THE FALL OF THE STAUBBACH, : IN SWITZERLAND. THE Staubbach is one of the most famous falls in Switzerland it is remarkable not so much for the volume of its waters as for the height from which they descend. It is situated in the canton of Berne, and in its southern part, the Oberland, as it is called; it is formed by the little river Pletschbach, or Bletschbach, tumbling into the valley of Lauterbrunnen, the name of which, indeed, it sometimes takes. After its descent, the river is known by the appellation of the Staubbach, the more common name of the fall. The valley of Lauterbrunnen, "embosomed," as Coxe describes it," in the midst of alps," is one of the favourite resorts of summer tourists in Switzerland. In the way of a valley, says a recent writer, there is nothing like it; "the crag, the torrent, the lonely chalet, the rock of the hunter, the eternal alps, and all the delicious fillings up of turf and tree, are here thrown about by a mighty hand." It is one of the many vallies which are formed in the Bernese Oberland, by the numberless shoots projecting from the high alpine range that separates the canton of Berne in the south from the canton of Valais; and it is, among them all, one of the most remarkable,—perhaps, indeed, with the exception of its neighbour, the equally famous Grindelwald, the most remarkable. Its length is about fifteen miles, while its breadth seldom exceeds half a mile from its extreme narrowness, it is likened to a deep chasm formed in a mass of mountains, and straitened between the vertical walls of the clefts." The enormous chain of rocks on the right, or western side, is loftier and more craggy than that on the left; and from the wall which they form, it is that the most considerable streams rush down to swell the waters of the Lütschinen, as the river is called, which flows through, the bottom of the valley. M. Ramond, a French writer, well acquainted with the topography of Switzerland, examined the formation of this valley with curious eyes, and found, as he says, not only elevation answer to elevation, and depth to depth, but also the bed of the rivers continued from one side to the other. From this circumstance he was led to consider the valley as an accidental crevice, formed by some revolution that happened in this mass of mountains, by which the rivers, which all flowed from the right to the left, were broken short in their course at the same time, and left to pour their waters into the gulf that opened before them. The number of these streams, at all considerable, is, on the two sides, about thirty; they all pour down their waters "in long threads of silvery foam" into the channel of the Weisse (or White) Lütschinen, which flows along the bottom of the valley, and, immediately on issuing from it, unites with the Schwarze (or Black) Lütschinen, coming from the valley of Grindelwald. The river formed by the junction is called simply Lütschinen, or Zweylütschinen (there being a little village of this name at the place of meeting); it empties itself, not as Coxe says into the Aar, but into the lake of Brientz, a little to the south of the point at which that river issues from the lake. There is scarcely any country on the globe which can show so many cascades, in so small a space, as are to be found in the valley of Lauterbrunnen; its name indeed is characteristic of this distinction, signifying "clear fountains;" yet it pays dearly for it, being subject not only to the visitation of the avalanche and of falling rocks, like all Swiss vallies of a similar character, but also to the frequent recurrence of inundations, which bring down stone and gravel upon the land, and annihilate, in one short hour, the long-cherished hopes of the husbandman. The soil of the valley is in general tolerably productive; the greater part of its inhabitants are scattered about it, but some few are congregated in the small village of Lauterbrunnen, which is simply a collection of cottages with a church, a residence for the minister, and an inn for the accommodation of tourists. It is to this inn that visiters to the Staubbach usually resort; before its establishment, the house of the clergyman used to be the house of entertainment, according to the practice very generally prevalent in former years throughout the more retired parts of Switzerland. The stream which forms the Staubbach has a previous fall, which is seldom noticed by travellers, as is observed by Dr. Wyss, a German writer, who explored with great industy the whole of the Bernese Oberland; the renown of the second fall has so completely eclipsed the first, that this latter is scarcely honoured with a passing notice in any description of the Lauterbrunnen valley. This neglect he deems very unjust, and to make amends he paints the object of it in the most attractive colours. He describes in glowing terms the enthusiasm which seized him when he