MOORE’S  RURAL  {^£W-YORK£R. 
AUG.  se 
fanlisfajjc  ^5ari)nunn. 
PICTURES  ON  GRASS. 
This  is  tlie  title  of  an  essay  read  before  the 
Ohio  State  Ilortieultural  Society  by  P'bank  J. 
Scott,  author  of  that  able  work  Suburban 
Home  Grounds. 
It  lias  boon  many  a  day  since  we  haA'c  read 
anything  upon  lundiicaixj  gardening  or  Idndrcd 
Hubjeots  with  so  lively  an  interest.  Its  chief 
object  is  to  show  the  value  of  grass  as  an  ele¬ 
ment  of  beauty  in  tlie  home  groimds~in  the 
showing  of  which  many  pleasing  and  original 
ideas  are  happily  expressed.  I'lioso  who  have 
traveled  in  tlic  Sontli  during  suintnor  and  have 
seen  to  what  an  extent  the  abaeiioe  of  green 
grass  mars  the  picture,  let  it  t>e  ever  so  striking 
otherwise,  will  the  better  be  emahled  to  appreci¬ 
ate  Mr.  Scott's  views.  We  copy  as  uuich  of  it 
as  our  space  will  permit : 
A  picture,  as  we  commonly  use  the  word,  is 
tliat  disposition  of  objects  which  makes  upon 
the  mind  a  very  pleasant  or  an  unusually  vivid 
impression. 
The  Instinct  to  f raino  pictures  in  the  mind  is 
what  makes  all  nature  picluresque  to  some 
eyes;  and  for  the  lack  of  that  gift,  or  the  ciiiluro 
which  awakens  it,  all  the  world's  iiictures  nro 
blanks  to  olhers.  The  art  of  seeing  or  discover¬ 
ing  picUn-eH  that  are  near  us  all  the  time,  often 
staring  us  In  the  face  when  wo  will  not  see  them, 
is  an  ai-t  not  lost  but  only  rarely  used.  If  yon  will 
take  an  empty  picture  fiame  and  put  it  in  front 
of  your  child’s  head,  it  will  surprise  you  to  see 
how  handsome  the  child  looks  in  it.  ^Vhat  a 
fine  i>icture  !  Yon  ai  o  not  in  the  habit  of  think¬ 
ing  of  each  child  as  a  jucture.  Or,  put  the 
empty  picture  frame  in  the  window,  close  the 
light  around  it,  then  stand  back  and  look 
through,  and  you  will  sometimes  be  astonished 
to  find  how  much  of  a  picture  tliis  before  un¬ 
thought  of  bit  of  a  window  view  makes. 
The  use  of  the  study  of  drawing  is  mainly  in 
this,  that  it  teaches  us  to  observe  the  pictures 
Uiat  abound  on  the  earth  and  in  the  air  all 
a-ouud  us  5  for  any  hit  of  naluro  separated  from 
the  rest  to  ooncentralc  attention  niion  it,  and 
framed  to  still  further  convey  the  impression  of 
individuality,  is  usually  styled  a  picture. 
When  one  slands  on  the  border  of  a  groat 
desert  looking  to  a  far  horizon  Uuough  air  that 
is  all  Iremulons  with  the  heat  of  a  torrid  sun,  in 
the  glare  of  that  quivering  light  each  object,  as 
it  stands  outlined  against  the  sky,  is  faiily 
burned  into  the  memory.  The  vividnoss  of  its 
relief,  its  solitariness,  and  the  golden  light  that 
bathes  it,  all  combine  to  Jix  the  scone  indelibly 
on  the  mind,  Whalover  object  the  eye  rests 
upon  amid  such  surroundings  looms  up  in  the 
imagination  witll  increased  imjiortanoo  by  reason 
of  its  isolation.  I'hcre  is  nothing  to  disti'act 
attention.  "Whether  it  bo  .a  camel,  a  horse  and 
rider,  a  bleached  skelelon,  or  a  far-olf  caravan, 
the  whole  w'orld  around  seems  subsidiary  to  it. 
