THE CAGED LADY-BIRDS.

A FRAGMENT.

HAVING given the natural history of the Lady-bird, we will narrate a short "record of the heart," in which one of these parti-coloured favourites of childhood happened to play a more than usually important part. We picked up the story in the course of a ramble for the purpose of collecting insects. So far, therefore, it comes connected with our main subject, and if (however true) it should appear to some improbable, and silly even as an old nurse's tale, it follows not unaptly on a nursery rhyme.

One evening last June, as we were strolling in the neighbourhood of Highgate, wholly occupied in examination of the hedges beside us, and never thinking of a heavy thunder-cloud behind, which hung threateningly over the sun-lit spires of the metropolis, a huge rain-drop, spreading to half-crown diameter, suddenly darkened the dust at our feet. The fall from the clouds of the coin itself could scarcely have surprised us more. Down came a second-then patter-patter-a hundred more of tokens similar,-largesse of Heaven's overwhelming bounty, from which it was high time to seek escape. But how! Ours was no high-way, but a bye-way, —far from sight and sound of friendly omnibuses. No tree was at hand with head large enough to make an umbrella;

there was only one solitary cottage which stood a few yards distant, but that to our comfort had a porch, within which we were presently ensconced. Yet as the torrents continued to descend, we soon found our place of refuge less secure than we had deemed it. The porch was merely a rough trellis thickly covered with clematis, and as the creeper got gradually soaked, its yielding branches falling inwards, served only as conductors of the dripping deluge. Here we would take occasion to observe how a favourite pursuit may serve in some sort as a shield against annoyance and impatience; for even while our sorry shelter was each moment lessening, we could not but admire the gnats that were dancing up and down between the rain-drops-enabled by their acute sight and agile wings to elude the falling streams which would else have been to them as overwhelming water-spouts. We were not, however, so entirely engrossed by thinking of the midges' wondrous preservation as to be quite regardless of our own predicament, and now halted, in our shower-bath, between the two more active measures of running desperately through the torrent before us, or of invading the peace of the cottage in our rear. Our mind was made up to adopt the latter alternative, and a hand was already stretched towards the little black knocker, when the door opened and a tall thin old man, in appearance what has been called the shabby-genteel, invited us to enter, with a courteous expression of regret at not having seen us sooner. Having stood long enough already, we did not stand

on

12

A SUBURBAN PARLOUR.

ceremony, but stepping over the door-sill, found ourselves, at once, in a snug little front parlour. The charity of our good Samaritan did not stop here, for taking down from a convenient peg a long grey threadbare coat, he insisted on our exchanging for it our own dripping garment which he carried, himself, to dry at his kitchen fire.

When, in pursuance of this hospitable purpose, the old gentleman had unsuspiciously shut the door upon us, we took -not the old-fashioned silver watch which hung over the mantle-piece, but―an honest survey of the room; in a strange apartment no uncommon procedure, often affording at a glance some considerable insight into its occupant's pursuits and character. The very name of a small suburban parlour comprehends a kidderminster carpet, four or six heavy horse-hair chairs which have once stood in a patrician dining-room, a glazed corner-cupboard set out in glittering array, a sorry looking-glass, a table whose quality is hidden by a checquered cloth, red stuff curtains, a green fender, brass footed, with stove of narrow capacity, veiled (in summer) by a gaudy efflorescence of cut paper. All these are general characters belonging to the genus of parlours such as that into which the storm had introduced us; but amidst these, what we were looking for was some distinctive mark of our new friend's individuality.

Something like this was apparent in a small but well-filled book-case; and a much used copy of Thomson's Seasons which lay upon the table, bespoke him, half cockney as he was, not

A SUBURBAN PARLOUR.

13

insensible to the soft influences of nature. Flanking the watchtower on the mantle-shelf was a profusion of shells, in the midst of which, like monsters of the deep, grinned, on each side one, a pair of corpulent Chinese bonzes. Perhaps our friend, in his youth, had "occupied his business in great waters "—but yet such maritime and oriental ornaments are prevailing decorations in such apartments.-One thing was evident-there were no womenkind about the good man's house: not a work-basket, a pair of scissars, a nutmeg-grater, or even a thread on the carpet to indicate female occupancy. The old man must be a batchelor ;-but no,-over the fire-place hung a portrait, and a very good one, of a pretty woman in the dress of a lady some forty years ago, and below it the miniature of a sweet little girl, whose innocence looked out of a pair of large blue eyes cut exactly after the same pattern as those of the elder portrait. No doubt then he was a widower. So far satisfied, we turned our eyes towards the window to see how long we were likely to encroach on his hospitality-and then first noticed in the window-seat a square glass-case, raised by some books to bring it on a level with the light. It was roofed with gauze and floored with wet sand, wherein was stuck a branch from a white rose-bush, which we perceived, on looking closer, to be peopled by some half dozen of large Lady-birds. The insects were almost too many to be there by accident: the rose-branch, too, was well furnished with Aphides, their favourite fare, and seemed therefore as if chosen expressly for their accommodation.

The glass-case was certainly then a cage for Lady-birds, and the old gentleman must be, it followed, a brother entomologist. We had just arrived at this conclusion when the parlour door re-opened and in came our stranger friend, followed by a Hebe in curl-papers, bearing on a tea-tray a smoking jug, a pint bottle, and two capacious goblets of different shapes and sizes. “The gentleman must take something warm as an antidote against taking cold."-There was no rejecting the proffer without wounding the kindly spirit,—perhaps also the pride of the offerer. We attempted indeed something about the storm being now over; but partly against our will and partly with it, (for we were curious to know what sort of observation our brother naturalist was making upon Lady-birds,) we found ourselves reseated by the checquered table-our entertainer's vis à vis.

During the process of compounding the elements, and before the starting of another subject, we pointed to the glass-case. "No doubt, Sir, an entomologist?" A shake of the head overset at once our previous conclusion." Beg pardon, SirI thought from that, that like myself you were fond of studying the habits of Insects: but most likely you have some little friend-perhaps some favourite grandchild, for whose amusement "No," said the old gentleman, “No-I have no one I am a solitary old man.—But indeed, Sir," he added with a melancholy smile, "you are not the first who has wondered at my foolish fancy for keeping those little