paration for eternity be mispent, or the reason why we have them mistaken.

JULY III.

The Silk-worm.

THE genus of caterpillars, which we have just seen, is divided into two general classes, one of which compre hends the diurnal, the other the nocturnal butterflies; is farther divided into different families, each of which has its distinct characteristics and properties.

Thus the silk-worm is a species of caterpillar, and like it is formed of several moveable rings, and is well furnished with feet and claws, to rest and fix itself where it pleases. It has two rows of teeth, which do not move upwards and downwards, but from right to left, which enables it to press, cut, and tear, the leaves in every direction. Along the whole length of its back we perceive through its skin a vessel which performs the function of a heart. On each side of this insect are nine orifices, which answer to as many lungs, and assist the circulation of the chyle or nutritive juice. Under the mouth it has a kind of reel with two holes, through which pass two drops of the gum with which its bag is filled; they act like two distaffs, conti nually furnishing it with the materials of which it makes its silk. The gum which distils through the two orifices takes their form, lengthens into a double thread, which presently loses the fluidity of the liquid gum, and acquires the consistence necessary to support or to envelope the worm. When that time arrives it joins the two threads together, by gluing them one over the other with its fore feet. This double thread is not only very fine, but also very strong, and of great length. Each bag has a thread which is nearly five hundred German ells long; and as this thread is double, and joined together throughout its length, each bag will be found to contain a thousand ells of silk, though the whole weight does not exceed two grains and a half.

The life of this insect in its vermiform state is very short, and it passes through different states till it gradually arrives at its greatest degree of perfection. When it first

emerges from the egg it is extremely small, perfectly black, and its head of a still brighter black than the rest of its body in a few days it begins to grow white, or of an ash colour; its coat becomes dirty and ruffled; it casts it off, and appears in a new dress; it becomes larger and much whiter, though a little tinged with green, from feeding upon green leaves. After a few more days, the number of which varies according to the degree of heat and quality of its nourishment, it ceases to eat, and sleeps for nearly two days; it then agitates and frets itself extremely, becoming red with the efforts it makes; its skin wrinkles and shrivels up, it throws it off a second time, and gets rid of it with its feet. Thus within the space of three weeks or a month we see it fresh dressed three times. It now begins to eat again, and might be taken for a different creature, so much is the appearance of its head, colour, and figure, altered.

After continuing to eat for some days, it falls again into a lethargic state; on recovering from which it once more changes its coat, which makes the third since it issued from its shell. It continues to eat for some time, then entirely ceasing to take any nutriment, prepares for itself a retreat, and draws out a silken thread, which it wraps round its body in the same manner as we might wind thread round an oval piece of wood. It remains quietly in the bag it has formed, and at the end of fifteen days would pierce it to issue forth, if it be not killed by being exposed to the heat of the sun, or shut up in an oven. The silkcones are thrown into warm water, and stirred about with birch twigs to draw out the heads or beginning of the threads, and the silk is afterwards wound upon reels made for the purpose.

Thus we are indebted to this little insect for great luxury in clothing: a reflection which ought to humble our pride; for how can we be vain of the silk which covers us, when we reflect to whom we are indebted for it, and how little we are instrumental in the formation of those beauties in our clothing of which we are vain?

Thus we find the most insignificant and despicable objects. are the instruments of ornament and advantage to man; an insect that we scarcely condescend to look at becomes a blessing to thousands of human beings, and forms an important article of trade, and a great source of riches. Let

us then, instead of passing our days in the routine of indolence and luxurious dissipation, imitate the industrious silkworm, and endeavour, by the unremitting and assiduous cultivation of our faculties, to render ourselves useful to mankind; and if we are neither able nor fortunate enough to discover some new truth, let us at least attempt to make all within the circle of our influence happy and contented by our generous exertions for their welfare.

JULY IV.

The Rainbow.

WHEN the rays of the sun strike upon drops of water falling from the clouds, and we are so placed that our backs are towards the sun, and the clouds before us, we observe a peculiar phenomenon in the heavens, called a rainbow. The drops of rain may be considered as small transparent globules upon which the rays fall, and are twice refracted and once reflected. Hence proceed the different colours of the rainbow: they are seven in number, and appear in the following order; red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. These colours appear the more vivid as the clouds which are behind are darker, and the drops of rain fall closer. The drops falling continually produce a new rainbow every moment, and as each spectator observes it from a particular situation, it happens that scarcely two men, strictly speaking, see the same rainbow; and this meteorous appearance can only last whilst the drops of rain continue to fall.