Viewer  and  object  are  boUi  on  the  summit-lovel 
of  the  globe ;  and,  simiile  as  the  object  may  bo, 
all  the  expanse  of  desert  around  is  but  tlie  glow¬ 
ing  monotone  of  a  canvass  to  bring  tliat  object 
into  bigh  relief.  That  object  is,  tlioreforo, 
UxchI  in  the  mind  as  a  piidure. 
Whoever  has  seen  our  great  western  plains  in 
a  state  of  nature  will  remember  Gio  peculiarly 
vivid  imiirossion  he  receives  of  whatever  objects 
break  their  vast  monotony.  On  tliat  vastest  of 
deserts,  the  sea,  when  it  is  calm,  objects  that  are 
mere  specks  on  the  wide  oxiianse  of  water  fix 
the  attoutiou  of  the  observer  with  an  instantane¬ 
ous  aud  engrossing  interest. 
It  is  the  power  of  a  Bim]do  plain  surface  to 
rest  tlio  eye,  and  to  attract  it  to  what  rises  out  of 
that  surface  or  borders  it,  which  makes  the 
simidest  object  a  pictiuo  when  scon  on  the 
desert  or  thu  occ-au.  I  call  attention  to  this 
fact  as  a  key  to  the  treatment  of  pictures  of 
still  life  generally,  and  in  the  present  instance 
to  pictures  on  grass.  If  yon  will  remember 
some  sti'cara  or  lake  bordered  by  rucks  or  grassy 
slopes  or  over-hanging  trees,  how,  on  its  glassy 
surface,  in  the  ti’anquilUty  of  summer,  it  mirrors 
every  thing  on  its  banks,  and  more  than  doubles 
the  beauty  of  all  its  borders,  aud  then  remember 
the  same  water  ruflled  by  winds  and  devoid  of 
power  to  reflect  a  single  beauty  of  its  shores, 
yon  will  have  an  apt  illustration  of  the  power  of 
the  jilain  sinface  to  develop  pictures. 
Closely  shaven  or  closely  fed  grass  is  beautiful 
in  itself,  like  clear  and  pilacid  water.  It  is  more 
beautiful  than  a  sheet  of  water  in  this,  tliat  it 
delights  the  eye  by  its  color,  and  that  it  may  rise 
and  fall  in  undulations  of  light  and  shade  with¬ 
out  losing  tiic  suioolhnoss  of  its  surface.  It  is 
like  the  water-mirror,  inasmuoh  as  the  objects 
which  lie  upon  it  or  rise  out  of  it  arc  revealed 
with  delightful  distinctness,  and  their  shadows 
fall  upon  it  in  the  forms  of  the  original  objects, 
not  mirrored,  but  suggested  by  grotesque  varia¬ 
tions. 
It  is,  then,  from  the  surface  of  a  monotone 
resting  au<l  agreeable  to  the  eye,  that  mosi 
jiictures  are  to  be  built  up  ;  and  wlicn  done,  the 
monotone  base  is  essential  to  the  effectiveness  of 
the  picture. 
The  most  widel3'-diffu8Gd  crop  of  the  world  is 
grass ;  the  most  useful  of  crojis  is  grass ;  and  ' 
shall  I  not  be  justified  in  claiming  that  it  is  also 
the  most  lieautifnl  of  all  ?  1  am  of  those  who 
bolicvo  that  the  beautiful  and  the  useful  waUi 
generally  hand  in  hand,  and  in  the  natural  order 
of  things  should  be  insojiarablo.  Does  the  hun¬ 
ter  seek  game?  In  what  covert  does  ho  find  it 
hut  whore  trees  grow  and  flowers  bloom  and — 
“  Green  grow  the  rushcB,  O 7  ” 
Does  the  pioneer  setik  ricli  land  ?  Will  be  not 
choose  that  where  the  oak  is  grandest,  the 
hickory  loftiest,  and  the  undergrowth  the  most 
varied,  or  on  jirairie  where  the  grass  grows 
strongest,  and  the  wealth  of  vigorous  flowering 
plants  betokens  the  varied  nom’ishment  below  ? 
