while he is captivating us by the prismatic hues, in which he sets many-coloured life before us. But we are not only puzzled to imagine who could have written these works, but surprised at the variety of agreeable pictures which they contain of a class of society, whose peculiarities have long been gradually vanishing. We scarcely imagined that, in this degenerate age, the world of fashion had enough of prominent characteristics left to furnish one volume without carica ture or scandal. Time was when it had a romance of its own; when its heights required, no mean ambition to reach them; and when its glittering honours were bright enough almost to reward a life of assiduity and toil. Then infinite airs and graces were requisite to retain a supremacy of fashion; then courtesy had something in it of the ideal; then airy wit and delicate raillery were native to the drawing-room as to the stage; then the art of dress was really one of the fine arts, and excellence in it was almost a proof of genius. Then a masquerade was a temporary revival of the age of chivalry. What a magnificent scene was exhibited at every ball-what rich brocades, what high sparkling stomachers, what grand circumference of hoop, what looks of young beauty, heightened by the antique richness of the draperies, what stately pyramids of head-dress, what generous restraints of curl! Then the gracious unbendings of the lofty dowager, and the rarely bestowed smile of the toast of all the wits-were they not worth dressing or fighting for? The entrance of a young lady into the world, was an event then which excited as much flutter of expectation as the appearance of a novel by the author of Waverley," or a poem of Lord Byron, does in these literary times;-and deserved it as well. Then taste was not banished to circulating libraries; nor had elegance taken refuge in books, and become a dead letter. Now, alas! the height of indifference is the height of fashion ; the art of dress affords no scope for high fantasy; courtesy is out of date; and the refinements of gallan 66 try are tales of old! The democratic spirit of the times may, in some degree, be attributed to the change. When the people, at their public places of resort enjoyed the spectacle of rank and beauty, fitly apparelled in visible splendours, they were proof against arguments on the natural equality of the species. The divinity that did hedge the aristocracy of the higher orders, was too palpable to be disputed. The eye was fed with high pageantry in repayment for the taxes. Now the higher orders have not only resigned the distinctions of dress, but have ceased to visit the scenes where they formerly condescended to receive and to communicate pleasure. They long ago deserted Ranelagh— they have almost cut the opera-and they have quite cut the theatre," which is the unkindest cut of all." It was a glorious spectacle to see the boxes waving with feathers, and glittering with gems; to perceive sympathy making its way through the rich folds of the stomacher; to see the fairest eyes suffused in tears "which sacred pity had engendered there;" to feel at once all the distinctions of rank and all the community of nature, the high privileges of station, which were a treasure to the imagination, and the higher rights of humanity, which were set mantling in the heart. Surely this was better than moving in cold private circles without the joy of being admired or excited-than lounging at a French play, or going to sleep at a concert of Italian music! In such a state of society the production of these volumes required no small length of observation, and no low degree of ingenuity and of skill. For though, as we have already hinted, they are not confined to that elevated class of which the author is evidently a member, the far larger portion of them is devoted to its splendid circles: all the varieties which it presents its airiest vanities and minutest charms-are seized by the author, and pourtrayed in their most delicate shades. The Hermit " in the Country," indeed, catches as he ought more of sentiment than in London, and extends his views of humanity with his horizon. He is medi tative on the seacost, jovial in Scotland, and poetical in Britanny. The good nature of his remarks every where is as conspicuous as his good sense; and his Sketches will, we think, be almost as instructive as they are amusing. We shall give a specimen of the author's serious style. LEAVING HOME. "I had just completed my eighteenth year, when I received orders to join my regiment for the first time. The sash and gorget, the maiden sword, scarlet cloth and gold lace, had all their weight and attractions for me. I contemplated the empire which I should have over hearts, and the preference which I had so often felt mortified at wanting,at a ball, or in a country circle; I expected to live with the best fellows in the world, to see a great variety of scenes, to be ever amused, ever changing quarters, to dance as it were through life, to the tune of the merry fife and drum, and to leave care and gloomy reflection always a day's march behind me ; but above all, I longed to see the world, to be free, to be an uncontrolled agent,—in a word, to be my own master. I had gone through the classics with some degree of attention, was a pretty good dancer, could play a little on the flute, rode boldly, had read history, was a good shot,and considered myself, upon the whole, a decent sort of fellow, particularly as the maid servants called me handsome, and the village surgeon's daughter had eyed me with some degree of interest. I had now been looking for myself in the gazette for six weeks; and not a little proud was I to see myself in print, for the first time. My next impatience was to be ordered to headquarters; and, when the order came, I was in the highest possible spirits. The night before I set out on my journey, I scarcely slept a wink. Young Phaeton, when importuning his father for the reins of that chariot which was fatal to his existence, was not more anxious than 1 was, on this occasion; nor, when he asked