it many instances, under the bark of the
living stem. The apple-moth, a beautiful
little creature, whose wings are studded with
silvery-shining specks, as though they were
inlaid with precious gems, is hatched from
an egg laid, in. the middle of June, in the
crown of an infant apple. As soon as the
egg hatches, the young grub gnaws a tiny
hole, and soon buries itself in the substance
of the future fruit. He takes care to make
himself a ventilator and dust-hole, and then
progresses to the centre of the apple, where
he feeds at his ease. When within a few
days of being full-fed, he, for the first time,
enters the core through a round hole gnawed
in the hard, horny substance, which always
separates the pips from the pulp of the fruit,
and the destroyer now finds himself in that
spacious chamber which codlings in particular
always have in their centre. From this time
he eats only the pips, never again tasting the
more common pulp, which hitherto had satisfied
his unsophisticated palate; now, nothing
less than the highly-flavoured aromatic
kernels will suit his tooth, and on these, for a
few days, he feasts in luxury, till it is time
for him to eat his way out again. The larvas
of many moths and butterflies, when tired of
their present existence, hang themselves;
but the act is anything but suicidal. They
step out of their coffins as neat as new pins,
smartly dressed in a fresh suit of clothes.
What do you think of eggs that grow, and of
eggs that 'have eyes? It would certainly be
convenient if we could introduce a race of
poultry whose oval produce should possess
the former qualification of increasing in size
as they lay in the egg-basket, though
inexperienced housekeepers might feel a little
trepidation at the angry glances shot by eggs
threatened with a higher temperature than
that required for hatching. In the insect
world, such facts do occur. The abominable
though glossy and gauzy-winged fly, which is
the development of the odious gooseberry-
grub, lays very soft and half-transparent
white eggs. After the first day, these horrid
eggs begin to grow, and before the end of a
week, they have grown to three times their
original size. The head of the egg always
lies towards the tip of the gooseberry-leaf,
for the convenience of looking out for squalls,
and is remarkable for having two black eyes,
placed very far apart, and quite on the
sides; indeed, so far asunder are these eyes,
that, like the hind-buttons on the coat of a
certain illustrious coachman, it is very difficult
to bring both into the same field of
view.

The humming-bird sphinx does not sit
down to take its meals, but feeds, as the lark
sings, on the wing, which most people would
fancy to be very uncomfortable as well as
difficult. Alderman Tooentistun would not
like to have to swallow his turtle and punch
in a state of bodily suspense, maintained by
a rapid vibration of his upper extremities.
Jenny Lind may represent the Swedish
nightingale; but she cannot personate either
the Swedish lark or the Swedish sphinx.
But insect eccentricities are endless. Aphides
think fit, during the whole of summer, to
increase, like tiger-lilies, by buds; just as
Sir Thomas Browne wished that mankind
could be increased, like willow-trees, by
cuttings. A late intelligent oran-otang was
fond of taking a lady's shawl, politely and
with permission, from her back, and of
strutting up and down with it displayed on
his own hairy shoulders; in like manner,
the larva of the Coleophora gryphipeanella
moth borrows the loan of a coat from a
rose-leaf. Not content with eating the
parenchyma, or fleshy substance between the
upper and under skins of the leaf, it makes
a covering for its body from the upper skin
only, using as much as it wants for its
wrapper, which it folds round itself in the
most becoming style, leaving one end open,
through which it protrudes the head and
segments bearing the legs; thus attired, it
walks about, always carrying its clothing
with it, which, as the tenant grows, is
increased from time to time by additions of
more leaf. Comical things are these moving
cones; like tipsy men, they seem always to
be in danger of toppling over. But this
mishap rarely occurs; and if by accident
the caterpillar do lose its hold, it does not
fall, but swings down gently by a silken
thread kept in readiness for such accidents.
One of the beautiful metallic Adelæ, or
long-horned moths, Nemotois cupriacellus,
is a sort of Amazon, having sent the
gentlemen of their community so completely to
Coventry, that the male insect is unknown
to collectors; none but females have ever
been captured. Our only hope of getting
at the masculine gender lies in the astuteness
of Mr. Doubleday. That gentleman, a
very Ulysses in his dealings with things
that fly by night, discovered the attractive
powers of sallow blossoms, and about the
same time found out that a mixture of
sugar and beer, mixed to a consistence somewhat
thinner than treacle, is a most attractive
bait to all the Noctuinæ. The
revolution wrought in our collections, and our
knowledge of species since its use, is
wonderful. Species that used to be so rare,
that it seemed hopeless to think of possessing
them, and others not then known at all, have
become so plentiful by the use of sugar in
different localities, that they are a drug in the
hands of collectors and dealers. The mixture
is taken to the woods, and put upon the
trunks of the trees, in patches or stripes, just
at dusk. Before it is dark, some moths
arrive, and a succession of comers continues all
night through, until the first dawn of day
warns the revellers to depart. The collector
goes, soon after dark, with a bull's-eye
lantern, a ring-net, and a lot of large pill-boxes.
He turns his light full on the wetted place,