Does  he  seek  a  mountain  farm  ?  "NVill  he  thou 
not  be  drawn  to  some  green  spot  on  tho  hills 
that  smiles  under  tho  morning  or  evening  sun, 
and  he  sure,  as  ho  goes  toward  It,  tliat  where 
the  sun  decks  the  earth  wiUi  that  color  she  is 
there  the  sweetewt,  and  warms  (puckest  in  tho 
wooing?  Does  the  burly  grazier  hunger  for 
great  profits  on  beef?  Ho  must  then  make  a 
landscape  lovely  with  the  tramp  of  his  herds. 
Rich  must  bo  tho  pastm'os,  and  fine  trees  must 
shade  bis  catilo,  and  brooks  must  water  them. 
"With  only  beef  and  hides  in  his  thought,  beauty 
will  environ  him,  and  bide  his  rudeness  in  his 
owui  creations  as  tho  ivy  does  the  rugged  oak  it 
lives  upon ;  and  the  traveler  will  gaze  as  ho 
passes  on  the  beautiful  fields,  with  tlioii-  trees 
and  herbs  and  brook,  and  see  a  landscape  there. 
The  painter  will  follow  and  put  a  choice  Lit  of  it 
on  canvas,  loving  Ms  work  as  never  another 
may ;  or,  perhaps  toucldng  so  sweet  a  strain  of 
nature  tliat  half  a  nation  will  see  Ms  work  re¬ 
produced  in  wood-cut  or  in  chroino,  convoying 
into  a  thousand  homes  tho  jiloasant  emotions  of 
tlio  traveler  and  the  painter  as  tliey  were  at¬ 
tracted  to  the  grazier’s  fields  by  those  pictures 
on  grass. 
Weeds  will  tj’pify  work  undone  ;  corn  and  hay 
are  work  being  done ;  hut  tho  velvety  grass  is 
natm’o’s  smile  of  content  with  work  aeliieved  and 
happiness  earned.  It  is  mother  oartli’s  after¬ 
noon  dress,  in  which  all  comiiany  is  welcome. 
A  few  flowers  for  its  trimming  are  beth'r  than 
a  myriad  in  the  wilds.  Flora  aud  Sylva  are 
courtiers  enough  to  know  that  they  apjmar  to 
best  advantage  on  the  velvet  carpet  wMch  the 
gi-asscs  weave.  A  tree  that  would  be  unoli- 
servod  in  a  grove,  is  lifted  into  majesty  if  it 
stands  likuio  in  tho  pasture  futUl  er  th»  park  ;  a 
common  shrnb,  which,  choked  among  other 
bushes,  would  be  unnoticed,  may  his  a  vernal 
grace  personified  if  .allowed  to  sjuead  vvitii  free 
abandon  over  sucli  a  carpet ;  and  still  both  groves 
of  trees  and  musses  of  shrubs  ate  infinitely  finer 
nimasxe  also,  If  relieved  by  a  spread  of  unbro¬ 
ken  lawn  of  extent  proportioned  to  their  extent 
and  size. 
I  have  alluded  to  tho  fields  of  tho  farmer  aud 
tho  grazier  as  iiarticnlarly  adapted  to  pictures  on 
grass,  livery  old  farming  couiiUy  should  inevit¬ 
ably  grow  to  form  an  infinite  variety  of  park 
Iiicturos,  broader  and  more  varied  than  those  of 
city  parks,  but  it  is  not  to  those  princiiially  that 
1  most  love  to  call  your  attention,  I  would 
bring  homo  to  the  owner  of  every  ifvutll  homo 
having  a  rood  of  ground  about  it  tho  capability 
for  pictures  on  grass  which  such  pkoccs  afford. 
I  never  tiro  to  think  of  those  old  lines  of  Mil- 
ton — 
“  Hard  by  a  cottage  chimney  smokes 
From  bclwcuu  two  aged  oaks.” 
That  is  a  picture ;  the  green  sward  is  understood. 
