No. 79.] London Magazine: A JOURNAL OF ENTERTAINMENT AND INSTRUCTION NATURE'S WITCHCRAFT. ONE of the most distinguished cultivators of science in Paris, in the middle part of the eighteenth century, was the Abbé Nollet. He was the first to give to his countrymen a popular account of the brilliant discoveries of Newton on Light; and he was associated with Dufay in researches in Electricity, then occupying the attention of all Europe. His extensive acquirements in natural knowledge, his simple eloquence, and benevolent disposition, gained him general love and esteem. One day, at the beginning of July, 1736, he was seated in his study, preparing a lecture, when a country gentleman, a landowner of Andelis, a village on the Seine, was announced, requesting permission to ask the advice of the abbé on a point of importance. He was accompanied by several domestics, among whom was one whose pale and anxious face displayed the terrors of his mind. The gentleman briefly stated that, being in VOL. IV. Paris on business, he was surprised that morning by a visit from his gardener, with the report that his garden was bewitched, and that, if means were not taken to arrest the evil, his tenants feared the whole estate might be similarly cursed. "What leads you to suppose that your garden is bewitched?" asked the abbé. "My gardener here," said the proprietor," has brought me sundry rolls of leaves, which he says have been concealed here and there under the surface of the ground. I took them to my physician, who, though a very skilful man in his profession, was unable to explain the matter; but recommended me to apply to you as more skilled in such things than himself." "Let us see these rolls of leaves," said the abbé. Whereupon the gardener produced a small box, which he opened, and turned out upon the table some half-dozen rolls of leaves, curiously twisted into cylinders, two or three inches long. The abbé looked at them attentively, and inquired when they were found. The night before last, your reverence," said the gardener. "How did you happen to find them?" asked the abbé. Why, your reverence, I was cleaning up the garden, and, thinking the walks did not look so tidy as they ought to do, I determined to put down a little new gravel. While walking along them, and looking down, my attention was caught by a number of holes Stooping down to see the cause, I saw something green, like a leaf, sticking out. The gravel about it was very loose, and on removing some of the pebbles I saw one of these rolls. I had not to search far before I found a good many more." "And you think these rolls are the work of a witch ?" asked the abbé. "Of a witch or a sorcerer," said the gardener, "and the abbé of our village thinks so too, and recommends holy water, and I don't know what." A slight blush and a smile passed over the Abbé Nollet's face at the latter remark. Perhaps he thought the Abbé of Andelis would not be a worse cure if he knew something of natural history. "And why do you think these rolls of leaves the work of a witch, or a sorcerer?" he asked. "Oh, because I don't believe a man could make such things; and if he could, why should he bury them in master's garden, if it were not by way of a charm! The whole village is full of alarm about it, and something terrible will happen if your reverence cannot help us.' "Have you opened any of these rolls " asked the abbé. "God forbid!" exclaimed the terrified gardener, as if the very mention of the thing was as dangerous as the thing itself. "Well," said the abbé, "I strongly suspect these rolls are the work of neither witches nor sorcerers, but simply of insects, and are, in fact, nests for their young. I have in my possession some rolls not unlike these, which I know to be the work of insects. I will show them to you." The abbé then opened a cabinet, and pulled out a sliding shelf, on which various insects, their nests and eggs, were arranged; and among them was a roll similar in construction, but not of the same size, as those which had excited the terror of our honest gardener. "This," said the abbé, "is an insect's nest; now let us open one of these which have caused you so much alarm." Whereupon he pulled one apart, and a large white grub fell out before the astonished eyes of his company. The gardener's face, which before had expressed terror and dismay, now suddenly changed to delight and surprise. He rubbed his hands, laughed, and appeared like a man who had just escaped from some heavy calamity. His master exchanged a smile with the abbé, and the gardener was beginning to express his gratitude, when the abbé told him he would do him a great service, if, on his return to Andelis, he would collect as many of these nests as he could find, and pack them carefully in a box, and send them to his friend M. Réaumur, at Bercy, by the mail. This the gardener promised to do, and the