abundantly and luxuriantly to delight the dweller in the country. They are free from the dross of worldly evil, and renovate within us the goodliness of our nature; they delight our senses by their loveliness, beguile sorrow from our hearts by the association of ideas which they produce, stimulate the imagination, and give a kindly tone to the thoughts which have emanated from their promptings.

This passion, once excited, becomes identified with ourselves, and, from presenting a happy union of perpetual sam ness with continual novelty, daily entwines itself around us more forcibly and more indelibly; and not being of that exclusive kind which infects the tulipomanist or auriculafancier, has not time to exhaust himself in the admiration of any "Cynthia of the minute" before its attention is again excited, and its enthusiasm refreshed, by the rich and striking beauties of its no less alluring successor. "Another and another still succeeds," till the season again appears; our love is renewed by the return of the favorite, and strengthened by the freshness which long absence has bestowed upon it. Nature is a very coquette, and well knows how to dispose of her allurements so as to make her conquests as lasting as her charms are irresistible.

From the enthusiastic tone of my observations, my reader will probably suspect me of being a thorough-paced botanist; but indeed I am not: I love flowers, and I love the expressive names which the imagination of their admirers has from time to time bestowed upon them; but the necessity of acquiring a horrible nomenclature which substitutes a jargon of barbarous monkish Latin for the affectionate and poetical titles of my old friends, will alone be a sufficient reason for my never becoming scientifically acquainted with them. Who that has gathered at the first blush af day "the daisy with its pinky lashes," and read, and felt, a tithe of the beautiful poems and allusions which have been addressed to it, could ever contemplate it with his wonted pleasure under the epithet "Bellis," which has been bestowed upon it, in the botanical nomenclature? Who could bring himself to substitute (though pretty enough for a scientific name) Viola Tricolor for the heart's-ease the "pansey and love in idleness" of Shakspeare,—or recognise the "primrose that forsaken dies" under its barbarous alias of Primula Grandiflora? I, for one, could not-the every-day names which the recognitions of Chaucer, Shakspeare, and Milton have hallowed, are good enough for me, and all that I shall ever seek to acquire; the scientific ones confer no more honour upon the flowers than his title did upon Byron, who lifted himself above his rank, instead of being honoured by it. I do not dispute the necessity of creating epithets for the purposes of science, but I will never lend any assistance to substitute semi-barbarisms for the rich and expressive names which have been from time to time bestowed in love and admiration upon my old favorites. The daisy shall be the daisy still, in spite of Linnæus, "et hoc genus omne." HORTENSIS.

WHAT'S IN A NAME?

How often it happens that Nature delights
To puzzle with strange paradoxes
Presumptuous men, who invest unborn wights
With surnames borne before them by proxies !

The names of one's friends are so wide of the mark;
We oft think of them by their contraries—
Just as wild Mr. Stead, who went out " for a lark”
In a vessel bound for the Canaries.

There's stern Mr. Lovechild reluctantly carves
For twelve children-his hatred's so cruel ;
And old Farr is so near, that his servants he starves
Upon cheese-parings, herrings, and gruel.

Mr. Vale is so high, he won't see Mr. Lane,
Who's as broad as the stair-case he's mounting;
Mr. Hill is a flat, and his tall neighbour Plain,
Stoops down to kiss little Miss Mountain.

Miss Raven's complexion is white as swan's down ;
Mrs. White is a well-tann'd Mulatto;
Miss Swan's neck is short; than her cousin, Miss Brown,
A fairer, man ne'er touch'd his hat to.

Mr. Wells is as dry as a desart, 'twould seem,
For he drinks to supply him with moisture;
Mr. Fisher ne'er angled in ocean or stream;
Mrs. Light needs a windlass to hoist ber.
Mr. Hazard has not a chance left in the world;
Mr. Goodluck has wedded Miss-Fortune ;
Mr. Rich was to ruin and poverty hurl'd,
Thro' buying consols to a war tune.

Mr.Bishop's tune's "green sleeves,” and not “maid of Lorn;
Mr. Priest for another takes orders;

Mr. Deacon's ne'er been to church since he was born,
And thinks all the clergy marauders.

Mr. Wise has been "fool'd to the top of his bent,” Which pursuing, his means are quite straitened; Mr. Borrow is ruin'd by lost money lent;

Mr. Strong weakly did his own fate end.

