ſkin ſeems to wither and grow dry, and in ſome meaſure reſembles a leaf, when it is no longer ſupplied with moiſture from the ſtock. At that time, the inſect begins to find itſelf under a neceſſity of changing; and it is not effected without violent labour, and perhaps pain. A day or two before the critical hour approaches, the inſect ceaſes to eat, loſes its uſual activity, and ſeems to reſt immoveable. It ſeeks ſome place to remain in ſecurity; and no longer timorous, ſeems regardleſs even of the touch. It is now and then ſeen to bend itſelf and elevate its back; again it ſtretches to its utmoſt extent: it ſometimes lifts up the head, and then lets it fall again; it ſometimes waves it three or four times from ſide to ſide, and then remains in quiet. At length, ſome of [20] within from the view; but in others, where it is more tranſparent, the caterpillar, when it has done ſpinning, ſtrikes into it the claws of the two feet under the tail, and afterwards forces in the tail itſelf, by contracting thoſe claws, and violently ſtriking the feet one againſt the other. If, however, they be taken from their web at this time, they appear in a ſtate of great languor; and, incapable of walking, remain on that ſpot where they are placed. In this condition they remain one or two days, preparing to change into an aurelia; ſomewhat in the manner they made preparations for changing their ſkin. They then appear with their bodies bent into a bow, which they now and then are ſeen to ſtraiten: they make no uſe of their legs; but if they attempt to change place, do it by the contortions of their body. In proportion as their change into an aurelia approaches, their body becomes more and more bent; while their extenſions and convulſive contractions become more frequent. The hinder end of the body is the part which the animal firſt diſengages from its caterpillar ſkin; that part of the ſkin remains empty, while the body is drawn up contractedly towards the head. In the ſame manner they diſengage themſelves from the two ſucceeding rings; ſo [...] the animal is then lodged entirely in the [21] fore part of its caterpillar covering: that half which is abandoned, remains flacid and empty; while the fore part, on the contrary, is ſwolen and diſtended. The animal, having thus quitted the hinder part of its ſkin, to drive itſelf up into the fore part, ſtill continues to heave and work as before; ſo that the ſkull is ſoon ſeen to burſt into three pieces, and a longitudinal opening is made in the three firſt rings of the body, through which the inſect thruſts forth its naked body, with ſtrong efforts. Thus at laſt, it entirely gets free from its caterpillar ſkin, and for ever forſakes its moſt odious reptile form.

The caterpillar, thus ſtripped of its ſkin for the laſt time, is now become an aurelia; in which the parts of the future butterfly are all viſible; but in ſo ſoft a ſtate, that the ſmalleſt touch can diſcompoſe them. The animal is now become helpleſs and motionleſs; but only waits for the aſſiſtance of the air to dry up the moiſture on its ſurface, and ſupply it with a cruſt capable of reſiſting external injuries. Immediately after being ſtripped of its caterpillar ſkin, it is of a green colour, eſpecially in thoſe parts which are diſtended by an extraordinary afflux of animal moiſture; but in ten or twelve hours after being thus expoſed, its parts harden, [20] [...] [21] [...] [24] their glutinous ſilk, make a kind of paſte, in which they wrap themſelves up. Many are the forms which theſe animals aſſume in this helpleſs ſtate; and it often happens, that the moſt deformed butterflies iſſue from the moſt beautiful aurelias.

In general, however, the aurelia takes the rude outline of the parts of the animal which is contained within it; but as to the various colours which it is ſeen to aſſume, they are rather the effect of accident; for the ſame ſpecies of inſect does not at all times aſſume the ſame hue, when it becomes an aurelia. In ſome, the beautiful gold colour is at one time found; in others, it is wanting. 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 beautiful brown varniſh, laid upon a white ground; and the white 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 of the little animal we are deſcribing; and the whole appears gilded, without any real gilding.

The aurelia thus formed, and left to time to expand into a butterfly, in ſome meaſure reſembles [25] an animal in an egg, that is to wait for external warmth to hatch it into life and vigour. As the quantity of moiſture that is encloſed within the covering of the aurelia, continues to keep its body in the moſt tender ſtate, ſo it is requiſite that this humidity ſhould be dried away, before the little butterfly can burſt its priſon. Many have been the experiments to prove that nature may in this reſpect be aſſiſted by art; and that the life of the inſect may be retarded or quickened, without doing it the ſmalleſt injury. For this purpoſe, it is only requiſite to continue the inſect in its aurelia ſtate, by preventing the evaporation of its humidity; which will conſequently add ſome days, nay weeks, to its life: on the other hand, by evaporating its moiſture, in a warm ſituation, the animal aſſumes its winged ſtate before its uſual time, and goes through the offices aſſigned its exiſtence. To prove this, Mr. Reaumur encloſed the aurelia in a glaſs tube; and found the evaporated water, which exhaled from the body of the inſect, collected in drops at the bottom of the tube: he covered the aurelia with varniſh; and this making the evaporation more difficult and ſlow, the butterfly was two months longer than its natural term, in coming out of its caſe: he found, on the other hand, [26] that by laying the animal in a warm room, he haſtened the diſcloſure of the butterfly; and by keeping it in an ice-houſe in the ſame manner, he delayed it. Warmth acted, in this caſe, in a double capacity; invigorating the animal, and evaporating the moiſture.

The aurelia, though it bears a different external appearance, nevertheleſs contains within it all the parts of the butterfly in perfect formation; and lying each in a very orderly manner, though in the ſmalleſt compaſs. Theſe, however, are ſo faſt and tender, that it is impoſſible to viſit without diſcompoſing them. When either by warmth, or encreaſing vigour, the parts have acquired the neceſſary force and ſolidity, the butterfly then ſeeks to diſembarraſs itſelf of thoſe bands which kept it ſo long in confinement. Some inſects continue under the form of an aurelia not above ten days; ſome twenty; ſome ſeveral months; and even for a year together.

The butterfly, however, does not continue ſo long under the form of an aurelia, as one would be apt to imagine. In general, thoſe caterpillars that provide hemſelves with cones, continue within them but a few days after the cone is completely finiſhed. Some, however, remain buried in this artificial covering for eight [27] or nine months, without taking the ſmalleſt ſuſtenance during the whole time: and though in the caterpillar ſtate no animals were ſo voracious, when thus transformed, they appear a miracle of abſtinence. In all, ſooner or later, the butterfly burſts from its priſon; not only that natural priſon which is formed by the ſkin of the aurelia, but alſo from that artificial one of ſilk, or any other ſubſtance in which it has encloſed itſelf.

The efforts which the butterfly makes to get free from its aurelia ſtate, are by no means ſo violent as thoſe which the inſect had in changing from the caterpillar into the aurelia. The quantity of moiſture ſurrounding the butterfly is by no means ſo great as that attending its former change; and the ſhell of the aurelia is ſo dry, that it may be cracked between the fingers.

If the animal be ſhut up within a cone, the butterfly always gets rid of the natural internal ſkin of the aurelia, before it eats its way through the external covering which its own induſtry has formed round it. In order to obſerve the manner in which it thus gets rid of the aurelia covering, we muſt cut open the cone, and then we ſhall have an opportunity of diſcovering the inſect's efforts to emancipate itſelf from its natural ſhell. When this operation begins, there [28] ſeems to be a violent agitation in the humours contained within the little animal's body. Its fluids ſeem driven, by an haſty fermentation, through all the veſſels; while it labours violently with its legs, and makes ſeveral other violent ſtruggles to get free. As all theſe motions concur with the growth of the inſect's wings and body, it is impoſſible that the brittle ſkin which covers it ſhould longer reſiſt: it at length gives way, by burſting into four diſtinct and regular pieces. The ſkin of the head and legs firſt ſeparates; then the ſkin at the back flies open, and dividing into two regular portions, diſengages the back and wings: then there likewiſe happens another rupture in that portion which covered the rings of the back of the aurelia. After this, the butterfly, as if fatigued with its ſtruggles, remains very quiet for ſome time, with its wings pointed downwards, and its legs fixed in the ſkin which it had juſt thrown off. At firſt ſight the animal, juſt ſet free, and permitted the future uſe of its wings, ſeems to want them entirely: they take up ſuch little room, that one would wonder where they were hidden. But ſoon after, they expand ſo rapidly, that the eye can ſcarce attend their unfolding. From reaching ſcarce half the length of the body, they acquire, in a moſt wonderful manner, their full [29] extent and bigneſs, ſo as to be each five times larger than they were before. Nor is it the wings alone that are thus encreaſed: all their ſpots and paintings, before ſo minute as to be ſcarce diſcernible, are proportionably extended; ſo that, what a few minutes before ſeemed only a number of confuſed, unmeaning points, now become diſtinct and moſt beautiful ornaments. Nor are the wings, when they are thus expanded, unfolded in the manner in which earwigs and graſshoppers diſplay theirs, who unfurl them like a lady's fan: on the contrary, thoſe of butterflies actually grow to their natural ſize in this very ſhort ſpace. The wing, at the inſtant it is freed from its late confinement, is conſiderably thicker than afterwards; ſo that it ſpreads in all its dimenſions, growing thinner as it becomes broader. If one of the wings be plucked from the animal juſt ſet free, it may be ſpread by the fingers, and it will ſoon become as broad as the other, which has been left behind. As the wings extend themſelves ſo ſuddenly, they have not yet had time to dry; and accordingly appear like pieces of wet paper, ſoft, and full of wrinkles. In about half an hour, they are perfectly dry, their wrinkles entirely diſappear, and the little animal aſſumes all its ſplendor. The tranſmutation being thus perfectly [30] finiſhed, the butterfly diſcharges three or four drops of a blood-coloured liquid, which are the laſt remains of its ſuperfluous moiſture. Thoſe aurelias which are encloſed within a cone, find their exit ſtill more difficult, as they have ſtill another priſon to break through: this, however, they perform in a ſhort time; for the butterfly, freed from its aurelia ſkin, butts with its head violently againſt the walls of its artificial priſon; and probably with its eyes, that are rough and like a file, it rubs the internal ſurface away; till it is at laſt ſeen burſting its way into open light; and, in leſs than a quarter of an hour, the animal acquires its full perfection.

Thus, to uſe the words of Swammerdam, we ſee a little inſignificant creature diſtinguiſhed, in its laſt birth, with qualifications and ornaments, which man, during his ſtay upon earth, can never even hope to acquire. The butterfly, to enjoy life, needs no other food but the dews of Heaven; and the honeyed juices which are diſtilled from every flower. The pageantry of princes cannot equal the ornaments with which it is inveſted; nor the rich colouring that embelliſhes its wings. The ſkies are the butterfly's proper habitation, and the air its element: whilſt man comes into the [31] world naked, and often roves about without habitation or ſhelter; expoſed, on one hand, to the heat of the ſun; and, on the other, to the damps and exhalations of the earth; both alike enemies of his happineſs and exiſtence.—A ſtrong proof that, while this little animal is raiſed to its greateſt height, we are as yet, in this world, only candidates for perfection!

CHAP. III. Of Butterflies and Moths.

[32]

IT has been already ſhewn that all Butterflies are bred from caterpillars; and we have exhibited the various circumſtances of that ſurprizing change. It has been remarked, that butterflies may be eaſily diſtinguiſhed from flies of every other kind, by their wings; for, in others, they are either tranſparent, like gauze, as we ſee in the common fleſh fly; or they are hard and cruſted, as we ſee in the wings of the beetle. But in the butterfly, the wings are ſoft, opake, and painted over with a beautiful duſt, that comes off with handling.

The number of theſe beautiful animals is very great; and though Linnaeus has reckoned up above ſeven hundred and ſixty different kinds, the catalogue is ſtill very incomplete. Every collector of butterflies can ſhew undeſcribed ſpecies: and ſuch as are fond of minute diſcovery, can here produce animals that have been examined only by himſelf. In general, however, thoſe of the warm climates, are larger and more beautiful than ſuch as are bred at home; and we can eaſily admit the beauty of [33] the butterfly, ſince we are thus freed from the damage of the caterpillar. It has been the amuſement of ſome to collect theſe animals, from different parts of the world; or to breed them from caterpillars at home. Theſe they arrange in ſyſtematic order; or diſpoſe ſo as to make ſtriking and agreeable pictures: and all muſt grant, that this ſpecious idleneſs is far preferable to that unhappy ſtate which is produced by a total want of employment.

The wings of butterflies, as was obſerved, 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 others remaining. They are, in their own ſubſtance, tranſparent; but owe their opacity to the beautiful duſt with which they are covered; and which has been likened, by ſome naturaliſts, to the feathers of birds; by others, to the ſcales of fiſhes; as their imaginations were diſpoſed to catch the reſemblance. 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 forms, generally ſupported upon a footſtalk, regularly laid upon the whole ſurface. Nothing can exceed the beautiful and regular arrangement of theſe little ſubſtances; [34] which thus ſerve to paint the butterfly's wing, like the tiles of an houſe. Thoſe of one rank are a little covered by thoſe that follow: they are of many figures: on one part of the wing may be ſeen a ſucceſſion of oval ſtuds; on another part, a cluſter of ſtuds, each in the form of an 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 wing itſelf is compoſed of ſeveral thick nerves, which render the conſtruction very ſtrong, though light; and though it be covered over with thouſands of theſe ſcales or ſtuds, yet its weight is very little encreaſed by the number. The animal is with eaſe enabled to ſupport itſelf a long while in air, although its flight be not very graceful. When it deſigns to fly to a conſiderable diſtance, it aſcends and deſcends alternately; going ſometimes to the right, ſometimes to the left, without any apparent reaſon. Upon cloſer examination, however, it will be found that it flies thus irregularly in purſuit of its mate; and as dogs bait and quarter the ground in purſuit of their game, ſo theſe inſects traverſe the air, in queſt of their mates, whom they can diſcover at more than a mile's diſtance.

[35]If we proſecute our deſcription of the butterfly, the animal may be divided into three parts; the head, the corſelet, and the body.

The body is the hinder part of the butterfly, and is compoſed of rings, which are generally concealed under long hair, with which that part of the animal is cloathed. The corſelet is more ſolid than the reſt of the body, becauſe the fore wings, and the legs, are fixed therein. The legs are ſix in number, although four only are made uſe of by the animal; the two fore legs being often ſo much concealed in the long hair of the body, that it is ſometimes difficult to diſcover them. If we examine theſe parts internally, we ſhall find the ſame ſet of veſſels in the butterfly that we obſerved in the caterpillar, but with this great difference; that as the blood, or humours, in the caterpillar, circulated from the tail to the head, they are found, in the butterfly, to take a direct contrary courſe, and to circulate from the head to the tail; ſo that the caterpillar may be conſidered as the embryo animal, in which, as we have formerly ſeen, the circulation is carried on differently from what it is in animals when excluded.

But leaving the other parts of the butterfly, let us turn our attention particularly to the head. The eyes of butterflies have not all the ſame [36] form; for, in ſome they are large, in others ſmall; in ſome they are the larger portion of a ſphere, in others they are but a ſmall part of it, and juſt appearing from the head. In all of them, however, the outward coat has a luſtre, in which may be diſcovered the various colours of the rainbow. When examined a little 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. In this particular, the eye of the butterfly, and of moſt other inſects, entirely correſpond; and Luenhoek pretends, there are above ſix thouſand facets on the cornea of a flea. Theſe animals, therefore, ſee not only with great clearneſs; but view every object multiplied in a ſurprizing manner. Puget adapted the cornea of a fly in ſuch a poſition, as to ſee objects through it by the 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: the arch of a bridge exhibited a ſpectacle more magnificent than human ſkill could perform; the flame of a candle ſeemed a beautiful illumination. It ſtill, however, remains a doubt, [37] 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.

Butterflies, as well as moſt other flying inſects, have two inſtruments, like horns, on their heads, which are commonly called feelers. They differ from the horns of greater animals, in being moveable at their baſe; and in having a great number of joints, by which means the inſect is enabled to turn them in every direction. Thoſe of butterflies are placed at the top of the head, pretty near the external edge of each eye. What the uſe of theſe inſtruments may be, which are thus formed with ſo much art, and by a Workman who does nothing without reaſon, is as yet unknown to man. They may ſerve to guard the eye; they may be of uſe to clean it; or they may be the organ of ſome ſenſe which we are ignorant of: but this is only explaining one difficulty by another.

We are not ſo ignorant of the uſes of the trunk, which few inſects of the butterfly kind are without. This inſtrument is placed exactly between the eyes; and when the animal is not employed in ſeeking its nouriſhment, it is rolled up, like a curl. A butterfly, when it is feeding, flies round ſome flower, and ſettles upon it. [38] The trunk is then uncurled, and thruſt out either wholly or in part; and is employed in ſearching the flower to its very bottom, let it be never ſo deep. 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 equal hollow tubes, nicely joined to each other, like the pipes of an organ.

Such is the figure and conformation of theſe beautiful inſects, that cheer our walks, and give us the earlieſt intimations of ſummer. But it is not by day alone that they are ſeen fluttering wantonly from flower to flower, as the greateſt number of them fly by night, and expand the moſt beautiful colouring, at thoſe hours when there is no ſpectator. This tribe of inſects has therefore been divided into Diurnal and Nocturnal Flies; or, more properly ſpeaking, into Butterflies and Moths: the one only flying by day, the other moſt uſually on the wing in the night. They may be eaſily diſtinguiſhed from each other, by their horns or feelers: thoſe of the butterfly being clubbed, or knobbed at the end; thoſe of the moth, tapering finer and finer to a point. To expreſs it technically—the feelers of butterflies are clavated; thoſe of moths, are filiform.

[39]The butterflies, as well as the moths, employ the ſhort life aſſigned them, 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 can often perceive at above two miles diſtance. Their ſagacity in this particular is not leſs aſtoniſhing than true; but by what ſenſe they are thus capable of diſtinguiſhing each other at ſuch diſtances, is not eaſy to conceive. It cannot be by the ſight, ſince ſuch ſmall objects as they are muſt be utterly imperceptible, at half the diſtance at which they perceive each other: 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 the male, after having fluttered, as if careleſly, 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.

The general rule among inſects is, that the female is larger than the male; and this obtains particularly in the tribe I am deſcribing. The body of the male is ſmaller and ſlenderer; that of the female, more thick and oval. Previous to the junction of theſe animals, they are ſeen ſporting in the air, purſuing and flying from [40] each other, and preparing, by a mock combat, for the more important buſineſs of their lives. If they be diſturbed while united, the female flies off with the male on her back, who ſeems entirely paſſive upon the occaſion.

But the females of many moths and butterflies ſeem to have aſſumed their airy form for no other reaſon but to fecundate their eggs, and lay them. They are not ſeen fluttering about in queſt of food, or a mate: all that paſſes, during their ſhort lives, is a junction with the male of about half an hour; after which they depoſite their eggs, and die, without taking any nouriſhment, or ſeeking any. It may be obſerved, however, that in all the females of this tribe, they are impregnated by the male by one aperture, and lay their eggs by another.

The eggs of female butterflies are diſpoſed in the body like a bed of chaplets; which, when excluded, are uſually oval, and of a whitiſh colour: ſome, however, are quite round; and others flatted, like a turnip. The covering or ſhell of the egg, though ſolid, is thin and tranſparent; and in proportion as the caterpillar grows within the egg, the colours change, and are diſtributed differently. The butterfly ſeems very well inſtructed by nature in its choice of the plant, or the leaf, where it ſhall depoſite its [41] burthen. Each egg contains but one caterpillar; and it is requiſite that this little animal, when excluded, ſhould be near its peculiar proviſion. The butterfly, therefore, is careful to place her brood only upon thoſe plants that afford good nouriſhment to its poſterity. Though the little winged animal has been fed itſelf upon dew, or the honey of flowers, yet it makes choice for its young of a very different proviſion, and lays its eggs on the moſt unſavoury plants; the ragweed, the cabbage, or the nettle. Thus every butterfly chuſes not the plant moſt grateful to it in its winged ſtate; but ſuch as it has fed upon in its reptile form.

All the eggs of butterflies are attached to the leaves of the favourite plant, by a ſort of ſize or glue; where they continue, unobſerved, unleſs carefully ſought after. The eggs are ſometimes placed round the tender ſhoots of plants, in the form of bracelets, conſiſting of above two hundred in each, and generally ſurrounding the ſhoot, like a ring upon a finger. Some butterflies ſecure their eggs from the injuries of air, by covering them with hair, plucked from their own bodies, as birds ſometimes are ſeen to make their neſts; ſo that their eggs are thus kept warm, and alſo entirely concealed.

[42]All the tribe of female moths lay their eggs a ſhort time after they leave the aurelia; but there are many butterflies that flutter about the whole ſummer, and do not think of laying, till the winter begins to warn them of their approaching end: ſome even continue the whole winter in the hollows of trees, and do not provide for poſterity until the beginning of April, when they leave their retreats, depoſite their eggs, and die. Their eggs ſoon begin to feel the genial influence of the ſeaſon: the little animals burſt from them in their caterpillar ſtate, to become aurelias, and butterflies in their turn; and thus to continue the round of nature.

CHAP. IV. Of the Enemies of the Caterpillar.

[43]

NATURE, though it has rendered ſome animals ſurprizingly fruitful, yet ever takes care to prevent their too great encreaſe. One ſet of creatures is generally oppoſed to another: and thoſe are chiefly the moſt prolific, that are, from their imbecility, incapable of making any effectual defence. The caterpillar has perhaps, of all other animals, the greateſt number of enemies; and ſeems only to exiſt, by its ſurprizing fecundity. Some animals devour them by hundreds; others, more minute, yet more dangerous, mangle them in various ways: ſo that, how great ſoever their numbers may be, their deſtroyers are in equal proportion. Indeed, if we conſider the miſchiefs theſe reptiles are capable of occaſioning, and the various damages we ſuſtain from their inſatiable rapacity, it is happy for the other ranks of nature, that there are thouſands of fiſhes, birds, and even inſects, that live chiefly upon caterpillars, and make them their moſt favourite repaſt.

