Here grows a flower; there shines a sun; thou art there, thou art also here. Thou art in the breeze, and in the tempest; in the light and in the darkness; in an atom and in a world. Thou art here in this flowery valley; thou lendest thine ear to my feeble accents, and thou hearest from the foot of thy throne the sublime songs which accompany the harps of the seraphim. O thou, who art the God of the seraphim; thou art also my God, thou hearest also the joyful notes which pervade the air from yonder lark, and the humming of this young bee which flutters on the rose. Omnipresent Being, as thou hearest me, deign likewise to grant my request; may I never forget that I am in thy sight; may I always think and act as being in thy presence, to the end that when summoned to appear at the tribunal of my Judge with the whole world of spirits, I may not be constrained to flee from before the face of the Holy of holies.

SEPTEMBER III.

The Beauty and Variety of Butterflies.

LET us observe these beautiful creatures whilst they yet enjoy their transitory existence; the examination may perhaps be interesting both to the mind and to the heart.

The first thing which attracts our attention on beholding these aerial inhabitants, is the clothing with which they are adorned. Yet some of them have nothing very striking in this respect to engage our notice; their vestment is plain and simple; others have a few ornaments on the wings; but with some those ornaments amount to profusion, and they are covered with them all over. Let us reflect awhile upon this last species. How beautiful are the gradations of colour which decorate them! What harmony in those spots which relieve the other parts of their attire! With what delicacy has nature penciled them! But whatever may be my admiration when I consider this insect by the naked eye, how greatly is it augmented when I behold this beautiful object through the medium of the microscope! Would any one ever have imagined that the wings of butterflies were furnished with feathers? Nothing however is more true, and what we commonly call dust is found in reality to be fea

thers. Their structure and arrangement are as full of symmetry as their colours are soft and brilliant. The parts which form the centre of those little feathers, and which immediately touch the wing, are the strongest; those, on the contrary, which compose the exterior circumference are much more delicate and of an extraordinary fineness. All these feathers have a quill at their base, but the superior part is more transparent than the quill from which it proceeds. If we lay hold of the wing too rudely, we destroy the most delicate part of the feathers; but if we remove all that we term dust, there remains only a thin, transparent skin, where may be distinguished the little orifices in which the quill of each feather was lodged. This skin, from the nature of its texture, may be as easily discerned from the rest of the wing as a fine gauze from the cloth on which it is fastened; it is more porous, more delicate, and seems as if embroidered by the needle; to complete its beauty, its extremity finishes by a fringe whose minute threads succeed each other in the most regular order.

What are our most elegant dresses, what is all their boasted ornament, in comparison of that refined tissue with which nature has invested this simple insect? Our finest laces are only like coarse cloth when brought to vie with that luxuriant clothing which covers the wings of the butterfly, and our smallest thread, compared with their infinitely delicate fibres, appears like hempen cord. Such is the wonderful difference to be observed between the works of nature and those of art, when viewed through a microscope. The former are finished to all imaginable perfection; the others, even the most beautiful of their species, appear incomplete and coarsely wrought. How fine a piece of delicate cambric appears to us! Nothing more slender than the threads, nothing more uniform than the texture; and yet, in the mieroscope, these threads resemble hempen strings, and we should rather be tempted to believe that they had been interlaced by the hand of a basket-maker, than wrought on the loom of a skilful weaver.

What is most astonishing in this brilliant insect, is, that it proceeds from a worm whose appearance is mean and vile. Behold how the butterfly displays its gay wings before the sun; how it sports in his rays, how it rejoices in its existence, and flutters from flower to flower. Its wings pre

sent to us the magnificence of the rainbow. How beautiful is the butterfly now, which but a little while ago crept in the form of a worm in the dust, in perpetual danger of being crushed to death! Who has raised it above the earth? Who has given it the faculty of inhabiting the ethereal regions? Who has furnished it with its painted wings? It is God; that sovereign Lord who is its creator and mine. In this extraordinary insect we are presented with an emblem of that transformation which awaits the righteous. Yes, the day will come, when, quitting their present form, they shall cease to grovel upon the earth; when, holy and glorious, they shall be lifted above the clouds, and nothing limiting their flight, they shall soar beyond the stars.

SEPTEMBER IV.

The Growth of Trees.