party took leave of the good abbé, well pleased with the result of their visit. At an early hour the next morning, the Abbé Nollet proceeded to Bercy, in the neighbourhood of Paris, the house of his friend and benefactor, M. Réaumur, the celebrated naturalist, who was then engaged in the studies on the habits and economy of insects, which have secured to him the reputation, which still attaches to his name, of being the best observer of insects that ever lived. "You remember," said the abbé, "our conversation respecting some curious nests formed by insects c of leaves, a single specimen of which was sent me fa Martinique." "Perfectly," said Réaumur, "and I have been anxie ly looking for similar nests in our own country. My rose-trees are visited every year by some insect whi cuts out circular and oval pieces from the leaves; but have never been able to find how they are used although I have diligently dug up the ground all alt the trees, and watched for hours, both by night as w as by day." “A very odd adventure happened to me yesterday which I think will help you out of your difficulty,” s the abbé; who then related the adventure of the gas dener, and ended by placing a number of the r before the delighted naturalist. "Thanks, my kind friend," he said, and proceeded st once to examine his treasure. It consisted of a roll f leaf, or rather of several large oval pieces of leaf of the elm tree, perfectly dry and brittle; on removing the first two or three pieces, which appeared to form outer case or envelope, about half a dozen little caps were seen fitting into each other like so many thimbl the smaller end of one passing into the larger open end of the other, and forming altogether a sort of cylinder On pulling this apart, a large worm was discoverd lodged in a silken cocoon. Why, this is the nymph of a bee!" said Réaum, "and I strongly suspect that this is the nest of a solitarŢ bee hitherto unknown in this country. You have, indeed, brought me a treasure. Yes! here is a gr not so far advanced: it has not consumed all its les bread." 2 "My honest gardener has engaged to send you ser more of these nests," said the abbé; who did not plong his visit, since he saw how eager his friend was t study the specimens without interruption. It is scarcely necessary to inform the reader that ins provide for the continuance of their species by dep ing their eggs in some safe place, with food at hand: the sustenance of the young grubs as soon as they a hatched. In many cases, the parent insect constru a separate cell for each individual grub, filling it wa food, depositing a single egg in the midst of the food and then carefully sealing up the cell. In due time.--some species not before the following spring,-the is hatched and begins to consume the food provided its careful mother; it grows rapidly, and fills up i narrow cell in proportion as its food disappears. Wh nothing more is left to eat, the grub prepares for metamorphosis; it spins a silken shroud or cocess, (1) His Mémoires pour servir à l'Histoire des Insectes exten, 1: six thick quarto volumes, illustrated by numerous plates. Ther were published between 1734 and 1742, and contain the res he kept insects of all kinds, for the purpose of studying their ha numerous observations made principally in his own garden, whe metamorphoses, &c. His style is somewhat diffuse, but t city of observation, ingenuity of means, and cautious dedacti they are perfect models for the naturalist, and possess at the charms of a romance for the general reader. (2) Bee-bread is a mixture of honey and the pollen of Bow-ts. with which bees feed their young. which it entirely conceals itself, remaining perfectly otionless and without food often during the whole nter. It is now called a chrysalis, and is the transion state between a caterpillar with perhaps sixteen gs, powerful jaws, and a voracious appetite, and a nged insect with six legs and a tube or proboscis sipping the nectar of flowers, or other liquid or ey food. This is the imago or perfect insect, which ses a short but active life, employed chiefly in oviding for another generation, which she is desned never to behold; for as soon as her nest is omplete, and all her eggs deposited, she falls a victim the first cold of autumn. Such is the general outline insect existence; there are many variations, it is true, ut these need not occupy our attention here. As soon as M. Réaumur had received the promised apply of leaf nests from Andelis, he examined them ery minutely. Each roll contained six or seven little ups of equal size, all concealed under a common enelope of leaves. These cups, as already noticed, fitted nto each other, end to end, forming cells, each of which tas destined to shelter a single worm from the time of ts birth until it had attained the perfect insect form, nd containing also the proper supply of liquid