But at Christmas, as in May, Every day and every night Thou art ever void of care. Whilst with sorrows, or with fears, Longer than the age of man. REV. T. COLE. Mr. White, speaking of the Hearth-Cricket, Acheta domestica, thus writes in his History of Selborne:-"Tender insects that live abroad either enjoy only the short period of one Summer, or else doze away the cold uncomfortable months in profound slumbers; but these, residing as it were in a torrid zone, are always alert and merry, a good Christmas fire is to them, what the dogdays are to others." Letter xlvii. Like the field-cricket, A. campestris, they are sometimes kept for their music: and the learned Scaliger took so great a fancy to their song, that he was accustomed to keep them in a box in his study. Milton chose for his contemplative pleasures a spot where crickets resorted: Where glowing embers through the room Far from all resort of mirth, Save the cricket on the hearth. Il Penseroso. Goldsmith happily introduces this little domestic, in his poem of Edwin and Angelina : Around in sympathetic mirth, Its tricks the kitten tries; The Cricket chirrups on the hearth, The crackling faggot flies. Cowper has also given an excellent translation of Vincent Bourne's Ode to the Cricket. THE BUTTERFLY'S FIRST FLIGHT. THOU hast burst from thy prison, Bright child of the air, Like a spirit just risen From its mansion of care. Thou art joyously winging Where the sunbeams are throwing Their glories on thine, With tints more divine. Then tasting new pleasure In summer's green bowers, On fresh opened flowers; Or delighted to hover Around them to see Bloom sweetest for thee; And fondly inhaling Their fragrance, till day And fading away. Then seeking some blossom Which looks to the West, Thou dost find in its bosom And there dost betake thee Till darkness is o'er, And the sunbeams awake thee To pleasure once more. New Monthly Magazine. "See!" exclaims Linnæus, "the large elegant painted wings of the Butterfly, four in number, covered with small imbricated scales; with these it sustains itself in the air the whole day, rivalling the flight of birds and the brilliancy of the peacock. Consider this insect through the wonderful progress of its life; how different is the first period of its being from the second, and both from the parent insect; its changes are an inexplicable enigma to us : we see a green Caterpillar furnished with sixteen legs, creeping, hairy, and feeding upon the leaves of a plant; this is changed into a Chrysalis, smooth, of a golden lustre, hanging suspended to a fixed point, without feet, and subsisting without food: this insect again undergoes another transformation, acquires wings and six feet, and becomes a variegated Butterfly, living by suction upon the honey of plants. What has Nature produced more worthy of admiration?"-Aman. Acad. vol. 2. THE METAMORPHOSIS. THE helpless crawling caterpillar trace, When laughs the vivid world in Summer's bloom, And spoils the fairest flowers, himself more fair than they. 'And deems weak man the future promise vain, When worms can die, and glorious rise again?' ANONYMOUS, in Haworth's Lepid. Brit. RED AND WHITE ROSES: BY THOMAS CAREW, 1635. READ, in these Roses, the sad story On my heart, with fresh wounds bleeding. Oh! let your smiles but clear the weather, Among the Just as the opening flowers are born, Or suck the clover's crimson bloom; The Bee, Apis mellifica, has long attracted universal attention, on account of its wonderful economy and ingenuity. From the nectareous juices of flowers, it collects its delicious honey. Were it not for "Nature's confectioner, the |