When we deſcribed the little birds that live in our gardens, and near our houſes, as deſtructive [44] neighbours, ſufficient attention was not paid to the ſervices which they are frequently found to render us. It has been proved, that a ſingle ſparrow and its mate, that have young ones, deſtroy above three thouſand caterpillars in a week; not to mention ſeveral butterflies, in which numberleſs caterpillars are deſtroyed in embryo. It is in purſuit of theſe reptiles that we are favoured with the viſits of many of our moſt beautiful ſongſters; that amuſe us during their continuance, and leave us when the caterpillars diſappear.

The maxim which has often been urged againſt man, that he, of all other animals, is the only creature that is an enemy to his own kind, and that the human ſpecies only are found to deſtroy each other, has been adopted, by perſons who never conſidered the hiſtory of inſects. Some of the caterpillar kind in particular, that ſeem fitted only to live upon leaves and plants, will, however, eat each other; and the ſtrongeſt will devour the weak, in preference to their vegetable food. That which lives upon the oak, is found to ſeize any of its companions, which it conveniently can, by the firſt rings, and inflict a deadly wound: it then feaſts in tranquillity on its prey, and leaves nothing of the animal but the huſk.

[45]But it is not from each other they have moſt to fear, as in general they are inoffenſive; and many of this tribe are found to live in a kind of ſociety. Many kinds of flies lay their eggs either upon, or within their bodies; and as theſe turn into worms, the caterpillar is ſeen to nouriſh a ſet of inteſtine enemies within its body, that muſt ſhortly be its deſtruction: Nature having taught flies, as well as all other animals, the ſureſt methods of perpetuating their kind. ‘"Towards the end of Auguſt," ſays Reaumur, "I perceived a little fly, of a beautiful gold colour, buſily employed in the body of a large caterpillar, of that kind which feeds upon cabbage. I gently ſeparated that part of the leaf on which theſe inſects were placed, from the reſt of the plant, and placed it where I might obſerve them more at my eaſe. The fly, wholly taken up by the buſineſs in which it was employed, walked along the caterpillar's body, now and then remaining fixed to a particular ſpot. Upon this occaſion, I perceived it every now and then dart a ſting, which it carried at the end of its tail, into the caterpillar's body, and then drew it out again, to repeat the ſame operation in another place. It was not difficult for me to conjecture the buſineſs which engaged this animal ſo earneſtly; [46] its whole aim was to depoſite its eggs in the caterpillar's body; which was to ſerve as a proper retreat for bringing them to perfection. The reptile thus rudely treated, ſeemed to bear all very patiently, only moving a little when ſtung too deeply; which, however, the fly ſeemed entirely to diſregard. I took particular care to feed this caterpillar; which ſeemed to me to continue as voracious and vigorous as any of the reſt of its kind. In about ten or twelve days, it changed into an aurelia, which ſeemed gradually to decline, and died: upon examining its internal parts, the animal was entirely devoured by worms; which, however, did not come to perfection, as it is probable they had not enough to ſuſtain them within."’

What the French philoſopher perceived upon this occaſion, is every day to be ſeen in ſeveral of the larger kinds of caterpillars, whoſe bodies ſerve as a neſt to various flies, that very carefully depoſite their eggs within them. The large cabbage caterpillar is ſo ſubject to its injuries, that, at certain ſeaſons, it is much eaſier to find them with than without them. The ichnumon fly, as it is called, particularly infeſts theſe reptiles, and prevents their fecundity. This fly is, of all others, the moſt formidable to inſects of [47] various kinds. The ſpider, that deſtroys the ant, the moth, and the butterfly, yet often falls a prey to the ichnumon; who purſues the robber to his retreat, and, deſpiſing his nets, tears him in pieces, in the very labyrinth he has made. This inſect, as redoubtable as the little quadrupede that deſtroys the crocodile, has received the ſame name; and from its deſtruction of the caterpillar tribe, is probably more ſerviceable to mankind. This inſect, I ſay, makes the body of the caterpillar the place for depoſiting its eggs; to the number of ten, fifteen, or twenty. As they are laid in thoſe parts which are not mortal, the reptile ſtill continues to live, and to feed, ſhewing no ſigns of being incommoded by its new gueſts. The caterpillar changes its ſkin; and ſometimes undergoes the great change into an aurelia: but ſtill the fatal intruders work within, and ſecretly devour its internal ſubſtance: ſoon after they are ſeen burſting through its ſkin, and moving away, in order to ſpin themſelves a covering, previous to their own little transformation. It is indeed aſtoniſhing ſometimes to ſee the number of worms, and thoſe pretty large, that thus iſſue from the body of a ſingle caterpillar, and eat their way through its ſkin: but it is more extraordinary ſtill, that they ſhould remain within the body, devouring its [48] entrails, without deſtroying its life. The truth is, they ſeem inſtructed by nature not to devour its vital parts; for they are found to feed only upon that fatty ſubſtance which compoſes the largeſt part of the caterpillar's body. When this ſurprizing appearance was firſt obſerved, it was ſuppoſed that the animal thus gave birth to a number of flies, different from itſelf; and that the ſame caterpillar ſometimes bred an ichnumon, and ſometimes a butterfly: but it was not till after more careful inſpection, it was diſcovered, that the ichnumon tribe were not the caterpillar's offspring, but its murderers.

CHAP. V. Of the Silkworm.

[49]

HAVING mentioned, in the laſt chapter, the damages inflicted by the caterpillar tribe, we now come to an animal of this kind, that alone compenſates for all the miſchief occaſioned by the reſt. This little creature, which only works for itſelf, has been made of the utmoſt ſervice to man; and furniſhes him with a covering more beautiful than any other animal can ſupply. We may declaim indeed againſt the luxuries of the times, when ſilk is ſo generally worn; but were ſuch garments to fail, what other arts could ſupply their deficiency?

Though ſilk was anciently brought in ſmall quantities to Rome, yet it was ſo ſcarce as to be ſold for its weight in gold; and was conſidered as ſuch a luxurious refinement in dreſs, that it was infamous for a man to appear in habits of which ſilk formed but half the compoſition. It was moſt probably brought among them from the remoteſt parts of the eaſt; ſince it was, at the time of which I am ſpeaking, ſcarcely known even in Perſia.

Nothing can be more remote from the truth, [50] than the manner in which their hiſtorians deſcribe the animal by which ſilk is produced. Pauſanias informs us, that ſilk came from the country of the Seres, a people of Aſiatic Scythia; in which place an inſect, as large as the beetle, but in every other reſpect reſembling a ſpider, was bred up for that purpoſe. They take great care, as he aſſures us, to feed and defend it from the weather; as well during the ſummer's heat, as the rigours of winter. This inſect, he obſerves, makes its web with its feet, of which it has eight in number. It is fed, for the ſpace of four years, upon a kind of paſte, prepared for it; and at the beginning of the fifth, it is ſupplied with the leaves of the green willow, of which it is particularly fond. It then feeds till it burſts with fat; after which they take out its bowels, which are ſpun into the beautiful manufacture ſo ſcarce and coſtly.

The real hiſtory of this animal was unknown among the Romans till the times of Juſtinian; and it is ſuppoſed, that ſilkworms were not brought into Europe till the beginning of the twelfth century; when Roger of Sicily, brought workmen in this manufacture from Aſia Minor, after his return from his expedition to the Holy Land, and ſettled them in Sicily and Calabria. From theſe the other kingdoms of Europe [51] learned this manufacture; and it is now one of the moſt lucrative carried on among the ſouthern provinces of Europe.

The ſilkworm is now very well known to be a large caterpillar, of a whitiſh colour, with twelve feet, and producing a butterfly of the moth kind. The cone on which it ſpins, is formed for covering it while it continues in the aurelia ſtate; and ſeveral of theſe, properly wound off, and united together, form thoſe ſtrong and beautiful threads, which is woven into ſilk. The feeding theſe worms, the gathering, the winding, the twiſting, and the weaving their ſilk, is one of the principal manufactures of Europe; and, as our luxuries encreaſe, ſeems every day to become more and more neceſſary to human happineſs.

There are two methods of breeding ſilkworms; for they may be left to grow, and remain at liberty upon the trees where they are hatched; or they may be kept in a place built for that purpoſe, and fed every day with freſh leaves. The firſt method is uſed in China, Tonquin, and other hot countries; the other is uſed in thoſe places where the animal has been artificially propagated, and ſtill continues a ſtranger. In the warm climates, the ſilkworm proceeds from an egg, which has been glued [52] by the parent moth upon proper parts of the mulberry-tree, and which remains in that ſituation during the winter. The manner in which they are ſituated and fixed to the tree, keeps them unaffected by the influence of the weather; ſo that thoſe froſts which are ſevere enough to kill the tree, have no power to injure the ſilkworm.

The inſect never proceeds from the egg till Nature has provided it a ſufficient ſupply; and till the budding leaves are furniſhed, in ſufficient abundance, for its ſupport. When the leaves are put forth, the worms ſeem to feel the genial ſummons, and burſting from their little eggs, crawl upon the leaves, where they feed with a moſt voracious appetite. Thus they become larger by degrees; and after ſome months feeding, they lay, upon every leaf, ſmall bundles, or cones of ſilk, which appear like ſo many golden apples, painted on a fine green ground. Such is the method of breeding them in the Eaſt; and without doubt it is beſt for the worms, and leaſt troubleſome for the feeder of them. But it is otherwiſe in our colder European climates; the frequent changes of the weather, and the heavy dews of our evenings, render the keeping them all night expoſed, ſubject to ſo many inconveniences, as to admit [53] of no remedy, It is true, that by the aſſiſtance of nets, they may be preſerved from the inſults of birds; but the ſevere cold weather, which often ſucceeds the firſt heats of ſummer, as well as the rain and high winds, will deſtroy them all: and, therefore, to breed them in Europe, they muſt be ſheltered and protected from every external injury.

For this purpoſe, a room is choſen, with a ſouth aſpect; and the windows are ſo well glazed, as not to admit the leaſt air: the walls are well built, and the planks of the floor exceeding cloſe, ſo as to admit neither birds nor mice, nor even ſo much as an inſect. In the middle there ſhould be four pillars erected, or four wooden poſts, ſo placed as to form a pretty large ſquare. Between theſe are different ſtories made with ozier hurdles; and under each hurdle there ſhould be a floor, with an upright border all round. Theſe hurdles and floors muſt hang upon pullies, ſo as to be placed, or taken down at pleaſure.

When the worms are hatched, ſome tender mulberry leaves are provided, and placed in the cloth or paper box in which the eggs were laid, and which are large enough to hold a great number. When they have acquired ſome ſtrength, they muſt be diſtributed on beds of [54] mulberry leaves, in the different ſtories of the ſquare in the middle of the room, round which a perſon may freely paſs on every ſide. They will fix themſelves to the leaves, and afterwards to the ſticks of the hurdles, when the leaves are devoured. They have then a thread, by which they can ſuſpend themſelves on occaſion, to prevent any ſhock by a fall; but this is by no means to be conſidered as the ſilk which they ſpin afterwards in ſuch abundance. Care muſt be taken that freſh leaves be brought every morning, which muſt be ſtrewed very gently and equally over them; upon which the ſilkworms will forſake the remainder of the old leaves, which muſt be carefully taken away, and every thing kept very clean; for nothing hurts theſe inſects ſo much as moiſture and uncleanlineſs. For this reaſon their leaves muſt be gathered when the weather is dry, and kept in a dry place, if it be neceſſary to lay in a ſtore. As theſe animals have but a ſhort time to live, they make uſe of every moment, and almoſt continually are ſpinning, except at thoſe intervals when they change their ſkins. If mulberry leaves be difficult to be obtained, the leaves of lettuce or holyoak will ſuſtain them: but they do not thrive ſo well upon their new diet; and their ſilk will neither be ſo copious, nor of ſo good a quality.

[55]Though the judicious choice, and careful management of their diet, is abſolutely neceſſary, yet there is another precaution of equal importance, which is to give them air, and open their chamber windows, at ſuch times as the ſun ſhines warmeſt. The place alſo muſt be kept as clean as poſſible; not only the ſeveral floors that are laid to receive their ordure, but the whole apartments in general. Theſe things well obſerved, contribute greatly to their health and encreaſe.

The worm, at the the time it burſts the ſhell, is extremely ſmall, and of a black colour; but the head is of a more ſhining black than the reſt of the body: ſome days after, they begin to turn whitiſh, or of an aſh-coloured grey. After the ſkin begins to grow too rigid, or he animal is ſtinted within it, the inſect throws it off, and appears cloathed a-new: it then becomes larger and much whiter, though it has a greeniſh caſt: after ſome days, which are more or leſs, according to the different heat of the climate, or to the quality of the food, it leaves off eating, and ſeems to ſleep for two days together: then it begins to ſtir, and put itſelf into violent motions, till the ſkin falls off the ſecond time, and is thrown aſide by the animal's feet. All theſe changes are made in three weeks [58] may eaſily be obſerved is, that it is compoſed externally of a kind of rough cotton-like ſubſtance, which is called floſs; within the thread is more diſtinct and even; and next the body of the aurelia, the apartment ſeems lined with a ſubſtance of the hardneſs of paper, but of a much ſtronger conſiſtence. It muſt not be ſuppoſed, that the thread which goes to compoſe the cone, is rolled round, as we roll a bottom; on the contrary, it lies upon it in a very irregular manner, and winds off now from one ſide of the cone, and then from the other. This whole thread, if meaſured, will be found about three hundred yards long; and ſo very fine, that eight or ten of them are generally rolled off into one by the manufacturers. The cone, when completed, is in form like a pidgeon's egg, and more pointed at one end than the other; at the ſmaller end, the head of the aurelia is generally found; and this is the place that the inſect, when converted into a moth, is generally ſeen to burſt through.

It is generally a fortnight or three weeks before the aurelia is changed into a moth; but no ſooner is the winged inſect completely formed, than having diveſted itſelf of its aurelia ſkin, it prepares to burſt through its cone, or outward priſon: for this purpoſe it extends its [59] head towards the point of the cone, butts with its eyes, which are rough, againſt the lining of its cell, wears it away, and at laſt puſhes forward, through a paſſage which is ſmall at firſt, but which enlarges as the animal encreaſes its efforts for emancipation; while the tattered remnants of its aurelia ſkin lie in confuſion within the cone, like a bundle of dirty linen.

The animal, when thus ſet free from its double confinement, appears exhauſted with fatigue, and ſeems produced for no other purpoſe but to tranſmit a future brood. It neither flies nor eats; the male only ſeeking the female, whoſe eggs he impregnates; and their union continues for four days, without interruption. The male dies immediately after ſeparation from his mate; and ſhe ſurvives him only till ſhe has laid her eggs, which are not hatched into worms till the enſuing ſpring.

However, there are few of theſe animals ſuffered to come to a ſtate of maturity; for as their burſting through the cone deſtroys the ſilk, the manufacturers take care to kill the aurelia, by expoſing it to the ſun, before the moth comes to perfection. This done, they take off the floſs, and throw the cones into warm water, ſtirring them till the firſt thread offers them a clue for winding all off. They generally take eight of [60] the ſilken threads together; the cones ſtill kept under water, till a proper quantity of the ſilk is wound off: however, they do not take all; for the latter parts grow weak, and are of a bad colour. As to the paper-like ſubſtance which remains, ſome ſtain it with a variety of colours, to make artificial flowers; others let it lie in the water, till the glutinous matter which cements it is all diſſolved: it is then carded like wool, ſpun with a wheel, and converted into ſilk ſtuffs of an inferior kind.

PART IV.

[]

CHAP. I. Of the Fourth Order of Inſects.

[63]

IN the foregoing part we treated of caterpillars changing into butterflies; in the preſent will be given the hiſtory of grubs changing into their correſponding winged animals. Theſe, like the former, undergo their transformation, and appear as grubs or maggots, as aurelias, and at laſt as winged inſects. Like the former, they are bred from eggs; they feed in their reptile ſtate; they continue motionleſs and lifeleſs, as aurelias; and fly and propagate, when furniſhed with wings. But they differ in many reſpects: the grub or maggot wants the number of feet which the caterpillar is ſeen to have; the aurelia is not ſo totally wrapped up, but that its feet and its wings appear. The perfect animal, when emancipated, alſo has its wings either caſed, or tranſparent, like gauze; not coloured with that beautifully painted duſt which adorns the wings of the butterfly.

In this claſs of inſects, therefore, we may place a various tribe, that are firſt laid as eggs, then are excluded as maggots or grubs, then change [64] into aurelias, with their legs and wings not wrapped up, but appearing; and laſtly, aſſuming wings, in which ſtate they propagate their kind. Some of theſe have four tranſparent wings, as bees; ſome have two membranous caſes to their wings, as beetles; and ſome have but two wings, which are tranſparent, as ants. Here, therefore, we will place the bee, the waſp, the humble bee, the ichnumon fly, the gnat, the tipula or longlegs, the bettle, the may-bug, the glow-worm, and the ant. The transformations which all theſe undergo, are pretty nearly ſimilar; and though very different animals in form, are yet produced nearly in the ſame manner.

CHAP. II. Of the Bee.

[65]

TO give a complete hiſtory of this inſect in a few pages, which ſome have exhauſted volumes in deſcribing, and whoſe nature and properties ſtill continue in diſpute, is impoſſible. It will be ſufficient to give a general idea of the animal's operations; which, though they have been ſtudied for more than two thouſand years, are ſtill but incompletely known. The account given us by Reaumur is ſufficiently minute; and, if true, ſufficiently wonderful: but I find many of the facts which he relates, doubted by thoſe who are moſt converſant with bees; and ſome of them actually declared not to have a real exiſtence in nature.

It is unhappy, therefore, for thoſe whoſe method demands an hiſtory of bees, that they are unfurniſhed with thoſe materials which have induced ſo many obſervers to contradict ſo great a naturaliſt. His life was ſpent in the contemplation; and it requires an equal ſhare of attention, to prove the error of his diſcoveries. Without entering, therefore, into the di [...]pute, I will take him for my guide; and juſt mention, [66] as I go along, thoſe particulars in which ſucceeding obſervers have begun to think him erroneous. Which of the two are right, time only can diſcover; for my part I have only heard one ſide, for as yet none have been ſo bold as openly to oppoſe Reaumur's delightful reſearches.

There are three different kinds of bees in every hive. Firſt, the labouring bees, which make up the far greateſt number, and are thought to be neither male or female, but merely born for the purpoſes of labour, and continuing the breed, by ſupplying the young with proviſion, while yet in their helpleſs ſtate. The ſecond ſort are the drones; they are of a darker colour, longer, and more thick by one third than the former: they are ſuppoſed to be the males; and there is not above a hundred of them, in a hive of ſeven or eight thouſand bees. The third ſort is much larger than either of the former, and ſtill fewer in number: ſome aſſert, that there is not above one in every ſwarm; but this later obſervers affirm not to be true, there being ſometimes five or ſix in the ſame hive. Theſe are called queen bees, and are ſaid to lay all the eggs from which the whole ſwarm is hatched in a ſeaſon.

In examining the ſtructure of the common working bee, the firſt remarkable part that [67] offers is the trunk, which ſerves to extract the honey from flowers. It is not formed, like that of other flies, in the manner of a tube, by which the fluid is to be ſucked up; but like a beſom, to ſweep, or a tongue, to lick it away. The animal is furniſhed alſo with teeth, which ſerve it in making wax. This ſubſtance is gathered from flowers, like honey; it conſiſts of that duſt or farina which contribute to the fecundation of plants, and is molded into wax by the little animal, at leiſure. Every bee, when it leaves the hive to collect this precious ſtore, enters into the cup of the flower, particularly ſuch as ſeem charged with the greateſt quantities of this yellow farina. As the animal's body is covered over with hair, it rolls itſelf within the flower, and ſoon becomes quite covered with the duſt, which it ſoon after bruſhes off with its two hind legs, and kneads into two little balls. In the thighs of the hind legs there are two cavities, edged with hair; and into theſe, as into a baſket, the animal ſticks its pellets. Thus employed, the bee flies from flower to flower, encreaſing its ſtore, and adding to its ſtock of wax; until the ball, upon each thigh, becomes as big as a grain of pepper: by this time, having got a ſufficient load, it returns, making the beſt of its way to the hive.

[68]The belly of the bee is divided into ſix rings, which ſometime ſhorten the body, by ſlipping one over the other. It contains within it, beſide the inteſtines, the honey-bag, the venom-bag, and the ſting. The honey-bag is as tranſparent as chryſtal, containing the honey that the bee has bruſhed from the flowers; of which the greater part is carried to the hive, and poured into the cells of the honey-comb; while the remainder ſerves for the bee's own nouriſhment: for, during ſummer, it never touches what has been laid up for the winter. The ſting, which ſerves to defend this little animal from its enemies, is compoſed of three parts; the ſheath, and two darts, which are extremely ſmall and penetrating. Both the darts have ſeveral ſmall points or barbs, like thoſe of a fiſh-hook, which renders the ſting more painful, and makes the darts rankle in the wound. Still, however, this inſtrument would be very ſlight, did not the bee poiſon the wound. The ſheath, which has a ſharp point, makes the firſt impreſſion; which is followed by that of the darts, and then the venomous liquor is poured in. The ſheath ſometimes ſticks ſo faſt in the wound, that the animal is obliged to leave it behind; by which the bee ſoon after dies, and the wound is conſiderably enflamed. It might at firſt appear [69] well for mankind, if the bee were without its ſting; but, upon recollection, it will be found, that the little animal would then have too many rivals in ſharing its labours. An hundred other lazy animals, fond of honey, and hating labour, would intrude upon the ſweets of the hive; and the treaſure would be carried off, for want of armed guardians to protect it.