honey, rbee-bread, for its nourishment. All this was done with morsels of leaf skilfully arranged without paste or lue, but simply by lapping over each other in a curved The pieces which compose each cell are of nearly the ame shape. When cut from the leaf each piece is of ourse flat, but the bee knows how to bend it to her urpose, and she even folds down a portion of each piece as to form a base to the cell. Three similar and equal ieces of a somewhat oval form are more than sufficient form a cell three lines in diameter and about six lines ong. Strength is given to the cell by making the ieces which compose it lap over each other, and they re retained in their places by the spring which they equire in drying. A cell, however, of three pieces is dot sufficiently strong to hold the grub securely, and revent the escape of its liquid food; the careful mother, therefore, folds three more pieces round the cell, and djusts them in the same manner, and sometimes three or even six more; so that it is not uncommon to find cell composed of twelve pieces of leaf, all of the same size, or nearly so, skilfully and artistically folded into the form of a hollow cup, capable of holding liquid honey. Nor is this all. The little pot of honey being placed horizontally, a cover must be provided to prevent the liquid from flowing out. As soon, therefore, as the bee has filled the cell with bee-bread, within about half line of the top, and has deposited an egg, she cuts out a circular piece of leaf and fits it accurately into the open mouth of the cell. If one does not seem sufficient, she applies another, or even a third of these circular plates, which are kept in their places by the slightly conical form of the cell. The rim of the cell projects above these covers, forming a slight hollow, into which the bee carefully inserts the base of a new cell which is finished as before; and in this way she completes a pile of six or seven cells, forming a tolerably equal cylinder. Lastly, she covers up these cells with an envelope formed of larger pieces of leaf than those previously used, and thus the nest is complete. M. Réaumur found the bee-bread in the cells to be of a reddish colour, of a sweet yet acid taste, and as fluid as honey. Quand on sait ce que l'on doit chercher à voir, et où on le peut voir, on a une grande avance pour y parenr, thought M. Réaumur on entering his garden, after having carefully examined the nests of the leaf-cutter hee. He examined his rose-trees, and found that portions had been cut out of the leaves exactly correspond ing to the sections which composed the nests. He therefore determined to watch during several hours at different parts of the day, in hopes of seeing the insect at work. He had not long to wait, for, about noon on the second day of his watch, he observed a bee alight on a shrub near the rose-bush to which he chiefly directed his attention, and, apparently finding every thing quiet, the insect came over to the rose-bush, placed herself beneath a leaf, seized with her two mandibles the edge nearest to her, and cut it as easily as with a pair of scissors, advancing first towards the principal nervure of the leaf, and then sweeping round again to its edge, soon detached a piece, with which she flew away. All this was done with as much rapidity as one could cut out a similar piece from a sheet of paper with a pair of good scissors. M. Réaumur did not see this operation repeated more than two or three times during this season; but, in the following spring, no sooner were his rose-trees in leaf, than he cast an eye upon them every time he went into his garden, and, as soon as any of the leaves had been cut, he began to watch them: this was about the end of May, and he soon had the satisfaction of frequently witnessing the little artisans at work in collecting sections of leaves for their nests. During this season he made an immense number of observations, from which we select the following general remarks: When a bee arrives at a rose-bush, it generally hovers over it for some seconds as if to select a leaf. In the very act of alighting she seizes it between her mandibles, and begins to cut, not ceasing until the whole piece is detached. As the piece is cut, the bee bends it between her legs, and, when in the act of separating it from the leaf, she vibrates her wings; then, giving the final cut, she falls through a few inches, recovers herself, and flies merrily away. The facility and precision with which she cuts the different pieces, the oval, the semi-oval, and the circular, varying their size according to circumstances, are truly wonderful; without any guide but the instinct with which the Almighty has furnished her, she cuts out geometric figures in a position which one would think most disadvantageous to correct workmanship. Without rule or measure, and even without seeing the line