For  there  arc  no  cottages  xuidor  aged  oaks  in 
velvety  old  England  without  a  green  sward 
sotting.  Paint  the  cottage,  and  tho  aged  oaks 
on  guard  above  it,  but  without  tho  gi-eoii  sward 
they  are  as  absurd  as  pictures  of  a  sliip  under 
sail  and  no  water  under  her.  The  sword  in  one 
case  and  tho  sea  in  the  other  aie  equally  essen¬ 
tial  to  tlie  picturo, 
I  have  written  it  before,  and  it  will  bear  re¬ 
peating,  that  every  man’s  home  ground  aud 
house  may  be  so  arrauged  that  they  will  bo  the 
paid  of  a  ificasiug  picturo.  "We  are  doing  better 
and  better  overj'  yew  in  this  dii’oction,  yet  how 
much  is  overy  where  and  continually  lost  in 
spattcriug  tho  canvas  with  colors  before  we 
have  any  conception  of  the  pictures  we  want, 
even  in  our  mind’s  eye.  How  often  trees  or  ex¬ 
ternal  views  have  made  pictures  ready  for  us  to 
frame  and  tliey  are  unseen,  and  the  improver 
Sets  heartily  to  work  blotting  them  out  or  mar¬ 
ring  them  with  new  paints  called  evergreens, 
shade  trees,  aud  florists’  flowers,  xvMch  in  igno¬ 
rant  zeal  are  spread  aroiuid  as  a  donkey  might 
paint  with  his  tail.  That  style  is  not  so  much 
practiced  as  formerly,  and  there  is  a  growing 
iiitoUigonce  among  us  in  a  nebulous  state  which 
has  a  f.oith  and  a  hope  that  a  home  may'  be  made 
a  picture  overy  time,  and  that  few  are  too  poor 
to  frame  it  with  some  sort  of  sylvan  decoration. 
Just  now  there  is  groat  monotony  in  the  forms 
and  styles  of  homo-ground  pictures,  and  they' 
arc  uot  often  good  enough  to  be  chosen  by 
artists  for  studio-s ;  still  wo  are  aiming  in  tho 
right  direction  and  make  progress. 
There  is  one  fault  common  to  many  a  fine 
homo  at  tho  present  time,  where  ample  grounds 
and  well-kept  grass  and  fine  trees  almost  make  a 
picture,  yet  leave  a  souse  of  stiffness  and  i>rig- 
gishness  on  the  mind  that  makes  one  doubt  if 
all  that  carefully  worked  up  show  of  house, 
grass,  trees,  and  flowers  is  really  Ixiauty  or  not —  . 
really  a  picture,  or  only  an  unsatisfactory  sug¬ 
gestion  of  a  picture.  Homething  must  be  wrong 
there,  somotbiug  wanting.  What  is  it  ?  I  will 
venture  the  suggestion  that  in  nine  cases  out  of 
ten  it  is  because  tho  house  rises  naked  out  of 
the  grass.  There  is  no  sotting.  Now,  a  homo 
is  a  nest,  tho  nest  of  one  liuman  family,  it 
should  nestle  amid  those  things  which  have  a 
disposition  to  nestle  around  it.  Whoever  saw 
an  old  wall  or  fence  that  the  Tines  did  not  find 
and  clamber  over?  tliat  the  blackberries  and 
wild  roses  did  not  find  a  lK>me  in  or  near  to  ? 
Tho  roundation  wall  of  a  dwelling  house  is  just 
another  place  for  tho  best  of  these  things.  The 
house  sliould  rise  out  of  a  fringe  of  .shrubs  and 
vinos  whioli  will  bond  over  the  grass  on  ono  side, 
and  climb  up  Uio  walls  on  the  other.  Only  when 
in  deeji  mourning  will  a  tastofM  woman  leave 
her  dress  hare  of  all  trunming  at  tlio  neck. 
Half  mourmng  pennits  a  little  fringe  of  linen  or 
lace  there.  Hut  our  fine  places  ai’o  of  more 
severe  taste  aud  exhibit  the  barrenness  of  deep 
mourning  all  tho  time. 