From examining the bee ſingly, we now come to conſider it in ſociety, as an animal not only ſubject to laws, but active, vigilant, laborious, and diſintereſted. All its proviſions are laid up for the community; and all its arts in building a cell, deſigned for the benefit of poſterity. The ſubſtance with which bees build their cells is wax; which is faſhioned into convenient apartments for themſelves and their young. When they begin to work in their hives, they divide themſelves into four companies: one of which roves in the fields in ſearch of materials; another employs itſelf in laying out the bottom and partitions of their cells; a third is employed in making the inſide ſmooth from the corners and angles; and the fourth company bring food for the reſt, or relieve thoſe who return with their reſpective burthens. But they are not kept conſtant to one employment; they often change the taſks aſſigned them: thoſe that have been [70] at work, being permitted to go abroad; and thoſe that have been in the fields already, take their places. They ſeem even to have ſigns, by which they underſtand each other; for when any of them want food, it bends down its trunk to the bee from whom it is expected, which then opens its honey-bag, and lets ſome drops fall into the other's mouth, which is at that time opened to receive it. Their diligence and labour is ſo great, that, in a day's time, they are able to make cells, which lie upon each other numerous enough to contain three thouſand bees.

If we examine their cells, they will be found formed in the exacteſt proportion. It was ſaid by Pappus, an ancient geometrician, that, of all other figures, hexagons were the moſt convenient; for, when placed touching each other, the moſt convenient room would be given, and the ſmalleſt loſt. The cells of the bees are perfect hexagons: theſe, in every honeycomb, are double, opening on either ſide, and cloſed at the bottom. The bottoms are compoſed of little triangular panes, which, when united together, terminate in a point, and lie exactly upon the extremities of other panes of the ſame ſhape, in oppoſite cells. Theſe lodgings have ſpaces, like ſtreets, between them, large enough to give the [71] bees a free paſſage in and out; and yet narrow enough to preſerve the neceſſary heat. The mouth of every cell is defended by a border, which makes the door a little leſs than the inſide of the cell, which ſerves to ſtrengthen the whole. Theſe cells ſerve for different purpoſes: for laying up their young; for their wax, which in winter becomes a part of their food; and for their honey, which makes their principal ſubſiſtence.

It is well known that the habitation of bees ought to be very cloſe; and what their hives want, from the negligence or unſkilfulneſs of man, theſe animals ſupply by their own induſtry: ſo that it is their principal care, when firſt hived, to ſtop up all the crannies. For this purpoſe they make uſe of a reſinous gum, which is more tenacious than wax, and differs greatly from it. This the ancients called Propolis: it will grow conſiderably hard in June; though it will in ſome meaſure ſoften by heat; and is often found different in conſiſtence, colour and ſmell. It has generally an agreeable aromatic odour when it is warmed; and by ſome it is conſidered as a moſt grateful perfume. When the bees begin to work with it, it is ſoft, but it acquires a firmer conſiſtence every day; till at length it aſſumes a brown colour, and becomes much [72] harder than wax. The bees carry it on their hinder legs; and ſome think it is met with on the birch, the willow, and poplar. However it is procured, it is certain that they plaiſter the inſide of their hives with this compoſition.

If examined through a glaſs hive, from the hurry the whole ſwarm is in, the whole at firſt appears like anarchy and confuſion: but the ſpectator ſoon finds every animal diligently employed, and following one purſuit, with a ſettled purpoſe. Their teeth are the inſtruments by which they model and faſhion their various buildings, and give them ſuch ſymmetry and perfection. They begin at the top of the hive; and ſeveral of them work at a time, at the cells which have two faces. If they are ſtinted with regard to time, they give the new cells but half the depth which they ought to have; leaving them imperfect, till they have ſketched out the number of cells neceſſary for the preſent occaſion. The conſtruction of their combs, coſts them a great deal of labour: they are made by inſenſible additions; and not caſt at once in a mold, as ſome are apt to imagine. There ſeems no end of their ſhaping, finiſhing, and turning them neatly up. The cells for their young are moſt carefully formed; thoſe deſigned for lodging the drones, are larger than the reſt; [73] and that for the queen-bee, the largeſt of all. The cells in which the young brood are lodged, ſerve at different times for containing honey; and this proceeds from an obvious cauſe: every worm, before it is transformed into an aurelia, hangs its old ſkin on the partitions of its cell; and thus, while it ſtrengthens the wall, diminiſhes the capacity of its late apartment. The ſame cell, in a ſingle ſummer, is often tenanted by three or four worms in ſucceſſion; and the next ſeaſon, by three or four more. Each worm takes particular care to fortify the pannels of its cell, by hanging up its ſpoils there: thus, the partitions being lined, ſix or eight deep, become at laſt too narrow for a new brood, and are converted into ſtore-houſes, for honey.

Thoſe cells where nothing but honey is depoſited, are much deeper than the reſt. When the harveſt of honey is ſo plentiful that they have not ſufficient room for it, they either lengthen their combs, or build more; which are much longer than the former. Sometimes they work at three combs at a time; for, when there are three work-houſes, more bees may be thus employed, without embarraſſing each other.

But honey, as was before obſerved, is not the only food upon which theſe animals ſubſiſt. [74] The meal of flowers, of which their wax is formed, is one of their moſt favourite repaſts. This is a diet which they live upon during the ſummer; and of which they lay up a large winter proviſion. The wax of which their combs are made, is no more than this meal digeſted, and wrought into a paſte. When the flowers upon which bees generally feed, are not fully blown, and this meal or duſt is not offered in ſufficient quantities, the bees pinch the tops of the ſtamina in which it is contained, with their teeth; and thus anticipate the progreſs of vegetation. In April and May, the bees are buſy, from morning to evening, in gathering this meal; but when the weather becomes too hot in the midſt of ſummer, they work only in the morning.

The bee is furniſhed with a ſtomach for its wax, as well as its honey. In the former of the two, their powder is altered, digeſted and concocted into real wax; and is thus ejected by the ſame paſſage by which it was ſwallowed. Every comb, newly made, is white: but it becomes yellow as it grows old, and almoſt black when kept too long in the hive. Beſide the wax thus digeſted, there is a large portion of the powder kneaded up for food in every hive, and kept in ſeparate cells, for winter proviſion. [75] This is called, by the country people, bee-bread; and contributes to the health and ſtrength of the animal during winter. Thoſe who rear bees, may rob them of their honey, and feed them, during the winter, with treacle; but no proper ſubſtitute has yet been found for the bee-bread; and, without it, the animals become conſumptive and die.

As for the honey, it is extracted from that part of the flower called the nectareum. From the mouth this delicious fluid paſſes into the gullet; and then into the firſt ſtomach, or honey-bag, which, when filled, appears like an oblong bladder. Children, that live in country places, are well acquainted with this bladder; and deſtroy many bees to come at their ſtore of honey. When a bee has ſufficiently filled its firſt ſtomach, it returns back to the hive, where it diſgorges the honey into one of the cells. It often happens that the bee delivers its ſtore to ſome other, at the mouth of the hive, and flies off for a freſh ſupply. Some honey-combs are always left open for common uſe; but many others are ſtopped up, till there is a neceſſity of opening them. Each of theſe are covered carefully with wax; ſo cloſe, that the covers ſeem to be made at the very inſtant the fluid is depoſited within them.

[76]Having thus given a curſory deſcription of the inſect, individually conſidered, and of the habitation it forms, we next come to its ſocial habits and inſtitutions: and, in conſidering this little animal attentively, after the neceſſary precautions for the immediate preſervation of the community, its ſecond care is turned to the continuance of poſterity. How numerous ſoever the multitude of bees may appear in one ſwarm, yet they all owe their original to a ſingle parent, which is called the queen-bee. It is indeed ſurprizing that a ſingle inſect ſhall, in one ſummer, give birth to above twenty thouſand young: but, upon opening her body, the wonder will ceaſe; as the number of eggs appearing, at one time, amounts to five thouſand. This animal, whoſe exiſtence is of ſuch importance to her ſubjects, may eaſily be diſtinguiſhed from the reſt, by her ſize, and the ſhape of her body. On her ſafety depends the whole welfare of the commonwealth; and the attentions paid her by all the reſt of the ſwarm, evidently ſhew the dependence her ſubjects have upon her ſecurity. If this inſect be carefully obſerved, ſhe will be ſeen at times attended with a numerous retinue, marching from cell to cell, plunging the extremity of her body into many of them, and leaving a ſmall egg in each.

[77]The bees which generally compoſe her train, are thought to be males, which ſerve to impregnate her by turns. Theſe are larger and blacker than the common bees; without ſtings, and without induſtry. They ſeem formed only to tranſmit a poſterity; and to attend the queen, whenever ſhe thinks proper to iſſue from the ſecret retreats of the hive, where ſhe moſt uſually reſides. Upon the union of theſe two kinds depends all expectations of a future progeny; for the working bees are of no ſex, and only labour for another offspring: yet ſuch is their attention to their queen, that if ſhe happens to die, they will leave off working, and take no farther care of poſterity. If, however, another queen is in this ſtate of univerſal deſpair preſented them, they immediately acknowledge her for ſovereign, and once more diligently apply to their labour. It muſt be obſerved, however, that all this fertility of the queen-bee, and the great attentions paid to her by the reſt, are controverted by more recent obſervers. They aſſert, that the common bees are parents themſelves; that they depoſite their eggs in the cells which they have prepared; that the females are impregnated by the males, and bring forth a progeny, which is wholly their own.

However, to go on with their hiſtory, as [78] delivered us by Mr. Reaumur—When the queen-bee has depoſited the number of eggs neceſſary in the cells, the working bees undertake the care of the riſing poſterity. They are ſeen to leave off their uſual employments; to conſtruct proper receptacles for eggs; or to complete thoſe that are already formed. They purpoſely build little cells, extremely ſolid, for the young; in which they employ a great deal of wax: thoſe deſigned for lodging the males, as was already obſerved, are larger than the reſt; and thoſe for the queen-bees the largeſt of all. There is uſually but one egg depoſited in every cell; but when the fecundity of the queen is ſuch, that it exceeds the number of cells already prepared, there are ſometimes three or four eggs crowded together in the ſame apartment. But this is an inconvenience that the working bees will by no means ſuffer. They ſeem ſenſible that, two young ones, ſtuffed up in the ſame cell, when they grow larger, will but embarraſs, and at laſt deſtroy each other: they therefore take care to leave a cell to every egg; and remove, or deſtroy the reſt.

The ſingle egg that is left remaining, is fixed to the bottom of the cell, and touches it but in a ſingle point. A day or two after it is depoſited, the worm is excluded from the ſhell of [79] the egg, having the appearance of a maggot rolled up in a ring, and lying ſoftly on a bed of a whitiſh coloured jelly; upon which alſo the little animal begins to feed. In the mean time, the inſtant it appears, the working bees attend it with the moſt anxious and parental tenderneſs; they furniſh it every hour with a ſupply of this whitiſh ſubſtance, on which it feeds and lies; and watch the cell with unremitting care. They are nurſes that have a greater affection for the offspring of others, than many parents have for their own children. They are conſtant in viſiting each cell, and ſeeing that nothing is wanting; preparing the white mixture, which is nothing but a compoſition of honey and wax, in their own bowels, with which they feed them. Thus attended, and plentifully fed, the worm, in leſs than ſix days time, comes to its full growth, and no longer accepts the food offered it. When the bees perceive that it has no further occaſion for feeding, they perform the laſt offices of tenderneſs, and ſhut the little animal up in its cell; walling up the mouth of its apartment with wax: there they leave the worm to itſelf; having ſecured it from every external injury.

The worm is no ſooner left encloſed, but, from a ſtate of inaction, it begins to labour, [80] extending and ſhortening its body; and by this means lining the walls of its apartment with a ſilken tapeſtry, which it ſpins in the manner of caterpillars, before they undergo their laſt transformation. When their cell is thus prepared, the animal is ſoon after transformed into an aurelia; but differing from that of the common caterpillar, as it exhibits not only the legs, but the wings of the future bee, in its preſent ſtate of inactivity. Thus, in about twenty, or one and twenty days after the egg was laid, the bee is completely formed, and fitted to undergo the fatigues of its ſtate. When all its parts have acquired their proper ſtrength and conſiſtence, the young animal opens its priſon, by piercing with its teeth the waxen door that confines it. When juſt freed from its cell, it is as yet moiſt, and incommoded with the ſpoils of its former ſituation; but the officious bees are ſoon ſeen to flock round it, and to lick it clean on all ſides with their trunks; while another band, with equal aſſiduity, are obſerved to feed it with honey: others again begin immediately to cleanſe the cell that has been juſt left; to carry the ordures out of the hive, and to fit the place for a new inhabitant. The young bee ſoon repays their care, by its induſtry; for as ſoon as ever its external parts become dry, it diſcovers its natural [81] appetites for labour, and induſtriouſly begins the taſk, which it purſues unremittingly through life. The toil of man is irkſome to him, and he earns his ſubſiſtance with pain; but this little animal ſeems happy in its purſuits, and finds delight in all its employments.

When juſt freed from the cell, and properly equipped by its fellow bees for duty, it at once iſſues from the hive, and inſtructed only by nature, goes in queſt of flowers, chuſes only thoſe that yield it a ſupply, rejects ſuch as are barren of honey, or have been already drained by other adventurers; and when loaded, is never at a loſs to find its way back to the common habitation. After this firſt ſally, it begins to gather the mealy powder, that lies on every flower, which is afterwards converted into wax; and with this, the very firſt day, it returns with two large balls ſtuck to its thighs.

When bees firſt begin to break their priſons, there are generally above a hundred excluded in one day. Thus, in the ſpace of a few weeks, the number of the inhabitants in one hive, of moderate ſize, becomes ſo great, that there is no place to contain the new comers; and they are ſcarcely excluded from the cell, when they are obliged, by the old bees, to ſally forth in queſt of new habitations. In other words, the [82] hive begins to ſwarm, and the new progeny prepares for exile.

While there is room enough in the hive, the bees remain quietly together; it is neceſſity alone that compels the ſeparation. Sometimes, indeed, the young brood, with graceleſs obſtinacy, refuſe to depart, and even venture to reſiſt their progenitors. The young ones are known by being browner than the old, with whiter hair; the old ones are of a lighter colour, with red hair. The two armies are therefore eaſily diſtinguiſhable, and dreadful battles are often ſeen to enſue. But the victory almoſt ever terminates with ſtrict poetical juſtice in favour of the veterans, and the rebellious offspring are driven off, not without loſs and mutilation.

In different countries, the ſwarms make their appearance at different times of the year, and there are ſeveral ſigns previous to this intended migration. The night before, an unuſual buzzing is heard in the hive; in the morning, though the weather be ſoft and inviting, they ſeem not to obey the call, being intent on more important meditations within. All labour is diſcontinued in the hive, every bee is either employed in forcing, or reluctantly yielding a ſubmiſſion; at length, after ſome [83] noiſe and tumult, a queen bee is choſen, to guard, rather than conduct, the young colony to other habitations, and then they are marſhalled without any apparent conductor. In leſs than a minute, they leave their native abode, and forming a cloud round their protectreſs, they ſet off, without ſeeming to know the place of their deſtination; The world before them, where to chuſe their place of reſt. The uſual time of ſwarming, is from ten in the morning, to three in the afternoon, when the ſun ſhines bright, and invites them to ſeek their fortunes. They flutter for a while, in the air, like flakes of ſnow, and ſometimes undertake a diſtant journey, but more frequently are contented with ſome neighbouring aſylum; the branch of a tree, a chimney top, or ſome other expoſed ſituation. It is, indeed, remarkable, that all thoſe animals, of what ever kind, that have long been under the protection of man, ſeem to loſe a part of their natural ſagacity, in providing for themſelves. The rabbit, when domeſticated, forgets to dig holes, the hen to build a neſt, and the bee to ſeek a ſhelter, that ſhall protect it from the inclemencies of winter. In thoſe countries, where the bees are wild, and unprotected by man, they are always ſure to build their waxen cells in the hollow of a tree; but with us, they ſeem improvident [84] provident in their choice, and the firſt green branch that ſtops their flight, ſeems to be thought ſufficient for their abode through winter. However, it does not appear, that the queen chuſes the place where they are to alight, for many of the ſtragglers, who ſeem to be pleaſed with a particular branch, go and ſettle upon it; others are ſeen to ſucceed, and at laſt, the queen herſelf, when ſhe finds a ſufficient number there before her, goes to make it the place of her head quarters. When the queen is ſettled, the reſt of the ſwarm ſoon follow; and, in about a quarter of an hour, the whole body ſeem to be at eaſe. It ſometimes is found, that there are two or three queens to a ſwarm, and the colony is divided into parties; but it moſt uſually happens, that one of theſe is more conſiderable than the other, and the bees by degrees, deſert the weakeſt, to take ſhelter under the moſt powerful protector. The deſerted queen does not long ſurvive this defeat; ſhe takes refuge under the new monarch, and is ſoon deſtroyed by her jealous rival. Till this cruel execution is performed, the bees never go out to work; and if there ſhould be a queen bee, belonging to the new colony, left in the old hive, ſhe always undergoes the fate of the former. However, it muſt [85] be obſerved, that the bees never ſacrifice any of their queens, when the hive is full of wax and honey; for there is at that time, no danger in maintaining a plurality of breeders.

When the ſwarm is thus conducted to a place of reſt, and the policy of government is ſettled, the bees ſoon reſume their former labours. The making cells, ſtoring them with honey, impregnating the queen, making proper cells for the reception of the riſing progeny, and protecting them from external danger, employ their unceaſing induſtry. But ſoon after, and towards the latter end of ſummer, when the colony is ſufficiently ſtored with inhabitants, a moſt cruel policy enſues. The drone bees, which are (as has been ſaid) generally in a hive, to the number of an hundred, are marked for ſlaughter. Theſe, which had hitherto led a life of indolence and pleaſure, whoſe only employment was in impregnating the queen, and rioting upon the labours of the hive, without aiding in the general toil, now ſhare the fate of moſt voluptuaries, and fall a ſacrifice to the general reſentment of ſociety.

The working bees, in a body, declare war againſt them; and in two or three days time, the ground all round the hive is covered with their dead bodies. Nay, the working bees [86] will even kill ſuch drones, as are yet in the worm ſtate, in the cell, and eject their bodies from the hive, among the general carnage.

When a hive ſends out ſeveral ſwarms in the year, the firſt is always the beſt, and the moſt numerous. Theſe, having the whole ſummer before them, have the more time for making wax and honey, and conſequently their labours are the moſt valuable to the proprietor. Although the ſwarm chiefly conſiſts of the youngeſt bees, yet it is often found, that bees of all ages compoſe the multitude of emigrants, and it often happens, that bees of all ages are ſeen remaining behind. The number of them is always more conſiderable than that of ſome populous cities, for ſometimes upwards of forty thouſand are found in a ſingle hive. So large a body may well be ſuppoſed to work with great expedition; and in fact, in leſs than twenty-four hours, they will make combs above twenty inches long, and ſeven or eight broad. Sometimes they will half fill their hives with wax, in leſs than five days. In the firſt fifteen days, they are always found to make more wax than they do afterwards during the reſt of the year.

Such are the out-lines of the natural hiſtory of theſe annimals, as uſually found in our own [87] country. How they are treated, ſo as to produce the greateſt quantity of honey, belongs rather to the rural oeconomiſt, than the natural hiſtorian; volumes have been written on the ſubject, and ſtill more remains equally curious and new. One thing, however, it may be proper to obſerve, that a farm, or a country, may be over ſtocked with bees, as with any other ſort of animal; for a certain number of hives, always require a certain number of flowers to ſubſiſt on. When the flowers near home are rifled, then are theſe induſtrious inſects ſeen taking more extenſive ranges, but their abilities may be over taxed; and if they are obliged, in queſt of honey, to go too far from home, they are over-wearied in the purſuit, they are devoured by birds, or beat down by the winds and rain.

For a knowledge of this, in ſome parts of France and Piedmont, they have contrived, as I have often ſeen, a kind of floating bee-houſe.

They have on board one barge, threeſcore or an hundred bee-hives, well defended from the inclemency of an accidental ſtorm; and with theſe, the owners ſuffer themſelves to float gently down the river. As the bees are continually chuſing their flowery paſture along the banks of the ſtream, they are furniſhed with ſweets before unrifled; and thus a ſingle floating [88] bee-houſe, yields the proprietor a conſiderable income. Why a method ſimilar to this has never been adopted in England, where we have more gentle rivers, and more flowery banks, than in any other part of the world, I know not; certainly it might be turned to advantage, and yield the poſſeſſor a ſecure, though perhaps a moderate income.