entered the Staubbach Balm, or Grotto of the Staubbach, at which this fall takes place, and stood behind the superb mass of water, which precipitated itself in three enormous arcs of liquid dust, sparkling in ceaseless variety with a thousand hues, like a shower of "glittering spangles;" the pleasing coolness which refreshed the air, the flowers and the green turf at his feet, enamelled with all the colours of the emerald, the sapphire, and the topaz, and the noble scene which his wondering eyes beheld in the distance through the variegated tissue" of waters,-the great Jungfrau, the Silberhorn, the Eiger, and the other noble mountains which bound the valley to the south, reposing in peaceful grandeur,-all conspired to impress him with the belief that he had never gazed upon any thing so beautiful." Descending about fifty paces, the visiter reaches the second fall, the real Staubbach, that which is represented in our engraving. The height of this fall is upwards of 900 feet. Coxe says that the clergyman of Lauterbrunnen, at whose house he stopt, measured it a short time before his visit, and found it 930 feet. Dr. Wyss confirms this statement. When the water is abundant, the greater part of the torrent falls perpendicularly through the whole of this distance, quite clear of the mountain; but before it reaches the valley below, it is converted entirely into a fine spray. The remaining portion, when it has fallen about half way, strikes against a projecting rock, being even then reduced to the form of rain; a part of it flies off with great violence to mingle with the mass of vapour, while the rest trickles gently down the declivity of the mountain, and forms at its foot a small rill," the imperceptible remains of a somewhat considerable river." To be seen with the greatest effect, this fall must be viewed when illumined by the rays of the sun; for this purpose it must be visited before it is brought within shade of the mountain. Dr. Wyss says that the best time is between seven and half-past twelve in the morning; and then the spectator may be grati fied with an interesting exhibition of the phenomena of refraction. "The sun shining in an opposite direction," says Coxe, a miniature rainbow was reflected towards the bottom of the fall; while I stood at some distance, the rainbow assumed a semicircular figure; as I approached, the extreme points gradually coincided, and formed a complete circle of the most lively and brilliant colours. In order to have a still finer view, I ventured nearer and nearer; the circle at the same time becoming smaller and smaller; and as I stood quite under the fall, it suddenly disappeared. When I looked up to the torrent in this situation, it resembled a cloud of dust: I paid for my curiosity by being extremely wet." It will be evident from this description, that the fall of the Staubbach is remarkable more as an object of curiosity, and perhaps of beauty, than for possessing any character of grandeur and sublimity. Its praises have been sung in verse by two German writers, the one, Baggeson, and the other, the famous Albert Haller-more celebrated as a physiologist and savant than as a poet. "Behold it on the rocky summit!" says the former, "it is there a river, a mighty wave, which impetuously rushes from the empyrean;-lower, it is but a cloud, and soon again a whitish vapour." Haller describes it as "a river rising in the air, issuing from clouds, and to clouds again returning." Few modern travellers speak of this fall as otherwise than disappointing their expectations; the exaggerations of earlier descriptions having led them to look for so much, that they have sometimes failed to discern in it any attractions at all. Simond states that it did not answer the expectations of his party, and speaks of the water and the vapour undulating through the air with more grace and elegance than sublimity. Mr. Inglis is more severe in his judgment. "I had heard much," he says, "of the cataract of the Staubbach, but was miserably disappointed by it. The name,— meaning fall of powder-is well applied. The cascade descends entirely in spray, and is wanting in that greatest attraction of a cataract-sublimity." A female writer, of more recent date still, passes this sentence upon it:-"After all, the Staubbach is a poor thing. This is high treason, I know,-hanging matter in the valley, but true nevertheless. I have it now before my window, with its 800 feet long shower of dust, neither throwing of its waters in one unbroken volume, nor dashing them against opposing rocks, according to established rules, but flying off in a light column of spray, to be blown about as the winds list, and to look very like (be it gently whispered) the overturned contents of a most capacious dust-cart." The action of the wind upon this fall gives rise to some interesting phenomena. Its waters themselves cause a continued motion in the