that sire to grant his boon, as a pledge of the love which he bore to his mother-" Pignora da Genitor, etc." could he seek it in a more eager tone than I inquired “if tomorrow was the day on which I was to set out?" And yet I tenderly loved my parents. I was an only child, their prop and stay: I could not love them more than they deserved. The whole village too shared my affections: I felt the relative ties of humanity and good will; of brotherhood and connexion with all my neighbours,-domestics and all. I bad even a tenderish feeling for the fire-side animals of the paternal roof, the poor old pointer, the dowager spaniel, Duchess, the invalid cat, and my mother's pet-bullfinch. Yes, had rather not had to feel the "good bye to ye." The shooting poney, I recommended to Robert's care; and my setter,-poor Trusty! accompanied me through many a varied and uneven path. Night came, and her mantle sat uneasily on me. I felt almost a woman's weakness as I sunk upon that mother's breast, where I drew my first love, mingled with the stream of life; but I tried to be the soldier; and, after one dewy kiss, resolved not to see her in the morning. My father was to accompany me a part of the road; and the thought of this was a relief to me. As I drew on my regimental boots, the only article of military uniform which I wore on my journey, I felt an elevation of mind, and seemed as if I were already fit to command a company. But my satisfaction was not without alloy: I had the Dulce Domum to quit; I had the village to look on, perhaps for the last time; I had to shake hands with the poor servants, some of whom had borne my helpless infant form in their arms. This was trying. I whistled a march; but it was more like a dirge; I tried a country dance: it was out of tune. I sent the cook to knock at my father's door, an hour earlier than agreed on; for time now seemed loaded with a weight of care; and I resolved, albeit I was proud of my appearance, not to be seen by my kind neighbours. I therefore gave keepsakes to all the servants, and wrote a letter for the surgeon's daughter. My dear father appeared it was a great ease to my state of mind. I shook him heartily by the hand, tried to look gay, and brushed over the threshold of the door. The old nurse insisted upon kissing me: she was aged and ugly, but a good woman, and somehow she had a right to this embrace. I gave it her heartily, looking, however, jealously around: nobody saw me but the family, else should I have blushed. "The Captain to kiss an ugly old woman! fie for shame." We were now at the end of the village. I dreaded the sight of my mother at the window; so I never looked back until out of sight of the house. I was now to take a last look at this rustic assemblage of houses. They danced tremulously in a tear, in my eye; but I cleared up with such a hoarse and monstrous hem that the echo of the church-yard, which returned it to me, terrified me with the sound. -All this time my father and I had not exchanged a word; he looked thoughtful, and as if he had had a sleepless night.. The morning was beautiful, and I never saw my native scene in such glowing colours before. There seemed to be a peculiar grace in the antique belfry of the church; and the stiff sepulchral yews were gilded with the sun-beam. Obituary sculpture might have caused me some serious reflection. But my mind dwelt not on the past; nor were any doubts and fears as to the future, unfolded to my view. How many a departed bliss now leaves but its monumental memento in my heart! how many prospects have vanished like the days of my ancestors! how many a brave comrade in arms now lies in his narrow bed, and upon his earthy pillow!—but let us return to my father. "We had better dismount and walk a little," said he to me, in a kind affectionate tone." The weather is beautifully fine; we have a long day be fore us; and I can return in the cool of the evening. I should like to have as much of your company as I can; and you will not always have your old father for your companion." We alighted accordingly, and gave our horses to the servant who had charge of my luggage. I was to proceed in the mail from the first stage. We now turned off the high road, and skirted a beautiful wood, crossed some adjacent fields, and pursued the course of the river, by the foot-path for some miles.-My father folded his arm in mine with a peculiar degree of friendship, familiarity, and tenderness; and I never hung on the discourse of any one with so much attention, either before or since. He evidently tried to amuse my mind, and to cheat the way and beguile the time by his conversation; and he succeeded to a charm. We saw the vertical sun ere we thought morning midway gone; and his declining ray surprized us ere we thought it two hours after. "Let us dine together, my dear boy," said he, with so much of the good fellow in his air and accent, that I regretted that he was not more my own age, and going to join the army with me. I assented with delight. "There is scarcely any night," said he, "now; and I must ride home the harder for it," 66 Thrice had he essayed to part with me, before this proposal: I saw the motion pass in his mind; but his heart failed him; his steps hung on mine, and his, affections lingered with me, and were loth to part. He looked at his watch on alighting from his pony, as much as to say, a short walk, and then." Next, when fatigued, he sat down on a bank, and seemed determined to shake hands, and to bid adieu ;-but he could not. He then remounted, and proposed riding on to dinner, in the cool of the evening. My heart placed all these debts of gratitude to his account. He had another object, however, in this confidential walk; in this protracted journey together. He wished to give me a great deal of good advice. and that advice was offered and delivered to me more like a brother and a comrade, a companion and a friend, than a parent, or one set in authority over me, more like the man prone to error and failing like myself, than one to whom age and experience had given so decided a