EVERY tree, however luxuriant its branches may be, receives its principal nourishment from its lower parts; and it is probable that its juices circulate in a manner analagous to that of the blood in animals. The extremities of the roots form a prodigious mass of spongy fibres and of globules of air, which are constantly open to imbibe the juice which the earth affords them. This juice is at first only water impregnated with earthy matter; then, by means of a sort of milky substance, which is peculiar to each tree, and which distinguishes it from others, the juice acquires a nutritive quality before it ascends into those parts of the tree which are elevated above the surface of the earth. We find, by the aid of the microscope, that wood, notwithstanding its hardness, is nothing more than an assemblage of an infinite number of minute, hollow fibres. The greater part of them, especially in shrubs, ascend perpendicularly; but in order to give more consistence to these fibres, there are in certain trees, particularly in such as are designed to be more strong and hard, tubes which extend horizontally from the centre to the circumference. Influenced by the heat of the sun, the sap rises, by degrees, into the branches and into all their minute and multiplied ramifications; in the same manner as the blood, issuing from the heart, is carried by the arteries and the veins into the most distant extremity

of the animal body, When the sap has been sufficiently diffused through all the parts which required its circulation, the remainder of it fills certain large vessels which are placed between the inner and outer bark; and hence arises the annual growth and consequent thickness of the tree. To be convinced of this, it is sufficient to cut a branch transversely, by which we shall ascertain the age of the tree. Whilst the trunk from time to time increases in height and bulk, the roots continue a proportional growth, and gradually strike a deeper hold and multiply their supporting fibres. As to the exterior bark, it seems destined to serve as a kind of garment to the tree, to unite securely together its component parts, and to preserve its more delicate but essential ones from external accidents, and from the inclemency of the air.

Thus has the all-wise Creator formed an admirable system of solid and fluid matter in order to give life and growth to those trees which adorn our plains, which lend their friendly shade to our flocks, to our shepherds, and to our cottages, and which afterward serve so many purposes useful to man. Here we discover a wisdom which never fails, whilst it prescribes to nature laws in certain prospects, immutable, which act without interruption under the eye of Providence. A wisdom so profound, a skill so marvellous, so many preparations and combinations for each tree, ought to excite us more and more fervently to admire and venerate the creative hand. The contemplation of this wisdom is a most delightful study, and we shall find ourselves animated by it to glorify that God, who is so great in his counsels and plans, and so wonderful in their execution; the more we discover the traces of this wise Providence, the more shall we be impelled to commit all our interests into the hands of him who can never want means to turn every thing to the good of his creatures; the more, in fine, shall we be encouraged to raise our affections towards him, to supplicate him to enrich our souls with the gift of wisdom, and to make them grow in grace.

May we, in our moral and intellectual progress, resemble the growth of the trees! As they from year to year put forth new shoots towards heaven, as they extend around them fresh branches, laden with leafy honours, and with the richer burden of nutritious fruits; so may our souls be gra

dually elevated to more heavenly heights! May they attain a continually increasing light, and in their intercourse with mortals present a succession of virtues which shall for ever augment in brightness and in power! Whilst we are thus internally fortified to bear with firmness the storms of life, and whilst we are taught to receive them with salutary humility, as visitants kindly sent from heaven to loosen us from the world, may we never find an emblem of our state in the ancient tree, which, in proportion to its age, always attaches itself the more strongly to the earth!

SEPTEMBER V.

The Ant-lion.

No insect is more remarkable for its dexterity than the antlion, though its figure announces nothing extraordinary. It nearly resembles the woodlouse; its body, which is composed of several membraneous rings, and terminated in a point, is provided with six feet. Its head, flat and square, is armed with two moveable, crooked horns, whose singular structure shews how admirable nature is, even in the least of her works.

This insect is the most subtle and dangerous enemy the ant has; the plans which he forms to ensnare his prey are very ingenious. He mines a portion of earth in the form of a funnel, at the bottom of which he waits to seize the ants which coming by chance to the edge of the precipice, are thence hurried down to their merciless foe. In order to dig it, he first traces in the sand a circular furrow, whose circumference forms precisely the mouth of the funnel, the diameter of which is always equal to the depth he gives to his ditch. When he has fixed on the size of this opening, and traced the first furrow, he digs a second concentric to the other, in order to throw out all the sand contained in the first circle. He performs all these operations with his head, which serves him instead of a shovel, and its flat and square form admirably adapts it to this purpose, He also takes some sand with one of his fore feet to throw it beyond the first furrow; and this work is repeated till the insect has reached a certain depth of sand. Sometimes in digging he meets with grains of sand larger than usual, or