Having mentioned the induſtry of theſe admirable inſects, it will be proper to ſay ſomething of the effects of their labour, of that wax and honey, which are turned by man to ſuch various uſes. Bees gather two kinds of wax, one coarſe and the other fine. The coarſer ſort is bitter, and with this, which is called propolis, they ſtop up all the holes and crevices of their hives. It is of a more reſinous nature than the fine wax, and is conſequently better qualified to reſiſt the moiſture of the ſeaſon, and preſerve the works warm and dry within. The fine wax is as neceſſary to the animals preſervation as the honey itſelf. With this they make their lodgings, with this they cover the cells of their young, and in this they lay up their magazines of honey. This is made, as has been already obſerved, from the duſt of flowers, which is carefully kneaded by the little inſect, then ſwallowed, and having undergone a kind of digeſtion, [89] is formed into the cells, which anſwers ſuch a variety of purpoſes. To collect this, the animal rolls itſelf in the flower it would rob, and thus takes up the vegetable duſt with the hair of its body. Then carefully bruſhing it into a lump, with its fore paws it thruſts the compoſition into two cavities behind the thighs, which are made like ſpoons to receive the wax, and the hair that lines them, ſerves to keep it from falling.

As of wax, there are alſo two kinds of honey. The white and the yellow. The white is taken without fire from the honey-combs. The yellow is extracted by heat, and ſqueezed through bags, in a preſs. The beſt honey is new, thick and granulated, of a clear tranſparent white colour, of a ſoft and aromatic ſmell, and of a ſweet lively taſte. Honey made in mountainous countries, is preferable to that of the valley. The honey made in the ſpring, is more highly eſteemed, than that gathered in ſummer, which laſt is ſtill more valuable, than that of autumn, when the flowers begin to fade and loſe their fragrance.

The bees are nearly alike in all parts of the world, yet there are differences worthy our notice. In Guadaloupe, the bee is leſs by one half, than the European, and more black and [90] round. They have no ſting, and make their cells in hollow trees; where, if the hole they meet with is too large, they form a ſort of waxen houſe, of the ſhape of a pear, and in this they lodge and ſtore their honey, and lay their eggs. They lay up their honey in waxen veſſels, of the ſize of a pigeon's egg, of a black or deep violet colour; and theſe are ſo joined together, that there is no ſpace left between them. The honey never congeals, but is fluid, of the conſiſtence of oil, and the colour of amber. Reſembling theſe, there are found little black bees, without a ſting, in all the tropical climates; and though theſe countries are replete with bees, like our own, yet thoſe form the moſt uſeful and laborious tribe in that part of the world. The honey they produce, is neither ſo unpalatable, nor ſo ſurfeiting as ours; and the wax is ſo ſoft, that it is only uſed for medicinal purpoſes, it being never found hard enough to form into candles, as in Europe.

Of inſects, that receive the name of bees, among us, there are ſeveral; which, however, differ very widely from that induſtrious ſocial race we have been juſt deſcribing. The HUMBLE BEE is the largeſt of all this tribe, being as large as the firſt joint of one's middle finger. Theſe are ſeen in every field, and perched on [87] every flower. They build their neſt in holes in the ground, of dry leaves, mixed with wax and wool, defended with moſs from the weather. Each humble bee makes a ſeparate cell about the ſize of a ſmall nutmeg, which is round and hollow, containing the honey in a bag. Several of theſe cells are joined together, in ſuch a manner, that the whole appears like a cluſter of grapes. The females, which have the appearance of waſps, are very few, and their eggs are laid in cells, which the reſt ſoon cover over with wax. It is uncertain whether they have a queen or not; but there is one much larger than the reſt, without wings, and without hair, and all over black, like poliſhed ebony. This goes and views all the works, from time to time, and enters into the cell, as if it wanted to ſee whether every thing was done right: In the morning, the young humble bees are very idle, and ſeem not at all inclined to labour, till one of the largeſt, about ſeven o'clock, thruſts half its body from a hole, deſigned for that purpoſe, and ſeated on the top of the neſt, beats its wings for twenty minutes ſucceſſively, buzzing the whole time, till the whole colony is put in motion. The humble bees gather honey, as well as the common [92] bees; but it is neither ſo fine, nor ſo good, nor the wax ſo clean, or ſo capable of fuſion.

Beſides the bees already mentioned, there are various kinds among us, that have much the appearance of honey-makers, and yet make only wax. The WOOD BEE is ſeen in every garden. It is rather larger than the common queen bee; its body of a blueiſh black, which is ſmooth and ſhining. It begins to appear at the approach of ſpring, and is ſeen flying near walls expoſed to a ſunny aſpect. This bee makes its neſt in ſome piece of wood, which it contrives to ſcoop and hollow for its purpoſe. This, however, is never done in trees that are ſtanding, for the wood it makes choice of is half rotten. The holes are not made directly forward, but turning to one ſide, and have an opening ſufficient to admit one's middle finger; from whence runs the inner apartment, generally twelve or fifteen inches long. The inſtruments uſed in boring theſe cavities, are their teeth; the cavity is uſually branched into three or four apartments; and in each of theſe, they lay their eggs, to the number of ten or twelve, each ſeparate and diſtinct from the reſt: The egg is involved in a ſort of paſte, which ſerves at once for the young animal's protection [93] and nouriſhment. The grown bees, however, feed upon ſmall inſects, particularly a louſe, of a reddiſh brown colour, of the ſize of a ſmall pin's head.

MASON BEES make their cells with a ſort of mortar, made of earth, which they build againſt a wall that is expoſed to the ſun. The mortar, which at firſt is ſoft, ſoon becomes as hard as ſtone, and in this their eggs are laid. Each neſt contains ſeven or eight cells, an egg in every cell, placed regularly one over the other. If the neſt remains unhurt, or wants but little repairs, they make uſe of them the year enſuing: and thus they often ſerve three or four years ſucceſſively. From the ſtrength of their houſes, one would think theſe bees in perfect ſecurity, yet none are more expoſed than they. A worm with very ſtrong teeth, is often found to bore into their little fortifications, and devour their young.

The GROUND BEE builds its neſt in the earth, wherein they make round holes, five or ſix inches deep; the mouth being narrow, and only juſt ſufficient to admit the little inhabitant. It is amuſing enough, to obſerve the patience and aſſiduity with which they labour. They carry out all the earth, grain by grain, to the mouth of the hole, where it forms a little [94] hillock, an Alps compared to the power of the artiſt by which it is raiſed. Sometimes the walks of a garden are found undermined by their labours; ſome of the holes running directly downward, others horizontally beneath the ſurface. They lay up in theſe cavities proviſions for their young, which conſiſt of a paſte that has the appearance of corn, and is of a ſweetiſh taſte.

The LEAF-CUTTING BEES make their neſt and lay their eggs among bits of leaves, very artificially placed in holes in the earth, of about the length of a tooth-pick caſe. They make the bits of leaves of a roundiſh form, and with them line the inſide of their habitations. This tapeſtry is ſtill further lined by a reddiſh kind of paſte, ſomewhat ſweet or acid. Theſe bees are of various kinds; thoſe that build their neſts with cheſnut-leaves are as big as drones, but thoſe of the roſe-tree are ſmaller than the common bee.

The WALL BEES are ſo called, becauſe they make their neſts in walls of a kind of ſilky membrane with which they fill up the vacuities between the ſmall ſtones which form the ſides of their habitation. Their apartment conſiſts of ſeveral cells placed end to end, each in the ſhape of a woman's thimble. Though the [95] web which lines this habitation is thick and warm, yet it is tranſparent and of a whitiſh colour. This ſubſtance is ſuppoſed to be ſpun from the animal's body; the male and females are of a ſize, but the former are without a ſting. To theſe varieties of the bee kind might be added ſeveral others which are all different in nature, but not ſufficiently diſtinguiſhed to excite curioſity.

CHAP. III. Of the Waſp and Hornet.

[96]

HOWEVER ſimilar many inſects may be in appearance, this does not imply a ſimilitude in their hiſtory. The bee and the waſp reſemble each other very ſtrongly, yet, in examining their manner and their duration, they differ very widely; the bee labours to lay up honey, and lives to enjoy the fruits of its induſtry; the waſp appears equally aſſiduous, but only works for poſterity, as the habitation is ſcarcely completed when the inhabitant dies.

The waſp is well known to be a winged inſect with a ſting. To be longer in proportion to its bulk than the bee, to be marked with bright yellow circles round its body, and to be the moſt ſwift and active inſect of all the fly kind. On each ſide of the mouth this animal is furniſhed with a long tooth, notched like a ſaw, and with theſe it is enabled to cut any ſubſtance, not omitting meat itſelf, and to carry it to its neſt. Waſps live like bees in community, and ſometimes ten or twelve thouſand are found inhabiting a ſingle neſt.

[97]Of all other inſects the waſp is the moſt fierce, voracious, and moſt dangerous, when enraged. They are ſeen wherever fleſh is cutting up, gorging themſelves with the ſpoil, and then flying to their neſts with their reeking prey. They make war alſo on every other fly, and the ſpider himſelf dreads their approaches.

Every community among bees is compoſed of females or queens, drones or males, and neutral or working bees. Waſps have ſimilar occupations; the two firſt are for propagating the ſpecies, the laſt for nurſing, defending and ſupporting the riſing progeny. Among bees, however, there is ſeldom above a queen or two in an hive; among waſps there are above two or three hundred.

As ſoon as the ſummer begins to invigorate the inſect tribes, the waſps are the moſt of the number, and diligently employed either in providing proviſions for their neſt, if already made, or in making one, if the former habitation be too ſmall to receive the encreaſing community. The neſt is one of the moſt curious objects in natural hiſtory, and contrived almoſt as artificially as that of the bees themſelves. Their principal care is to ſeek out an hole that has been begun by ſome other animal, [98] a field mouſe, a rat, or a mole, to build their neſts in. They ſometimes build upon the plain, where they are ſure of the dryneſs of their ſituation, but moſt commonly on the ſide of a bank to avoid the rain or water that would otherwiſe annoy them. When they have choſen a proper place they go to work with wonderful aſſiduity. Their firſt labour is to enlarge and widen the hole, taking away the earth and carrying it off to ſome diſtance. They are perfectly formed for labour, being furniſhed with a trunk above their mouths, two ſaws on each ſide which play to the right and left againſt each other, and ſix ſtrong muſcular legs to ſupport them. They cut the earth into ſmall parcels with their ſaws, and carry it out with their legs or paws. This is the work of ſome days; and at length the outline of their habitation is formed, making a cavity of about a foot and an half every way. While ſome are working in this manner, others are roving the fields to ſeek out materials for their building. To prevent the earth from falling down and cruſhing their riſing city into ruin, they make a ſort of roof with their gluey ſubſtance, to which they begin to fix the rudiments of their building, working from the top downwards, as if they were hanging a [99] bell, which, however at length they cloſe up at the bottom. The materials with which they build their neſts are bits of wood and glue. The wood they get where they can from the rails and poſts which they meet with in the fields and elſewhere. Theſe they ſaw and divide into a multitude of ſmall fibres, of which they take up little bundles in their claws, letting fall upon them a few drops of gluey matter with which their bodies are provided, by the help of which they knead the whole compoſition into a paſte, which ſerves them in their future building. When they have returned with this to the neſt, they ſtick their load of paſte on that part where they make their walls and partitions; they tread it cloſe with their feet, and trowel it with their trunks, ſtill going backwards as they work. Having repeated this operation three or four times, the compoſition is at length flatted out until it becomes a ſmall leaf of a grey colour, much finer than paper, and of a pretty firm texture. This done the ſame waſp returns to the field to collect a ſecond load of paſte, repeating the ſame ſeveral times, placing layer upon layer, and ſtrengthening every partition in proportion to the wants or conveniencies of the general fabric. Other working waſps come quickly after to repeat the ſame [100] operation, laying more leaves upon the former, till at length, after much toil, they have finiſhed the large roof which is to ſecure them from the tumbling in of the earth. This dome being finiſhed, they make another entrance to their habitation, deſigned either for letting in the warmth of the ſun, or for eſcaping in caſe one door be invaded by plunderers. Certain however it is, that by one of theſe they always enter, by the other they ſally forth to their toil; each hole being ſo ſmall that they can paſs but one at a time. The walls being thus compoſed, and the whole ſomewhat of the ſhape of a pear, they labour at their cells, which they compoſe of the ſame paper-like ſubſtance that goes to the formation of their outſide works. Their combs differ from thoſe of bees, not leſs in the compoſition than the poſition which they are always ſeen to obtain. The honey-comb of the bee is edgeways with reſpect to the hive; that of the waſp is flat, and the mouth of every cell opens downwards. Thus is their habitation, contrived ſtory above ſtory, ſupported by ſeveral rows of pillars which give firmneſs to the whole building, while the upper ſtory is flat-roofed, and as ſmooth as the pavement of a room, laid with ſquares of marble. The waſps can freely walk upon theſe ſtories [101] between the pillars to do whatever their wants require. The pillars are very hard and compact, being larger at each end than in the middle, not much unlike the columns of a building. All the cells of the neſt are only deſtined for the reception of the young, being replete with neither wax nor honey.

Each cell is like that of the bee, hexagonal; but they are of two ſorts, the one larger for the production of the male and female waſps, the other leſs for the reception of the working part of the community. When the females are impregnated by the males, they lay their eggs, one in each cell, and ſtick it in with a kind of gummy matter to prevent its falling out. From this egg proceeds the inſect in its worm-ſtate, of which the old ones are extremely careful, feeding it from time to time till it becomes large and entirely fills up its cell. But the waſp community differs from that of the bee in this; that among the latter the working bees take the parental duties upon them, whereas among the waſps the females alone are permitted to feed their young, and to nurſe their riſing progeny. For this purpoſe the female waits with great patience till the working waſps have brought in their proviſions, which ſhe takes from them, and cuts into pieces. She then goes [102] with great compoſure from cell to cell, and feeds every young one with her mouth. When the young worms have come to a certain ſize they leave off eating, and begin to ſpin a very fine ſilk, fixing the firſt end to the entrance of the cell, then turning their heads, firſt on one ſide, then on the other, they fix the thread to different parts, and thus they make a ſort of a door which ſerves to cloſe up the mouth of the cell. After this they diveſt themſelves of their ſkins after the uſual mode of transformation, the aurelia by degrees begins to emancipate itſelf from its ſhell; by little and little it thruſts out its legs and wings, and inſenſibly acquires the colour and ſhape of its parent.

The waſp thus formed, and prepared for depredation, becomes a bold, troubleſome, and dangerous inſect: there are no dangers which it will not encounter in purſuit of its prey, and nothing ſeems to ſatiate its gluttony. Though it can gather no honey of its own, no animal is more fond of ſweets. For this purpoſe it will purſue the bee and the humble bee, deſtroy them with its ſting, and then plunder them of their honey-bag, with which it flies triumphantly loaded to its neſt to regale its young. Waſps are ever fond of making their neſts in the neighbourhood of bees, merely to [103] have an opportunity of robbing their hives, and feaſting on the ſpoil. Yet the bees are not found always patiently ſubmiſſive to their tyranny, but fierce battles are ſometimes ſeen to enſue, in which the bees make up by conduct and numbers what they want in perſonal proweſs. When there is no honey to be had, they ſeek for the beſt and ſweeteſt fruits, and they are never miſtaken in their choice. From the garden they fly to the city, to the grocers ſhops, and butchers ſhambles. They will ſometimes carry off bits of fleſh half as big as themſelves, with which they fly to their neſts for the nouriſhment of their brood. Thoſe who cannot drive them away, lay for them a piece of ox's liver, which being without fibres, they prefer to other fleſh; and whenever they are found, all other flies are ſeen to deſert the place immediately. Such is the dread with which theſe little animals impreſs all the reſt of the inſect tribes, which they ſeize and devour without mercy, that they vaniſh at their approach. Wherever they fly, like the eagle or the falcon, they form a deſert in the air around them. In this manner the ſummer is paſſed in plundering the neighbourhood, and rearing up their young; every day adds to their numbers; and from their ſtrength, agility, and indiſcriminate appetite for every kind of proviſion, [104] were they as long lived as the bee, they would ſoon ſwarm upon the face of nature, and become the moſt noxious plague of man: but providentially their lives are meaſured to their miſchief, and they live but a ſingle ſeaſon.

While the ſummer heats continue, they are bold, voracious, and enterprizing; but as the ſun withdraws, it ſeems to rob them of their courage and activity. In proportion as the cold encreaſes, they are ſeen to become more domeſtic; they ſeldom leave the neſt, they make but ſhort adventures from home, they flutter about in the noon-day heats, and ſoon after return chilled and feeble.

As their calamities encreaſe, new paſſions ſoon begin to take place; the care for poſterity no longer continues, and as the parents are no longer able to provide their growing progeny a ſupply, they take the barbarous reſolution of ſacrificing them all to the neceſſity of the times. In this manner, like a garriſon upon ſhort allowance, all the uſeleſs hands are deſtroyed; the young worms, which a little before they fed and protected with ſo much aſſiduity, are now butchered and dragged fr [...]m their cells. As the cold encreaſes they no longer find ſufficient warmth in their neſts, which grow hateful to them, and they fly to [105] ſeek it in the corners of houſes, and places that receive an artificial heat. But the winter is ſtill inſupportable; and, before the new year begins, they wither and die; the working bees firſt, the males ſoon following, and many of the females ſuffering in the general calamity. In every neſt, however, one or two females ſurvive the winter, and having been impregnated by the male during the preceding ſeaſon, ſhe begins in ſpring to lay her eggs in a little hole of her own contrivance. This bundle of eggs, which is cluſtered together like grapes, ſoon produces two worms which the female takes proper precaution to defend and ſupply, and theſe when hatched ſoon give aſſiſtance to the female, who is employed in hatching two more; theſe alſo gathering ſtrength, extricate themſelves out of the web that encloſed them, and become likewiſe aſſiſtants to their mother; fifteen days after, two more make their appearance; thus is the community every day encreaſing, while the female lays in every cell, firſt a male and then a female. Theſe ſoon after become breeders in turn, till, from a ſingle female, ten thouſand waſps are ſeen produced before the month of June. After the female has thus produced her progeny, which are diſtributed in different diſtricts, they aſſemble from all parts, [106] in the middle of ſummer, and provide for themſelves the large and commodious habitation, which has been deſcribed above.

Such is the hiſtory of the ſocial waſp; but, as among bees, ſo alſo among theſe inſects, there are various tribes that live in ſolitude: theſe lay their eggs in a hole for the purpoſe, and the parent dies long before the birth of its offspring. In the principal ſpecies of the SOLITARY WASPS, the inſect is ſmaller than the working waſp of the ſocial kind. The filament, by which the corſelet is joined to the body, is longer and more diſtinctly ſeen, and the whole colour of the inſect is blacker than in the ordinary kinds. But it is not their figure, but the manners of this extraordinary inſect that claim our principal regard.

From the end of May to the beginning of July, this waſp is ſeen moſt diligently employed. The whole purpoſe of its life ſeems to be in contriving and fitting up a commodious apartment for its young one, which is not to ſucceed it till the year enſuing. For this end it is employed, with unwearied aſſiduity, in boring a hole into the fineſt earth ſome inches deep, but not much wider than the diameter of its own body. This is but a gallery leading to a wider apartment deſtined for the convenient [107] lodgment of its young. As it always chuſes a gravelly ſoil to work in, and where the earth is almoſt as hard as ſtone itſelf; the digging and hollowing this apartment is an enterprize of no ſmall labour: for effecting its operations, this inſect is furniſhed with two teeth, which are ſtrong and firm, but not ſufficiently hard to penetrate the ſubſtance through which it is reſolved to make its way. In order therefore to ſoften that earth which it is unable to pierce, it is furniſhed with a gummy liquor which it emits upon the place, and which renders it more eaſily ſeparable from the reſt, and the whole becoming a kind of ſoft paſte is removed to the mouth of the habitation. The animal's proviſion of liquor in theſe operations is however ſoon exhauſted; and it is then ſeen either taking up water from ſome neighbouring flower or ſtream in order to ſupply the deficiency.

At length, after much toil, a hole ſome inches deep is formed, at the bottom of which is a large cavity; and to this no other hoſtile inſect would venture to find its way, from the length and the narrowneſs of the defile through which it would be obliged to paſs. In this the ſolitary waſp lays its egg, which is deſtined to continue the ſpecies; there the naſcent animal [108] is to continue for above nine months, unattended and immured, and at firſt appearance the moſt helpleſs inſect of the creation. But when we come to examine, new wonders offer, no other inſect can boaſt ſo copiouſly luxurious a proviſion, or ſuch confirmed ſecurity.

As ſoon as the mother waſp has depoſited her egg at the bottom of the hole, her next care is to furniſh it with a ſupply of proviſions, which may be offered to the young inſect as ſoon as it leaves the egg. To this end ſhe procures a number of little green worms, generally from eight to twelve, and theſe are to ſerve as food for the young one the inſtant it awakens into life. When this ſupply is regularly arranged and laid in, the old one then, with as much aſſiduity as it before worked out its hole, now cloſes the mouth of the paſſage; and thus leaving its young one immured in perfect ſecurity, and in a copious ſupply of animal food, ſhe dies ſatisfied with having provided for a future progeny.

When the young one leaves the egg it is ſcarcely viſible, and is ſeen immured among a number of inſects, infinitely larger than itſelf, ranged in proper order around it, which, however give it no manner of apprehenſion. Whether the parent, when ſhe laid in the inſect [109] proviſion, contrived to diſable the worms from reſiſtance, or whether they were at firſt incapable of any, is not known. Certain it is, that the young glutton feaſts upon the living ſpoil without any controul; his game lies at his hand, and he devours one after the other as the calls of appetite incite him. The life of the young animal is therefore ſpent in the moſt luxurious manner, till its whole ſtock of worms is exhauſted, and then the time of its transformation begins to approach; and then ſpinning a ſilken web, it continues fixed in its cell till the ſun calls it from its dark abode the enſuing ſummer.

