this, Mr. S. that, a man one, a woman | another, and so on. The idea of making is familiar, for she makes some things herself. Then, a number of natural objects were presented her, such as minerals, fruits, flowers, plants, vegetables; and she was told that neither this friend nor that acquaintance made any of them; that neither men nor women made them. The hope was entertained that her curiosity would be excited, and that a way might be discovered to convey to her mind the great idea of the Almighty Creator. The attempt was not successful; and though several times repeated, has not as yet resulted in exciting her mind, fixing her attention, or giving us any encouraging indications.

Her days pass with very little of incident, or variety, yet there is enough of both, which comes to her knowledge in so large a family, to furnish materials for reflection, and to call out in some degree her feelings towards others. If sickness or accident occur, she is told of it. If a journey is to be taken or a new pupil is received, she is early informed of it. If any member of the establishment loses a friend, if any interesting event happens, either of a joyous or afflictive nature, it is mentioned to poor Julia, and produces an appropriate, though transient effect. The birth of a child in the circle of her acquaintance is always an event of particular interest to her, and she is desirous of improving the earliest opportunity to visit and examine it for herself. This she does, when permitted, with great care and tenderness.

During the warm season, the concourse of visitors to the Asylum is very great; often amounting to fifty or more persons in a day, for weeks together. Almost all desire to see Julia, and in gratifying this desire, she is often disturbed in her pursuits, her plans for the day are broken up, and her patience is severely tried. Under these circumstances, her deportment is sometimes less amiable than her friends could desire; but on the whole, not more, indeed much less faulty than those would expect, who have a full view of her circumstances.

Many more facts and anecdotes might be mentioned in regard to this most unfortunate young woman, were it not for the fear of extending her story to too great a length. Enough has been said to show in some degree the real condition of her imprisoned mind, and to

gratify in part, it is hoped, the curiosity so extensively felt concerning her. Should any greater success attend the efforts made hereafter for her improvement, or should any thing occur concerning her, calculated to shed light upon the phenomena of mind, or particularly to interest the mental philosopher or the Christian, the facts will, no doubt, be given to the public.

ON THE COCHINEAL AND LAC INSECTS.

WHILE engaged in examining a collection of foreign insects, we were naturally led to reflections upon the utility of these beings to man, not only indirectly, from the part assigned them in maintaining the balance of creation, but directly, in as far as either themselves or their products are subservient to his benefit, or minister to his wants. Silk, honey, and wax are familiar examples of the useful products of insects; we may also allude to the nut-gall, which, though vegetable, requires the aid of an insect for its production; being in fact a diseased excrescence on the leaves of a species of oak, quercus infectoria, common throughout Asia Minor, and resulting from the introduction of an egg beneath the cuticle of the leaf, by a species of fly, cynips. The excrescence immediately begins to grow, and in it is hatched and lives the caterpillar, undergoing the usual transformations. In nutgalls, the astringent and general properties of the oak are highly concentrated; their importance in dyeing black, and in making ink are well known. The use of the Spanish fly, cantharis vesicatoria, in medicine all are acquainted with, but many others are possessed of the same properties, and are used, some in America, others in China, and Ceylon, in their place. There are, however, among the numbers we might instance as valuable to man, two small insects of great importance, as regards the arts of civilized life, the history of which is but little known; a few details, therefore, respecting them will, no doubt, prove acceptable. The insects to which we allude are the cochineal and the lac insects.

Cochineal, we need hardly state, is used as a dye, producing the most beautiful scarlet; but, besides its importance to the dyer, it is used for various purposes, where its colouring matter is required. It is a most important article of

commerce, and long before its introduc- | tion by way of traffic into Europe, had been employed by the natives of Mexico, the country where it is alone cultivated. The appearance of cochineal is that of a shrivelled grain, of a dark purplish hue, and covered with a white bloom; hence, for two centuries after it became known, about the year 1518, its true nature was not ascertained; it was generally supposed to be the seed of some plant, till microscopic observations and direct information combined to dispel the mystery.

