THE COCHINEAL.
As I was one day studying in the same room with my little son, a child of ten years old, he turned towards me, and pointed to a little insect which was crawling on a sheet of paper.
"Look, papa," said he, "look at that insect; how small it is! See how it moves its feet—how wonderful that God should have made this little creature!"
Father. It is a little cochineal. [A]—Wait; I will bring my microscope, and we shall see many more wonderful things.
Child. Make haste, or it will fly away.
I put the insect between two glasses, and thus prevented it from escaping, without restraining it from moving its limbs. To the naked eye, it did not look at all remarkable: its back was of a brown colour, spotted with black and white, and the under part of its body was gray. But no sooner had I placed it in the focus of the microscope, than I was filled with wonder and admiration. The back, which before appeared unworthy of notice, now displayed the most perfect and beautiful appearance. The colour, which appeared brown to the naked eye, now presented a variety of feathers or scales of the same size and shape, polished, brilliant, distinct, and arranged in far more exact order than the tiles on the best built roof. The ground was formed of beautiful white scales, surrounded by a border of polished black and blue scales of the same description. A black line divided the back into two equal parts.
"How marvellously wise and powerful is the Lord!" exclaimed I. "Who would believe that so many beauties, and such a variety of exquisite workmanship, had been bestowed on this little, despicable insect? Oh, how great is our God!"