The waſps of Europe are very miſchievous, yet they are innocence itſelf when compared to thoſe of the tropical climates, where all the inſect tribes are not only numerous, but large, voracious, and formidable. Thoſe of the Weſt Indies are thicker, and twice as long as the common bee; they are of a grey colour, ſtriped with yellow, and armed with a very dangerous ſting. They make their cells in the manner of a honey-comb, in which the young ones are hatched and bred. They generally hang their neſts by threads, compoſed of the ſame ſubſtance with the cells, to the branches of trees, and the eaves of houſes. They are [110] ſeen every where in great abundance, deſcending like fruit, particularly pears, of which ſhape they are, and as large as one's head. The inſide is divided into three round ſtories, full of cells, each hexagonal, like thoſe of an honey-comb. In ſome of the iſlands, theſe inſects are ſo very numerous, that their neſts are ſtuck up in this manner, ſcarce two feet aſunder, and the inhabitants are in continual apprehenſion from their accidental reſentment. It ſometimes happens, that no precautions can prevent their attacks, and the pains of their ſting is almoſt inſupportable. Thoſe who have felt it think it more terrible than even that of a ſcorpion; the whole viſage ſwells, and the features are ſo disfigured, that a perſon is ſcarcely known by his moſt intimate acquaintance.

CHAP. IV. Of the Ichnumon Fly.

[111]

EVERY rank of inſects, how voracious ſoever, have enemies that are terrible to them, and that revenge upon them the injuries done upon the reſt of the animated creation. The waſp, as we have ſeen, is very troubleſome to man, and very formidable to the inſect tribe; but the ichnumon fly (of which there are many varieties) fears not the waſp itſelf, it enters its retreats, plunders its habitations, and takes poſſeſſion of that cell for its own young, which the waſp had laboriouſly built for a dearer poſterity.

Though there are many different kinds of this inſect, yet the moſt formidable, and that beſt known, is called the common ichnumon, with four wings, like the bee, a long ſlender black body, and a three forked tail, conſiſting of briſtles; the two outermoſt black, and the middlemoſt red. This fly receives its name from the little quadrupede, which is found to be ſo deſtructive to the crocodile, as it bears a ſtrong ſimilitude in its courage and rapacity.

[112]Though this inſtrument is, to all appearance, ſlender and feeble, yet it is found to be a weapon of great force and efficacy. There is ſcarce any ſubſtance which it will not pierce; and, indeed, it is ſeldom ſeen but employed in penetration. This is the weapon of defence, this is employed in deſtroying its prey, and ſtill more, by this the animal depoſites her eggs whereever ſhe thinks fit to lay them. As it is an inſtrument chiefly employed for this purpoſe, the male is unprovided with ſuch a ſting, while the female uſes it with great force and dexterity, brandiſhing it when caught, from ſide to ſide, and very often wounding thoſe who thought they held her with the greateſt ſecurity.

All the flies of this tribe are produced in the ſame manner, and owe their birth to the deſtruction of ſome other inſect, within whoſe body they have been depoſed, and upon whoſe vitals they have preyed, till they came to maturity. There is no inſect whatever, which they will not attack, in order to leave their fatal preſent in its body; the caterpillar, the gnat, and even the ſpider himſelf, ſo formidable to others, is often made the unwilling foſterer of this deſtructive progeny.

About the middle of ſummer, when other inſects are found in great abundance, the ichnumon [113] is ſeen flying buſily about, and ſeeking proper objects upon whom to depoſe its progeny. As there are various kinds of this fly, ſo they ſeem to have various appetites. Some are found to place their eggs within the aurelia of ſome naſcent inſect, others place them within the neſt, which the waſp had curiouſly contrived for its own young; and as both are produced at the ſame time, the young of the ichnumon, not only devours the young waſp, but the whole ſupply of worms, which the parent had carefully provided for its proviſion. But the greateſt number of the ichnumon tribe are ſeen ſettling upon the back of the caterpillar, and darting, at different intervals, their ſtings into its body. At every dart they depoſe an egg, while the wounded animal ſeems ſcarcely ſenſible of the injury it ſuſtains. In this manner they leave from ſix to a dozen of their eggs, within the fatty ſubſtance of the reptile's body, and then fly off to commit further depredations. In the mean time the caterpillar thus irreparably injured, ſeems to feed as voraciouſly as before, does not abate of its uſual activity; and to all appearance, ſeems no way affected by the internal enemies that are preparing its deſtruction in their darkſome abode. But they ſoon burſt from their egg ſtate, and begin to prey upon [114] the ſubſtance of their priſon. As they grow larger, they require a greater ſupply, till at laſt the animal, by whoſe vitals they are ſupported, is no longer able to ſuſtain them, but dies; its whole inſide being almoſt eaten away. It often happens, however, that it ſurvives their worm ſtate, and then they change into a chryſalis, encloſed in the caterpillar's body till the time of their delivery approaches, when they burſt their priſons and fly away. The caterpillar, however, is irreparably deſtroyed, it never changes into a chryſalis, but dies ſhortly after, from the injuries it had ſuſtained.

Such is the hiſtory of this fly, which though very terrible to the inſect tribe, fails not to be of infinite ſervice to mankind. The millions which it kills in a ſingle ſummer, are unconceiveable; and without ſuch a deſtroyer, the fruits of the earth would only riſe to furniſh a banquet for the inſect race, to the excluſion of all the nobler ranks of animated nature.

CHAP. V. Of the Ant.

[115]

THOUGH the number of two winged flies be very great, and the naturaliſts have taken ſome pains to deſcribe their characters and varieties; yet there is ſuch a ſimilitude in their forms and manners, that in a work like this, one deſcription muſt ſerve for all. We now therefore, come to a ſpecies of four winged inſects, that are famous from all antiquity, for their ſocial and induſtrious habits, that are marked for their ſpirit of ſubordination, that are offered as a pattern of parſimony, to the profuſe, and of unremitting diligence to the ſluggard.

In the experiments, however, which have been more recently made, and the obſervations which have been taken, much of their boaſted frugality and precaution ſeems denied them; the treaſures they lay up, are no longer ſuppoſed, intended for future proviſion, and the choice they make in their ſtores, ſeems no way dictated by wiſdom. It is, indeed, ſomewhat ſurprizing, that almoſt every writer of antiquity, ſhould deſcribe this inſect, as labouring in the ſummer, and feaſting upon the produce [116] during the winter. Perhaps, in ſome of the warmer climates, where the winter is mild, and of ſhort contiuance, this may take place; but in France and England, theſe animals can have no manner of occaſion for a ſupply of winter proviſions, as they are actually in a ſtate of torpidity during that ſeaſon.

The common ants of Europe, are of two or three different kinds; ſome red, ſome black, ſome with ſtings, and others without. Such as have ſtings, inflict their wounds in that manner; ſuch as are unprovided with theſe weapons of defence, have a power of ſpurting, from their hinder parts, an acid pungent liquor, which, if it lights upon the ſkin, inflames and burns it like nettles.

The body of an ant is divided, into the head, breaſt and belly. In the head, the eyes are placed, which are entirely black, and under the eyes, there are two ſmall horns or feelers, compoſed of twelve joints, all covered with a fine ſilky hair. The mouth is furniſhed with two crooked jaws, which project outwards, in each of which are ſeen inciſures, that look like teeth. The breaſt is covered with a fine ſilky hair, from which project ſix legs, that are pretty ſtrong and hairy, the extremities of each armed with two ſmall claws, which the animal uſes in [117] climbing. The belly is more reddiſh than the reſt of the body, which is of a brown cheſnut colour, it is as ſhining as glaſs, and covered with extremely fine hair.

From ſuch a formation, this animal ſeems bolder, and more active, for its ſize, than any other of the inſect tribe, and fears not to attack a creature, often above ten times its own magnitude.

As ſoon as the winter is paſt, in the firſt fine day in April, the ant hill, that before ſeemed a deſart, now ſwarms with new life, and myriads of theſe inſects are ſeen juſt awaked from their annual lethargy, and preparing for the pleaſures and fatigues of the ſeaſon. For the firſt day they never offer to leave the hill, which may be conſidered as their citadel, but run over every part of it, as if to examine its preſent ſituation, to obſerve what injuries it has ſuſtained during the rigours of winter, while they ſlept, and to mediate and ſettle the labours of the day enſuing.

At the firſt diſplay of their forces, none but the wingleſs tribe appears, while thoſe furniſhed with wings remain at the bottom. Theſe are the working ants, that firſt appear, and that [118] are always deſtitute of wings; the males and females, that are furniſhed with four large wings each, are more ſlow in making their appearance.

Thus, like bees, they are divided into males, females, and the neutral or the working tribe. Theſe are all eaſily diſtinguiſhed from each other; the females are much larger than the males; the working ants are the ſmalleſt of all. The two former have wings; which, however, they ſometimes are diveſted of; the latter never have any, and upon them are devolved all the labours that tend to the welfare of the community. The female, alſo, may be diſtinguiſhed, by the colour and ſtructure of her breaſt, which is a little more brown, than that of the common ant, and a little brighter than that of the male.

In eight or ten days after their firſt appearance, the labours of the hill are in ſome forwardneſs; the males and females are ſeen mixed with the working multitude, and purſued or purſuing each other. They ſeem no way to partake in the common drugeries of the ſtate; the males purſue the females with great aſſiduity, and in a manner, force them to compliance. They remain coupled for ſome time, while the males thus united, ſuffer themſelves to be drawn along by the will of their partners.

[119]In the mean time, the working body of the ſtate take no part in their pleaſures, they are ſeen diligently going from the ant-hill, in purſuit of food for themſelves and their aſſociates, and of proper materials for giving a comfortable retreat to their young, or ſafety to their habitation. In the fields of England, ant-hills are formed with but little apparent regularity. In the more ſouthern provinces of Europe, they are conſtructed with wonderful contrivance, and offer a ſight highly worthy a naturaliſt's curioſity. Theſe are generally formed in the neighbourhood of ſome large tree and a ſtream of water. The one is conſidered by the animals, as the proper place for getting food; the other for ſupplying them 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 body of 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 are ſeen paſſing and repaſſing [120] continually; ſo that from May, or the beginning of June, according to the ſtate of the ſeaſon, they work continually, till the bad weather comes on.

The chief employment of the working ants, is in ſuſtaining not only the idlers at home, but alſo finding a ſufficiency of food for themſelves. They live upon various proviſions, as well of the vegetable as of the animal kind. Small inſects they will kill and devour; ſweets of all kinds, they are particularly fond of. They ſeldom, however, think of their community, till they 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 mangled it, each will carry off a part of the ſpoil. If they meet, in their excurſions, any thing that is too heavy for one to bear, and yet, which they are unable to divide, ſeveral of them will endeavour to force it along; ſome dragging and others puſhing. If any one of them happens to make a lucky diſcovery, it will immediately give advice to others, and then at once, the whole republic will put themſelves in motion. If in theſe ſtruggles, one of them happens to be [121] killed, ſome kind ſurvivor will carry him off to a great diſtance, to prevent the obſtructions his body may give to the general ſpirit of induſtry.

But while they are thus employed in ſupporting the ſtate, in feeding abroad, and carrying in proviſions to thoſe that continue at home, they are not unmindful of poſterity. After a few days of fine weather, the female ants begin to lay their eggs, and thoſe are as aſſiduouſly watched and protected by the working ants, who take upon themſelves to ſupply whatever is wanting to the naſcent animal's convenience or neceſſity. They are carried as ſoon as laid, to the ſafeſt ſituation, at the bottom of their hill, where they are carefully defended from cold and moiſture. We are not to ſuppoſe, that thoſe white ſubſtances which we ſo plentifully find in every ant-hill, are the eggs as newly laid. On the contrary, the ant's egg is ſo very ſmall, that, though laid upon a black ground, it can ſcarcely be diſcerned. The little white bodies we ſee, are the young animals in their maggot ſtate, endued with life, long ſince freed from the egg, and often involved in a cone, which it has ſpun round itſelf, like the ſilk worm. The real egg when laid, if viewed through a microſcope, appears ſmooth, poliſhed and ſhining, while the maggot [122] is ſeen compoſed of twelve rings, and is oftener larger than the ant itſelf.

It is impoſſible to expreſs the fond attachment which the working ants ſhew to their riſing progeny. In cold weather they take them in their mouths, but without offering them the ſmalleſt injury, to the very depths of their habitation, where they are leſs ſubject to the ſeverity of the ſeaſon. In a fine day they remove them, with the ſame care, nearer the ſurface, where their maturity may be aſſiſted by the warm beams of the ſun. If a formidable enemy ſhould come to batter down their whole habitation, and cruſh them by thouſands in the ruin, yet theſe wonderful inſects, ſtill mindful of their parental duties, make it their firſt care to ſave their offspring. They are ſeen running wildly about and different ways, each loaded with a young one, often bigger than the inſect that ſupports it. I have kept, ſays Swammerdam, ſeveral of the working ants in my cloſet, with their young, in a glaſs filled with earth. I took pleaſure in obſerving, that in proportion as the earth dried on the ſurface, they dug deeper and deeper to depoſite their eggs; and when I poured water thereon, it was ſurpriſing to ſee with what care, affection, and diligence they laboured, to put their brood in ſafety, in [123] the drieſt place. I have ſeen alſo, that when water has been wanting for ſeveral days, and when the earth was moiſtened after it a little, they immediately carried their young ones to have a ſhare, who ſeemed to enjoy and ſuck the moiſture.

When the young maggot is come to its full growth, the breaſt ſwells inſenſibly, it caſts its ſkin, and loſes all motion. All the members which were hidden before, then begin to appear, an aurelia is formed, which repreſents very diſtinctly, all the parts of the animal, though they are yet without motion, and as it were, wrapped up in ſwaddling-cloaths. When at length, the little inſect has paſſed through all its changes, and acquired its proper maturity, it burſts this laſt ſkin, to aſſume the form it is to retain ever after. Yet this is not done by the efforts of the little animal alone, for the old ones very aſſiduouſly break open, with their teeth, the covering in which it is encloſed. Without this aſſiſtance the aurelia would never be able to get free, as Mr. De Geer often found, who tried the experiment, by leaving the aurelia to themſelves. The old ones not only aſſiſt them, but know the very preciſe time for lending their aſſiſtance, for if produced too ſoon the young one dies of [124] cold, if retarded too long it is ſuffocated in its priſon.

When the female has done laying, and the whole brood is thus produced, her labours, as well as that of the male, become unneceſſary, and her wings, which ſhe had but a ſhort time before ſo actively employed, drop off. What becomes of her when thus diveſted of her ornaments is not well known, for ſhe is ſeen in the cells for ſome weeks after. The males, on the other hand, having no longer any occupation at home, make uſe of thoſe wings with which they have been furniſhed by nature, and fly away, never to return, or to be heard of more. It is probable they periſh with the cold, or are devoured by the birds, which are particularly fond of this petty prey.

In the mean time, the working ants having probably depoſed their queens, and being deſerted by the males, that ſerved but to clog the community, prepare for the ſeverity of the winter, and bury their retreats as deep in the earth as they conveniently 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 rigours of the weather, not as proviſions to ſupport them during its continuance. It is found generally to obtain, that [125] every inſect that lives a year after it is come to its full growth, is obliged to paſs four or five months without taking any nouriſhment, and will 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 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 the weather forces them to return to their lethargic ſtate.

What has been ſaid with exaggeration of the European ant, is however true, if aſſerted of thoſe of the tropical climates. They build an ant-hill with great contrivance and regularity, they lay up proviſions, and, as they probably live the whole year, they ſubmit themſelves to regulations entirely unknown among the ants of 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. Their ſting produces extreme pain, and their depredations are ſometimes extremely deſtructive. They build an ant-hill of a very great ſize, from ſix to twelve feet high; [126] it is made of viſcous clay, and tapers into a pyramidal form. This habitation is conſtructed with great artifice, and the cells are ſo numerous and even, that a honey-comb ſcarce exceeds them in number and regularity.

The inhabitants of this edifice ſeem to be under a very ſtrict regulation. At the ſlighteſt warning they will ſally out upon whatever diſturbs them, and if they have time to arreſt their enemies, 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 in the world can ſtrip a ſkeleton ſo cleanly as they, and no animal, how ſtrong ſoever, when they have once ſeized upon it, has power to reſiſt them.

It often happens that theſe inſects quit their retreat in a body, and go in queſt of adventures. ‘"During my ſtay," ſays Smith, "at Cape Corſe Caſtle, a body of theſe ants came to pay us a viſit in our fortification. It was about day-break when the advanced guard of this famiſhed crew entered the chapel, where ſome negroe ſervants were aſleep upon the floor. The men were quickly alarmed at the invaſion of this unexpected army, and prepared, as well as they could, for a defence. While the foremoſt battalion of inſects [127] had already taken poſſeſſion of the place, the rear guard was more than a quarter of a mile diſtant. The whole ground ſeemed alive and crawling with unceaſing deſtruction. After deliberating a few moments upon what was to be done, it was reſolved to lay a large train of gunpowder along the path they had taken, by this means millions were blown to pieces, and the rear guard peceiving the deſtruction of their leaders, thought proper inſtantly to return, and make back to their original habitation."’

The order which theſe ants obſerve, ſeems very extraordinary; whenever they ſally forth, fifty or ſixty larger than the reſt are ſeen to head the band, and conduct them to their deſtined prey. If they have a fixed ſpot where their prey continues to reſort to, they then form a vaulted gallery, which is ſometimes a quarter of a mile in length, and yet, they will hollow it out in the ſpace of ten or twelve hours.

CHAP. VI. Of the Beetle and its Varieties.

[128]

HITHERTO we have been treating of inſects with four tranſparent wings, we now come to a tribe with two tranſparent wings, with caſes that cover them cloſe while at reſt, but which allow them their proper play when flying. The principal of theſe are the Beetle, the May Bug, and the Cantharis. Theſe are all bred like the reſt of their order, firſt from eggs, then they become grubs, then a chryſalis in which the parts of the future fly are diſtinctly ſeen, and laſtly the animal leaves its priſon, breaking forth as a winged animal in full maturity.

Figure 1. Beetles.

If we examine the formation of all animals, of the beetle kind, we ſhall find, as in ſhell-fiſh, that their bones are placed externally, and their muſcles within. Theſe muſcles are formed very much like thoſe of quadrupedes, and are endued with ſuch ſurprizing ſtrength, that bulk for bulk, they are a thouſand times ſtronger than thoſe of a man. The ſtrength of theſe muſcles is of uſe in digging the animal's ſubterraneous abode, where it is moſt uſually hatched, and to which it moſt frequently returns, even after it becomes a winged inſect, capable of flying.

Beſide the difference which reſults from the ſhape and colour of theſe animals, the ſize alſo makes a conſiderable one; ſome beetles being not larger than the head of a pin, while others, ſuch as the elephant beetle, are as big as ones fiſt: But the greateſt difference among them is, that ſome are produced in a month, and in a ſingle ſeaſon go through all the ſtages of their exiſtence, while others take near four years to their production; and live as winged inſects a year more. To give the hiſtory of all theſe [130] animals, that are bred pretty much in the ſame way, would be inſipid and endleſs; it will ſuffice to ſelect one or two from the number, the origin of which may ſerve as ſpecimens of the reſt. I will, therefore, offer the hiſtory of the may-bug to the reader's attention; premiſing, that moſt other beetles, though not ſo long lived, are bred in the ſame manner.

The may-bug, or dorr-beetle, as ſome call it, has, like all the reſt, a pair of caſes to its wings, which are of a reddiſh brown colour, ſprinkled with a whitiſh duſt, which eaſily comes off. In ſome years their necks are ſeen covered with a red plate, and in others, with a black; theſe, however, are diſtinct ſorts, and their difference is by no means accidental. The fore legs are very ſhort, and the better calculated for burrowing in the ground, where this inſect makes its retreat. It is well known for its evening buzz to children; but till more formidably introduced to the acquaintance of huſbandmen and gardeners, for in ſome ſeaſons, it has been found to ſwarm in ſuch numbers, as to eat up every vegetable production.

The two ſexes in the may-bug, are eaſily diſtinguiſhed from each other, by the ſuperior length of the tufts, at the end of the horns, in [131] the male. They begin to copulate in ſummer, and at that ſeaſon, they are ſeen joined together for a conſiderable time. The female being impregnated, quickly falls to boring a hole into the ground, where to depoſit her burthen. This is generally about half a foot deep, and in it the places her eggs, which are of an oblong ſhape, with great regularity, one by the other. They are of a bright yellow colour, and no way wrapped up in a common covering, as ſome have imagined. When the female is lightened of her burthen, ſhe again aſcends from her hole, to live as before, upon leaves and vegetables, to buzz in the ſummer evening, and to lie hid, among the branches of trees, in the heat of the day.

In about three months after theſe eggs have been thus depoſited in the earth, the contained inſect begins to break its ſhell, and a ſmall grub or maggot crawls forth, and feeds upon the roots of whatever vegetable it happens to be neareſt. All ſubſtances, of this kind, ſeem equally grateful, yet it is probable the mother inſect has a choice among what kind of vegetables ſhe ſhall depoſit her young. In this manner theſe voracious creatures continue in the worm ſtate, for more than three years, devouring the roots of every plant they approach, [132] and making their way under ground, in queſt of food, with great diſpatch and facility. At length they grow to above the ſize of a walnut, being a great thick white maggot with a red head, which is ſeen moſt frequently in new turned earth, and which is ſo eagerly ſought after by birds of every ſpecies. When largeſt, they are found an inch and an half long, of a whitiſh yellow colour, with a body conſiſting of twelve ſegments or joints, on each ſide of which, there are nine breathing holes, and three red feet. The head is large, in proportion to the body, of a reddiſh colour, with a pincer before, and a ſemi-circular lip, with which it cuts the roots of plants, and ſucks out their moiſture. As this inſect lives entirely under ground, it has no occaſion for eyes, and accordingly it is found to have none; but is furniſhed with two feelers, which, like the crutch of a blind man, ſerve to direct its motions. Such is the form of this animal, that lives for years in the worm ſtate under ground, ſtill voracious, and every year changing its ſkin.