air, "as if Æolus were flying before the deity of the enraged stream," to use the classical illustration of Dr. Wyss; but this only scatters the finer drops, and has no effect upon the great mass. When a strong wind, however, strikes it, the results are occasionally very singular and pleasing. Sometimes a breeze from the south, blowing with violence against the fall, will fairly drive it back, and stop its course for minutes together; at others, it will catch a number of little clouds from the mass of vapour, and carry them off suspended in the air. "To me," says Dr. Wyss, "the most striking of these phenomena, is that exhibited when a violent hurricane drives the column of water from its ordinary bed, on one side or the other, so that it no longer falls into its usual basin beneath, which speedily empties itself, and becomes nearly dry The fish which it contains then become frightened, and can scarcely find in the little pools which are left behind, sufficient water for their existence. On such an occasion, I have seen a merry troop of children run down with vessels of all sorts, and fill them with small trout, which were easily caught in the shallow rocks they had retreated into, being unable to escape by swimming. But in the midst of this work of plunder, the wind lulled, the stream resumed its accustomed course, and the fish, now no longer imprisoned, quickly glided through the hands of the young captors, who were obliged to retreat to the banks, wetted up to the knees, though not before they had secured a considerable booty." In the Winter season, the rapidity of this torrent enables it to withstand the frost for some time; but when the cold is very intense, the drops of water become congealed globules, and the fall is converted into a shower of hail. The rattling of this in the air is generally supposed to foretel the freezing of the whole torrent, which soon assumes the appearance of an enormous icicle, hanging from the edge of the channel, and gradually increasing, until, by its own weight, it falls upon the heap of ice below, with a noise far exceeding "the roar of the avalanche or of thunder." Like the other streams of this region, the Staubbach is subject to the visitation of tremendous storms, which for a time wholly alter its character, and cause it to present a fearful, though still highly-interesting spectacle. The years 1791 and 1814 are remarkable in this respect: on the former occasion, the Lütschinen--the river into which the Staubbach pours itself,— abandoned its old bed, and formed a new channel for itself. The storm of 1814 was of an unusually furious kind, and it was attended with some fatal results. Dr. Wyss gives an account of it, from the statement of an eye-witness. The blackened waters of the torrent, thick with the mud which they had gathered in their impetuous career, rushed from the mountain top in two enormous shoots, as if issuing from the mouths of monstrous tunnels; above them, and resting as it were on the rocky summit, was "a dark and terrible cloud." The violence of the waves carried along with them huge masses of stone, many exceeding the weight of a hundred pounds; these were whirled to the mountain's edge,-whence some shot out to a distance, and others fell straight down, dashing in their descent against projecting ledges of rock, and bounding off into the basin beneath with frightful noise. The constant crashing and collision of these terrible masses, produced, says our author, a fiery odour," distinctly sensible afar off to those who were witnessing in security the dreadful scene. The trunks of trees, too, and even whole firs, which the storm had uprooted on the mountain tops, were brought down by the angry waters; the broken branches, and smaller fragments, were seized by the blast when they reached the edge of the fall, and whirled about in the air till they lodged in the bottom of the valley,-while the heavier masses fell at once perpendicularly "like enormous darts," and buried themselves deep in the bed of the torrent. 66 THEY that enter into the world are too often treated with unreasonable rigour by those that were once as ignorant and heady as themselves; and distinction is not always eradication, and those that will gradually drop away in the made between the faults which require speedy and violent progression of life. Vicious solicitations of appetite, if not checked will grow more importunate; and mean arts of profit or ambition will gather strength in the mind, if they are not early suppressed. But mistaken notions of superiority, desires of useless show, pride of little accomplishments, and all the train of vanity, will be brushed away by the wing of time. Reproof should not exhaust its power upon petty failings; let it watch diligently against the incursion of vice, and leave foppery and futility to die of themselves.