in two flexible lips. This organ by itself, however, would not cut the skin. The poison is injected through the proboscis into the wound; but the incisions into which it is poured are first made by six tiny lancets found on the lip in the form of bristles. Six holes made by one insect, be they never so tiny, and with poison in them, are calculated to make men dread a swarm of mosquitos or gnats. Indeed, in some parts of South America, the natives bury their bodies in sand instead of going to bed, leaving only

the face above ground, and covering even that with a

cloth, in order to put them

EGGS OF THE GNAT (magnified). selves out of reach of the dreaded insects. The tiny, delicate, membranous proboscis of the mosquito has even been known to penetrate thick clothes and leather boots.

In India the richer native inhabitants and Europeans cover in their sleeping- couches with curtains. The poorer Hindoos seek to keep off these pests, and nullify the effects of the sting, by saturating their bodies with oil.

The female gnat has long hind-legs, which she finds very useful in gathering her eggs and sticking them together while their glutinous outer covering is still undried. They are deposited on the surface of shallow water, and collected into the shape of a tiny boat, which is left floating, tethered to the bottom of the pool by a silken thread.

In a very short time the hairy little larvæ come forth to disport themselves in the cool waters. Very active they are during this brief period of their existence, darting hither and thither under the water in

search of animal food, which is generally very plentiful, in the shape of minute insects, and now and again rising to the surface for a breath of air.

Anyone who has watched them will notice that

they almost invariably swim with their tails upwards. Even when they come to the surface, the head is not put out of the water, but it is the other extremity which is thrust into the air for a second.

How then does the wee creature breathe? Well, through a hole or spiracle in its tail.

This happy but shortlived experience of a voracious appetite, fully satisfied with the most palatable food it could desire, soon ends, and the larvæ next turns into the nymph state, which, although active and full of life, is incapable of taking nourishment.

The nymph looks much like the perfect insect rolled up in a kind of transparent veil. It generally floats near the surface of the water, and exposes its back to the air, the reason of this being that the spiracles, or breathing-holes, are now situated on the top of the thorax.

When the time arrives

for the perfect insect to emerge from its membranous covering, the nymph floats on the top of the water. The sun causes the skin to dry and split down the back. Very gradually and carefully the gnat issues from its cast-off garment; for should the skin, which serves as a boat on which the insect may stand, capsize before the gnat has dried its wings, and prepared itself for its first flight, the small atom so full of life tumbles into the water, which has till now been its native element, and is lost for ever. In windy weather many gnats perish in this way, and perhaps we should not be very sorry if a larger number so ended their existence before they entered upon their stinging career.

"When by the greenwood side at summer's eve,
Poetic visions charm my closing eye;

*

Now nearer and nearer rush thy whirring wings,
Thy dragon scales still wet with human gore;
Hark! thy shrill horn its fearful 'larum rings—
I wake in horror, and dare sleep no more."

ANTENNA OF GNAT (magnified).

NATURE'S SCAVENGERS.

How seldom it is that a dead bird is found! There is something so pathetic in the sight of the little feathered creature lying cold and still, with its plumage unkempt, and its bright eye broken in death, its pretty chirp or glorious song silent for ever, its wings folded to its sides, its delicate legs lengthened out, and its clinging claws drawn up, that one does not even care to think of, much less to behold, such a picture. Yet birds must die, and, in spite of the nursery rhyme which gives such an elaborate account of the death and burial of "Poor Cock Robin," it must be asserted that they are seldom buried.

What horrible fields of putrefaction our beautiful copses would become were all the bodies of the animals who are constantly dying, left to decay among the green herbage!

How, then, does Mother Nature keep her carpet pure? She employs scavengers-scavengers of often