It is not till the end of the fourth year, that this extraordinary inſect prepares to emerge from its ſubterraneous abode, and even this is not effected, but by a tedious preparation. [133] About the latter end of autumn, the grub begins to perceive the approaches of its tranſformation, it then buries itſelf deeper and deeper in the earth, ſometimes ſix feet beneath the ſurface, and there forms itſelf a capacious apartment, the walls of which it renders very ſmooth and ſhining, by the excretions of its body. Its abode being thus formed, it begins ſoon after, to ſhorten itſelf, to ſwell, and to burſt its laſt ſkin, in order to aſſume the form of a chryſalis. This, in the beginning, appears of a yellowiſh colour, which heightens by degrees, till at laſt, it is ſeen nearly red. Its exterior form plainly diſcovers all the veſtiges of the future winged inſect, all the fore parts being diſtinctly ſeen; while behind, the animal ſeems as if wrapped in ſwaddling cloaths.

The young may-bug continues in this ſtate for about three months longer, and it is not till the beginning of January, that the aurelia diveſts itſelf of all its impediments, and becomes a winged inſect, completely formed. Yet ſtill the animal is far from attaining its natural ſtrength, health, and appetite. It undergoes a kind of infant imbecillity, and unlike moſt other inſects, that the inſtant they become flies are arrived at their ſtate of full perfection, the may-bug continues feeble and ſickly. [134] Its colour is much brighter than in the perfect animal, all its parts are ſoft, and its voracious nature ſeems for a while, to have entirely forſaken it. As the animal is very often found in this ſtate, it is ſuppoſed, by thoſe unacquainted with its real hiſtory, that the old ones, of the former ſeaſon, have buried themſelves for the winter, in order to reviſit the ſun the enſuing ſummer. But the fact is, the old one never ſurvives the ſeaſon but dies, like all the other winged tribe of inſects, from the ſeverity of cold in winter.

About the latter end of May, theſe inſects, after having lived for four years under ground, burſt from the earth, when the firſt mild evening invites them abroad. They are at that time ſeen riſing from their long impriſonment, from living only upon roots, and imbibing only the moiſture of the earth, to viſit the mildneſs of the ſummer air, to chuſe the ſweeteſt vegetables for their banquet, and to drink the dew of the evening. Wherever an attentive obſerver then walks abroad, he will ſee them burſting up before him in his pathway, like ghoſts on a theatre. He will ſee every part of the earth, that had its ſurface beaten into hardneſs, perforated by their egreſſion. When the ſeaſon is favourable for them, they are ſeen by myriads [135] buzzing along, hitting againſt every object that intercepts their flight. The mid-day ſun, however, ſeems too powerful for their conſtitutions; they then lurk under the leaves and branches of ſome ſhady tree; but the willow ſeems particularly, their moſt favourite food; there they lurk in cluſters, and ſeldom quit the tree till they have devoured all its verdure. In thoſe ſeaſons, which are favourable to their propagation, they are ſeen in an evening as thick as flakes of ſnow, and hitting againſt every object with a ſort of capricious blindneſs. Their duration, however, is but ſhort, as they never ſurvive the ſeaſon. They begin to join ſhortly after they have been let looſe from their priſon, and when the female is impregnated, the cautiouſly bores a hole in the ground, with an inſtrument fitted for that purpoſe, which the is furniſhed with at the tail, and there depoſits her eggs, generally to the number of threeſcore. If the ſeaſon and the ſoil be adapted to their propagation, theſe ſoon multiply as already deſcribed, and go through their noxious ſtages of their contemptible exiſtence. This inſect, however, in its worm ſtate, though prejudicial to man, makes one of the chief repaſts of the feathered tribe, and is generally the firſt nouriſhment with [136] which they ſupply their young: Rooks, and hogs are particularly fond of theſe worms, and devour them in great numbers. The inhabitants of the county of Norfolk, ſome time ſince, went into the practice of deſtroying their rookeries, but in proportion, as they deſtroyed one plague, they were peſtered with greater; and theſe inſects multiplied in ſuch an amazing abundance, as to deſtroy not only the verdure of the fields, but even the roots of vegetables, not yet ſhot forth. One farm in particular was ſo injured by them in the year 1751, that the occupier was not able to pay his rent, and the landlord was not only content to loſe his income for that year, but alſo gave money for the ſupport of the farmer and his family. In Ireland they ſuffered ſo much by theſe inſects, that they came to a reſolution of ſetting fire to a wood, of ſome miles in extent, to prevent their miſchievous propagation.

Of all the beetle kind this is the moſt numerous, and therefore deſerves the chief attention of hiſtory. The numerous varieties of other kinds, might repay the curioſity of the diligent obſerver, but we muſt be content in general to obſerve, that in the great out-lines of the hiſtory, they reſemble thoſe of which we have juſt been giving a deſcription; like them, all [137] other beetles are bred from the egg, which is depoſited in the ground, or ſometimes, tho' ſeldom, in the barks of trees, they change into a worm; they ſubſiſt in that ſtate by living upon the roots of vegetables, or the ſucculent parts of the bark round them. They generally live a year at leaſt before they change into an aurelia; in that ſtate they are, not entirely motionleſs, nor intirely ſwaddled up without form.

It would be tedious and endleſs to give a deſcription of all, and yet it would be an unpardonable omiſſion not to mention the particularities of ſome beetles, which are ſingular rather from their ſize, their manners, or their formation. That beetle which the Americans call the tumble-dung, particularly demands our attention; it is all over of a duſky black, rounder than thoſe animals are generally found to be, and ſo ſtrong, tho' not much larger than the common black beetle, that if one of them be put under a braſs candleſtick, it will cauſe it to move backwards and forwards, as if it were by an inviſible hand, to the admiration of thoſe who are not accuſtomed to the ſight; but this ſtrength is given it for much more uſeful purpoſes than thoſe of exciting human curioſity, for there is no creature more laborious, either in ſeeking ſubſiſtence, or in providing a [138] proper retreat for its young. They are endowed with ſagacity to diſcover ſubſiſtence by their excellent ſmelling, which directs them in flights to excrements juſt fallen from man or beaſt, on which they inſtantly drop, and fall unanimouſly to work in forming round balls or pellets thereof, in the middle of which they lay an egg. Theſe pellets, in September, they convey three feet deep in the earth, where they lye till the approach of ſpring, when the eggs are hatched and burnt their neſts, and the inſects find their way out of the earth. They aſſiſt each other with indefatigable induſtry, in rolling theſe globular pellets to the place where they are to be buried. This they are to perform with the tail foremoſt, by raiſing up their hinder part, and ſhoving along the ball with their hind-feet. They are always accompanied with other beetles of a larger ſize, and of a more elegant ſtructure and colour. The breaſt of this is covered with a ſhield of a crimſon colour, and ſhining-like metal; the head is of the like colour, mixed with green, and on the crown of the head ſtands a ſhining black horn, bended backwards. Theſe are called the kings of the beetles, but for what reaſon is uncertain, ſince they partake of the ſame dirty drudgery with the reſt.

[139]The Elephant-beetle is the largeſt of this kind hitherto known, and is found in South-America, particularly Guiana and Surinam, as well as about the river Oroonoko. It is of a black colour, and the whole body is covered with a very hard ſhell, full as thick and as ſtrong as that of a ſmall crab. Its length, from the hinder part to the eyes, is almoſt four inches, and from the ſame part to the end of the proboſcis, or trunk, four inches and three quarters. The tranſverſe diameter of the body is two inches and a quarter, and the breadth of each elytron, or caſe for the wings, is an inch and three tenths. The antennae or feelers, are quite horny; for which reaſon the proboſcis or trunk is moveable at its inſertion into the head, and ſeems to ſupply the place of feelers. The horns are eight tenths of an inch long, and terminate in points. The proboſcis is an inch and a quarter long, and turns upwards, making a crooked line, terminating in two horns, each of which is near a quarter of an inch long; but they are not perforated at the end like the proboſcis of other inſects. About four tenths of an inch above the head, or that ſide next the body, is a prominence, or ſmall horn, which if the reſt of the trunk were away, would cauſe this part to reſemble the horn of a rhinoceros. There is [140] indeed a beetle ſo called, but then the horns or trunk has no fork at, the end, though the lower horn reſembles this. The feet are all forked at the end, but not like lobſters claws.

To this claſs we may alſo refer the glow-worm, that little animal which makes ſuch a diſtinguiſhed figure in the deſcriptions of our poets. No two inſects can differ more than the male and female of this ſpecies from each other. The male is in every reſpect a beetle, having caſes to its wings, and riſing in the air at pleaſure; the female, on the contrary has none, but is entirely a creeping inſect, and is obliged to wait the approaches of her capricious companion. The body of the female has eleven joints, with a ſhield breaſt-plate, the ſhape of which is oval; the head is placed over this, and is very ſmall, and the three laſt joints of her body are of a yellowiſh colour; but what diſtinguiſhes it from all other animals, at leaſt in this part of the world, is the ſhining light which it emits by night, and which is ſuppoſed by force philoſophers, to be an emanation which ſhe ſends forth to allure the male to her company. Moſt travellers who have gone through ſandy countries, muſt well remember the little ſhining ſparks with which the ditches are ſtudded on each ſide of the road. If incited by [141] curioſity to approach more nearly, he will find the light ſent forth by the glow-worm; if he ſhould keep the little animal for ſome time, its light continues to grow paler, and at laſt appears totally extinct: The manner in which this light is produced has hitherto continued inexplicable; it is probable the little animal is ſupplied with ſome electrical powers, ſo that by rubbing the joints of its body againſt each other, it thus ſupplies a ſtream of light which if it allures the male, as we are told, ſerves for very uſeful purpoſes.

The cantharis is of the beetle kind, from whence come cantharides, well known in the chops by the name of Spaniſh flies, and for their uſe in bliſters. They have feelers like briſtles, flexible caſes to the wings, a breaſt pretty plain, and the ſides of the belly wrinkled. Cantharides differ from each other in their ſize, ſhape, and colour, thoſe uſed in the ſhops alſo do the ſame. The largeſt in theſe parts are about an inch long, and as much in circumference, but others are not above three quarters of an inch. Some are of a pure azure colour, others of pure gold, and others again, have a mixture of pure gold and azure colours; but they are all very brilliant, and extremely beautiful. Theſe inſects, as is well [142] known, are of the greateſt benefit to mankind, making a part in many medicines conducive to human preſervation. They are chiefly natives of Spain, Italy, and Portugal; but they are to be met with alſo about Paris in the ſummer time, upon the leaves of the aſh, the poplar, and the roſe-trees, and alſo among wheat, and in meadows. It is very certain, that theſe inſects are fond of aſh leaves, inſomuch that they will ſometimes ſtrip one of theſe trees quite bare. Some affirm, that theſe flies delight in ſweet-ſmelling herbs, and it is very certain, that they are fond of honey-ſuckles, liloc, and wild-cherry ſhrubs; but ſome that have ſought after them declare, they never could find them on elder-trees, nut-trees, and among wheat. We are told, that the country people expect the return of theſe inſects every ſeven years. It is very certain, that ſuch a number of theſe inſects have been ſeen together in the air, that they appeared like ſwarms of bees; and that they have ſo diſagreeable a ſmell, that it may be perceived a great way off, eſpecially about ſun-ſet, though they are not ſeen at that time. This bad ſmell is a guide for thoſe who make it their buſineſs to catch them. When they are caught they dry them, after which they are ſo light, that fifty will hardly weigh a [143] dram. Thoſe that gather them, tie them in a bag, or a piece of linnen cloth, that has been well worn, and then they kill them with the vapours of hot vinegar; after which they dry them in the ſun, and keep them in boxes. Theſe flies, thus dried, being chymically analyſed, yield a great deal of volatile cauſtic-ſalt, mixed with a little oil, phlegm and earth. Cantharides are penetrating, corroſive, and applied to the ſkin, raiſe bliſters, from whence proceeds a great deal of ſeroſity. They are made uſe of both inwardly and outwardly. However it is ſomewhat ſtrange that the effects of theſe flies ſhould fall principally upon the urinary paſſages, for though ſome authors have endeavoured to account for this, we are mill in the dark, for all they have ſaid amounts to no more, than that they affect theſe parts in a manner which may be very learnedly deſcribed, but very obſcurely comprehended.

An inſect of great, tho' perhaps not equal uſe in medicine, is that which is known by the name of the kermes; it is produced in the excreſcence of an oak, called the berry-bearing ilex, and appears at firſt wrapt up in a membranaceous bladder, of the ſize of a pea, ſmooth and ſhining of a browniſh red colour, and covered with a very fine aſh-coloured powder. [144] This bag teems with a number of reddiſh eggs or inſects, which being rubbed with the fingers pour out a crimſon liquor. It is only met with in warm countries in the months of May and June. In the month of April this inſect becomes of the ſize and ſhape of a pea, and its eggs ſome time after burſt from the womb, and ſoon turning worms, run about the branches and leaves of the tree. They are of two ſexes, and the females have been hitherto deſcribed; but the males are very diſtinct from the former, and are a ſort of ſmall flies like gnats, with ſix feet, of which the four forward are ſhort, and the two backward long, divided into four joints, and armed with three crooked nails. There are two feelers on the head, a line and a half long, which are moveable, ſtreaked and articulated. The tail, at the back part of the body, is half a line long, and forked. The whole body is covered with two tranſparent wings, and they leap about in the manner of fleas. The harveſt of the kermes is greater or leſs in proportion to the ſeverity of the winter, and the women gather them before ſun-riſing, tearing them off with their nails; for fear there ſhould be any loſs from the hatching of the inſects. They ſprinkle them with vinegar, and lay them in the ſun to dry, where they acquire a red colour.

[145]An inſect, perhaps, ſtill more uſeful than, either of the former, is the cochineal, which has been very variouſly deſcribed by authors; ſome have ſuppoſed it a vegetable excreſcence from the tree upon which it is found; ſome have deſcribed it as a louſe, ſome as a bug, and ſome as a beetle. As they appear in our ſhops when brought from America, they are of an irregular ſhape, convex on one ſide, and a little concave on the other; but are both marked with tranſverſe ſtreaks or wrinkles. They are of a ſcarlet colour within, and without of a blackiſh red, and ſometimes of a white, reddiſh, or aſh-colour, which are accounted the beſt, and are brought to us from Mexico. The cochineal inſect is of an oval form, of the ſize of a ſmall pea, with ſix feet, and a ſnout or trunk. It brings forth its young alive, and is nouriſhed by ſucking the juice of the plant. Its body conſiſts of ſeveral rings, and when it is once fixed on the plant, it continues immoveable, being ſubject to no change. Some pretend there are two ſorts, the one domeſtic, which is beſt, and the other wild, that is of a vivid colour; however they appear to be the ſame, only with this difference, that the Wild feeds upon uncultivated trees, without any aſſiſtance, whereas the domeſtic is carefully at a [146] ſtated ſeaſon, removed to cultivated trees, where it feeds upon a purer juice. Thoſe who take care of theſe inſects, place them on the prickly pear plant in a certain order, and are very induſtrious in defending them from other inſects; for if any other kind come among them, they take care to bruſh them off with foxes tails. Towards the end of the year, when the rains and cold weather are coming on, which are fatal to theſe inſects, they take off the leaves or branches covered with cochineal, that have not attained their utmoſt degree of perfection, and keep them in their houſes till winter is paſt. Theſe leaves are very thick and juicy, and ſupply them with ſufficient nouriſhment, while they remain within doors. When the milder weather returns, and theſe animals are about to exclude their young, the natives make them neſts, like thoſe of birds, but leſs, of tree-moſs, or ſoft hay, or the down of cocoa-nuts, placing twelve in every neſt. Theſe they fix on the thorns of the prickly pear-plant, and in three or four days time they bring forth their young, which leave their neſts in a few days, and creep upon the branches of the plant, till they find a proper place to reſt in, and take in their nouriſhment; and until the females are ſecundated by the males, which, as [147] in the former tribe, differ very widely, from the females being winged inſects, whereas the others only creep, and are at moſt ſtationary. When they are impregnated, they produce a new offspring, so that the propagator has a new harveſt thrice a year. When the native Americans have gathered the cochineal, they put them into holes in the ground, where they kill them with boiling water, and afterwards dry them in the ſun, or in an oven, or lay them upon hot plates. From the various methods of killing them, ariſe the different colours which they appear in when brought to us. While they are living, they ſeem to be ſprinkled over with a white powder, which they loſe as ſoon as the boiling water is poured upon them. Thoſe that are dried upon hot places are the blackeſt. What we call the cochineal are only the females, for the males are a ſort of fly as already obſerved in the kermes. They are uſed both for dyeing and medicine, and are ſaid to have much the ſame virtue as the kermes, tho' they are now ſeldom uſed alone, but are mixed with other things for the ſake of the colour.

I shall end this account of the beetle tribe with the hiſtory of an animal which cannot properly be ranked under this ſpecies, and yet which cannot be more methodically ranged under [148] any other. This is the inſect that forms and reſides in the gall-nut, the ſpoils of which are converted to ſuch uſeful purpoſes. The gall inſects are bred in a ſort of bodies adhering to a kind of oak in Aſia, which differ with regard to their colour, ſize, roughneſs, ſmoothneſs and ſhape, and which we call galls. They are not fruit, as ſome have imagined, but preternatural tumours, owing to the wounds given to the buds, leaves, and twigs of the tree, by a kind of inſects that lay their eggs within them. This animal is furniſhed with an implement, by which the female penetrates into the bark of the tree, or into that ſpot which juſt begins to bud, and there ſheds a drop of corroſive fluid into the cavity. Having thus formed a receptacle for her eggs, ſhe depoſites them in the place, and dies ſoon after. The heart of the bud being thus wounded, the circulation of the nutritive juice is interrupted and the fermentation thereof, with the poiſon injected by the fly, burns the parts adjacent, and then alters the natural colour of the plant. The juice or ſap turned bark from its natural courſe, extravaſates and flows round the egg. After which it ſwells and dilates by the aſſiſtance of ſome bubbles of air, which get admiſſion through the pores of the bark, and which run in the veſſels with the ſap. [149] The external coat of this excreſcence is dried by the air, and grows into a figure which bears ſome reſemblance to the bow of an arch, or the roundneſs of a kernel. This little ball receives its nutriment, growth and vegetation as the other parts of the tree by ſlow degrees, and is what we call the gall-nut. The worm that is hatched under this ſpacious vault, finds in the ſubſtance of the ball, which is as yet very tender, a ſubſiſtence ſuitable to its nature; gnaws and digeſts it till the time comes for its tranſformation to a nymph, and from that ſtate of exiſtence changes into a fly. After this the inſect, perceiving itſelf duly provided with all things requiſite, diſengages itſelf ſoon from its confinement, and takes its flight into the open air. The caſe however, is not ſimilar with reſpect to the gall-nut, that grows in autumn. The cold weather frequently comes on before the worm is tranſformed into a fly, or before the fly can pierce through its incloſure. The nut falls with the leaves, and altho' you may imagine that the fly which lies within is loſt, yet in reality it is not ſo; on the contrary, its being covered up ſo cloſe, is the means of its preſervation. Thus it ſpends the winter in a warm houſe, where every crack and cranny of the nut is well ſtopped up; and lies buried as it were under a heap of leaves, [150] which preſerves it from the injuries of the weather. This apartment, however, tho' ſo commodious a retreat in the winter, is a perfect priſon in the ſpring. The fly, rouzed out of its lethargy by the firſt heats, breaks its way through, and ranges where it pleaſes. A very ſmall aperture is ſufficient ſince at this time the fly is but a diminutive creature. Beſides, the ringlets whereof its body is compoſed, dilate, and become pliant is the paſſage.

CHAP. VII. Of the Gnat and the Tipula.

[151]

THERE are two inſects which entirely reſemble each other in their form, and yet widely differ in their habits, manners and propagation. Thoſe who have ſeen the tipula, or long-legs, and the larger kind of gnat, have moſt probably miſtaken the one for the other, they have often accuſed the tipula, a harmleſs inſect, of depredations made by the gnat, and the innocent have ſuffered for the guilty; indeed the differences in their form are ſo very minute, that it often requires the aſſiſtance of a microſcope to diſtinguiſh the one from the other: they are both mounted on long legs, both furniſhed with two wings and a ſlender body; their heads are large, and they ſeem to be hump-backed; the chief and only difference, therefore, is, that the tipula wants a trunk, while the gnat has a large one, which it often exerts to very miſchievous purpoſes. The tipula is a harmleſs peaceful inſect, that offers injury to nothing; the gnat is ſanguinary and [152] predaceous, ever ſeeking out for a place in which to bury its trunk, and pumping up the blood from the animal in large quantities.