Mr. Pitcher was crack'd when his jugular vein
He divided, for grief put his heart awry;
His face as a turnip was bloodless-'twas plain
He had sever'd his carrotid artery.

What ails Mr. Porter? he'll need a small bier:
Once stout, and now thin as a hurdle?
Mr. Coward call'd out Mr. Bold, who with fear
Felt his whole mass of blood chill and curdle.

Here I'll end for the present, lest tedious I prove,
Though folks with cognʊmens contrary
Are far from exhausted; so, if you approve,
I'll recur to my vocabulary.

THE LEGENDARY.

No. 10.

THE SEXTON OF MAGDEBURGH.

In Magdeburg there was to be seen formerly, and may be still, a house, on the front of which was a stone-tablet representing a horse looking out from the upper window of a house, and which is reported to have been placed there in commemmoration of the following circumstance:

A wealthy burgher, upon the decease of his wife, buried her with all the splendor which his circumstances permitted, leaving upon one of her fingers a diamond ring of inestimable value. The sexton of the place, aware of this circumstance, allowed his avarice to get the better of his fears, and ventured to go in the middle of the night, and, having removed the lid from the coffin, endeavoured to draw off the ring from the finger of the corpse. This was not, however, an easy task, and in his attempts to force off the ring, he awoke from a trance the seeming and supposed dead lady. Horrified at the first symptoms of her awakening, he had fallen senseless to the ground, while the lady, upon coming to herself, was not much less alarmed at her helpless situation.

Taking courage, however, she seized upon the sexton's lantern, and made the best of her way to the house of her disconsolate husband. She knocked-" Who is there," enquired a domestic. "It is I, your mistress," was the reply, "hasten and open the door." The terrified servant flew to the chamber of his master, and related what he had heard. "Alas!" cried the afflicted burgher, 66 my wife can no more return from the grave, than my old horse could come up these stairs to look out at the window!"

Instantly he heard something come tramp, tramp, up the stairs it was the old horse. Then the man believed, went down, opened the door, and received into his bosom his supposed dead wife-and many more happy years did they still live together.

THE TEN MUSES.

Calliope relates a hero's fight,

And with bold song imparts a fierce delight.
Clio, a page of hist'ry glances o'er,
In epic lay recites its ancient lore.
Erato swells the organ,-notes arise,
And sacred music fills the vaulted skies.
Euterpe imitative art displays,

And mimics humour in the varied lays.
Melpomene, impassion'd, sings of woe,
While sorrows, elegiac, thrilling flow.
Polhymnia touches soft the golden lyre;
Responsive feeling trembles on the wire.
Terpsichore to love would grace impart,
The flute mild breathing, to a dancer's art.
Thalia, laughing, of a sprightly mien,
Enacts the drama of a comic scene.
Urania charms, in strong persuasive strains,
And with sweet voice the starry sphere explains.
Sappho, impassion'd, tells her hapless flame→→→
And calls, despairing, on her Phæon's name!

G.H.T.

ORIGINAL CORRESPONDENCE.

To the Editor of THE ORIGINAL.

231

SIR, From the first day of its appearance, I have been a constant reader of your paper; and can safely declare that, to the best of my belief, a work of the same price, containing as much, and as really excellent matter, with an equal degree of freedom from coarseness and scurrility, does not. exist. This, I repeat, I can with safety affirm; but as comparative goodness can never imply a bar to further improvement, I will venture to propose for your consideration a plan by which I think such improvement would be secured.

I would, then, suggest that about one-sixth of your paper should be avowedly devoted to extracts from valuable and entertaining works. Nor would this, properly considered, be at all incompatible with its title of "The Original." This name certainly implies the presence of original matter, and that to a degree rising above the usual average of weeklies. But it does not imply the rejection of all that is not original, or you could not consistently admit a review, with its attached specimens.

These extracts might be divided into two parts-each under an appropriate heading-the one of a grave and sententious, the other of a quaint and comic nature. The rich stores of our elder writers would afford ample matter for selection in both these styles, while their racy strength would combine with their novelty (this is no paradox) to instruct and amuse many of your readers. Not that I would by any means exclude the moderns." They possess many and different beauties, and a pleasant "tertium quid might result from the contrast of the two.

And here, Sir, permit me a word or two on the less gråteful subject of omission. Surely some portion of that which passes under the head of "Joe Miller's Ghost," "Brevities and Levities," &c., might well be dispensed with. I am well aware that in a work of this kind all tastes must be consulted, and that the less refined cannot-perhaps should not -be neglected. But certainly to gratify these at the expense of another and a better class, is neither fair nor prudent. The following sketch I venture to give for your consideration:

To original essays, tales, verses, &c.