I  know  tJiattMs  absence  of  foliage  against  the 
house  is  dofendod  on  the  pica  that  it  is  unhealthy 
to  have  much  shade  aud  foliage  near  tho  walls 
aud  tho  windows.  Granted  as  to  the  shade,  un¬ 
doubtedly  the  deep  shade.  The  oomploto  em¬ 
bowering  of  houses  under  trees,  as  soon  in  the 
old  style  of  Now  England  homes,  was  nnwhole- 
Bomo  aud  gloomy.  I  would  have  none  of  It. 
Hut  we  need  uot  keep  our  clothing  at  arms 
length  from  our  bodies  because  some  peojile 
have  become  delicate  by  wearing  too  much.  It 
is  easy  enough  to  got  all  needful  sun  aud  air 
without  any  sacrifice  of  beauty.  Shrubs  may  be 
planted  on  the  llauks  of  stops,  at  corners  of  the 
house,  and  betwoou  the  windows,  whore  no 
light  need  ho  obscured  or  walls  dampened  by 
them.  Kmall  shrubs  may  go  under  the  window'- 
sills,  and  vinos  everywhere  ;  while  trees  of  he.avy 
shade  may  bo  kept  at  a  respectful  distance.  If 
tho  vinos  got  in  the  way,  how  easy  to  lop  off 
their  supiirfliiilics. 
A  house  that  rises  out  of  such  a  nestling  as  I 
have  indicak'd  will  look  at  homo  in  its  jilace ; 
tlie  lawn  will  slretoh  away  from  this  moss  edge 
of  Khriibbery  next  to  tlio  house  wall,  and  bring 
all  tho  enmonment  of  sluubs  and  tieos,  young 
aud  old,  into  harmonious  relations  with  the 
house,  even  if  they  bo  uot  picturo.sijno  enough 
in  eharaeter  to  delight  tho  eye  as  a  picture. 
For  the  hick  of  tMs  sort  of  setting  many  man¬ 
sions  of  the  larger  class,  with  grounds  in  most 
rc8pect.s  faiily  laid  out,  rise  as  cold  and  stiff 
amid  their  liright  siuToimdings  as  a  steii-mother 
among  another’s  brood  of  children. 
But  all  tMs  is  about  great  scoiioa  or  great 
places.  I  imagine  some  one  to  say :  But  what 
have  you  to  suggest  to  tho  great  mass  of  people 
who  have  only  small  houses  and  narrow  lots  to 
improve,  but  who  would  like  to  have  their  home 
pictures  on  grass  as  well  as  their  idcher  neigh¬ 
bors  ’?  It  is  precisely  this  branch  of  the  subject 
which  1  would  most  gladly  illustrate ;  but,  un¬ 
fortunately,  words  weary  the  hearer  when  used 
to  describe  the  simplest  form  of  mechanical 
work.  Hct  about  describing  by  words  IJio  com- 
moucst  processes  of  work,  the  foriuitig  of  a 
horso-shoo,  for  instance,  or  modeling  in  clay’,  or 
tho  more  intricate  processes  of  niakiug  carpets, 
and  who  would  follow  the  words  or  learn  from 
them?  We  must  stand  by  the  blacksmith,  tho 
modeler,  tho  carjiet  maker,  and  follow  their 
actual  work  step  by  step,  and  that,  too,  for 
months  or  years,  before  we  can  do  theii-  work. 
AVo  all  want  lino  homes.  AVo  enjoy  them  our¬ 
selves,  aud  we  enjoy  them  ten  times  more  when 
we  know  that  others  enjoy  them.  It  is  tho 
bloHsodost  wonder  of  tho  world  that  while  we 
seem  to  bo  working  with  entire  selfishness  for 
ourselves  alone,  wo  are  in  fact  workuig  for 
everybody  aroimd  us  just  as  wcU.  Your  house, 
good  friend,  tJiat  you  toil  half  a  life  time  to 
build,  overy  neighbor  owns  with  his  eyes.  A’ou 
want  it  to  be  just  as  handsome  as  yoiu’ estate 
will  allow,  for  you  know  they  are  all  looting  at 
it ;  and  though  you  would  deny  them  any  prop¬ 
erty  in  it,  you  nevertheless  feel  so  instinctively 
that  they  have,  that  you  act  ou  the  idea,  and  tiy 
to  satisfy  thorn. 