The gnat proceeds from a little worm, which is uſually ſeen at the bottom of ſtanding waters. The manner in which the inſect lays its eggs is particularly curious; after having laid the proper number on the ſurface of the water, it ſurrounds them with a kind of unctuous matter, which prevents them from ſinking; but at the ſame time faſtens them with a thread to the bottom, to prevent their floating away, at the mercy of every breeze, from a place the warmth of which is proper for their production, to any other, where the water may be too cold, or the animals its enemies too numerous. Thus the inſects, in their egg ſtate, reſemble a buoy, which is fixed by an anchor. As they come to maturity they ſink deeper, and at laſt, when they leave the egg as worms they creep at the bottom. They now make themſelves lodgments of cement, which they faſten to ſome ſolid body at the very bottom of the water, unleſs, by accident, they meet with a piece of chalk, which being of a ſoft and pliant nature, gives them an opportunity of ſinking a retreat for themſelves, where nothing but the claws of a cray-fiſh can poſſibly moleſt them. The worm [153] afterwards changes its form. It appears with a large head, and a tail inveſted with hair, and moiſtened with an oleaginous liquor, which ſhe makes uſe of as a cork, to ſuſtain her head in the air, and her tail in the water, and to tranſport her from one place to another. When the oil with which her tail is moiſtened begins to grow dry, ſhe diſcharges out of her mouth an unctuous humour, which ſhe ſheds all over her tail, by virtue whereof, ſhe is enabled to-tranſport herſelf where ſhe pleaſes, without being either wet or any ways incommoded by the water. The gnat, in her ſecond ſtate, is properly ſpeaking, in her form of a nymph, which is an introduction, or entrance into a new life. In the firſt place, the diverts herſelf of her ſecond ſkin; in the next ſhe reſigns her eyes, her antennae, and her tail; in ſhort, ſhe actually ſeems to expire. However, from the ſpoils of the amphibious animal, a little winged inſect cuts the air, whoſe every part is active to the laſt degree, and whoſe whole ſtructure is the juſt object of our admiration. Its little head is adorned with a plume of feathers, and its whole body inveſted with ſcales and hair, to ſecure it from any wet or duſt. She makes trial of the activity of her wings, by rubbing them either againſt her body, or her broad ſide-bags, [154] which keep her in an equilibrium. The furbelow, or little border of fine feathers, which graces her wings is very curious, and ſtrikes the eye in the moſt agreeable manner. There is nothing, however, of greater importance to the gnat, than her trunk, and that weak implement may juſtly be deemed one of nature's maſter-pieces. It is ſo very ſmall, that the extremity of it can ſcarcely be diſcerned through the beſt microſcope that can be procured. That part which is at firſt obvious to the eye, is nothing but a long ſcaly ſheath under the throat. At near the diſtance of two thirds of it, there is an aperture, through which the inſect darts out four ſtings, and afterwards retracts them. One of which, however ſharp and active it may be, is no more than the caſe in which the other three lie concealed, and run in a long groove. The ſides of theſe ſtings are ſharpened like two-edged ſwords; they are likewiſe barbed, and have a vaſt number of cutting teeth towards the point, which turns up like a hook, and is fine beyond expreſſion. When all theſe darts are ſtuck into the fleſh of animals, ſometimes one after another, and ſometimes all at once, the blood and humours of the adjacent parts muſt unavoidably be extravaſated; upon which a tumour muſt conſequently [155] enſue, the little orifice whereof is cloſed up by the compreſſion of the external air. When the gnat, by the point of her caſe, which ſhe makes uſe of as a tongue, has taſted any fruit, fleſh, or juice, that ſhe has found out; if it be a fluid, ſhe ſucks it up, without playing her darts into it; but in caſe ſhe finds the leaſt obſtruction by any fleſh whatever, ſhe exerts her ſtrength, and pierces through it, if poſſibly ſhe can. After this ſhe draws back her ſtings into their ſheath, which ſhe applies to the wound in order to extract, as through a reed, the juices which ſhe finds incloſed. This is the implement with which the gnat performs her work in the ſummer, for during the winter the has no manner of occaſion for it. Then ſhe ceaſes to eat, and ſpends all that tedious ſeaſon either in quarries or in caverns, which ſhe abandons at the return of ſummer, and flies about in ſearch after ſome commodious ford, or ſtanding water, where ſhe may produce her progeny, which would be ſoon waſhed away and loſt, by the too rapid motion of any running ſtream. The little brood are ſometimes ſo numerous, that the very water is tinged according to the colour of the ſpecies, as green, if they be green, and of a ſanguine hue, if they be red.

[156]Theſe are circumſtances ſufficiently extraordinary in the life of this little animal, but it offers ſomething ſtill more curious in the method of its propagation. However ſimilar inſects of the gnat kind are in their appearance, yet they differ widely from each other in the manner in which they are brought forth, for ſome are oviparous, and are produced from eggs, ſome are viviparous, and come forth in their moſt perfect form; ſome are males, and unite with the female; ſome are females, requiring the impregnation of the male; 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 incloſed 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 without the uſe of copulation, without any congreſs between the male and female, but 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 [157] alone, but it requires the acceſs of the male to give it another ſucceſſion of ſecundity.

The gnat of Europe gives but little uneaſineſs; it is ſometimes heard to hum about our beds at night, and keeps off the approaches of ſleep by the apprehenſion it cauſes; but it is very different in the ill-peopled regions of America, where the waters ſtagnate, and the climate is warm, and where they are produced in multitudes beyond expreſſion. The whole air is there filled with clouds of thoſe famiſhed inſects; and they are found of all ſizes, from ſix inches long, to a minuteneſs that even requires the microſcope to have a diſtinct perception of them. The warmth of the mid-day ſun is too powerful for their conſtitutions; but when the evening approaches, neither art nor flight can ſhield the wretched inhabitants from their attacks, tho' millions are deſtroyed, ſtill millions more ſucceed, and produce unceaſing torment. The native Indians, who anoint their bodies with oil, and who have from their infancy been uſed to their depredations, find them much leſs inconvenient than thoſe who are newly arrived from Europe; they ſleep in their cottages covered all over with thouſands of the gnat kind upon their bodies, and yet do not ſeem to have their ſlumbers interrupted by [158] their cruel devourers. If a candle happens to be lighted in one of thoſe places, a cloud of inſects at once light upon the flame, and extinguiſh it; they are therefore obliged to keep their candles in glaſs lanthorns; a miſerable expedient to prevent an unceaſing calamity.

PART V.

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CHAP. VIII. Of Zoophytes in General.

[161]

WE are now come to the laſt link in the chain of animated nature, to a claſs of beings ſo confined in their powers, and ſo defective in their formation, that ſome hiſtorians have been at a loſs whether to conſider them as a ſuperior rank of vegetables, or the humbleſt order of the animated tribe. In order therefore to give them a denomination, agreeable to their exiſtence, they have been called Zoophytes, a name implying vegetable nature indued with animal life; and indeed, in ſome the marks of the animal are ſo few, that it is difficult to give their place in nature with preciſion, or to tell whether it is a plant or an inſect that is the object of our conſideration.

Should it be aſked what it is that conſtitutes the difference between animal and vegetable life, what it is that lays the line that ſeparates thoſe two great kingdoms from each other, it would be difficult, perhaps we ſhould find it impoſſible, to return an anſwer. The power of motion cannot form this diſtinction, ſince ſome vegetables are poſſeſt of motion, and [162] many animals are totally without it. The ſenſitive plant has obviouſly a greater variety of motions than the oyſter or the pholas. The animal that fills the acorn-ſhell is immoveable, and can only cloſe its lid to defend itſelf from external injury, while the flower, which goes by the name of the fly-trap, ſeems to cloſe upon the flies that light upon it, and that attempt to rifle it of its honey. The animal in this inſtance, ſeems to have ſcarce a power of ſelf defence; the vegetable not only guards its poſſeſſions, but ſeizes upon the robber that would venture to invade them. In like manner, the methods of propagation give no ſuperiority to the lower rank of animals. On the contrary, vegetables are frequently produced more conformably to the higher ranks of the creation, and though ſome plants are produced by cuttings from others, yet the general manner of propagation is from ſeeds, laid in the womb of the earth, where they are hatched into the ſimilitude of the parent plant or flower. But a moſt numerous tribe of animals have lately been diſcovered, which are propagated by cuttings, and this in ſo extraordinary a manner, that, though the original inſect be divided into a thouſand parts, each, however ſmall, ſhall be formed into an animal, entirely reſembling that which was at firſt divided; in this reſpect, [163] therefore, certain races of animals ſeem to fall beneath vegetables, by their more imperfect propagation.

What, therefore, is the diſtinction between them, or are the orders ſo intimately blended as that it is impoſſible to mark the boundaries of each? To me it would ſeem, that all animals are poſſeſſed of one power, of which vegetables are totally deficient; I mean either the actual ability, or an aukward attempt at ſelf-preſervation. However vegetables may ſeem poſſeſſed of this important quality, yet it is with them but a mechanical impulſe, reſembling the raiſing one end of the lever, when you depreſs the other: the ſenſitive plant contracts and hangs its leaves, indeed, when touched, but this motion no way contributes to its ſafety; the fly-trap flower acts entirely in the ſame manner; and though it ſeems to ſeize the little animal, that comes to annoy it, yet, in reality, only cloſes mechanically upon it, and this incloſure neither contributes to its preſervation nor its defence. But it is very different with inſects, even of the loweſt order; the earth-worm not only contracts, but hides itſelf in the earth, and eſcapes with force ſhare of ſwiftneſs from its purſuers. The polypus hides its horns; the ſtar-fiſh contracts its arms, upon the appearance [164] even of diſtant dangers; they not only hunt for their food, but provide for their ſafety, and however imperfectly they may be formed, yet ſtill they are in reality, placed many degrees above the higheſt vegetable of the earth, and are poſſeſſed of many animal functions, as well as thoſe that are more elaborately formed.

But though theſe be ſuperior to plants, they are very far beneath their animated fellows of exiſtence. In the claſs of zoophytes, we may place all thoſe animals, which may be propagated by cuttings, or in other words, which, if divided into two or more parts, each part in time, becomes a ſeparate and perfect animal; the head ſhoots forth a tail, and on the contrary, the tail produces a head; ſome of theſe will bear dividing, but into two parts, ſuch is the earth-worm; ſome may be divided into more than two, and of this kind are many of the ſtar fiſh; others ſtill may be cut into a thouſand parts, each becoming a perfect animal; they may be turned inſide out, like the finger of a glove, they may be moulded into all manner of ſhapes, yet ſtill their vivacious principle remains, ſtill every ſingle part becomes perfect in its kind, and after a few days exiſtence, exhibits all the arts and induſtry [165] of its contemptible parent! We ſhall, therefore, divide zoophytes according to their ſeveral degrees of perfection, namely, into worms, ſtar-fiſh and polypi; contenting ourſelves with a ſhort review of thoſe nauſeous and deſpicable creatures, that excite our curioſity chiefly by their imperfections; it muſt not be concealed, however, that much has of late been written on this part of natural hiſtory. A new mode of animal production, could not fail of exciting not only the curioſity, but the aſtoniſhment of every philoſopher; many found their favourite ſyſtems totally overthrown by the diſcovery, and it was not without a wordy ſtruggle, that they gave up what had formerly been their pleaſure and their pride. At laſt, however, conviction became too ſtrong for argument, and a queſtion, which owed its general ſpread rather to its novelty, than to its importance, was given up in favour of the new diſcovery.

CHAP. IX. Of Worms.

[166]

THE firſt in the claſs of zoophytes, are animals of the worm kind, which being entirely deſtitute of feet, trail themſelves along upon the ground, and find themſelves a retreat under the earth, or in the water. As theſe, like ſerpents, have a creeping motion, ſo both, in general, go under the common appellation of reptiles; a loathſome, noxious, malignant tribe, to which man by nature, as well as by religion, has the ſtrongeſt antipathy. But though worms, as well as ſerpents, are moſtly without feet, and have been doomed to creep along the earth on their bellies, yet their motions are very different. The ſerpent, as has been ſaid before, having a back bone, which it is incapable of contracting, bends its body into the form of a bow, and then ſhoots forward from the tail; but it is very different with the worm, which has a power of contracting or lengthening itſelf at will. There is a ſpiral muſcle, that runs round its whole body, from the head to tail, ſomewhat reſembling a wire wound round a walking-cane, [167] which, when ſlipped off, and one end extended and held faſt, will bring the other nearer to it; in this manner the earth-worm, having ſhot out, or extended its body, takes hold by the ſlime of the fore part of its body, and ſo contracts and brings forward the hinder part; in this manner it moves onward, not without great effort, but the occaſions for its progreſſive motion are few.

As it is deſigned for living under the earth, and leading a life of obſcurity, ſo it ſeems tolerably adapted to its ſituation. Its body is armed with ſmall ſtiff ſharp burrs or prickles, which it can erect or depreſs at pleaſure; under the ſkin there lies a ſlimy juice, to be ejected as occaſion requires, at certain perforations, between the rings of the muſces, to lubricate its body, and facilitate its paſſage into the earth. Like moſt other inſects, it hath breathing-holes along the back, adjoining each ring; but it is without bones, without eyes, without ears, and, properly without feet. It has a mouth, and alſo an elementary canal, which runs along to the very point of the tail. In ſome worms, however, particularly ſuch as are found in the bodies of animals, this canal opens towards the middle of the belly, at ſome diſtance from the tail. The inteſtines of the earth-worm, are always found [168] filled with a very fine earth, which ſeems to be the only nouriſhment theſe animals are capable of receiving.

The animal is entirely without brain, but near the head is placed the heart, which is ſeen to beat with a very diſtinct motion, and round it are the ſpermatic veſſels, forming a number of little globules, containing a milky fluid, which have an opening into the belly, not far from the head: they are alſo often found to contain a number of eggs, which are laid in the earth, and are hatched in twelve or fourteen days into life, by the genial warmth of their ſituation; like ſnails, all theſe animals unite in themſelves, both ſexes at once, the reptile that impregnates, being impregnated in turn; few that walk out, but muſt have obſerved them, with their heads laid againſt each other, and ſo ſtrongly attached, that they ſuffer themſelves to be trod upon.

When the eggs are laid in the earth, which, in about fourteen days, as has been ſaid, are hatched into maturity, the young ones come forth very ſmall, but perfectly formed, and ſuffer no change during their exiſtence: how long their life continues is not well known, but it certainly holds for more than two or three ſeaſons. During the winter, [169] they bury themſelves deeper in the earth, and ſeem, in ſome meaſure, to ſhare the general torpidity of the inſect tribe. In ſpring, they revive with the reſt of nature, and on thoſe occaſions, a moiſt or dewy evening brings them forth from their retreats, for the univerſal purpoſe of continuing their kind. They chiefly live in a light rich and fertile ſoil, moiſtened by dews or accidental ſhowers, but avoid thoſe places where the water is apt to lie on the ſurface of the earth, or where the clay is too ſtiff for their eaſy progreſſion under ground.

Helpleſs as they are formed, yet they ſeem very vigilant in avoiding thoſe animals that chiefly make them their prey; in particular, the mole, who feeds entirely upon them beneath the ſurface, and who ſeldom ventures, from the dimneſs of its ſight, into the open air; him they avoid, by darting up from the earth, the inſtant they feel the ground move; and fiſhermen, who are well acquainted with this, take them in what numbers they chuſe, by ſtirring the earth where they expect to find them. They are alſo driven from their retreats under ground, by pouring bitter or acrid water thereon, ſuch as that water in which green walnuts have been ſteeped, or a lye made of pot-aſhes.

[170]Such is the general outline of the hiſtory of theſe reptiles, which, as it ſhould ſeem, degrades them no way beneath the rank of other animals of the inſect creation; but we now come to a part of their hiſtory, which proves the imperfection of their organs, from the eaſineſs with which theſe little machines may be damaged and repaired again. It is well known in mechanics, that the fineſt and moſt complicated inſtruments are the moſt eaſily put out of order, and the moſt difficultly ſet right; the ſame alſo obtains in the animal machine. Man, the moſt complicated machine of all others, whoſe nerves are more numerous, and powers of action more various, is moſt eaſily deſtroyed: he is ſeen to die under wounds which a quadruped or a bird could eaſily ſurvive; and as we deſcend gradually to the lower ranks, the ruder the compoſition, the more difficult it is to diſarange it. Some animals live without their limbs, and often are ſeen to reproduce them; ſome are ſeen to live without their brain for many weeks together; caterpillars continue to increaſe and grow large, tho' all their nobler organs are intirely deſtroyed within; ſome animals continue to exiſt, though cut in two, their nobler parts preſerving life, while the others periſh that were cut away; but the earth worm, and all the [171] zoophyte tribe, continue to live in ſeparate parts, and one animal, by the means of cutting, is divided into two diſtinct exiſtences, ſometimes into a thouſand.

There is no phaenomenon in all natural hiſtory more aſtoniſhing than this, that man, at pleaſure, ſhould have a kind of creative power, and out of one life make two, each compleatly formed, with all its apparatus and functions, each with its perceptions, and powers of motion and ſelf-preſervation, each as compleat in all reſpects as that from which it derived its exiſtence, and equally enjoying the humble gratifications of its nature.

When De Cartes firſt ſtarted the opinion, that brutes were machines, the diſcovery of this ſurpriſing propagation was unknown, which might, in ſome meaſure, have ſtrengthened his fanciful theory. What is life, in brutes, he might have ſaid, or where does it reſide? In ſome we find it ſo diffuſed, that every part ſeems to maintain a vivacious principle, and the ſame animal appears poſſeſſed of a thouſand diſtinct irrational ſouls at the ſame time. But let us not, he would ſay, give ſo noble a name to ſuch contemptible powers, but rank the vivifying principle in theſe with the ſap that riſes in vegetables, or the moiſture that contracts a [172] cord, or the heat that puts water into motion! Nothing, in fact, deſerves the name of ſoul, but that which reaſons, that which underſtands, and by knowing God, receives the mark of its currency, and is minted with the impreſſion of its great Creator.

Sucb might have been the ſpeculations of this philoſopher, however to leave theory, it will be ſufficient to ſay that we owe the firſt diſcovery of this power of reproduction in animals to Mr. Trembley, who firſt obſerved it in the polypus, and after him, Spalanzani and others found it taking place in the earth-worm, the ſea-worm, and ſeveral other ill-formed animals of a like kind, which were ſuſceptible of this new mode of propagation. This laſt philoſopher, has tried ſeveral experiments upon the earth-worm, many of which ſucceeded according to his expectation; every earth-worm, however, did not retain the vivacious principle with the ſame obſtinacy; ſome, when cut in two, were intirely deſtroyed; others ſurvived only in the nobler part; and while the head was living the tail entirely periſhed, and a new one was ſeen to burge on from the extremity. But what was moſt ſurpriſing of all, in ſome, particularly in the ſmall red-headed earth worm, both extremities ſurvived the operation; the head produced a [173] tail with the anus, the inteſtines, the anular muſcles, and the prickly beards; the tail part, on the other hand, was ſeen to ſhoot forth the nobler organs, and in leſs than the ſpace of three months ſent forth a head, heart, with all the apparatus and inſtruments of generation. This part, as may eaſily be ſuppoſed, was produced much more ſlowly than the former, a new head taking above three or four months for its completion, a new tail being ſhot forth in leſs than as many weeks. Thus two animals, by diſſection, were made out of one, each with their ſeparate appetites, each endued with life and motion, and ſeemingly as perfect as that ſingle animal from whence they derived their origin.

What was performed upon the earth-worm, was found to obtain alſo in many other of the vermicular ſpecies. The ſea-worm, the white water-worm, and many of thoſe little worms with feelers, found at the bottom of dirty ditches; in all theſe the nobler organs are of ſuch little uſe, that if taken away, the animal does not ſeem to feel the want of them; it lives in all its parts, and in every part, and by a ſtrange paradox in nature, the moſt uſeleſs and contemptible life is of all others the moſt difficult to deſtroy.

CHAP. X. Of the Star-fiſh.

[174]
Figure 2. The Cuttle Fiſh. • 1 The Sea Star. , and • 2 The Sea Nettle. 

In all of this ſpecies, none are found to poſſeſs a vent for their excrements, but the ſame paſſage by which they devour their food, ſerves for the ejection of their faeces. Theſe animals as was ſaid, take ſuch a variety of figures, that it is impoſſible to deſcribe them under one determinate ſhape; but in general, their bodies reſemble a truncated cone, whoſe baſe is applied to the rock to which they are found uſually attached. Tho' generally tranſparent, yet they are found of different colours, ſome inclining to [176] green, ſome to red, ſome to white, and ſome to brown. In ſome, their colours appear diffuſed over the whole ſurface, in ſome, they are often ſtreaked, and in others often ſpotted. They are poſſeſt of a very ſlow progreſſive motion, and in fine weather, they are continually ſeen, ſtretching out and fiſhing for their prey. Many of them are poſſeſt of a number of long ſlender filaments, in which they entangle any ſmall animals they happen to approach, and thus draw them into their enormous ſtomachs, which fill the whole cavity of their bodies. The harder ſhells continue for ſome weeks indigeſted, but at length, they undergo a kind of maceration in the ſtomach, and become a part of the ſubſtance of the animal itſelf. The indigeſtible parts, are returned by the ſame aperture by which they were ſwallowed, and then the ſtar-fiſh begins to fiſh for more. Theſe alſo may be cut in pieces, and every part will ſurvive the operation; each becoming a perfect animal, endued with its natural rapacity. Of this tribe, the number is various, and the deſcription of each would be tedious and uninſtructing; the manners and nature of all, are nearly as deſcribed; but I will juſt make mention of one creature, which, tho' not properly belonging to this claſs, [177] yet is ſo nearly related, that the paſſing it in ſilence would be an unpardonable omiſſion.

Of all other animals, the cuttle-fiſh, tho' in ſome reſpect ſuperior to this tribe, poſſeſſes qualities the moſt extraordinary. It is about two feet long, covered with a very thin ſkin, and its fleſh compoſed of a gelatinous ſubſtance, which however within ſide is ſtrengthened by a ſtrong bone, of which ſuch great uſe is made by the goldſmiths. It is poſſeſſed of eight arms, which it extends, and which are probably of ſervice to it in fiſhing for its prey; while in life, it is capable of lengthening or contracting theſe at pleaſure; but when dead, they contract and loſe their rigidity. They feed upon ſmall fiſh, which they ſeize with their arms; and they are bred from eggs, which are laid upon the weeds along the ſea-ſhore.