along which she cuts, she is able to tell at a distance from her nest the exact size of the little circular lids to her honey pots, and also to adjust the varying dimensions of the oval pieces for the cells, and for their common envelope. But, before the little insect begins to form her nest, she must excavate a tunnel in the earth for its reception, This is a work of great labour, in which she is entirely unassisted (the male taking no part in the concerns of the household): she has to dig and to remove much loose earth before a nicely rounded cylinder is completed, proper to mould the leaves to the necessary degree of curvature. This being done, M. Réaumur supposed her proceedings to go on in the following order: she first lines the tunnel with leaves, which, in fact, form the outer case or envelope of the pile of cells already noticed. Entering the tunnel with the piece folded between her legs, she spreads it out, pressing it carefully against the sides; she repeats this process many times, always using large oval pieces, until a very compact lining is formed. She then proceeds to construct the first cell at the bottom of this tube, and, having completed it, goes out to collect the nectar of flowers, covering herself at the same time with pollen; she elaborates the one in her stomach into honey, and disgorging it into the cell mixes the other with it, thus forming her bee-bread. She next deposits an egg, and then once more visits the tree to cut out a disk of leaf, with which she stops up the cell. This cell being completed, and not before, a second is begun and finished in like manner, then a third, and so on until the whole is finished. Although a great number of bees flew away every day with their segments of leaves, M. Réaumur had not as yet succeeded in tracing the locality of any one nest. Were he able to follow a bee to her home he would not be able, it is true, to watch her proceedings in her dark abode; yet, by examining the nest when about half finished, some new circumstances might be developed tending to confirm the view taken of the course of the insect's proceedings in constructing her nest. M. Réaumur was one day at Charenton, watching, with the patience of a naturalist, a bee excavating a tunnel for her nest, when, happening to raise his eyes to the surface of a terrace near him, he saw something green disappear in a crack between two badly joined stones. On cautiously approaching the spot he saw fly out therefrom a bee of a larger size than the rose-leaf cutters. She flew to a young chesnut-tree ten or twelve feet off, and cut out a large oval piece, with which she returned. She was soon out again for another piece, and in less than half an hour had made more than twelve excursions, returning laden each time. circumstances. It may also be stated that the grub is quite white; that its cocoon consists of a thick solid silk attached to the sides of the cell. The exterior of the cocoon is of a coffee-brown colour, but the interior is a fine whitish silk, smooth and lustrous, like satin. So that, should the leaves become damp and decay, the cocoons afford a warm and dry abode, in which the i sect, in one of its states of worm, nymph, or perfect fit, passes the whole of the winter. C. T. SOME PASSAGES FROM THE JOURNAL OF As none of the pieces which the bees had cut were circular, M. Réaumur judged that the nest was only just begun, and that no cell was yet finished. He therefore [GOLDSMITH'S Vicar of Wakefield was first printed in determined to examine the work, to see if an outer case London in the year 1772. This circumstance, but little or envelope was really made first, as he supposed. The stones (below one of which the nest was situated) were interesting to the generality of his readers, is merely covered with a grassy turf some inches thick, which mentioned, because it is possible that celebrated auth being removed, he gently disengaged one of the stones, took the first idea of his work from the British Magazine choosing for the purpose the moment when the bee had of 1766, which contains the Journal, or, more property quitted the nest, after having remarked that her jour-speaking, some Extracts from the Journal of a poor neys occupied more and more time. As soon as the Wiltshire Curate. The editor of the British Magazin stone was removed, the pieces of leaf were seen rolled up into a sort of tube which immediately sprung open assures the reader of the undoubted authenticity of the when relieved from pressure, because, not having had Extracts, which are not indebted for any of their beauty time to dry, they still retained their natural elasticity. to poetical additions or embellishments. It was, however, perfectly evident, that nothing but the outer case or envelope of the nest was as yet prepared. M. Réaumur put everything in order as well as he could, removed some of the loose earth