In  truth,  there  arc  few  things  in  life  that  we 
call  our  own  which  are  worth  owning  if  our 
neighbors  arc  not  part  owners  with  us.  Far 
more  than  one-half  of  all  our  expeuditores  aro 
fur  the  satisfactiou  or  tho  delight  of  tho  eye 
alone ;  and  not  our  own  eyes  only,  hut  tlio  eyes 
of  all  the  community  aroimd  us — our  critics  or 
admirers ;  for  what  is  beauty,  if  not  to  bo  ad¬ 
mired  ?  or,  as  the  poet  has  bettor  expressed  it, 
“  Hmail  Is  tlie  worth  of  beauty, 
Fi'om  the  light  retired.” 
To  give  pleasure  to  others  is  among  the  high¬ 
est  of  human  virtues,  and  I  know  of  no  higher 
s-atisfaction  than  to  realize  that  so  many  who  are 
not  thinking  of  us  at  all,  and  do  not  even  know 
ns,  yet  do  us  a  thousand  favors  for  which  wc  can 
1)0  gratefuL  Even  tho  anccessful  cheat  will  some 
how  blossom  for  ns ;  for  ho  may  build  a  superb 
odifleo  whoso  architecture,  to  use  the  admirahlo 
simile  of  Madame  do  Btaol,  is  “  frozen  music.” 
AA'c  all  feel  tho  rhythm  of  its  symmetiy,  and  its 
lights  and  shadows,  dividends  or  no  dividends, 
lihall  wo  not  bo  grateful  to  tho  builder  ?  Need 
wc  ask  from  what  source  of  decay  tho  rose  draws 
its  nourishmonl  wMlo  wo  arc  enjoying  its  per¬ 
fume  and  its  licauty?  Lotus,  then,  be  pleased 
to  fool  that  wc  do  not  work,  that  we  do  not  nuild, 
that  wo  do  not  plant  all  our  lives  long  for  our- 
selves  alone,  however  selfish  wo  may  be  or  apipear 
to  bo ;  but  that  wo  work  and  build  and  plant 
tliat  others  may  see  our  good  works,  awl  that,  wo 
may  soe  otiurs  admire  Hum.  All  things  that 
endure  longer  Ilian  ourselves  aro  blossings  to 
some  body  after  wo  loavo  them  ;  and  when  wo 
act  as  if  nothing  is  worth  Laving  which  tho  great 
iiyo  can  not  have  exclusive  possession  of,  the 
public  is  Justified  in  wishing  for  one  more  first- 
class  funeral,  that  the  xiosscHSor  of  wealth  who 
cared  not  to  create  beauty  wMlo  living  may  at 
least  brighten  Gio  verdure  of  tho  grass  above  Ms 
bones. 
SOME  NONSENSE  ABOUT  BEES. 
It  is  seldom  that  wc  care  to  criticise  any’thing 
wliich  may  appear  in  tho  columns  of  the  various 
journals  devoted  to  bee  keeping.  It  is  supposed, 
however,  tliat  siHicialists  are  better  qaalilieil  to 
speak  and  write  iuleHigcnlly  upon  subjects  to 
wbich  they  have  paid  jiarticular  attention  than 
those  ivho  have  not,  but  Occasionally  the  reverse 
of  this  seems  to  be  the  result,  and  tho  liobby- 
horso  witll  Ids  rider  gallops  rough  shodovor  both 
science  and  common  Ken.-io. 
This  is  tho  land  of  a  man  wo  take  the  Lev. 
.7.  AV.  Hueaueh  to  bo,  who  lias  boon  contrihuting 
to  tho  pages  of  tho  Ik'o  Keepers’  Alagaziue.  ’The 
“game  may  not  ho  worth  the  powder,”  but  an 
article  from  his  pen  in  the  August  number  of  the 
periodical  named,  contains  some  atatomonts 
which  aro  sullicicntly  amusing  to  ho  worth  iio- 
lloo,  oven  if  they  aro  not  instructive,  beyond 
sliowing  what  uousenso  a  man  will  write. 