—Idler. THE USEFUL ARTS. No. XII. VEGETABLE PRODUCTIONS FURNISHING DRINKS, BUT NOT USED WITH SOLID FOOD. TEA MAY now be fairly regarded as constituting a large portion of the drink of all classes in this country, and is become nearly an absolute necessary, a degree of importance it has attained from its valuable and pleasant qualities: it is a stimulant to the body and mind, without any pernicious reaction, and unproductive of any of those diseases, which accompany the use of other stimulants, as spirits, wine, beer, &c. Green tea possesses the qualities of the plant in a higher degree than the black, to those who are not habituated to its use; it acts as a stimulant to the mental faculties more powerfully than any fermented liquor, and completely banishes sleep for many hours; it is hence had recourse to by all who want to watch or study during the hours usually devoted to rest. The tea-plant is of the same natural order as the camellia of our green-houses, and some species of the tea belong to that genus itself; but the best tea consists of the leaves of one species of the genus Thea. This is an evergreen shrub, from three to six feet in height, with elliptic, serrated, alternate leaves, and bears a white blossom something like a wild rose: it is a native of China and Japan, and will grow as far north as the forty-fifth or forty-sixth degree of latitude. The different teas of commerce are produced from varieties only of the one species, but the principal cause of the different flavour, is the nature of the soil and situation in which the plant is cultivated, the time of the year in which the leaves are gathered, and the mode of preparing the crop for market. The cultivation of the Tea is nearly confined to a part only of China, for, like the vine, the excellence of the plant depends on unknown peculiarities of soil and culture, which confine it within much narrower limits than its botanical or natural station. There are two principal kinds of tea, black and green, of each of which there are several varieties; the former are entirely cultivated in one province, Fokien, to the north-east of Canton, the most populous and important portion of the empire. Pekoe, the finest of the black teas, consist of the leaf-buds of the best plants, gathered early in the spring; a small quantity of the blossoms of an olive (Olea fragrans,) are mixed with it, to impart perfume and flavour. The inferior sorts consist of the fully-formed leaves of the same plants; the later in the season these are gathered, the less the flavour of the tea; there are three or four successive crops taken in the year. The qualities of the green teas depend on the same circumstances. Gunpowder, the finest, consists of the unopened leaf-buds of the green variety of the Thea, gathered before it opens; the inferior qualities being the produce of the subsequent successive gatherings. The leaves of the black teas are picked by hand, and dried under a shed; the different qualities are then sorted, mingled, or separated, according to the demand, and, after a second and more complete drying, are packed for exportation. The green tea-leaves are dried in iron pans over a stove, and are stirred by the hand during the process*. So extensive is the demand for tea, that the East India Company, in the year 1829-30, sold 29,000,000 lbs., and the entire consumption in Europe and America at present is supposed to amount to 50,000,000 lbs. annually. COFFEE. THIS plant (Coffea arabica,) was originally indigenous in Arabia, and the countries bordering on the Red Sea: but it has for a long period been successfully cultivated in most tropical countries. It belongs to the extensive natural order furnishing the genuine Peruvian bark, Ipecacuanha, and other valuable medicines. The coffee plant is a small evergreen tree, attaining a height of from twelve to fifteen feet, not much branching, having opposite oval leaves, like the bay-tree, and small creamcoloured blossoms, which produce a red berry containing two seeds, flat on one side, which sides are applied to each other as the seed lies on the fruit. It is these seeds which are used; they are roasted in iron cylinders, kept turning For detailed particulars of the process of preparing tea, see Saturday Magazine, Vol. II., p. 9. THE COFFEE-TREE. Coffea arabica. drink is indisputable, however simple a process it may appear, but the general cause of failure arises from the for if kept for some time before it is used, a great deal of berry not having been roasted only just before it is wanted, the aroma escapes, and the flavour is lost. native country, but the greatest part of that used in this The finest coffee is brought from the Levant, or from its country is the produce of our West Indian colonies, where 1830, 18,500,000 lbs. weight of coffee from the West Indies, it constitutes one of the principal crops cultivated. In and about 1,000,000 lbs. from other countries, were consumed in