Cochineal is an insect closely allied to the Aphides which we see so abundant on rose trees, or geraniums; feeding in the same manner on the succulent shoots of a peculiar kind of fig, called in Mexico nopal. Hence plantations of this fig are kept up for the sake of the insect produce; and from the name of the figs are usually called nopaleries. Kirby says that cochineal, coccus cacti, is 'chiefly cultivated in the Intendency of Оахаса ; and some plantations contain fifty or sixty thousand nopals in lines, each being kept about four feet high, for more easy access in collecting the dye. The cultivators prefer the most prickly varieties of the plant as affording protection to the cochineal from insects; to prevent which, from depositing their eggs in the flower, or fruit, both are carefully cut off. The greatest quantity, however, of cochineal employed in commerce is produced in small nopaleries, belonging to Indians of extreme poverty, called nopaleros. They plant their nopaleries in cleared ground, on the slopes of mountains or ravines, two or three leagues distant from their villages, and, when properly cleaned, the plants are in a condition to maintain the cochineal in the third year." The mode of procuring a stock, is by purchasing, in the market of Oaxaca, twigs laden with young cochineal insects, which, after a careful nursing of several months, till about to re-produce themselves, are then distributed among the nopals. The first gathering takes place in about four months from this period, which is in August or September. Two more gatherings, usually the most productive, succeed during the ensuing course of the year; the gathering is performed by the Indian women, and requires great care and patience. It is done by means of squirrels' or stags' tails, with which the insects are brushed off the twigs and stems. After being

thus collected, they are killed, either by exposing them to the heat of the sun, or by immersion in boiling water, or by placing them in ovens. Humboldt informs us that the quantity at present annually exported from South America, amounts to 32,000 arrobas, their worth 500,040 pounds sterling. Dr. Bancroft estimates the present annual consumption of cochineal in Great Britain at about 750 bags, or 150,000lbs., worth, at the present price, £375,000. Although the East India Company have offered a reward of £6000 to any one who shall introduce it into India, no success has yet attended any effort, an uncultivated and very inferior kind from Brazil being the only sort hitherto procured. Such is the importance, then, of this little insect, whence, as Kirby says, we may learn "the absurdity of despising any animals on account of their minuteness, remembering that they, as well as the hugest elephant, are the work of His hands, in whose eyes there is neither great nor small, and whose power is alike displayed in every part of the domain of

nature.

LAC is a resinous substance, largely imported from India, where it is found in great abundance adhering to various trees; it is the secretion of an insect allied to the cochineal, and known in science under the name of coccus lacea.

Lac is variously and extensively employed in the arts and manufactures. In India it is mixed with sand to form grindstones; dissolved in water, and mixed with ivory-black, it forms a good and durable ink, it also enters into the manufacture of beads, and other female ornaments.

In this country, lac is much used in the composition of varnishes, japanning, sealing wax, &c.; it is known as sticklac, when unseparated from the twigs, to which it adheres; as seed-lac, when separated, pounded, and the colouring matter extracted by water; shell-lac, when strained, and allowed to harden in the form of thin flakes, or laminæ. Besides the use of lac in the composition of varnishes, &c., its colouring matter, under the name of lac-lake, and a still superior preparation, called lac-dye, is employed as a substitute for cochineal, in dyeing scarlet. Kirby observes, "that the East India Company are said to have saved in a few months £14,000 in the purchase of scarlet cloths dyed with this colour and cochineal conjointly, and

without any inferiority in the colour obtained!"

The insect, coccus lacea, which produces an article thus important in a commercial point of view, is found in almost incredible abundance on various trees, the juices of which constitute their food; of these two species of fig, the ficus religiosa and ficus indica seem the chief. "When the females," says Kirby, "have fixed themselves to a part of the branch of the trees on which they feed, a pellucid and glutinous substance begins to exude from the margins of the body, and in the end covers the whole insect with a cell of this substance, which, when hardened by exposure to the air, becomes lac. So numerous are these insects, and so closely crowded together, that they often entirely cover a branch; and the groupes take different shapes, as square, hexagon, &c., according to the space left round the insect which first began to form its cell. Under these cells the females deposit their eggs, which, after a certain period, are hatched, and the young ones eat their way out. Though indisputably an animal secretion, many of the properties of lac are not very different from those of the juices of the trees on which the animal feeds, and which, therefore, would seem to undergo but little alteration." How minute, how feeble are the agents by which man is benefited; on looking at them, we should be ready to say, Of what use are these in creation! Yet arts, manufactures, and commerce, are dependent upon them. And though it may enforce upon us a lesson of humility, still we need not be surprised, since we ought to remember that, by the permission of God, agents as feeble as these have desolated kingdoms; why, then, should they not, by his appointment also, be constituted so as to confer on mankind services connected with his social interests, and the general good? M.

OLD HUMPHREY ON THE DUTY OF MAKING A WILL.*

WHEN a prudent merchant consigns a *We beg to remind our readers that the new law respecting Wills, which is now in force requires-1. The will or codicil to be signed at the foot or end thereof by the testator.

