"Ah! where were once her golden eyes,
"Her glittering wings of purple pride?
"Conceal'd beneath a rude disguise,
"A shapeless mass to earth allied.

"Like thee the hapless reptile lived,
"Like thee he toil'd, like thee he spun,
"Like thine his closing hour arrived,
"His labour ceased, his web was done.

"And shalt thou, number'd with the dead,
"No happier state of being know?
"And shall no future morrow shed
"On thee a beam of brighter glow?

"Is this the bound of power divine,
"To animate an insect frame?
"Or shall not He who moulded thine
"Wake at his will the vital flame?

"Go, mortal! in thy reptile state,
"Enough to know to thee is given;
"Go, and the joyful truth relate;
"Frail child of earth! high heir of heaven!"

A question here naturally presents itself—Why are insects subject to these changes? For what end is it that, instead of preserving like other animals[105] the same general form from infancy to old age, they appear at one period under a shape so different from that which they finally assume; and why should they pass through an intermediate state of torpidity so extraordinary? I can only answer that such is the will of the Creator, who doubtless had the wisest ends in view, although we are incompetent satisfactorily to discover them. Yet one reason for this conformation may be hazarded. A very important part assigned to insects in the economy of nature, as I shall hereafter show, is that of speedily removing superabundant and decaying animal and vegetable matter. For such agents an insatiable voracity is an indispensable qualification, and not less so unusual powers of multiplication. But these faculties are in a great degree incompatible. An insect occupied in the work of reproduction could not continue its voracious feeding. Its life, therefore, after leaving the egg, is divided into three stages. In the first, as larva, it is in a state of sterility; its sole object is the satisfying its insatiable hunger; and, for digesting the masses of food which it consumes, its intestines are almost all stomach. This is usually by much the longest period of its existence. Having now laid up a store of materials for the development of the future perfect insect, it becomes a pupa; and during this inactive period the important process slowly proceeds, uninterrupted by the calls of appetite. At length the perfect insect is disclosed. It now often requires no food at all; and scarcely ever more than a very small quantity; for the reception of which its stomach has been contracted, in some instances, to a tenth of its former bulk. Its almost sole object is now the multiplication of its kind, from which it is diverted by no other propensity; and this important duty being performed, the end of its existence has been answered, and it expires.

It must be confessed that some objections might be thrown out against this hypothesis, yet I think none that would not admit of a plausible answer. To these it is foreign to my purpose now to attend, and I shall conclude this letter by pointing out to you the variety of new relations which this arrangement introduces into nature. One individual unites in itself, in fact, three species, whose modes of existence are often as different as those of the most distantly related animals of other tribes. The same insect often lives successively in three or four worlds. It is an inhabitant of the water during one period; of the earth during another; and of the air during a third; and fitted for its various abodes by new organs and instruments, and a new form in each. Think (to use an illustration of Bonnet) but of the cocoon of the silkworm! How many hands, how many machines does not this little ball put into motion! Of what riches should we not have been deprived, if the moth of the silkworm had been born a moth, without having been previously a caterpillar! The domestic economy of a large portion of mankind would have been formed on a plan altogether different from that which now prevails.

I am, &c.