Great Britain. Europe at 120,000,000 lbs. CHOCOLATE. THE Cacao seeds, from which chocolate is prepared, are produced by the Theobroma cacao, a plant of South America; it grows to the height of twenty feet, and bears large oblong leaves and small red blossoms, which are succeeded by a thick scarlet or yellow capsule, seven or eight inches long, containing many seeds, as big as a scarlet-bean, embedded in a fleshy substance. These seeds are roasted, and the skin being taken off, they are pounded with water, is sweetened and flavoured with vanilla, cinnamon, &c. &c., and rolled and beat on a smooth surface into a paste, which and hard, the cakes are put into paper cases, to keep them and then made up into cakes in iron moulds; when dry from the air. compass, and is hence of great service to travellers; it is Cacao contains a great deal of nutritive matter in a small comparatively but little consumed in England, but much in France and Spain: and in South America it is regarded as MALT LIQUORS. STRONG Beers are either pale, such as strong ales, or of a dark colour, such as porter and stout. Most of these contain some nutritious matter, of which sugar is the principal; they must, therefore, not be regarded as mere stimulants. The nutritive and sustaining properties of strong beer are, however, very much overrated, and a fallacious pretext thence deduced for their excessive and injurious consumption. The combined effects of the stimulating and nutritious properties of a moderate quantity of sound beer of good strength, are well seen and suitably employed in restoring a degree of elasticity and vigour to the mind, as well as to the body, of one who is exhausted by the fatigue of the exertions which he has made. He is prepared to enjoy and profit by the period of rest, to take with satisfaction and advantage the substantial meal which is to repair the losses which his system is undergoing; to take pleasure in the society of his family, and to pass, in tranquil sleep, the night which is to fit him for the labours of another day. The exhausted labourer is not the only person to whom these drinks are not only allowable, but useful. The feeble mother, whose delicate frame scarcely enables her to undergo the cares and fatigues of her family, and much less to furnish to her infant the aliment on which its health and vigour essentially depend, derives from genuine beer that availing support, which no drugs of the apothecary, and still less the poisonous cordials and fatal drams of the spirit-merchant, supply. Without crediting, for a moment, the anti-consumptive virtues which Lord Bacon has attributed to ale, I may assert, from well-proved experience, that the invalid who has been reduced almost to extremity, by severe or lingering illness, finds in well-apportioned draughts of sound beer, one of the most important helps for the recovery of his health, his strength, and his spirits. Is it not, then, lamentable, that an article possessed of so many virtues, should become the ruin, if not the death of individuals, the destruction of family property, the source of family broils, and the bane of society. It is not for me to fix the exact quantity by which your draughts are to be limited; but I can give you two rules, equally favourable to health and economy:-First,-when drinking strong beer, always limit yourselves to the smallest quantity capable of counteracting the feelings of langour and exhaustion under which you may have laboured; and if a further quantity of drink be required to allay thirst or dilute food, either have recourse to much weaker beer, or wait a while, and take tea. Secondly,-shun, with the most scrupulous care all those occasions on which you may be tempted to take beer as a means of consuming time, or of producing sensual pleasure or riotous mirth. [DR. HODGKIN on Health.] DISPERSION OF THE FRENCH FLEET, ON THE THIS memorable event, in the accomplishment of which, for the welfare of Great Britain, the watchful superintendence of an Almighty Guardian was peculiarly evident, is admirably described by Mr. Osler in his Life of Lord Exmouth. The concluding reflections are really beautiful, and would do honour to any writer. Having shown the critical state of this country in the year 1796, and the equipment by the French Government of a powerful fleet at Brest, for the purpose of landing on the shores of Ireland, the author dwells on the misfortunes of the British force, and the success which had attended the enemy up to a certain point,-namely, their actual arrival off Bantry Bay. He then proceeds : Meantime, almost everything favoured the enemy. The two divisions of his fleet, which were separated on the evening of the 16th, by putting to sea through different passages, rejoined on the 19th, and reached their destination early on the 21st, without having met a single British cruizer. When they appeared off the Bay, a number