fixed itself to any object by means of its claws, the first sign of the commencing metamorphosis is a rent in the upper skin, extending along the corslet to the head. When it approaches this latter part, another rent, perpendicular to the first, runs across the face from eye to eye. These rents are brought about by a power which the insect possesses of inflating its body and head. This last organ, ultimately destined to become fixed and solid, is at this period capable of contraction and dilatation, like a membrane. The head and corslet being exposed, the legs are drawn out from their nymphine cases. At this period every part of the insect is soft. The four figures below illustrate its mode of exit. In the first (fig. 1,) it is partially out; in the second (fig. 2,) after having protruded itself thus far, it hangs with its head downwards, and remains motionless, so as to lead the observer to believe that the efforts which it had hitherto made had exhausted its strength, and that it had thus perished in the act of being born. However, it remains in this position just so long as to permit its body and limbs to be hardened and dried by the air, and then it reverses it to that of fig. 3, forming an arch; this enables the insect to draw out its tail from the mask. When it has just cast off that tenement in which it had till now existed, the body of the libellula is soft, has not attained its full length, and the wings are still folded. It remains, therefore, tranquil and motionless till these important operations have taken place, which are finished sooner or later, according to the heat or moisture of the atmosphere. The operation may be completed in a quarter of an hour, or take up several hours, according to circumstances. The wings unfold themselves in every direction;-it is supposed that this curious mechanical effect is brought about by means of the fluids, which rush into and distend them; for they remain drooping as wet paper if the insect die in the act of metamorphosis; so that something more than drying is necessary. During the time that the wings, from being shrivelled and flexible, are becoming firm and glistening as talc, the dragon-fly takes care not to allow even its own body to obstruct their expansion in the proper direction, and for this purpose bends it from them, as in fig. 4: for if they took a wrong fold at this moment, they would for ever retain the deformity. Provision is even made to prevent the wings from coming in contact with each other; for, instead of being all in the same horizontal plane, as they subsequently are, they are perpendicular to the insect, and thus ranged side by side. The 8th No. of Harper's Family Library, is devoted to the Natural History of Insects. To this work we are indebted for the highly interesting account of the Dragon-fly given above. Our pleasures are, for the most part, short, false, and deceitful; and like drunkenness, revenge the jolly madness of one hour, with the sad repentance of many. A GREENLANDER'S REMARKS ON THE BEING OF GOD. From Crantz's History of Greenland, vol. i, p. 188, &c. A Missionary, being in company with some baptized Greenlanders, expressed his wonder how they could formerly lead such useless lives. One of them replied as follows:-"It is true we were ignorant heathen, and knew nothing of God, or a Saviour; and indeed who should tell us of him till you came? But thou must not suppose that no Greenlander thinks about these things. I myself have often thought,-A kajak or boat, with all its tackle, could not come of itself, but must be made with great labour and skill, and one that does not understand it would directly spoil it. Now the meanest bird requires more skill to form it than a kajak; and no man can make a bird. But there is still greater art in making a man,-who was it that made him? I thought, he proceeded from his parents, and they from their parents; but some must have been the first parents: whence did they come? Common report says, they grew out of the earth. But if so, why do not men still grow out of the earth? And from whence did this same earth itself, the sea, the sun, moon, and stars come? Certainly some being must have made all these; and he must be greater, wiser, and more knowing than the wisest man. He must be very good too; because every thing that he has made is good, useful, and necessary for us. Ah! did I but know him! But who has seen him? Who has spoken with him? None of us poor men. Yet there may be men too, that know something of him: O, could I but speak with such! Therefore," said he, "as soon as ever I heard you speak of this great Being, I believed it directly with all my heart because I had so long desired to hear it." Antisthenes wondered at mankind, that in buying an earthen dish, they were careful to sound it lest it had a crack; yet so careless in choosing friends as to take them flawed with vice. POETRY. Written for the Monthly Repository and Library of Entertaining Enowledge. FUNERAL REFLECTIONS: BY MRS. SIGOURNEY. "I heard a voice from heaven, saying, Write, blessed are the dead!" Ye of the sparkling eye, and frolic brow I bid ye thither. She who makes her bed This day 'neath the damp turf and rootless flowers From friendship's ardent pressure, with a smile Then should ye find That faith whose fruit is love.-That hope whose breast Is radiant with the motto "Death is gain," HARTFORD, July 3, 1831. Written for the Monthly Repository and Library of Entertaining Knowledge. THE BEAUTIES OF NIGHT-THE GLORIES OF MORN-AND THE SPLENDOR OF NOON. Three Poems by three Friends.* NIGHT-BY J. B. D. 'Tis night, and all nature is hush'd in the gloom The dew-drop refreshes the rose's perfume, The stars now bespangle the vault of the sky, In silence majestic they twinkle on high, While night spreads her mantle below. The moon in the East now her crescent displays And all nature is charm'd with the sight. The cataract's roar now distinctly we hear The fresh breeze of evening now pleasantly blows The cock in the barn aloft, merrily crows, The ensuing day's labour to meet. But soon in the eastern horizon behold The darkness beginning to fly, The morn ushers in, beauties new to unfold, And Aurora's fair sun decks the mountains with gold, * J. B. Dusingberry, S. G. Arnold, and Rev. G. Coles |