The "twinkle" of Thomson is quite as illustrative; and in a Latin poem, written a hundred years ago, by a Mr. Bedingfield, the glow-worm is shown casting a tremulous gleam along the wet path. This wavering lustre is caused by the insect's power of withdrawing its light, as instinct may suggest. Glow-worms are the food of night-birds, which of course track them by their shining. To put out the candle, therefore, is the surest way of escaping the robber; and, perhaps, their apprehension of enemies may account for the short time of their illumination. Mr. Nowell quotes a curious experiment of White, who carried two glow-worms from a field into his garden, and saw them extinguish their lamps between eleven and twelve o'clock. Later entomologists confirm this singular relation. In any anthology about glowworms, Shakspere would scarcely be allowed to compete for the prize. He never notices them without some incorrectness. His strangest mistake was placing the light in the eyes; whereas a momentary glance would have convinced him that it proceeded from the tail.

But I have been turning glow-worms to an use this evening, which no naturalist probably ever thought of—reading the Psalms by their cool green radiance. I placed six of the most luminous insects I could find in the grass at the top of the page; moving them from verse to verse, as I descended. The experiment was perfectly successful. Each letter became clear and legible, making me feel deeply and gratefully the inner life of the Psalmist's adoration: "O Lord, how manifold are thy works, in wisdom hast thou made them all; the earth is full of thy goodness."

I know that poetry has turned the fire-fly into a lantern. Southey enables Madoc to see the features of his beautiful guide by the flame of two fire-flies, which she kept prisoners in a cage,

READING PSALMS BY LIGHT OF GLOW-WORMS.

157

As the glittering grass of the these glow-worms are a light to I ought to employ my every

or net of twigs, underneath her garment. But, surely, I am the discoverer of the glow-worm-taper. And it answers the purpose admirably. By the help of this emerald of the hedgerow and mossy bank, I can read, not only the hymns of saints to God, but God's message to me. Indian hills taught me wisdom, so my eyes and a lantern to my feet. day blessings and comforts as I have been using these insects. I could not have read "Even-Song" among the trees by night, unless I had moved the lamp up and down. One verse shone, while the rest of the page was dark. Patience alone was needed. Line by line, the whole Psalm grew bright. What a lesson and consolation to me in my journey through the world! Perhaps to-day is a cloudy passage in my little calendar: I am in pain, or sorrow, of mind, or body; my head throbs, or my heart is disquieted within me. But the sequestered paths of the Gospel-garden are studded with glow-worms. I have only to stoop and find them. Yesterday was healthfuller and more joyous. My spirits were gayer; my mind was peacefuller: kind friends visited me; or God seemed to lift up the light of His countenance upon me. These recollections are my lanterns in the dark. The past lights up the present. I move my glow-worms lower on the page, and read to-day by yesterday.

Nor for myself only should these thoughts be cherished. Every beam of grace that falls upon my path ought to throw its reflection along my neighbour's. Whatever happens to one is for the instruction of another. Even the glow-worm, humblest of stars, has its shadow. Boyle, the friend of Evelyn, makes some excellent remarks on the spiritual eloquence of woods, fields, and water, and all their swarming inhabitants. They who pass summertime in the country are especially called to listen and look. The

man who goes forth to his work and his labour until the evening, has his teacher by his side. The haymakers, who

may remind him of the penitent, who said that his heart was withered like grass, so that he forgot to eat his bread; the leafy elm, that shelters the noon-day rest of the reaper, should tell him

THE TEACHING OF THE FIELDS.

159

how the man, who stood not in the way of sinners, is "like a tree planted by the water side, of which the leaf shall not wither;" and the orchard, that gives shade and fragrance to the cottage-door, ought to speak of the ripening warmth of Christian faith, which is to "bring forth more fruit in its age."

When a devout heart knows really how and what to observe, it has advanced a great way towards the understanding and application of the Apostle's assurance, that "all things work together for good to them that love God." The glow-worm, like the star, has its speech and language. The Christian is at church in his toil and his loneliness; when the sun shines, or the moon rises. The foot of his ladder may rest on a tuft of grass, or a few flowers, but the top reaches to heaven. Most happy are they

To whom some viewless teacher brings
The secret lore of rural things.

I am not interested by any feature of Luther's private character, so much as by his affectionate and thoughtful contemplation of nature. A bough loaded with cherries, and put on his table, a few fishes from a pond in his garden, a rose or other flower, awoke in his breast feelings of gratefulness and piety towards Him, who sends sunshine and dew upon the just and the unjust. One evening, when he saw a bird perching itself on a branch for the night, he exclaimed-" That little bird has chosen his shelter, and is about to go to sleep in tranquillity; it has no disquietude, neither does it consider where it shall rest to-morrow night, but it sits in peace on that slender bough, leaving it to God to provide. for its wants." This is the very temper inculcated in the Divine exhortation-" Consider the lilies how they grow."

JULY 24TH.

I HAVE no very strong confidence in the literary truth of Mr. Pinkerton, but I thank him for Walpole's lively letter, June 25, 1785. The critical opinions are pleasant and sparkling, although they are false. He traces Virgil's reputation to grace of style :"A Roman farmer might not understand the Georgics, but a Roman courtier was made to understand farming; and Virgil could captivate a lord of Augustus' bed-chamber." This is good; but Walpole had imperfect views of the Latin epic. He denied its power over the passions, although the writer's genius lay chiefly in the pathetic.

He sees the colouring of Albano in Milton's Eden. And there is an air of serious purity about his landscapes that may justify the simile. Everything breathes of repose:

umbrageous grots, and caves

Of cool recess, o'er which the mantling vine
Lays forth her purple grape, and gently creeps
Luxuriant meanwhile murm'ring waters fall
Down the slope hills, dispers'd, or in a lake,
That to the fringed bank with myrtle crowned
Her crystal mirror holds, unite their streams.

The most pleasing circumstance connected with Albano is the anecdote told of him by Felibien-that his beautiful wife was his model for Graces, while his children sat for Cherubs. It is interesting to contrast the solemn hues and brooding stillness of his trees with the works of the Flemish painters, whose favourite subject was also Paradise; by which they understood a breadth of country rich with every shade of vegetation—

Gay tinted woods their massy foliage threw ;
Breathed but an air of heaven, and all the grove