THE WATER CABINET. 117 
cessfully anatomised this class of animals, and to him we 
are indebted for the microscopic anatomy of grubs, and 
a revelation of their inner economy generally, 
Tue Dracon Ftry, Libellulide (Leach), a well- 
known summer beauty—the mere mention of which is 
always sufficient to set one’s heart beating for rustic 
coolness, and the hushed music of the beechen shades— 
is, in its larva form, an interesting object for the cabinet. 
Between the larva and the imago of this insect, the dif- 
ference is striking indeed; as a lady, not addicted to 
scientific studies, once characterised the larva—using 
Pope’s lines—as, 
‘‘ A monster of such hideous mien, 
That te be hated needs but to be seen.”’ 
But the gauze-winged and gaily-coloured fly merits all 
the praise bestowed upon it by the French, who call them 
Demoiselles, so light, fairy-like, and visionary are its form 
and movements. Scientific writers have applied many 
descriptive names to it, such as Calepteryx (pretty wing), 
Puella (girl), Sponsa (bride), and Virgo (virgin). The 
larva of the dragon fly exhibits, in a very striking manner, 
the mode of respiration in aquatic insects. It is not an 
active creature; for though it has six legs, it seldom 
uses these except in the capture of prey; its locomotion 
is chiefly performed by the tail in the action of breathing. 
When thrown into a jar with some fragments of weed and 
a few light chips, these will be seen to be drawn towards 
the tail of the creature, by the current occasioned by the 
absorption of water; and then again driven off, with con- 