To reviews, foreign or English

To extracts (as above named)
To "Brevities and Levities," &c.
To notices of theatricals, &c.

one-third one-third

one-sixth

one-twelfth one-twelfth.

we do not wholly acquiesce in the suggestions which his friendly zeal has volunteered, we hold ourselves not the less bound to express our acknowledgments to him: and, indeed, to avow that we shall, to a certain extent, follow his advice. We take th's opportunity of informing him, and our readers generally, th it several arrangements, calculated to give increased attrac tion to our paper, have been contemplated, and are now in progress. We have this week discontinued the customary woodcul, not having a subject at hand that appeared to claim or need such mode of illustration. We may possibly omit the woodcut in our future numbers, or only give one occasionally, but, in either case, its place will be supplied by valuable literary mitter.-ED.]

SONNET ON THE NEW YEAR 1639.

(FROM AN OLD MS.)

New year, forth-looking out of Janus' gate,
Doth seem to promise hope of new delight,
And bidding th' old adieu, his passed date

Bids all old thoughts to die in dumpish spight,
And calling forth out of sad Winter's night
Fresh love, that long hath slept in cheerless bower,
Wills him awake, and soon about him dight
His wanton wings and darts of deadly power.
For lusty Spring now in his timely hour

Is ready to come forth him to receive, And warns the earth, with divers coloured flower, To deck herself, and her faire mantle weave; Then you fair love, in whom fresh youth doth reign, Prepare yourself new love to entertaine.

CONS BY CONTINUOUS CONTRIBUTORS.

What dance is performed by prisoners on the tread mill? -A quod-reel.

Why is a row in a prison like a building forming four sides of a court? Because its a quod-wrangle.

Why are ladies with fortunes, like popular tyrants?-Because they can always obtain some party's hands (partizans.) What discourse is the most unprofitable? That which respects wickedness.

In what light is Satan generally considered ?-Darkness. What is human principle ?-Interest.

-Why should Brixton treading mill supersede the punishment of death in many cases?-Because it is a capital punishment for some.

When is a haunch of venison far gone?-When it has been eaten to the bone.

Why are the people obliged to do wrong when they assemble together?-Because they muster (must err).

Why is a physician, prescribing and then forbidding French brandy, like Louis XIV Because he makes a Revocation of the Edict of Nantzu sa aid eo'tiro da nas

"WE'VE CARRIED THE BILL."

A Song to be Sung by the People in general, and his Majesty's Ministers in particular.

With a deep joy rejoice all ye sons of the free, The clay-footed idol lies prostrate-o'erthrown! And the axe is now laid to the root of the tree, That the foul, and the fruitless, may straight be cut down! Ye Anti's lament!-we will not call ye slaves,And fiercely revile us, if such be your will,"Revolutionists," 99 66 39.66 Radicals," Democrats," " "Thieves"— Hard words break no bones-and we've carried the Bill 1

There once was a time when the cry, 66 Revolution!"
Was found by the Ultras an argument strong;
When enquiry was stemmed by "our good constitution;"
That time has gone by-they have cried "Wolf" too long!
So nothing is left the poor souls but to swallow,

With the best grace they may, Russell's purgative pill, While they vow all the time “ death must certainly follow," But we'll hope for the best-for we've carried the Bill.

How sad are the mischiefs! how dire is the evil!
Mr. Twiss swears point-blank, with elongated face,
That "manners" and "breeding" must go to the Devil,-
He appeals to his friends for the truth of the case,—
And shy Mr. Croker, aroused by the summons,

Declares with a groan, while his eyes seem to fill, That a modest man now will be rare in the Commons! Alas! is it so '—but we've carried the Bill!

How "unstatesman-like" thus to consult for the nation!—
How immensely absurd a whole people to please!
Fair returns-equal laws-and free représentation-
Shall boroughs be burked for such trifles as these!
But irony truce-charge your glasses anew,

Bumpers all-steady boys—not a drop must ye spill,—
"Here's a health to our King, and his Ministers true,
And peace to the vanquished,"-We've carried the Bill!
X.

BRITISH REVIEWS.