of pilot-boats came out, supposing them to be a British fleet; and thus the French Admiral obtained pilots for his ships, and gained all the information he wanted of the British men-of-war on the coast. A line-of-battle ship and three frigates were still missing. Their absence would not have materially weakened the enemy, (whose force still exceeded what the rebel delegates * had required,) but that the two commanders had embarked in one of the missing frigates, the Fraternitè; and Rear-Admiral Bouvet, and General Grouchy, the seconds in command, could scarcely act with decision while their chiefs were hourly expected. "The Fraternitè, with the other three ships in company, was very near the fleet on the 20th, but it was concealed from her by a fog; and a gale which dispersed the fog separated her from her consorts. Proceeding alone to the bay, she had nearly reached it on the 21st, when she fell in with a British frigate, which she mistook for one of her own fleet till she was almost within gun-shot. Night saved her from capture, but the chase had carried her far to the westward, and it was eight days before she obtained a fair wind to return. "The ships continued beating up to Bearhaven against a fresh easterly breeze until the evening of the 22nd, when the Rear-Admiral anchored off the eastern extremity of Great Bear Island, with eight sail-of-theline, two frigates, and some smaller vessels. Seven sail-of-the-line, and eight frigates, kept under sail, and the wind rising in the night blew them all off to sea. "It blew hard, with a heavy sea, through the next day and night. On the 24th, the weather having moderated, it was determined, in a council of war, to land the remaining troops immediately; and General Grouchy made a formal requisition for that purpose. A suitable landing-place was found, and the necessary preparations were completed; but it was now late in the afternoon, and the landing was necessarily deferred until morning. That night the gale rose from the eastward, and increased through the next day to a tempest. At length, the ships began to drive from their anchors. The Indomptable, 80 guns, ran foul of the Resolue frigate, and totally dismasted her. The other frigate, the Immortalitè, in which Rear-Admiral Bouvet had embarked, though his proper flag-ship was the Droits de l'Homme, parted one of her cables in the evening, and was obliged to cut the other, and Namely, emissaries, who had been despatched to France to invite this invasion, and who bad stated that 15,000 men would be sufficient but 18,000 were provided. run out to sca. The weather would not allow her to return until the 29th; and then the Rear-Admiral, hopeless of re-assembling the fleet, decided to proceed to Brest. ON THE FLIGHT OF INSECTS. IN a former paper* we drew attention to the proofs of the wisdom and power of the Creator which are manifested in the capacity for flying with which He has endowed the various classes of birds. We shall now bring together some remarks from Dr. Roget's Bridgewater Treatise, on a subject no less wonderful,— namely, the Flight of Insects. "Others were less fortunate. The Tortue frigate, two corvettes, and four transports, were taken. The Surveillante frigate was wrecked, and a transport foundered in the bay; and a third frigate, l'Impatiente, was driven on shore near Crookhaven. The sailors "To the ultimate attainment of this faculty of determined to secure for themselves alone the means flight, it would appear," observes that able writer, of escape, leaving the soldiers to their fate. Where" that all the transformations which insects undergo such a feeling could exist, the discipline required for their own safety was not likely to be found; and all perished but seven, who were saved chiefly by the exertions of the people on shore. "Part of the fleet, having been blown out of the bay, steered for the Shannon, which had been fixed on as a rendezvous in the event of separation; but they were too few to attempt a landing, and, after waiting for a short time in hope of re-inforcement, they found it necessary to return. "The Fraternite, with the two commanders-in-chief, continued to beat against an easterly gale till the 29th, when the wind became fair for the bay. Standing towards it she fell in with the Scævola, in a sinking state, with the Resolution, 74, engaged in taking out the people. She assisted to save them, and the two ships continued their course towards Ireland, hoping to fall in with so many of the fleet as might enable them still to make a descent. But next day, not having seen any of them, and their provisions becoming short, they steered for France. On the 8th of January, they were very near eleven of their ships, which they would presently have joined, but that they altered their course, to avoid two British frigates, the Unicorn and Doris, which at the time were actually being chased by the