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extremity of which it felt four or five spots of my skin. It would appear that it knows where it can pierce through most easily, and reach a large blood-vessel. Having selected a spot for its operations, it soon causes the sufferer to feel its sting." The fine point when magnified presents the following formidable picture,

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of which some of the detached pieces seem admirably fitted for the gnat's purpose and our annoyance. It is not however, the introduction of these points, which, when combined, are as much less in size than the finest needle, as that is than a sword, that causes the irritation which, when extended over the limb, has in some cases rendered amputation necessary-the gnat introduces a little liquid, for the purpose, as Reaumur conjectures, of rendering our thick blood thin enough to be sucked through its proboscis. To allay the effects of this poison, there seems to be no better or readier means than sweet oil, which, if applied to the wound within a few hours after it has been made, will remove the swelling, although when delayed five or six hours, it has no effect.

The gnat undergoes many metamorphoses. If water be allowed for some time to stand still in a bucket, or if a quantity of that fluid be taken from a stagnant pool, it will be found to contain innumerable aquatic insects of the following shape (fig. 1:) these are the

larvæ of the gnat; they swim with the head downwards, a position which, to most animals, would be fatal; they retain the longest tube, which is their respiratory organ, on the surface. In this state they live on the contents of stagnant waters, and change their skins several times.

After having thrice got rid of its skin, the gnat appears in a new form, for, instead of being oblong, it is lenticular (fig. 2.) The surface of the circle is vertical to the water. In this, which is its nymphine state, it is still capable of moving briskly after the manner of a shrimp, by expanding and elongating its body (fig. 3,) and striking the water with the fins at its tail. In this stage of its metamorphosis, it has no organ for food, and it seems to require none; but a regular and abundant supply of air appears indispensable; it floats on the surface of the water, and only descends by efforts made with its tail. Two ears may be observed sticking out at the thickest part; these are its respiratory organs, and afford a curious instance of an important part, being removed from one extremity of the body to the other during the progress of an insect through its different stages of life.

Its last metamorphosis into a winged fly is attended with curious circumstances. When nature has prepared the insect to change its elément, instead of lying rolled up on the surface of the water, it stretches out its body, and by some mechanism, puffs up its corslet so that it splits between the stigmata or the breathinghorns. As soon as the fissure is sufficiently enlarged to make way for it, the head of the gnat appears in its perfect shape; but this is the most critical period of its whole life; up to this time it was an aquatic animal; now it has nothing to dread so much as the water, has, moreover, the use neither of leg nor wing; these members are as yet soft, moist, and bound up, and it only protrudes itself from its skin, by means of a wriggling action given to its body. If at this critical juncture the water should happen to touch its corslet or abdomen, the gnat would inevitably and instantly perish. In such circumstances, then, it requires the prudence of an old gnat, at least, to escape the dangers which surround

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the young one. Nature, however, has conferred upon the insect an instinct suitable to the emergency. As soon as it puts out its head, it elevates it above the water; and worming itself out always perpendicularly, supported only by the inequalities of the skin which it is about to cast off, with no power to balance itself, surrounded by an unfriendly element, it literally becomes a canoe, of which its own body forms mast and sail.

The skin floats, and when the observer perceives, says Reaumur, how much the prow of the little bark sinks, and how near its sides are to the water, he forgets at the moment that the gnat is an insect which at another time he would kill; nay, he becomes anxious for its fate, and the more so if the slightest breeze play on the surface of the water; the least agitation of the air suffices to waft the creature with swiftness from place to place, and make it spin round and round. Its body, folded in its wings, bears a greater proportion to the little skiff, than the largest mass of sail to a ship: it is impossible not to dread lest the insect should be wrecked; once laid on its side on the water, there is no escape. Reaumur has seen the surface of the water covered with creatures of this kind which had thus perished at their birth. Generally, however, all terminates favourably, and the danger is over in a minute. After having stood perpendicularly, it draws out its two fore-legs, and bending to the water, places them on its surface, which is terra firma for a gnat's weight; having secured this position, all is safe; the wings dry and expand, and the insect, quitting its natal element, mounts into the air.

It is supposed, that from the end of May to that of October, six or seven generations of these insects are born, and each gnat is capable of laying two hundred

and fifty eggs. These are found agglutinated into a mass, and swimming about on the surface of water: they are individually olive-shaped, the large end being in the water, the rest in the air. When conjoined, the

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upper surface of the mass presents to the eye the appearance of an infinite series of points. In arranging and floating this raft of eggs the gnat displays surprising ingenuity. They are discharged one by one, vertically, and not horizontally from the extremity of the insect; for this purpose it generally fixes itself on some solid substance, such as the bank of the water, or on a floating leaf. Standing on its four feet it stretches out the two hindmost legs; these being crossed, form an

angle in which the first egg is laid; the second is placed next, and they adhere by means of a glutinous matter surrounding each. The gnat places them thus with the abdomen solely: when a sufficient number of eggs have been placed side by side, to render the base of the mass large enough to balance the height-for it is clear that a few eggs only could not float upright on so narrow a stem as they possess the gnat launches its precious vessel, and fearlessly commits its cherished young to that little ocean which is fraught with so many dangers to itself.

Those who quit their proper character to assume what does not belong to them, are, for the greater part, ignorant both of the character they leave, and of the character they assume.

POETRY.

THE CURSE OF CAIN

(Gen. iv. 15, 16.)

O the wrath of the Lord is a terrible thing!
Like the tempest that withers the blossoms of spring,
Like the thunder that bursts on the summer's domain,
It fell on the head of the homicide Cain.

And lo! like a deer in the fright of the chase,
With a fire in his heart, and a brand on his face,
He speeds him afar to the desert of Nod-
A vagabond smote by the vengeance of God.

All nature to him has been blasted and banned.
For the blood of a brother yet reeks on his hand;
And no vintage has grown, and no fountain has sprung
For cheering his heart, or for cooling his tongue.

The groans of a father his slumbers shall start,
And the tears of a mother shall pierce to his heart,
And the kiss of his children shall scorch him like flane
When he thinks of the curse that hangs over his name

And the wife of his bosom-the faithful and fair-
Can mix no sweet drop in his cup of despair;
For her tender caress, and her innocent breath,
But stir in his soul the hot embers of wrath.

And his offering may blaze-unregarded by Heaven;
And his spirit may pray-yet remain unforgiven;
And his grave may be closed-but no rest to him bring:
O the wrath of the Lord is a terrible thing'

HOME OF THE BLEST

Know ye the land, where no pain and no sorrow
Shall darken the brow, or bow down the head,
Where no grief of to-day, and no thought of to-morrow,
Shall reach the glad heart, and appal it with dread?
Know ye the land of the spirit of peace,

Where the joys never lessen, the hymns never cease;
Where the friends of our bosom, here lost in the tomb,
Shall meet us again, ever freed from its gloom;
Where the hearts, now divided, united shall rest,
And be healed of their woes in the bowers of the blest,

Where the tear shall not quench the bright beam of the eye

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