The Poor Gentleman's Book; or, How to Live in London on 100l. a-year. 2nd edition, pp. 48. W. Marsh. That so mysterious an art as that of living in London, as a gentleman, on 1004. a year should require its book of elucidation, appears perfectly natural. A total inadequacy of the means to the end would be supposed by most persons, especially by those equivocal gentlemen who lounge in billiardrooms, tickle their palates at pastry-cooks, obstruct the fair as well as thoroughfare with reeking cigars, and frequent houses of Finish. But this scepticism would vanish before a candid perusal of the little treatise now under our notice, which gives a full statement of particulars, and adduces personal experience in confirmation of its precepts. The author, like the admonitory Kitchener, who wrote his Cookery book with the pen in one hand and the spit in the other, comes forward likewise with his doctrine conjoined with his expe rience, and is entitled to our attention on the old and honest ground of " Experto crede Roberto." Moreover, he not only

66

be

Of

proves the thing to be feasible, but shews that it may achieved without the sacrifice of gentlemanly feeling, or the imputation of meanness. This reconciliation of pride with humility, of respectability with restriction, of independence with im ecunios ty, is a union equally happy and difficulta callida junctura" that merits high appreciation. course, something of sense and good taste are exacted of the individual who would fo'low the ingenious system here laid down for his guidance along the narrow paths of economy, through the wilderness of temptation. For those who imagine rakish habits and dandyism as es ential marks of a gentleman, no such advice can have either charm or efficacy; but for gentlemen in a more tranquil and reputable sense, a series of hints like the present will carry with them sufficient recommendation.

In the conveyance of his advice and directions, the Author has adopted a somewhat rambling and gossiping, though agreeable, inethod. We shall, however, extract" the pith and marrow of his attribute" by making a little attempt at codification-placing a series of his precepts, in a separate form, before our readers, as thus :

:

ART. 1. Recollect, nobody is to remain unpaid. 2. Though poor, never talk of it.

3. Buy no trifle you do not absolutely want.

4 Don't smoke or snuff, or glide into any expensive and foolish habit.

5. Never go near a hotel or tavern, if you can help it.

6. Never accept dinners at hotels from other single men, when you can by any means get out of the scrape. (We would urge the remembrance of this maxim in the Scotch phrase, "Dinna forget!")

7. Never borrow money. (This seems a hard condition for those who are not in easy circumstances; but it is a point of honour which the poorest would do well to maintain.)

8. Never make up to richer people first; let them pass, whether in a carriage or on foot, if they do not see you and nod first! (The policy of this is obvious; over-anxious cultivation might give suspicion of "the nakedness of the land.")

9. Refuse some invitations, now and then, of your best friends. (Our author here, of course, takes for granted that you know who your best friends are. This is, however, a difficult science.)

10. Never get into a cab or hackney-coach, when you can possibly walk. (Remember, that is to say, that you can have but a lame excuse for riding.)

11. Never talk of rich titled people; if you do know any, keep it to yourself.

12. Never call a second time where your cards are not returned, unless on women, or the very old or infirm; let no rank be an exception: if you do, you will soon be cut more effectually, particularly where there are girls in the family.

13. Pay your tailor cask, and he'll take off 15 per cent., which brings the first-rate nearly on a level with the herd of botchers; but cash must be paid for every thing, as the grand rule on which all others hang.

14. One dress coat a-year is quite enough. (Or, as a facetious friend of ours has a habit of saying, both as a truism and a consolation,

"If your coat becomes seedy, it is but so, so !") 15. A well-cut coat is better, twenty times, threadbare, than a bad cut bran new !

16. Always brush your own clothes. It does you both good! (Yes; for besides guaranteeing your arms from rheu. matism, it tends to save the premature exhibition of "the napless vesture of humility.")

17. You must condescend (there is no help for it!) to pop yourself into an eating-house, where get to some table quietly, alone if you can. (To many this would prove" the most unkindest cut of all;" but it is, perhaps, the most imperative, seeing that it ensures a saving in daily expenditure: besides, the following rule may mitigate matters.)

18. Of course you are not to know those who sit near you, though mostly respectable people. (Know! no: such people cannot be of gentlemanly pretensions; they are not likely, for instance, to have had a classical education, although they may have gotten as far as the Eaten Grammar.)

19. You cannot afford a sitting-room. (It is palpable that spacious notions are incompatible with a miniature competency, and our author accordingly recommends a cheap bedroom, which is couching the alternative in the best terms that can be made!)

