Cynthia's heart stood still from excitement. Neal so near, and his sister not to know it! But she would prevail upon him to come home. He could not refuse her after all they had been through on his account.
Full of hope, she gathered up her trowel and her basket of plants and ran towards the house. Fortunately that tiresome Mrs. Parker was there, and so her mother would not notice her excitement. For once Cynthia was glad to see the lady. Since her escapade of the year before she had always been somewhat ashamed of meeting her.
An hour or two later a closed carriage came slowly up the avenue. Dennis Morgan was on the box with the coachman. Inside were Gertrude, Dr. Farley, and Edith, and Edith was unconscious.
[to be continued.]
BY WILLIAM HAMILTON GIBSON.
Of all the insects which occasionally claim our attention in our country rambles, there is probably no example more entitled to our distinguished consideration than the plebeian, commonly despised, but admittedly amusing beetle known the country over as the funny "tumble-bug." As we see him now, so he has always been the same in appearance, the same in habits, yet how has he fallen from grace! how humbled in the eyes of man from that original high estate when, in ancient Egypt, he enjoyed the prestige above all insects, where, as the sacred "scarabæus," he was dignified as the emblem of immortality, and worshipped as a god! The archæological history of Egypt is rich in reminders of his former eminence. Not only do we see his familiar shape (as shown in our initial design) everywhere among those ancient hieroglyphs engraved in the rock or pictured on the crumbling papyrus; but it is especially in association with death and the tomb that his important significance is emphasized. The dark mortuary passages and chambers hewn in solid rock often hundreds of feet below the surface, where still sleep the mummied remains of an entire ancient people, and which honeycomb the earth beneath the feet of the traveller in certain parts of Egypt, are still eloquent in tribute to the sacred scarab. The lantern of the antiquarian explorer in those dark dungeons of death discloses the suggestive figure of this beetle everywhere engraved in high relief upon the walls, perhaps enlivened with brilliant color still as fresh as when painted three thousand years ago, emblazoned in gold and gorgeous hues upon the sarcophagus and the mummy-case within, and again upon the outer covers of the winding-sheet, finally, in the form of small ornaments the size of nature, beautifully carved on precious stones enclosed within the wrappings of the mummy itself.
What other insect has been thus glorified and immortalized? For the sake of its proud lineage, if nothing else, is not our poor tumble-bug deserving of our more than passing attention? An insect which has thus been distinguished by an entire great people of antiquity has some claims on our respect and consideration.