170

A MORAL INFERENCE.

imagine that He whose "mercy is over all his works," would do other than protect by a shield of comparative obtuseness that innumerable multitude of living things, which, from their numbers and minuteness, often also in the seeming end of their creation (that of affording food for others), are exposed to continual mutilation, as well as violent destruction. Were it otherwise, independantly of what they would endure from other agencies, of what an infinity of insect suffering should we daily, hourly, minutely, be the involuntary cause! Not a summer ramble could we take-not a flower could we pluck— not a fruit or vegetable eat-without exacting from agonised multitudes a penalty for each enjoyment. Thought too horrible to be a just one!

Conclude, however, what we may, it must still be admitted, that unless we could for a season be conscious tenants of an insect tabernacle, it is impossible to say exactly how, or how much, an insect tenant feels on being summoned, vainly or otherwise, to give up its habitation; and since on this point a shade of uncertainty must ever rest, we are bound to give our little fellow-beings all the benefit of the doubt, and extend even to them, as much as in us lies, the protection of our golden rule.

Children are almost always disposed to the commission of acts of cruelty; but only in most cases from ignorance or want of thought; for there is, we believe, in every unperverted mind a natural repugnance to the taking of the life we cannot

own.

give. Long ago we attempted to make something of an entomologic collection-were eager enough in pursuit-too rude, doubtless, in triumphant capture; but when it came to the cold-blooded business of impalement, the pin fell from our grasp, and the prisoners regained their liberty. We were then too happy in the bright buoyancy of our own spring-time to bear to deprive one of them of an existence so much like our Having grown, what some would call more callous, others, less squeamish, we have, since, been the voluntary agents of insect extinction, though only when absolutely essential to the purposes of our pursuit. We have elsewhere offered, as we hope, an ample defence for "our hobby" on this, its seemingly objectionable side; but that defence was addressed to the reason rather than the feelings, consequently not to the very young. We would not even desire that the very young should be permitted to begin the study of insects by their collection, because the habit of destroying them might assuredly tend to blunt the feelings before the acquirement of sufficient knowledge and reflection to counteract its influence. But it is different as life advances: for ourselves, at least, we can affirm safely that, though we do occasionally add a beetle or a butterfly to our collection, the acquisition is always made at the cost of a degree of not diminished pain, and we were never so careful, as now, to avoid aught that may uselessly injure or torment one of the insect crew. With a mere collector for sale or exhibition the reverse of this may happen;

but none can bestow meet observance on their exquisite beauty, or due thought on their surpassing endowments of instinct and adapted organs, without ranking them higher than they were wont in the scale of being, and feeling of course a proportionate reluctance to dislodge one from its assigned place.

Now this act of dislodgment would seem, from the instances of insect vitality above recorded, to be a matter of no easy accomplishment; but it is not always, or even usually, that these little spirits cling so firmly to their tiny tenements. Notwithstanding the marvellous resuscitation of our "boiled bees," heat is an agent whose notice to quit is seldom disregarded by insect tenants.

The life of a moth or butterfly, placed in a cup closely covered, then set in boiling water, is usually extinct in two or three minutes; and moths that are small, flies, and other lesser insects, put under a glass with a few fresh laurel leaves, well bruised or cut, are soon, to all appearance, and often in reality, killed by the emission of prussic acid. It is requisite, however, to make the dose powerful, or repeat it,—the seemingly extinguished spark of life being otherwise apt to rekindle. Before stiffness follows death, subjects for the cabinet are transfixed with slender pins, and set up on cork; small angular slips of card being employed with other pins to keep the wings and other parts in a natural position.

Lastly, though as matter of reasonable inference we feel almost certain, that the sensitivity of insects to corporeal pain

is, if not below, at least proportioned to their size, we equally believe that the benevolent Creator has endowed them with capabilities of enjoyment far exceeding the measure of their bulk.

With however little pain the insect may die, it is certain that it lives with pleasure; and we are not therefore justified, through wantonness, or for any insufficient object, in shortening even for a moment (perhaps to it a year) its term of enjoyment-its inherited "Lease of Life."

A SYLVAN MORALITY; OR, A WORD TO WIVES.

"These summer wings

Have borne me in my days of idle pleasure;

I do discard them."

"And Benedict, love on; I will requite thee,

Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand.”

WE have a young relative, about whom we are going to relate a little anecdote connected with insect history, which requires, however, a few prefatory words.

At the age of 17, Emily S-" came out," gilt and lettered, from the Minerva Press of a fashionable boarding-school, and was, two years afterwards, bound (in white satin) as a bride. In