JULY.

66

'Her task of daily labour done,
The wild bee to her hive was gone;
The lark was in her grassy nest,
The bleating flocks were all at rest.
Close heap'd the tufted furze beside,
Or spread like scatter'd snow-flakes wide.
It was a picture of repose,

So perfect as if Nature chose,

By mortal eyes unseen alone,

To keep a sabbath of her own."

ELLEN FITZARTHUR.

DURING this sultry month, when most of the songbirds are silent, and the flowers droop their heads upon the ground, such nocturnal phenomena, as attract the notice of the naturalist, may also invite the lover of nature to contemplate them.

Reader, if you have never been abroad in the depth of night, I counsel you to shake off the sleep that weighs down your eyelids, to go forth and to learn something of that world of stars and moonbeams, of strange nocturnal creatures, and

little twinkling lights along the hedges, to which your attention has never been directed. But if the ups and downs of life should have cast your lot in the thickly-thronged city, and you still retain that inborn inextinguishable thirst of nature, which its gay and busy scenes can never quench, I may perhaps awake within you some faint remembrance of that period in early life, when the moonbeams were sleeping on your own bright fields, and all around were soothing images of security and peace.

It was on such a night that this nocturnal ramble seized us; for I had then a friend, who now, I trust, is brighter than the brightest of the glorious constellations that glittered above our heads.

Myriads of nocturnal creatures were abroad; and while in most of the vegetable tribes, the leaves or petals, disposing themselves in such a manner, as to shelter the young stem, the bud or fruit, either turned up or fell down, according as this purpose rendered either position necessary, and thus presented what is called the sleep of plants. "Averse from evening's chilly breeze, How many close their silken leaves,

To save the embryo flowers;

As if ambitious of a name,

They sought to spread around their fame,

And bade the infant buds proclaim,

The parent's valued powers."

S. H.

R

Others, on the contrary, spread abroad their petals, and offered a rich vegetable banquet to the thickly-coated phalenæ, and such winged insects as love the night. The evening primrose (conthera biennis) is one of these. A neighbouring cottager was fond of this gay flower. When asked the reason of his preference, he used to say, "that it pleased him to think, how many wayfaring creatures found there a ready provision for their nightly wants."

As we entered the garden, a host of winged insects were seen hovering round the petals, and on the southern border, a range of bee-hives attracted our attention. There was something unusual in the movements of the sentinels, and on looking narrowly, we could see them pacing to and fro, with their antennæ extended, and alternately directed to the right and left. One of their greatest enemies, the tinea mellonella, was hovering round, and endeavouring to glide between the guards, as if well knowing that they could not discern objects in a strong light. In order to gain her purpose, she cautiously avoided coming in contact with their antennæ, aware that should she touch those sensitive organs, her life would be quickly sacrificed. Yet still she strove to enter, and might probably have gained her purpose, but in a moment a short low hum was

heard; in another, the hum became louder; and presently a host of working-bees were aroused from their slumbers, and rushed forth. Well may they watch and strive against the nightly robber, which thus seeks to enter the hive, and deposit her eggs in the midst of the commonwealth. The larvæ of the tinea are some of their most deadly foes. They pass their time among the combs, and continue their depredations undisturbed by angry hummings or fierce stings: sheltered in waxen tubes, lined with silken tapestry, so strong and tense, that the most powerful bees cannot penetrate them. Occasionally, they commit such extensive ravages, that the poor spoiled inhabitants have been forced to quit their hives.

Loud humming sounds were also heard along the hedge; the nocturnal buz of gnats, and the boom of beetles, which hurried by, as if they feared to be benighted. It was curious to listen to these ceaseless hums, to watch the busy movements of numerous ephemeræ, that spring to life, when the day closes in, and finish their brief existence before the rising sun. Innumerable cleoptera, moths, and insects of other orders, had also left their hiding-places during the silence of the night. The caribi were prowling about in quest of prey, and water-beetles (dytisci and gyrini) forsook their native element, and mounted on

strumming wings into the air. Had it been possible to follow the multitudes in their aerial courses, what interesting and curious scenes, what extraordinary instincts, what admirable adaptations to different localities and circumstances would have been conspicuous!

As we turned into a meadow, the ceaseless humming of these busy tribes was still more perceptible. The common cockchafer, and that which appears at the summer solstice, (melolontha vulgaris and solstitialis) filled the air over the trees and hedges, with their myriads and their hum. We could scarcely move without coming in contact with several, whose angry boomings frequently announced how much they were displeased at the intrusion.

There, too, a colony of field crickets (acheta campestris) had fixed their abode. Night and silence seemed to give them additional security. Their cheerful summer voices made the hills echo, while they awoke within us the thought of a joyous community of creatures, widely differing from ourselves, yet pleased and busy. Sitting at the entrance of the caverns, which they had excavated on a steep acclivity, they chirped as merrily by moonlight, as in the brightest days, and their loud shrillings were pleasingly contrasted with the stillness of that lone place. Their cells are elegantly