which had fallen among the leaf cuttings, and carefully replaced the stone. He had not time to replace the turf when the bee arrived: she had no sooner entered her nest than she darted out, doubtless in alarm and amazement at the disorder and confusion in which she found her household. Soon, however, she took courage, and returned; and began to repair the damage, removing the loose carth by pushing it out with her hind legs. M. Réaumur watched her till eight o'clock in the evening, when he was obliged to return to Paris. At the end of two days he returned to Charenton expressly to see how the little architect was getting on with her nest. He arrived at about five o'clock in the evening, and saw her enter the chink without carrying any leaf; he therefore thought it probable she was bringing in a supply of bee-bread. After she had gone out and returned two or three times without conveying any leaf, M. Réaumur removed the stone and found the nest now to consist of a tube nearly five inches in length. The leaves did not burst open as on the former occasion, for they had taken in drying a permanent bend. On introducing a straw at the open end, it penetrated only to the third of its length, the remaining two thirds being evidently occupied with cells. The stone was again carefully readjusted; but the bee, on returning, was evidently aware that all was not quite right, for she flew out in evident alarm; gradually, however, she took courage, and returned to her nest, which in due time was filled with the usual number of cells. It is, however, difficult to establish this authenticity upon any other grounds than inward conviction; and the kind reader is therefore requested to peruse these extracts, in all faith and confidence; perhaps he may, sufficiently pleased with them to regret that they are! but extracts.] December 15, 1764.-This day I received from D. Snarl, my rector, the sum of ten pounds sterling, being the amount of my half year's salary; but even th's hardly-earned pittance was not obtained without under doing much mortification. After waiting for throw quarters of an hour, I was at last shown into the recrs study. He was sitting in a large arm-chair at s writing table; my money was ready counted out beside him. He replied to my salute by a majestic nod, jui removing for an instant the black silk cap which cover his head. Certainly, there is a great deal of digu about him; I always feel somehow as if I was afrai him. I do not think I should feel more awe in the pr sence of the king himself. The rector pointed to the money; and my heart beat powerfully when I attempte to give utterance to a request for a slight increase i my miserable salary. Although this request had been prepared, and I had almost learned by rote th words in which I intended it should be proffered, ye my unconquerable mauvaise honte (which gives the feelings of a criminal, even when doing the m innocent things) quite overcame me. I stammered, i trembled; thrice I began in vain; voice and men both deserted me: large drops of perspiration stool upon my forehead. "What is it you wish for?" said the rector, in a most condescending manner. manage to live." "Small income, Sir!-What are you talking about Why, I could find another curate for fifteen pounds a-year, any day I pleased!" Such is the history of the leaf-cutter bee, for the "What I wish is.... every thing is so dear.... knowledge of which we are indebted, first, to the sim-with my small income, in these bad times, I can scarcely plicity of the gardener of Andelis, next to the enlightened and benevolent Abbé Nollet, and lastly, to the genius and skill of M. Réaumur; and it is highly creditable to this naturalist, to be able to state, that he made this history so complete, that little or nothing has been added to it. Mr. Newport has recorded a curious fact of one of these bees, which, being about to construct her nest in a brick wall, and finding the hole uneven, first carefully lined it with cotton, thus proving that the insect can vary its proceedings according to "For fifteen pounds !-Well, if he has no family he might possibly manage to live upon it; but...." "I imagine your family is not increased, Sir? You have but two daughters ?" "No, Sir, but they are growing up. Jane, the eldest is not eighteen, and her sister Polly is twelve years old. "So much the better. Can't the girls work for themselves?" I was going to answer, but he interrupted me, rose from his seat, walked towards the window, and, tapping the glass as he spoke, said, "Well, I have no more time to waste. Consider whether you will retain the curacy with a salary of fifteen pounds a year, and let me know. If not, I wish you a better curacy by New-year's Day." He bowed civilly, and raised again his cap. I gathered up my money, and took my leave. I was ompletely thunderstruck. Never before had he reeived me so coldly, or dismissed me so hastily. Doubtess, he must have heard something to my disadvantage. He never even offered me any luncheon, as he had alrays done hitherto, and I had reckoned upon it, for I eft Cricklade early without breakfasting, and now felt aint and tired; however, I bought some bread in the own; and that was sufficient till I got home again. How subdued and disappointed I felt, as I retraced my teps! I wept like a child!