20. Get your hair cut for sixpence. (This may seem but a morbid and tizzy-cal sort of economy; but the fact is, it is on these minutiæ that the success of the plan mainly depends. Our philosopher is fully borne out by the proverbial prescription,Take care of the pence, and the pounds will take care of themselves.")

We have thus culled from this little treatise twenty good rules of life-which, on the score of number, is surely pretty well. Let but the spirit of these be duly followed out, and a poor gentleman may pay his way, and hold up his head; besides being better off for the substantials of physical health and vigour, than if he luxuriated on two thousand a year; for, as the author correctly observes, in confirmation of Cornaro and Abernethy, "health and a moderate starvation go hand in hand." For the further satisfaction of the impecunious class of gentlemanly persous, we will here add the parting hints delivered by their devoted friend :

"Keep your chin shaved, your nails and teeth white, ditto your shirt, cultivate your mustachios, keep your body upright, your hat and coat wel brushed, and your boots shining (black them yourself, your (wig or) hair full, or curled on your right temple, look as fierce or as knowing as you can afford, be pre eise and military in your steps, and I am not without hopes tha you will (economically speaking) do exceedingly well."-p. 48

Besides the valuable preceptive morsels which we have combined into a scientific dish from this little work, there are other things in it that have won our approbation. We like, in our original quality, the rambling and digressive turn of the writer, which never fails to turn in something or other by way of illustration. We like the gusto and heartiness with which he treats his subject, allied as it is to poverty and low estimation. Good sense and superiority to prejudice are marked in many passages of his manual. We like the true gentlemanly feeling shown in his casual remarks respecting the other sex, and in his disposition to encourage the honest resources of livelihood for women, and even to bestow alms on a beggar-woman, while withholding them from the miscellaneous multitude of man-mendicants. Thus, in recommending you to breakfast at some decent coffeeroom, he says, "you give the girl a penny, instead of some waiter sixpence, and she, poor girl, thanks you more for it.” Again-Carry halfpence in your coat pocket: never be without a halfpenny, for a distressed woman; pass all other beggars, street-sweepers, &c." We like, moreover, his enthusiastic love of London, although it appears to go the length of almost blinding himself to the attractions of other cities and we like still more his genuine feeling for the country, and well-expressed admiration of the beauties of nature. Take, for instance, the following passage, which

occurs after the recommendation of an occasional trip for the sake of change:

"Who will break their hearts at missing you either sauntering up and down Regent Street, Oxford Street, Bond Street, Piccadilly, the Parks, or Kensington Gardens?-march off boldly don't be afraid. I once walked down to Bath without hurting any body's feelings. When I got to Windsor Park, amidst those noble trees, looking down that interminable avenue opening on the Castle, I threw myself down near some deer, on the grass, dappled in sun and shade. It was a heavenly day how splendid the day was!-how glorious the delicious scene before me! O how my heart swelled in extacy -in gratitude to God for such sweet images! It was all mine -mine more than the king's. After the fag of twenty miles (it was hot and rather dusty) what luxury thus to recline on the grass, look up, and see the soft fleecy clouds sailing through the foliage of those noble oaks.-I had stopped at the Race Horse below at Egham, and demolished a slice of bread and cheese and one pint of stout-methought I could have lolled on the grass for ever, dreaming of Herne's oak!-Dear Windsor! dear lawns and shades, dear ruminating sleepy deer-most dear Pope, godlike Shakspeare!-how have thy glorious conceptions halo'd and enchanted this my dear native earth!— Well, these are exultations above gold or fashion, if I can have neither; I would not lose the dear delusion, not for a St. Alban's wealth, or a Londonderry's nod. No, on my soul !—so be of good cheer, if you have to foot it, as I did. The worst of it was, I was obliged to get up and get on-the walk was too far, (to Reading,) my feet were blistered, and I had some teazing thoughts intruding of the comfort of a travelling chariot and four; 'twas only for an instant, as quietly dropped asleep between a pair of horribly coarse brown sheets -(bed sixpence !)"—pp. 38-40.

These are indeed the feelings of a man whom poverty cannot make a pauper of; they are in themselves a rich resource against the "res angusta domi.”

Yet, with all the ingenious shifts, well-devised remedies, and even handsome enjoyments, which our economist points out for the benefit of the poor gentleman, there is one important comfort which, he is candid enough to avow, is all but unattainable by him. On the matrimonial head bis words are: The chances of your getting married well are so exceedingly slender, as to be almost imperceptible." This is as it should be-we mean the doctrine, not the privationby way of indemnity for which latter, this one grand consolation is announced-" You need not trouble yourself much about dying your affairs being in a constant state of arrangement!"

