OF INSECTS. 
183 
of the main sting has buried itself in the flesh, are launch¬ 
ed out two subtile rays, which may be called the true or 
proper stings, as being those through which the poison is 
infused into the puncture already made by the exterior sting. 
I have said, that chemistry and mechanism are here united: 
by which observation I meant, that all this machinery, 
would have been useless, telum imbelle, if a supply of 
poison, intense in quality, in proportion to the smallness of 
the drop, had not been furnished to it by the chemical 
elaboration which was carried on in the insect’s body; and 
that, on the other hand, the poison, the result of this pro¬ 
cess, could not have attained its effect, or reached its 
enemy, if, when it was collected at the extremity of the 
abdomen, it had not found there a machinery, fitted to con¬ 
duct it to the external situations in which it was to operate, 
viz. an awl to bore a hole, and a syringe to inject the fluid. 
Yet these attributes, though combined in their action, are 
independent in their origin. The venom does not breed 
the sting; nor does the sting concoct the venom. [PI. 
XXXII. fig. 5.] 
IV. The proboscis, with which many insects are en¬ 
dowed, comes next in order to be considered. [PI. XXXII. 
fig. 6,7,8.] It is a tube attached to the head of the animal. 
In the bee, it is composed of two pieces connected by a 
joint; for if it were constantly extended, it would be too 
much exposed to accidental injuries; therefore, in its in¬ 
dolent state, it is doubled up by means of the joint, and 
in that position lies secure under a scaly penthouse. In 
many species of the butterfly, the proboscis, when not in 
use, is coiled up like a watch spring. In the same bee, 
the proboscis serves the office of the mouth, the insect 
having no other: and how much better adapted it is, than 
a mouth would be, for collecting of the proper nourish¬ 
ment of the animal, is sufficiently evident. The food of 
the bee is the nectar of flowers; a drop of syrup, lodged 
deep in the bottom of the corollje, in the recesses of the 
petals, or down the neck of a monopetalous glove. Into 
these cells the bee thrusts its long narrow pump, through 
the cavity of which it sucks up this precious fluid, inacces¬ 
sible to every other approach. It is observable also, that 
the plant is not the worse for what the bee does to it. The 
harmless plunderer rifles the sweets, but leaves the flower 
uninjured. The ringlets of which the proboscis of the bee 
is composed, the muscles by which it is extended and 
contracted, form so many microscopical wonders. The 
agility also with which it is moved, can hardly fail to ex- 