If we consider the rainbow merely as a phenomenon of nature, it presents one of the most beautiful spectacles we can possibly conceive, and is one of the most magnificent of nature's pictures; but when we recollect that God has made this meteor a sign of his mercy, and the confirmation of his holy covenant vouchsafed to mankind, we may make it the subject of a most edifying, as well as pleasing, reflection. When the rain descends from one extremity of the horizon to the other we cannot see a rainbow, because to form this meteor the sun must appear at the same time with the rain; and when the sky is only covered with clouds on one side, and the sun appears on the other, it is

a sign that these clouds will soon disperse, and that the sky will become clear and serene; this also is the reason why we cannot see the rainbow unless the sun is behind, and the watery cloud before us. In order to form the rainbow, then, the sun and the rain must both be present at the same time: we may therefore rest assured, every time we witness this beautiful phenomenon, that we are safe from the inundation of a deluge; for, to effect this, the rain must descend in torrents from all parts of the heavens, and if this happened the sun could not be seen. We could not see the colours of the rainbow if the sky was too clear; to produce such an effect a part of the horizon must be covered with thick clouds.

All these considerations naturally dispose our minds to pious reflections. As often as we see the Heavens adorned with the beautiful colours of the rainbow, we may truly say, How great is the majesty of God! How wonderful his goodness towards his creatures! We still see that He remembers us in mercy. Let us then bow before, and adore Him who keeps his covenant, and fulfils all his merciful promises; blessed be his name through all the ages of

eternity!

JULY V.

Birds' Nests.

THE construction of birds' nests shews us many curious ob jects, which cannot be uninteresting to the reflecting mind. Who can help admiring those little regular edifices composed of so many different materials, collected and arranged with so much pains and skill; and constructed with so much industry, elegance, and neatness, with no other tools than a bill and two feet? That men can erect great buildings, according to certain rules of art, is not sur prising, when we consider that they enjoy the reasoning faculty, and that they possess tools and instruments of various kinds to facilitate their work; but that a delicate little bird, in want of almost every thing necessary for such an undertaking, with only its bill and claws, should know how to combine so much skill, regularity of form, and solidity of structure, in forming its nest, is truly wonderful,

and never enough to be admired. sider it more minutely.

We shall therefore con

Nothing is more curious than the nest of a goldfinch. The inside is lined with cotton, wool, and fine silky threads, while the outside is interwoven with thick moss; and that the nest may be less remarkable, and less exposed to the eye of observers, the colour of the moss resembles that of the bark of the tree or of the hedge where the nest is built. In some nests the hair, the down, and the straws, are curiously laid across each other, and interwoven together. There are others, all the parts of which are neatly joined and fastened together by a thread which the bird makes with flax, and horse or cow-hair, and often of spiders' webs. Other birds, as the blackbird and the lapwing, after having built their nest, plaster the outside with a thin coating of mortar, which cements and binds together all the lower parts, and which, with the help of some cow hair or moss stuck to it whilst the plaster is wet, keeps it compact and warm. The nests of swallows are differently constructed from all others. They use neither sticks, straws, nor flax; but they compose a sort of cement, with which they make themselves nests, perfectly neat, secure, and convenient. To moisten the dust of which they form their nest, they frequently skim over the surface of some lake or river, and, dipping their breasts into the water, shake their wet feathers upon the dust till it is sufficiently moist, and then knead it up into a kind of clay with their bills.

But the nests most worthy of our admiration are those of certain Indian birds, which suspend them with great art from the branches of trees, that they may be secure from the pursuit of several animals and insects. In general, each species of bird has a peculiar mode of placing its nest: some build them on houses, others in trees, some in the grass, others in the ground; and always in that way which is most adapted for their safety, the rearing their young, and the preservation of their species.

Such is the wonderful instinct of birds in the structure and disposition of their nests, that we may almost conclude they cannot be mere machines; so much industry, intelligence, sagacity, and skill, do they display in the construction of their nests. And is it not apparent that in all their works they propose to themselves certain ends? They