We now take our leave of this pleasant little guide, which we recommend our readers to take up for themselves, if they have any economic inducements for doing so. It affords many available suggestions for keeping up (“ si quis cognoverit uti") that most imperative of gentlemanly requisites, an appearance, and that too without any compromise that can be very painful to a well regulated mind. It contains, in fine, the best system of rules we know of for alleviating the inconveniences of living in a large capital upón a small one.

Samouelle's Entomological Cabinet. Parts 4 and 5. London, 1832.

We recently noticed the first three parts of Mr. Samouelle's pleasing and interesting work, illustrative of British Entomology. We have now to lay before our readers a brief account of the following parts; and we are the more inclined to do so, because, we consider, they treat not only upon one of the most interesting branches of Natural History, but upon one which presents far greater facilities for study than almost any other. Not a plant, not a tree, nor a decayed

branch of a tree, but abounds in specimens illustrative of the wondrous Power which rules creation; specimens, minute in size, but marvellous from their perfect though diminutive structure-while the shortest summer ramble, will enrich the collection of the Entomologist with innumerable most interesting samples of the insect world. From the present numbers, which we perceive are dedicated to Her Royal Highness the Princess Victoria, we extract one or two paragraphs illustrative of the economy of insects-a subject replete with interest, and with matter to awake our admiration of the wisdom and Omniscience of Providence. Our first extract relates to the cock-chafer.

"The larvæ or grubs of this species of beetle, so well known in England by the name of cock-chafer, are more voracious, and more destructive to vegetation, than those of almost any of the insect tribes.

"The eggs are deposited in the ground by the winged insect, whose fore-legs are very short, and well calculated for burrowing. From each of these proceeds, after a short time, a whitish worm with six legs, a red head, and strong claws, and about an inch and a half long, which is destined to live in the earth under that form for four years, and there undergo various changes of its skin, until it assumes its chrysalid form. It subsists, during its subterraneous abode, on the roots of trees and plants, committing ravages often of the most deplorable nature. These creatures, sometimes in immense numbers, work between the turf and the soil in the richest meadows, devouring the roots of the grass to that degree that the turf rises, and will roll up with almost as much ease as if it had been cut with a turfingspade and underneath the soil appears turned into a soft mould for about an inch in depth, like the bed of a garden. In this the grubs lie in a curved position, on their backs, the head and tail uppermost, and the rest of the body buried in the mould. Mr. Arderon, of Norwich, mentions his having seen a whole field of fine flourishing grass, in the summer time, become in a few weeks withered, dry, and as brittle as hay, by these grubs devouring the roots, and gnawing away all those fibres that fastened it to the ground, and through which alone it could receive nourishment.

"In the year 1688, the cock-chafers appeared on the hedges and trees of the south-west coast of the county of Galway, in clusters of thousands, clinging to each others' backs in the manner of bees when they swarm. During the day they continued quiet, but towards sun-set the whole were in motion; and the humming noise of their wings sounded like distant drums. Their numbers were so great, that for the space of two or three square miles, they entirely darkened the air.Persons travelling on the roads, or who were abroad in the fields, found it difficult to make their way home, as the insects were continually beating against their faces, and caused great pain. In a very short time the leaves of all the trees for some miles round were destroyed, leaving the whole country, though it was near midsummer, as naked and desolate as it would have been in the middle of winter. The noise that these enormous swarms made in seizing and devouring the leaves, was so loud as to have been compared to the distant sawing of timber. Swine and poultry destroyed them in vast numbers. These waited under the trees for the clusters dropping, and devoured such swarms as to become fat from them alone.Even the native Irish, from the insects having eaten up the whole of the produce of the ground, adopted a mode of dressing them, and used them as food. Towards the end of summer they disappeared so suddenly that in a few days there was not a single one left."

"About sixty years ago a farm near Norwich was so infested with cock-chafers, that the farmer and his servants affirmed that they gathered eighty bushels of them; and the grubs had done so much injury that the court of that city, in compassion to the poor fellow's misfortune, allowed him £25."

The following account of the habits and operations of that extraordinary insect, the Necrophorus Vespillo, is related by M. Gleditsch, from personal observation:

"He begins by informing us that he had often remarked that dead moles, when laid upon the ground, especially upon loose earth, were almost sure to disappear in the course of