COLLOQUIA ENTOMOLOGICA. 99 



mellows down harsh feeling as well as fond: — a man rises 

 or falls to his proper level as soon as it is known he can no 

 longer have private ends to serve. 



Erro. I hope so. Kirby and Spence did good in that 

 line. What a work, — what a monument of industry and 

 patient research, aided by sterling talent, guided by excellent 

 judgment, and pervaded throughout by a kind-hearted, humble, 

 meek, quiet, and most pious feeling ! 



Ent. Why do not you undertake something of the kind ? 

 A popular work, at about a fourth of the price, with all new 

 matter, yet not to forsake truth for the sake of popularity. 



Erro. That piece of advice is scarcely necessary to me, — 

 is it, Moff? yet your extending the caution so coolly is an 

 excellent satire on the taste of the present generation. I think, 

 however, there is room for such a work ; but you must not 

 look to me : — you can't make a satin purse out of a sow's ear. 

 One subject connected with entomology seems hitherto en- 

 tangled in mystery, — I wish you would take it up. 



Ent. What is it ? 



Erro. It wants a masterly hand. The line between rea- 

 son and instinct has never yet been drawn, or even proposed, 

 with any show of probability. 



Ent. And yet nothing were easier. The concentrated 

 brain meditates ; the diffused brain acts. 



Erro. Excellent in sound, but I only know of one indi- 

 vidual on earth who dare attempt to found an argument on 

 such a dictum, or whose attempt would be attended with the 

 most distant chance of success ; and that individual, dear 

 MofTy, is — 



Ent. More fools, they. People in general, Ro, muddle 

 their heads with all manner of unintelligible works on a 

 straight-forward, plain, intelligible subject. Instead of pre- 

 suming or venturing to be original on this question, they give 

 you musty quotations of high-sounding passages, — which have 

 been long refuted and therefore done with, — and parade them 

 as their own ; like the jackdaw, that stuck the peacock's fea- 

 thers in his rump long after the peacock had dropt them as 

 useless: and thus ornamented, these fools think to pass for 

 philosophers, when, in reality, they are, by thinking men, 

 despised for adopting antiquated stuff, more worthless, if pos- 

 sible, than even themselves could have devised, had they 