2. If he does not sign, it must be signed by some other person in his presence, and by his direction.

3. The signature must be made, or acknowledged by the testator, in the presence of two or more witnesses present at the same time.

4. The witnesses must attest and subscribe the will or codicil in the presence of the testator.

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vessel to the watery deep, he is mindful of the dangers. it has to encounter, and accordingly, by insuring the cargo, he seeks to protect himself and all others interested therein from loss. And is the voyage of life less dangerous than a voyage over the deep? Is an immortal soul of less value than hogsheads of hardware and bales of broad-cloth? Surely, as tempest-tost mariners, we ought, first, to secure ourselves from loss, by seeking a well grounded hope of eternal life through Jesus Christ; and, secondly, to protect those dear to us from sustaining injury by our death, by making prudent arrangements in the event of our departure.

You may say that this, or something like it, has been said a hundred times over; and no doubt it has, and likely enough it has been repeated a hundred times more, but if I am not to speak till I say something absolutely new, I must become dumb. If I write no more till I can produce some striking novelty, my pen need no more be dipped into my inkstand. Experience will bear me out in the remark, that wisdom consists much more in impressing the minds of others with well-known truths, than in the duction of novel opinions. They may be presented in a different form, yet are they essentially old. Though by shaking the kaleidoscope you obtain a new form, the materials which compose it are always the same.

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But though my present observations may not be entirely new, I feel such a warmth gathering round my heart while I write them, that I do verily persuade myself that my remarks will meet the eyes of those who will not despise them; nay, more, that there are some who will regard them with favour, read them with respect, ponder over them with attention, and practise what they recommend.

Do I speak proudly? No! no! Proud I am, to my reproach, but not at this moment. High-minded I may be, but not now. If I can see my own heart through its manifold infirmities, its present object is simply and singly to drop a seasonable word, which, with God's blessing, may take away from a death-bed anxiety and confusion, and add something to the comforts of the widow and the fatherless.

I have been reading over again, for the fourth or fifth time, a little book called "Testamentary Counsels," and much of what I have to say has been taken

from that volume, or suggested by it. Old Humphrey is under great obligations to wiser and better men than himself, whose writings have often come home to his heart, sometimes pouring a cordial into it that it greatly needed, and sometimes planting an arrow there that was needed still more. On such occasions he has felt drawn towards the writer with cords of affection, and longed to shake him by the hand, especially if his spirit appeared influenced by kindness rather than severity. It may be that you have felt a little of this drawing towards me; you have not pictured me with a frowning brow and a churlish heart, but rather as one, who, being feelingly persuaded of his own infirmities, looks on his fellow-sinners with tenderness and affection. May you, in this instance, not be wrong in your conjectures!

I have before me a very important object, and as a man can hardly be expected to do a thing in a tolerable manner unless he go about it in his own way, I want you to bear with me a little, and to be somewhat indulgent to me. Let an old man have his old fashions.

I shall not beat about the bush, but ask you a plain question at once, in my customary downright way. I am not about to say that I hope you have done this, and I trust you have done that and the other; my question is, Have you made your will? If you have, and if you have made it conscientiously and prudently, my inquiry will not annoy you; but if you have not, I wish it to stick to you like a leech, and to sting you like a nettle.

You may be among the many who habitually put off till to-morrow what ought to be done to-day, and if so, no doubt you will have plenty of reasons to assign for procrastination. Making a will, you may say, is an important thing, and requires much reflection: you have a friend to consult; you quite agree that it is necessary, and, indeed, you have been thinking of it for some time; it is, really, your intention to be in earnest about the matter. But all this is very like shuffling. These lame attempts to excuse the nonperformance of an imperative duty will not parry my home-thrust-Have you made your will?

I wish my words to go to your very heart; yet, far be it from me to bluster and call you names, even if you have never thought of making your will. It

would but ill become one whose infirmities cling to him as a garment, and who sensibly feels his own backwardness in the discharge of manifold duties, to indulge in bitterness against a procrastinating brother. Rather would I, in an affectionate spirit, point out how cruelly you are acting to yourself in thus gathering thorns for your dying pillow.

If you have a wife and children, and relations and friends, I suppose that you bear them some affection; and if so, surely you had rather they should dwell in peace than in discord, and that if they should outlive you, they should love rather than hate your memory. By making a will, you will prove that their welfare is an object of your desire; by neglecting to do so, you will show that their happiness is with you an object of very little consideration.