superiority. On how many useful subjects did he give me his cool and unpresuming counsel! How fraught with bonour, sentiment, and delicacy were his paternal admonitions ! In how many instances of life have his precepts and warnings, upheld and prevented me from evil! How often has a retrospect of that happy hour been a benefit to me in my passage through life! We parted, precipitately at last; for the mail-coach-horn relieved us from those achings of the bosom which a first separation from those who are dear to us naturally produces. That parent, alas! is now no more! I have been the support of his sad relict; but I have no longer that brotherly father to hang upon my arm, to pledge me in the convivial cup, to interest himself in every circumstance concerning my welfare in this chequered scene of life, nor to recur to, for advice, in difficulty or distress. Often have I, in different climates and novel scenes, in distant and in doubtful circumstance, pondered upon this opening scene of life, with a melancholy sensibility, which has mingled sweets and bitterness so intimately together, that not to have been sad, would be double wretchedness, since sadly sweet was the very essence of reflection. Even at the moment that I am writing these lines, it seems as if my father's shade hovered near me-as if I were wrapt and covered all over in affection's mantle. Farewell, dear scenes! I shall never behold ye more! yet must memory itself perish, ere ye fade from the heart of THE HERMIT IN THE COUNTRY. From the London Time's Telescope. NATURAL HISTORY OF INSECTS: CLASSIFICATION. We wonder at a thousand insect forms, VARIOUS arrangements of insects have been made by naturalists, the principal of which we shall just glance at before we proceed to explain the Linnean systein. Swammerdam and Ray founded their arrangements on the different changes which insects undergo, and distribute them into four great divisions, agreeably to the different forms under which they appear; Valisnieri has also distributed them into four orders, but according to their habitation; arranging together in one group such as inhabit plants; placing in another, those that live in the water; and in a third, such as conceal themselves under the earth or sand; reserving for his last division, those that inhabit the bodies of other animals. All those systems are defective, in having too few divisions of a class of animals so extremely numerous; the last, however, is liable to an imperfection of another kind, because many insects change their habitation at the moment of their metamorphosis. Some are at first aquatic, but, after their transformation, are seen inbabiting the trees and plants; many of the subterraneous insects in like manner rise into the air as soon as they arrive at their winged state. The system of Fabricius is built upon the extraordinary variety which exists in the structure of the mouth in differBut the distincent tribes of insects, tion is not sufficiently obvious for a Other naturalgeneral classification. ists have thrown out from the province of insects many of those introduced into the apterous order of Linnæus. This has been especially done by Cuvier and Latreille, who have formed a new and an eighth order of of plants. ORDER I.-COLEOPTERA. Some a twofold apparatus share, Brooke. The Coleoptera have a hollow horny case, under which the wings are folded when not in use. The principal genera are:-1. Scarabæus, beetles.-2. Lucanus, stag-beetle.-3. Der mestes.-4. Coccinella, lady-bird.—5. Curculio, weevil.-6. Lampyris, glowworm.-7. Meloe, Spanish fly.-8. Staphylinus.-9. Forficula, ear-wig. Like other winged insects, all the beetles live for some time in the form of caterpillars, or grubs: See the proud giant of the beetle race; It is here worthy of remark, that the same animals, when in the state of caterpillars, live in a different manner, and feed on substances of a very different kind from those they consume after their transformation into flies. The caterpillars of the garden-beetle, cockchafer, &c. lead a solitary life, under ground, and consume the roots 3N ATHENEUM VOL. 7. Those of others feed upon putrid carcases, every kind of flesh, dried skins, rotten wood, dung, and the small insects called pucerons, or vine-fretters. But after their transformation into flies, many of the same animals, which formerly fed upon dung and putrid carcases, are nourished by the purest nectareous juices extracted from fruits and flowers. The creatures themselves, with regard to what may be termed individual animation, have suffered no alteration. But the fabric of their bodies, their instruments of motion,and the organs by which they take their food, are materially changed. This change of structure, tho' the animals retain their identity, produces the greatest diversity in their manners, their economy,and the powers of their bodies. The scarabæus melolontha, or common chaffer, well known in this and other countries, flies at dusk with a rash and noisome impulse; lives upon the first budding leaves of the elm tree, and, when caught, is often tormented by children, who, placing a paper fixed with a pin at one of their legs, enjoy the cruel pleasure to see them turn pity, that in our earliest days we are round a piece of wood! It is a great not properly taught, that pleasure to one of the creation should never be sought out of the pain felt by another. There is a sort of barbarity in tormenting animals, which is too often indulged in infants, and is generally the sad prognostic of a tyrannical disposition, which grows and increases by degrees. Who ever thought that the boy, who, in the palace of the Cæsars, amused himself with the innocent pastime of torturing common flies with a mother to death, and set fire to the impin, would, when a man, order his perial town of Rome? In these puerile trifles were concealed the dreadful stamina of the most execrable and most wanton cruelty. transformation, live even in a different Many caterpillars, previous to their element. The ephemeron fly, when in the caterpillar state, lives no less than |
