your dwelling and flit about among the draperies of your
bed or window curtains; the light they emit is more brilliant than that
of the glowworm; but it is produced in the same manner from the under
part of the body. The glowworm is also frequently seen, even as late as
September, on mild, warm, dewy nights.

We have abundance of large and small beetles, some most splendid: green
and gold, rose-colour, red and black, yellow and black; some quite
black, formidably large, with wide branching horns. Wasps are not so
troublesome as in England, but I suppose it is because we cannot offer
such temptations as our home gardens hold out to these ravenous insects.

One of our choppers brought me the other day what he called a hornet's
nest; it was certainly too small and delicate a piece of workmanship for
so large an insect; and I rather conjecture that it belonged to the
beautiful black and gold insect called the wasp-fly, but of this I am
not certain. The nest was about the size and shape of a turkey's egg,
and was composed of six paper cups inserted one within the other, each
lessening till the innermost of all appeared not larger than a pigeon's
egg. On looking carefully within the orifice of the last cup, a small
comb, containing twelve cells, of the most exquisite neatness, might be
perceived, if anything, superior in regularity to the cells in the comb
of the domestic bee, one of which was at least equal to three of these.
The substance that composed the cups was of a fine silver grey silken
texture, as fine as the finest India silk paper, and extremely brittle;
when slightly wetted it became glutinous, and adhered a little to the
finger; the whole was carefully fixed to a stick: I have seen one since
fastened to a rough rail. I could not but admire the instinctive care
displayed in the formation of this exquisite piece of insect
architecture to guard the embryo animal from injury, either from the
voracity of birds or the effect of rain, which could scarcely find
entrance in the interior.

I had carefully, as I thought, preserved my treasure, by putting it in
one of my drawers, but a wicked little thief of a mouse found it out and
tore it to pieces for the sake of the drops of honey contained in one or
two of the cells. I was much vexed, as I purposed sending it by some
favourable opportunity to a dear friend living in Gloucester Place, who
took great delight in natural curiosities, and once showed me a nest of
similar