Many, very many, tremble at the very thought of making a will. Some time ago, a worthy woman was bereaved of her husband; he was taken suddenly away, as many are. The widow was anxious that what property she had should be enjoyed after her decease by two nieces, to whom she was much attached; but this was not likely to happen unless she made her will, and to this she had a strong objection. It was in vain that her professional adviser urged her to bequeath her property, and pointed out that if she neglected to do so, it would go to one who was unworthy to enjoy it; still she could not bear the thought of making a will. While in the office of her professional friend, she trembled from head to foot with apprehension; and when the will was sent home to her, terror again prevented her from signing her name to it. Superstitious fears bind many in iron chains; the widow thought signing her will was like signing her death-warrant; and even though her life was soon afterwards placed in jeopardy by a sudden fire, which burst out where she lived, her last will and testament was unattended to: neither her danger nor her merciful preservation influenced her to sign her will.

You will not die sooner for having made your will, though the distraction arising in a season of sickness from not having made it may fever your mind and your body, and hurry you off to your grave. I speak with reverence, and under submission to the Divine will. Now you may bear my inquiry; but if it should only be whispered by your doctor

into your dying ear, it may fall like a thunder-clap on your aching head at a season when you would give the world to do what you may be incapable to perform.

Think, for a moment, on his situation, who, having for years added house to house, and field to field, and laid up large stores for earthly enjoyment, without a thought of dissolution, if suddenly called upon in a hurry to divide his possessions! Not an hour can he purchase at any price. The fever is upon him, his blood-shot eye looks fearful, he draws his breath with difficulty, his pulse is at a hundred and twenty, he cries out for water, and turns to his physician for comfort; but, as he strains his aching eyeballs in an attempt to catch a word of consolation, he meets the inquiry, "Have you made your will?" The very words are the icy wind of death; they chill and curdle the life-current of his heart; they pronounce his doom. Oh that he had made his will, it would have been some consolation; it might have prevented his present paroxysm; but, no! he neglected it, and now it is too late.

I hope that you will not be ranked among those

"Who toil for heirs they know not who,

A

And straight are seen no more." "Beware of covetousness!" Hoard not up guilty riches to your condemnation. Let not your growing possessions be witnesses against you at the final hour. coffin full, yea, a grave full of gold will not gain you admittance at the gate of heaven. Whether you think so or not, you are but a steward over your earthly possessions; your stewardship extends to the proper use of wealth during your life, and the just distribution of it at the time of your decease. Be not an unjust steward; whether you have ten talents or five committed to your care, use them profitably, and make your will, that your property may be rightly distributed after your death.

Perhaps you will be turning round to me to inquire if I have made my will, and if you do, a plain answer shall be given. It would be a little out of character in me to talk of freeholds and funded property, of Scotch and Irish estates, of shares in the mining, dock, and rail-road companies. I need no steward to manage my affairs. The largest park I have will not occupy me long in riding round it, and my habitation is not at all

likely to be mistaken for Apsley-house or the mansion of the Marquis of Stafford; but the small portion of this world's gear that I may call my own is conscientiously allotted in case of my departure. Sometimes I am foolish enough to wish for wealth, for there are acts of friendship that I would requite, and feelings of affection that I would willingly embody in actions, but as a Scottish writer has well expressed himself, “God kens what is good for us better than we ken ourselves."

To say nothing of other things, Old Humphrey has received so many acts of individual kindness, that he would much rather devote a dozen skins of parchment to their acknowledgment and liquidation than that his will should be cribbed up into the contracted space that it now occupies.

You know as well as I do that our life is but "a vapour;" you know that what with natural decay, accidents, and the "thousand ills that flesh is heir to," there is "but a step between us and death." If then the message should suddenly be signified to you, "This night thy soul shall be required of thee," should you be satisfied to leave what property you have, be it little or much, without any arrangement as to its distribution? Now be honest to yourself; put the question to your own heart, and give an honest answer. If you can add to the comfort and peace of your wife and children by doing what you have hitherto delayed, set about it. It will break none of your bones to make your will; it will not disturb your night's slumber, but on the contrary, minister to your repose.

If you have a wife that you love, make your will, lest she fall into the hands of those who may treat her harshly. If you have children that you love, make your will, that they may be guided as to the portion that falleth to them. If you have poor relations, make your will, that you may not, in shutting up your bowels of compassion against them, and neglecting them, do an act of injustice; and if you have faithful servants, who are not only worthy of their hire, but of your respect, make your will, that they may know you have not been unmindful of their fidelity.

It may be that God has blessed you abundantly in worldly goods; and if so, it will especially become you, living and dying, to remember his cause and to promote his glory. There are religious