LOVES OF THE INSECTS. 307 



make an almost jiDgling* noise ; and one day one 

 of these gigantic dragon-flies came into my 

 drawing-room, through the open window, and 

 hovered over our heads. We named liim the soul 

 of a discarded lover, for there was no other lover 

 there but me. 



What with farming, fishing, shooting, and 

 hunting, thank Heaven ! I have much sylvan 

 and rural felicitv, — still I have but little time 

 to look closely into the more minute details of 

 creation, and to study insect and reptile life as 

 closely as I could otherwise find it amusing to 

 do ; yet with eyes always open, as I have said 

 before, I read a lesson everywhere — and a lesson, 

 too, that a long life does not get to the end of 

 while life lasts. Now for the little Avater-newt, 

 and the poor pool of his selected habitation. 



I was in the woods one day, spade in hand, 

 digging out a swamp to bare or expose the water 

 that percolated beneath the moss, for the en- 

 couragement of fowl. In one s})ot, about two 

 delves of the spade had opened out a little shallow 

 pool, and at this point of my labour I sat down 

 to my sandwich and flask of sherry. On return- 

 ing to the spot thus alluded to, the water had 



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