-the bread I was eating Fas moistened with my tears!.... At last, I roused nyself: "For shame!" I exclaimed; "shame upon this weakness! Is this your trust in God? What more ould you do had you lost the curacy itself? It is but reduction of five pounds! though that is one-fourth of your little income, which must support three people; and though it is but a diminution of a few pence daily, till it will deprive us of some of our little comforts! And what then?-He who clothes the lilies of the field, He who feeds the young ravens, will not desert us!" December 16.-Truly, my Jenny is an angel! Her mind is still more lovely than her person. I am quite shamed to see her so much better, so much more truly pious than myself. I had not courage yesterday to tell the children of our misfortune. When at last I mentioned it to them, Jane became very serious; then smiling sweetly, "Do not be uneasy, dearest father," said she. Not uneasy!" No, indeed, you must not." My poor child, how can we ever avoid debt 'and want? I know not which way to turn. We want so many things-and fifteen pounds will scarcely give us bread!" Instead of answering, Jane put one arm softly round my neck, and, pointing with the other to Heaven, said, There, father-there we shall find help!" My little Polly seated herself upon my knees, and, stroking my face, said, "Do let me tell you a dream I had last night. I thought it was New-year's Day, and that the king, mounted on horseback, with all his court, came to our door. There was a piece of work! What a noise of drums and trumpets! What a clatter and confusion! Then we all set to work to roast and bake However, the king had brought his own food in gold and silver dishes, and, when it was served, what should they bring in upon a crimson velvet cushion, but a golden mitre for you, just such a one as is on the bishop's head, in the pictures in the old Bible. You looked very well in it, though I was ready to die with laughter when you put it on. Just then Jenny woke me, which made me very angry. There must be some meaning in such a dream, particularly when it only Wants a fortnight to the new year." "Pooh! nonsense, child!" said I. folly!" "Dreams are all But," she answered, “ dreams come from God." I cannot help thinking so too, sometimes; so I have noted this one down, to see if it was really sent to console us. It is very possible we may receive some Newyear's gift, which may be welcome to us all! I have passed this whole day in calculating, though it is an employment I detest. All money matters puzzle my head, and leave my heart barren and empty, yet very heavy. shillings; so that I have only two pounds, nine shil- weekly paper which I have been in the habit of taking has bought an excellent second-hand winter dress from told him yesterday that I must give up the newspaper, What a worthy man is Westburn, the bookseller! I sure of retaining the curacy itself. He shook me kindly because I had lost part of my income, and was not even by the hand, and said, "But I will continue to take it in, and you, my revered friend, will do me the favour of reading it as before." One should never be tempted to despair; there are many more good men in the world than one thinks; and full as many may be met with among the poor, as among the rich. Same Day. Evening.-The baker is a hard-hearted found fault with it for being under weight, and badly man after all! The last time Polly went for bread, she baked; this offended him so bitterly, that he called her all manner of names, and ended by desiring she would tell me, although I am no longer a sixpence in his debt, that he would not serve me upon credit, and that we might get our bread elsewhere. Poor Polly! We had enough to do to console her! I cannot make out how the inhabitants of Cricklade get all their news. Every one in the village says that Dr. Snarl is going to put another curate in my place. It would be the death of me! The butcher must have heard something of it. But for that, he never would and to tell me that, in future, he could only sell his have sent his wife to me, to complain of the hard times, repeated many times how greatly she esteemed and remeat for ready money. The woman was very civil, and spected us. She advised us to try Smith, for the small (1) It must be remembered that our curate had probably a provision of corn meal, dried vegetables, fruit, and other necessaries December 17.-God be praised! All my debts are |