(Jonorally,  tho  class  of  writers  to  wliich  wo 
rtifer,  begin  tlieir  epistles  by  a  roforenco  to  the 
first  day  of  creation,  or  seldom  at  a  later  periotl 
than  when  Aha.m  and  Eve  left  the  fiardon  of 
Eden,  and  the  Hev.  <7.  AV.  Sheakeu,  unfortu¬ 
nately,  is  not  an  exeeiition  to  the  rule. 
Tho  title  of  his  article  is :  “  Eneniios  and  Dis¬ 
eases  of  Bee.s,”  and  the  cause  of  these  ho  evi¬ 
dently  attributes  to  tho  sins  of  Adam  and  Eve, 
for  ho  says :  "  Since  tho  eurso  pronounced  njion 
sin,  enmity  is  found  not  only  between  the  seed 
of  tlio  woman  and  the  seed  of  the  serpent,  but 
throughout  nature  the  various  classes  of  orea- 
tnrcH  all  have  their  enemies  aud  enmities.” 
“AVlieu  wo  reflect  iqwin  this  thought,  wo  see 
around  us  in  those  God-given  instincts  a  part  of 
the  practical  outworking  of  tho  cui'se  pronounced 
against,  tlie  earth  for  man’s  sake.” 
Now  if  our  Revoroud  Gontloman  will  get  some 
cliild’s  Entomological  Brimcr,  and  read  it  o.arc- 
fully,  he  may  learn  that  tho  reason  why  ono 
insect  preys  upon  another  is  because  it  was  cre- 
aUsl  tt)  do  just  Giis  very  thing,  and  can  no  moro 
help  it  than  it  can  helji  breathing  to  live.  The 
Ichneumon  lly  deposits  her  eggs  in  the  body  of 
some  other  insect,  because  she  cannot  perpetu¬ 
ate  her  species  iu  any  other  manner,  and  when 
tho  geiitlcraaii  endeavors  to  make  out  that  thoso 
natural  habits  are  tho  result  of  any  act  of  our 
ancestors,  ho  oversteps  the  bouiuls  of  truth,  com¬ 
mon  aeuse,  or  trailitioual  history.  But  wo  will 
leave  him  to  believe  whatever  ho  chooses  in 
tMs  matter,  and  hastily  glance  at  paragraphs 
fui  thcr  on. 
In  spealdug  of  tho  “  Boo  Moth,”  ho  says : 
“The  ‘  Moth  Miller '  is  the  peculiar  enemy  of  the 
hive,”  Now,  the  terms  “  Moth”  and  “ilillor” 
aro  synonymous,  and  are  ajipliod  indiscrinuuatc- 
ly  to  hmidreds  of  different  species  of  both  night 
aud  day  flying  lepido)itera.  Some  persons  sjxiak 
of  them  as  moths,  and  others  as  millers,  just  as 
some  farmers  call  their  male  sheep  “  rams”  and 
others  “  buclis but  no  ono  knowing  the  animal 
would  think  of  using  both  namoa  and  saying  my 
ram  buck  sheep,  wMch,  however,  wuuld  be  no 
more  ridiculous  than  calling  cither  of  onr  com¬ 
mon  species  of  Bco  Moth  {Oalkria)  a  “Moth 
Miller.” 
Mr.  Ql'imby,  from  whoso  work  the  Kov.  S-  ap- 
jicars  to  have  draviTi  largely  in  writing  tlio  arti¬ 
cle  in  question,  calls  the  larvai  of  this  insect  tho 
“  Moth  AVomi.”  which  is  not  an  ohjecliouable 
term,  because  tho  injury  i.i  done  by  the  worm,  or 
larva  of  a  moth. 
But  wo  cannot  spare  the  space  to  follow  our 
wonld-bo  scientific  apiarian  through  all  his  de¬ 
vious  and  doubtful  wanderinga,  while  drawing 
