The insect exhibits to us a wonderful instance of what we may call, after the example of Dr. Paley, the principle of compensation in nature. It can neither run nor fly with the speed necessary to overtake its prey who are swifter of foot than itself. But God never created it to starve, and has endowed it with a rare combination of faculties by which it is enabled to live in the midst of plenty if not even of luxuriance. So it is in a thousand other cases in nature. So it is indeed in Providence likewise. If He sends us trials, "He also makes a way to escape that we may be able to bear them." If our day is to be dark and cloudy, and to call for the exercise of much faith and patience, there is still the same provision made; "as thy day so shall thy strength be." If our lot in life is one of hardship He can, and if it is sought of him aright He will, and He does bear us up, revive our drooping strength, and enable us to go on our way rejoicing.

Cells of Sand-Wasp.

Let us go on to speak now of some other carnivorous larva. If in the month of July we can find out a spot where we can detect the traces of the labours of the sand-wasp, of whom mention has been made at page 15, and cutting out a little mass of the sand-rock containing several of their burrows, then take the trouble to open gently one of the cells formed by these insects, we shall see a carnivorous larva in as happy a condition as a fox in a hen-roost, or a mouse in the midst of a cheese! The best way to obtain access to this securely imbedded and luxurious larva, is to moisten the mass of sand with a little water, and then slice it gently down with an old knife until we come to the cells. They are here represented. At the bottom of each we shall see the larvæ which have sprung from the eggs deposited in the manner before described, after the arduous and affectionate labours of the parent. Then above each is a heap of caterpillars, arranged with beautiful neatness, and larvæ and caterpillars are both fast locked in their prison house by the firm stopping with which the parent wasp has closed the mouth of the cells. These caterpillars are all alive, and are rolled into a ring-like form, but are so chained down that they cannot move in the least degree. The poor prisoners, like the sheep in the slaughter-yard, are only waiting their turn to be killed and devoured. The larva soon after it is hatched finds himself in the midst of a well-stored larder, and has nothing to do but eat, which he does not long delay doing. He devours at his ease, and revels in the dainty fresh food which the care of his parent had laid up. When he has eaten all his prisoners up, and grown to his full size, he lays down to sleep, to awake again in another and a far different form.

Larva of Wood-boring Wasps.

Sometimes the reader may have the opportunity, it may be, of finding out the nest of the wood-boring wasp, and he may in June or July, perhaps, succeed in discovering another instance of a larva in a happy state of plenty. The larva is sure to be found at the bottom, and above it will be piled a heap of insects for its food. What is remarkable about this store of food is, that the insects thus made prisoners are not dead, for they would, if so, soon become corrupted, and unfit for the diet of the larva; they are in a sort of half stupified condition, in all probability very like that induced by the late plan of breathing ether and other vapours to render persons insensible to pain, while surgically operated on. Since this plan has been introduced, we read in some of the newspapers—we may question with what truth—that the butchers in Albany (America,) give ether to the oxen before killing them, so as to make them insensible to the pain of the death-blow! But the wasps in question have for ages been in the habit of effecting the same end by stinging their captives, the poison not sufficing to kill them, nor yet permitting them to be actively alive.

The insects thus stored up for the larva cost the parent many a conflict in their capture. And here we may interest the reader by describing the exploits of a warrior wasp, abundant in the Isle of France. It is curious that in the Isle of France the common bee is not to be found as a native of the woods, while, in the Isle of Bourbon, it is very common, and furnishes an abundance of wax and honey. This is explained by supposing that the warriors of whom we are about to speak destroy the bees, and have thus prevented their multiplying in the island in question. Truly, like the banditti of whom we read in books, these wasps are splendidly attired, although not in the spoils of those they have robbed. Their head, chest, and body is of a resplendent lustre; now green, or, seen in another position, blue, and glistening with all the lustre of an exquisite varnish; their antennæ are black, their eyes of a brownish yellow, and their legs partly bronze-coloured, and partly of a beautiful violet. They are strong and swift of wing, and are possessed of a terrible lance, the thrusts of which even man cannot endure without far more pain and inflammation than attends an ordinary sting.

The foe with whom these magnificently-dressed warriors have to contend, is a kind of insect allied to the cockroach, which, in our kitchens, has acquired the incorrect title of "black beetle." This insect is detested by the inhabitants of the island, for its ravages upon almost everything of value or delicacy, and is not less hated by the sailor for its destructiveness on ship-board. It is called Kakerlac, and is much larger than the cockroaches, which are the plague and terror of our cooks. Imagine that one of these great and odious insects is marching along the highway. The warrior wasp has also been making his expeditions for prey abroad, when suddenly his eager eye catches sight of the kakerlac hastening to some new scene of depredation. The warrior instantly alights, and the kakerlac stops, thinking perhaps to intimidate its adversary by its size and ferocious aspect. Both insects glare at one another;—

——"each other from afar
They view, and rushing on, begin the war.
They launch their spears; then hand to hand they meet,
The trembling soil resounds beneath their feet;
Their bucklers clash, thick blows descend from high,
And flashes of fire from their hard helmets fly.
Courage conspires with chance, and both engage
With equal fortune yet, and mutual rage."