French! Next day they again fell in with the frigates, and on the morning of the 10th they were chased by Lord Bridport's fleet, from which they narrowly escaped. On the 14th they entered Rochefort, the last of the returning ships. Such was the fate of an expedition in which nothing was neglected which foresight could suggest, and nothing wanting which ability could supply; whose fortune attended it until success might be deemed secure, and whose defeat was attended with circumstances too extraordinary to be referred to common causes. History records no event, not attended by direct miracle, in which God's providence is more strikingly displayed. The forces of atheism and popery had joined to overthrow a nation, the stronghold of Christian truth, and the bulwark of Protestant Europe. In this, so emphatically a holy war, no earthly arm was allowed to achieve the triumph. Human agency was put aside, and all human defences prostrated; and then, when the unresisted invader touched the object of his hope, the elements were commissioned against him. That the vigilance of a blockading force should be so eluded, and that unusual misfortunes should prevent a fleet from sailing till nothing remained for it do; that the enemy's two commanders should be separated from their force when it sailed, and afterwards prevented by so many well-timed casualties from rejoining it; that when the fleet had actually arrived in the destined port, half should be blown out to sea again before they could anchor, and the rest driven from their anchors before they could land their troops; that the returning ships should be prevented from meeting their commanders; and that every disappointment should just anticipate the moment of success; such a combination of circumstances it were folly and impiety to ascribe to anything less than the hand of God." in external appearance, and all the developments of their internal mechanism, are expressly directed. Wings are added to the frame only in the last stage of its completion; after it has disencumbered itself of every ponderous material that could be spared, after it has been condensed into a small compass, and after it has been perforated in all directions by airtubes, giving lightness and buoyancy to every part. Curiously folded up in the pupa, the wings there attain their full dimensions, ready to expand whenever the bandages that surround them are removed. No sooner is the insect emancipated from its confinement, than these organs begin to separate from the sides of the body, and to unfold all their parts. Their moisture rapidly evaporates, leaving the film dry and firm, so as to be ready for immediate action. The fibres form a delicate net-work for the support of this fine membrane, like the frame of the arms of a windmill, which supports the canvas spread over them. The microscope shows that these fibres are tubular, and contain air, a structure the most favourable for combining lightness with strength. "In the great majority of insects the wings are four in number. They are affixed to the most solid portion of the skeleton, which is frequently strengthened by ridges, and other mechanical contrivances for support. The shape of the wings is. more or less triangular; they are moved by numerous muscles, which occupy a large space in the interior of the trunk, forming a very complicated assemblage of moving powers. The largest, and consequently most powerful of these muscles, are those which depress, or bring down, the wings. The simple ascent and descent of the wings would be sufficient, without any other movement being imparted to them, to carry forwards the body of the insect in the air. "When the insect wishes to turn, or to pursue an oblique course, it effects its purpose very easily by striking the air with more force on one side than on the other. By exerting a force with the wings just sufficient to balance that of gravity, insects can poise themselves in the air, and hover for a length of time over the same spot, without rising or falling, advancing or retreating. "The number, form, and structure of the wings, have furnished entomologists with very convenient characters for their classification. In the COLEOPTERA, an order which comprehends by far the largest number of genera of insects, the lower pair of wings are light and membraneous, and of a texture exceedingly fine and delicate, and when fully expanded they are of great extent compared with the size of the body; they are curiously folded when not in use. For the protection of these delicate organs, the parts which correspond to the upper pair of wings of other insects, are here converted into thick, opaque, and hard plates, adapted to cover the folded membraneous wings when the insect is not flying, and thus securing them from injurious impressions, to which they might otherwise be exposed from heat See Saturday Magazine, Vol. VII., p. 134. |