The cuttle fiſh is found along many of the coaſts of Europe, but are not eaſily caught, from a contrivance with which they are furniſhed by nature; this is a black ſubſtance, of the colour of ink, which is contained in a bladder generally on the left-ſide of the belly, and which is ejected in the manner of an excrement from the anus. Whenever therefore this fiſh is purſued, and when it finds a difficulty of eſcaping, it ſpurts forth a great quantity of this black [178] liquor, by which the waters are totally darkened, and then it eſcapes, by lying cloſe at the bottom. In this manner the creature finds its ſafety, and men find ample cauſe for admiration, from the great variety of ſtratagems with which creatures are endued for their peculiar preſervation.

CHAP. XI. Of the Polypus.

[179]

THOSE animals which we have deſcribed in the laſt chapter, are variouſly denominated. They have been called the Star-fiſh, Sea-nettles, and Sea-polypi. This laſt name has been peculiarly aſcribed to them by the ancients, becauſe of the number of feelers or feet of which they are all poſſeſt, and with which they have a ſlow progreſſive motion; but the moderns have given the name of Polypus, to a reptile that lives in freſh water, by no means ſo large or obſervable. Theſe are found at the bottom of wet ditches, or attached to the under ſurface of the broad-leafed plants that grow and ſwim on the waters. The ſame difference holds between theſe and the ſea-water polypus, as between all the productions of the ſea, and of the land and the ocean. The marine vegetables and animals grow to a monſtrous ſize. The eel, the pike, or the bream of freſh-waters, is but ſmall; but in the ſea, they grow to an enormous magnitude. The herbs of the field are at moſt but a few feet high; thoſe of the ſea often ſhoot forth a ſtalk of a hundred. It is ſo between the polypi of [180] both elements. Thoſe of the ſea are found from two feet in length to three or four, and Pliny has even deſcribed one, the arms of which were no leſs than thirty feet long. Thoſe in freſh waters, however, are comparatively minute; at their utmoſt ſize, ſeldom above three parts of an inch long, and when gathered up into their uſual form, not above a third even of thoſe dimenſions.

It was upon theſe minute animals, that the power of diſſection was firſt tried in multiplying their numbers. They had been long conſidered as little worthy the attention of obſervers, and were conſigned to that neglect in which thouſands of minute ſpecies of inſects remain to this very day. It is true, indeed, that Reaumur obſerved, claſſed, and named them. By contemplating their motions, he was enabled diſtinctly to pronounce on their being of the animal, and not of the vegetable kingdom; and he called them Polypi, from their great reſemblance to thoſe larger ones that were found in the ocean. Still, however, their properties were neglected, and their hiſtory unknown.

Mr. Trembley was the perſon to whom we owe the firſt diſcovery of the amazing properties and powers of this little vivacious creature: He divided this claſs of animals into four different [181] kinds; into thoſe inclining to green, thoſe of a browniſh caſt, thoſe of fleſh-colour, thoſe which he calls the polype dé panache. The differences of ſtructure in theſe, as alſo of colour, are obſervable enough; but the manner of their ſubſiſting, of ſeizing their prey, and of their propagation, is pretty nearly the ſame in all.

Whoever has looked with care into the bottom of a wet ditch, when the water is ſtagnant, and the ſun has been powerful, may remember to have ſeen many little tranſparent lumps of jelly, about the ſize of a pea, and flatted on one ſide; ſuch alſo as have examined the under ſide of the broad-leafed weeds that grow on the ſurface of the water, muſt have obſerved them ſtudded with a number of theſe little jelly-like ſubſtances, which were probably then diſregarded, becauſe their nature and hiſtory was unknown. Theſe little ſubſtances however, were no other than living polypi gathered up into a quieſcent ſtate and ſeemingly inanimate, becauſe either diſturbed, or not excited by the calls of appetite to action. When they are ſeen exerting themſelves they put on a very different appearance from that when at reſt; to conceive a juſt idea of their figure, we may ſuppoſe the finger of a glove cut off at the bottom; we may [182] ſuppoſe alſo ſeveral threads or horns planted round the edge like a fringe. The hollow of this finger will give us an idea of the ſtomach of the animal, the threads iſſuing forth from the edges may be conſidered as the arms or feelers, with which it hunts for its prey. The animal, at its greateſt extent, is ſeldom ſeen above an inch and a half long, but it is much ſhorter when it is contracted and at reſt; it is furniſhed neither with muſcles nor rings, and its manner of lengthening or contracting itſelf, more reſembles that of the ſnail, than worms, or any other inſect. The polypus contracts itſelf more or leſs, in proportion as it is touched, or as the water is agitated in which they are ſeen. Warmth animates them, and cold benumbs them; but it requires a degree of cold approaching congelation before they are reduced to perfect inactivity; thoſe of an inch have generally their arms double, often thrice as long as their bodies. The arms, where the animal is not diſturbed, and the ſeaſon not unfavourable, are thrown about in various directions, in order to ſeize and entangle its little prey; ſometimes three or four of the arms are thus employed, while the reſt are contracted like the horns of a ſnail, within the animal's body. It ſeems capable of giving what length it pleaſes to theſe arms; it contracts [183] and extends them at pleaſure, and ſtretches them only in proportion to the remoteneſs of the object it would ſeize.

Theſe animals have a progreſſive motion, which is performed by that power they have of lengthening and contracting themſelves at pleaſure; they go from one part of the bottom to another; they mount along the margin of the water, and climb up the ſide of aquatic plants. They often are ſeen to come to the ſurface of the water, where they ſuſpend themſelves by their lower end. As they advance but very ſlowly, they employ a great deal of time in every action, and bind themſelves very ſtrongly to whatever body they chance to move upon as they proceed; their adheſion is voluntary, and is probably performed in the manner of a cupping glaſs applied to the body.

All animals of this kind have a remarkable attachment to turn towards the light, and this naturally might induce an enquirer to look for their eyes; but however carefully this ſearch has been purſued, and however excellent the microſcope with which every part was examined yet nothing of the appearance of this organ was found over the whole body; and it is moſt probable that, like ſeveral other inſects which hunt their prey by their [184] feeling, theſe creatures are unfurniſhed with advantages which would be totally uſeleſs for their ſupport.

In the center of the arms, as was ſaid before, the mouth is placed, which the animal can open and ſhut at pleaſure, and this ſerves at once as a paſſage for food, and an opening for it after digeſtion. The inward part of the animal's body ſeems to be one great ſtomach, which is open at both ends; but the purpoſes which the opening at the bottom ſerves are hitherto unknown, but certainly not for excluding their excrements, for thoſe are ejected at the aperture by which they are taken in. If the ſurface of the body of this little creature be examined with a microſcope, it will be found ſtudded with a number of warts, as alſo the arms, eſpecially when they are contracted; and theſe tubercles, as we ſhall preſently ſee, anſwer a very important purpoſe.

If we examine their way of living, we ſhall find theſe inſects chiefly ſubſiſting upon others, much leſs than themſelves, particularly a kind of millepedes that live in the water, and a very ſmall red worm, which they ſeize with great avidity. In ſhort, no inſect whatſoever, leſs than themſelves, ſeems to come amiſs to them; their arms, as was obſerved above, ſerve them as a [185] net would a fiſherman, or perhaps more exactly ſpeaking, as a lime-twig does a fowler. Wherever their prey is perceived, which the animal effects by its feeling, it is ſufficient to touch the object it would ſeize upon and it is faſtened, without a power of eſcaping. The inſtant one of this inſect's long arms is laid upon a millepede, the little inſect ſticks without a poſſibility of retreating. The greater the diſtance at which it is touched, the greater is the eaſe with which the Polypus brings the prey to its mouth. If the little object be near, tho' irretrievably caught, it is not without great difficulty that it can be brought to the mouth and ſwallowed. When the Polypus is unſupplied with prey, it teſtifies its hunger by opening its mouth; the aperture, however, is ſo ſmall that it cannot be eaſily perceived; but when, with any of its long arms, it has ſeized upon its prey, it then opens the mouth diſtinctly enough, and this opening is always in proportion to the ſize of the animal which it would ſwallow; the lips dilate inſenſibly by ſmall degrees, and adjuſt themſelves preciſely to the figure of their prey. Mr. Trembley, who took a pleaſure in feeding this uſeleſs brood, found that they could devour aliments of every kind, fiſh and fleſh as well as inſects; but he owns they did not thrive ſo well upon beef and [186] veal, as upon the little worms of their own providing. When he gave one of theſe famiſhed reptiles any ſubſtance which was improper to ſerve for aliment, at firſt it ſeized the prey with avidity, but after keeping it ſome time entangled near the mouth, it let drop again with diſtinguiſhing nicety.

When ſeveral polypi happen to fall upon the ſame worm, they diſpute their common prey with each other. Two of them are often ſeen ſeizing the ſame worm at different ends, and dragging it at oppoſie directions with great force. It often happens that while one is ſwallowing its reſpective end, the other is alſo employed in the ſame manner, and thus they continue ſwallowing each his part, until their mouths meet together; they then reſt, each for ſome time in this ſituation, till the worm breaks between them, and each goes off with his ſhare; but it often happens, that a ſeemingly more dangerous combat enſues, when the mouths of both are thus joined upon one common prey together: the largeſt polypus then gapes and ſwallows his antagoniſt; but what is very wonderful, the animal thus ſwallowed ſeems to be rather a gainer by the misfortune. After it has lain in the conquerors body for about an hour, it iſſues unhurt, and often in poſſeſſion of the prey [187] which had been the original cauſe of contention; how happy would it be for men, if they had as little to fear from each other!

Theſe reptiles continue eating the whole year, except when the cold approaches to congelation; and then, like moſt others of the inſect tribe, they feel the general torpor of nature, and all their faculties are for two or three months ſuſpended; but if they abſtain at one time, they are equally voracious at another, and like ſnakes, ants, and other animals that are torpid in winter, the meal of one day ſufficies them for ſeveral months together. In general, however, they devour more largely in proportion to their ſize, and their growth is quick exactly as they are fed; ſuch as are beſt ſupplied, ſooneſt acquire their largeſt ſize, but they diminiſh alſo in their growth with the ſame facility, if their food be taken away.

Such are the more obvious properties of theſe little animals, but the moſt wonderful ſtill remain behind: Their manner of propagation, or rather multiplication, has for ſome years been the aſtoniſhment of all the learned of Europe. They are produced in as great a variety of manners as every ſpecies of vegetable. Some polypi are propagated from eggs, as plants are from their ſeed; [188] ſome are produced by buds iſſuing from their bodies, as plants are produced by inoculation, while all may be multiplied by cuttings, and this to a degree of minuteneſs that exceeds even philoſophical perſeverance.

With reſpect to ſuch of this kind as are hatched from the egg little curious can be added, as it is a method of propagation ſo common to all the tribes of inſect nature; but with regard to ſuch as are produced like buds from their parent ſtem, or like cuttings from an original root, their hiſtory requires a more detailed explanation. If a polypus be carefully obſerved in ſummer, when theſe animals are chiefly active, and more particularly prepared for propagation, it will be found to burgeon forth from different parts of its body ſeveral tubercles or little knobs, which grow larger and larger every day; after two or three days inſpection, what at firſt appeared but a ſmall excreſcence takes the figure of a ſmall animal, entirely reſembling its parent, furniſhed with feelers, a mouth, and all the apparatus for ſeizing and digeſting its prey. This little creature every day becomes larger, like the parent, to which it continues attached; it ſpreads its arms to ſeize upon whatever inſect is proper for aliment, and devours it for its own [189] particular benefit; thus it is poſſeſſed of two ſources of nouriſhment, that which it receives from the parent by the tail, and that which it receives from its own induſtry by the mouth. The food which theſe animals receive often tinctures the whole body, and upon this occaſion the parent is often ſeen communicating a part of its own fluids to that of its progeny that grows upon it; while, on the contrary, it never receives any tincture, from any ſubſtance that is caught and ſwallowed by its young. If the parent ſwallows a red worm, which gives a tincture to all its fluids, the young one partakes of the parental colour; but if the latter ſhould ſeize upon the ſame prey, the parent polypus is no way benefited by the capture, but all the advantage remains with the young one.

But we are not to ſuppoſe that the parent is capable of producing only one at a time, ſeveral young ones are thus ſeen at once, of different ſizes, growing from its body, ſome juſt budding forth, others acquiring their perfect form, and others come to ſufficient maturity, and juſt ready to drop from the original ſtem to which they had been attached for ſeveral days. But what is more extraordinary ſtill, thoſe young ones themſelves that continue attached [190] to their parent, are ſeen to burgeon, and propagate their own young ones alſo, each holding the ſame dependance upon its reſpective parent, and poſſeſſed of the ſame advantages that have been already deſcribed in the firſt connection. Thus we ſee a ſurprizing chain of exiſtence continued, and numbers of animals naturally produced without any union of the ſexes, or other previous diſpoſition of nature.

This ſeems to be the moſt natural way by which theſe inſects are multiplied; their production from the egg being not ſo common; and tho' ſome of this kind are found with a little bladder attached to their bodies, which is ſuppoſed to be filled with eggs, which afterwards come to maturity, yet the artificial method of propagating theſe animals, is much more expeditious and equally certain: It is indifferent whether one of them be cut into ten, or ten hundred parts, each becomes as perfect an animal as that which was originally divided, but it muſt be obſerved, that the ſmaller the part which is thus ſeparated from the reſt, the longer it will be in coming to maturity, or in aſſuming its perfect form. It would be endleſs to recount the many experiments that have been tried upon this philoſophical prodigy; [191] the animal has been twiſted, and turned into all manner of ſhapes; it has been turned inſide out, it has been cut in every diviſion, yet ſtill it continued to move; its parts adapted themſelves again to each other, and in a ſhort time it became as voracious and induſtrious as before.

Beſides theſe kinds mentioned by Mr.Trembley, there are various others which have been lately diſcovered by the vigilance of ſucceeding obſervers, and ſome of theſe ſo ſtrongly reſemble a flowering vegetable in their forms, that they have been miſtaken by many naturaliſts for ſuch. Mr. Hughes, the author of the Natural Hiſtory of Barbadoes, has deſcribed a ſpecies of this animal, but has miſtaken its nature, and called it a ſenſitive flowering plant; he obſerved it to take refuge in the holes of rocks, and when undiſturbed, to ſpread forth a number of ramifications, each terminated by a flowery petal which ſhrunk at the approach of the hand, and withdrew into the hole from whence before it had been ſeen to iſſue. This plant however was no other than an animal of the polypus kind, which is not only to be found in Barbadoes, but alſo on many parts of the coaſt of Cornwall, and along the ſhores of the Continent.

CHAP. XII. Of Lithophytes and Sponges.

[192]

IT is very probable that the animals we ſee, and are acquainted with, bear no manner of proportion to thoſe that are concealed from us. Although every leaf and vegetable ſwarms with animals upon land, yet at ſea, they are ſtill more abundant; for the greateſt part of what would ſeem vegetables growing there are in fact nothing but the artificial formation of inſects, palaces which they have built for their own habitation.

Figure 3. The Coral-plants.

If in our reſearches after the nature of theſe plants, we ſhould be induced to break off a branch of the coraline ſubſtance, and obſerve it carefully, we ſhall perceive its whole ſurface, which is very rugged and irregular, covered with a mucous fluid, and almoſt in every part ſtudded with little jelly-like drops, which when cloſely examined, will be found to be no other than reptiles of the polypus kind. Theſe have their motions, their arms, their appetites, exactly reſembling thoſe deſcribed in the laſt chapter, but they ſoon expire when taken out of the ſea, and our curioſity is at once ſtopped in its [195] career, by the animals ceaſing to give any marks of their induſtry; recourſe therefore has been had to other expedients, in order to determine the nature of the inhabitant, as well as the habitation.

If a coraline plant be ſtrictly obſerved, while ſtill growing in the ſea, and the animals upon its ſurface be not diſturbed, either by the agitation of the waters, or the touch of the obſerver, the little polypi will then be ſeen in infinite numbers, each iſſuing from its cell, and in ſome kinds, the head covered with a little ſhell, reſembling an umbrella, the arms ſpread abroad, in order to ſeize its prey, while the hinder part ſtill remains attached to its habitation, from whence it never wholly removes. By this time it is perceived that the number of inhabitants is infinitely greater than was at firſt ſuſpected; that they are all aſſiduouſly employed in the ſame purſuits, and that they iſſue from their reſpective cells, and retire into them at pleaſure. Still, however, there are no proofs that thoſe large branches which they inhabit are entirely the conſtruction of ſuch feeble and minute animals. But chemiſtry will be found to lend a clue to extricate us from our doubts in this particular. Like the ſhells which are formed by [196] ſnails, muſcles and oyſters, theſe coraline ſubſtances efferveſce with acids, and may therefore well be ſuppoſed to partake of the ſame animal nature. But Mr. Ellis went ſtill farther, and examined their operations, juſt as they were beginning. Obſerving an oyſter-bed which had been for ſome time neglected, he there perceived the firſt rudiments of a coraline plantation, and tufts of various kinds ſhooting from different parts of this favourable ſoil. It was upon theſe he tried his principal experiment. He took out the oyſters which were thus furniſhed with coralines, and placed them in a large wooden veſſel, covering them with ſea-water. In about an hour, he perceived the animals, which before had been contracted by handling, and had ſhewn no ſigns of life, expanding themſelves in every direction, and appearing employed in their own natural manner. Perceiving them therefore in this ſtate, his next aim was to preſerve them thus expanded, ſo as to be permanent objects of curioſity. For this purpoſe he poured, by ſlow degrees, an equal quantity of boiling-water into the veſſel of ſea water in which they were immerſed. He then ſeparated each polypus with pincers from its ſhell, and plunged each ſeparately into ſmall chryſtal vaſes, filled with ſpirit [197] of wine mixed with water. By this means, the animal was preſerved entire, without having time to contract itſelf, and he thus perceived a variety of kinds, almoſt equal to that variety of productions which theſe little animals are ſeen to form. He has been thus able to perceive and deſcribe fifty different kinds, each of which is ſeen to poſſeſs its own peculiar mode of conſtruction, and to form a coraline that none of the reſt can imitate. It is true indeed, than on every coraline ſubſtance there are a number of polypi found, no way reſembling thoſe which are the erectors of the building; theſe may be called a vagabond race of reptiles, that are only intruders upon the labours of others, and that take poſſeſſion of habitations, which they have neither art nor power to build for themſelves. But in general, the ſame difference that ſubſiſts between the honeycomb of the bee, and the paper-like cells of the waſp, ſubſiſts between the different habitations of the coral-making polypi.

With regard to the various forms of theſe ſubſtances, they have obtained different names from the nature of the animal that produced them, or the likeneſs they bear to ſome wellknown object, ſuch as coralines fungimadre-pores, ſponges, aſtroites, and keratophytes. Tho' [198] theſe differ extremely in their outward appearances, yet they all are formed in the ſame manner by reptiles of various kinds and nature. When examined chemically, they all diſcover the marks of animal formation; the corals, as was ſaid, diſſolve in acids, the ſponges burn with an odour ſtrongly reſembling that of burnt horn. We are left ſomewhat at a loſs with regard to the preciſe manner in which this multitude of cells which at laſt aſſume the appearance of a plant or flower, are formed. If we may be led in this ſubject by analogy, it is moſt probable, that the ſubſtance of coral is produced in the ſame manner that the ſhell of the ſnail grows round it; theſe little reptiles are each poſſeſſed of a ſlimy matter, which covers its body, and this hardening, as in the ſnail, becomes an habitation exactly fitted to the body of the animal that is to reſide in it; ſeveral of theſe habitations being joined together, form at length a conſiderable maſs, and as moſt animals are productive, in proportion to their minuteneſs, ſo theſe multiplying in a ſurpriſing degree at length form thoſe extenſive foreſts that cover the bottom of the deep.

Thus all nature ſeems replete with life; almoſt every plant on land has its ſurface covered with millions of theſe minute creatures, [199] of whoſe exiſtence we are certain, but of whoſe uſes we are intirely ignorant; while numbers of what ſeem plants at ſea are not only the receptacles of inſects, but alſo entirely of inſect formation. This might have led ſome late philoſophers into an opinion, that all nature was animated, that every, even the moſt inert maſs of matter, was endued with life and ſenſation, but wanted organs to make thoſe ſenſations perceptible to the obſerver: Thoſe opinions, taken up at random, are difficultly maintained, and as difficultly refuted; like combatants that meet in the dark, each party may deal a thouſand blows without ever reaching the adverſary. Thoſe perhaps are wiſer who view nature as ſhe offers; who without ſearching too deeply into the receſſes in which ſhe ultimately hides, are contented to take her as ſhe preſents herſelf, and ſtoring their minds with effects, rather than with cauſes, inſtead of the embarraſment of ſyſtems, about which few agree, are contented with the hiſtory of appearances, concerning which, all mankind have but one opinion.

FINIS.

Appendix A INDEX. OF THE Various Matter contained in this Work.

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The Roman character denotes the volume, the Arabic number the page.

A.
B.
C.
D.
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E.
F.
G.
H.
I.
K.
L.
M.
N.
O.
P.
[]
Q.
R.
S.
T.
U.
W.
X.
Y.
Z.
FINIS.
Notes
Memoires pour ſervoir a l' Hiſtoire des inſectes par Charles de Geer.
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