Though twelve years have elapsed since the above passage was written, the subject remains as doubtful as ever; fear of their poison having probably been the means of saving the Vipers from the "direct experiment" here suggested. The following letter will therefore, I feel sure, be read with interest. The writer is a great friend of mine: he is a son of Mr. George Warde Norman, one of our greatest political economists, and in his testimony the utmost reliance may be placed. He writes to me as follows:

"Bromley Common, 23rd Oct. 1861. "DEAR LUBBOCK,-The following are the particulars which you requested me to send to you.

On the 2nd of September I was out shooting with our gamekeeper. In walking through a wood, the keeper, who was a short distance behind me, noticed a viper on the ground. It was a little over

two feet long, but was not accurately measured. The keeper affirms that directly the viper was disturbed, he saw two young ones run into its mouth; he is convinced that he saw two, and thinks, but is not certain, that he saw three. He put his foot on it, cut its head off, and brought the body to me.

We commenced skinning it by turning the skin inside out, and drawing it off from head to tail. On partially removing the skin, we could see several young ones inside, which were all moving about and seemed as lively as possible. In order to preserve them in the condition in which they then were, we drew the skin on again and tied up the orifice of the neck. On arriving at home, I opened the body and found that all the young vipers, 11 in number, were dead, as I imagined from suffocation.

The keeper says, that he has several times before seen young vipers when alarmed run into their mother's mouth for safety. Yours sincerely,

PHILIP NORMAN."

Assuming, as I feel no hesitation in doing, that Mr. Norman's statement is thoroughly correct, the only remaining question would be whether the young vipers thus found in the body of their mother, were the same which the keeper saw, or supposes that he saw, running into her mouth. My friend, not being an anatomist, does not venture to state that the young were in the stomach, but he feels no doubt that this was the case; and, if they had been in the oviduct some traces of the foetal membranes would probably have been perceived. I shall be happy to forward the specimens to any Naturalist who may wish to examine them. The young ones themselves are eleven in number; between six and seven inches in length; and were about to moult, a new layer of scales being fully formed under the outer skin. I am unaware what is the condition and size of young vipers, when they first see the light, but I do not imagine that they could be of so large a size.

I cannot but express a hope that Mr. Norman, having thus shown his interest in Natural History, and his power of observing, will not allow this to be his last contribution to our science.

THE

NATURAL HISTORY REVIEW:

A

QUARTERLY JOURNAL OF BIOLOGICAL SCIENCE.

Reviews.

XIII.-THE WRITINGS OF M. FABRE.

OBSERVATIONS SUR LES MŒURS DES CERCERIS. Ann. des Sci. Nat. Tome IV. Ser. 4.

ETUDE SUR L'INSTINCT ET LES MÉTAMORPHOSES DES SPHÉGIENS. Ann. des Sci. Nat. Tome VI. Ser. 4.

MÉMOIRE SUR L'HYPERMETAMORPHOSE ET LES MŒURS DES MÉLOÏDES. Ann. des Sci. Nat. Tome VII. Ser. 4.

RECHERCHES SUR L'ANATOMIE DES ORGANES REPRODUCTEURS ET SUR LE DÉVELOPPEMENT DES MYRIAPODES. Ann. des Sci. Nat. Tome III. Ser. 4.

MISS MARTINEAU in her " Eastern Life" expresses her wonder that after a co-existence of 6000 years or more we cannot understand the language of a single animal. But how few men are there who make any effort to do so. Even among naturalists, how large a proportion catch but to kill, and study only the dead. In Entomology we have had but two Hubers, nor can we be said yet to understand thoroughly the habits of a single insect. The most startling discovery of the last few years relates to a species which has been domesticated from time immemorial. Gladly, therefore, do we welcome an Entomologist who steps boldly out of the common path; in some cases, indeed, we may feel disposed to think that M. Fabre's enthusiasm leads him to attribute to his favourites, feelings of which we can hardly suppose them capable; but we cannot criticise what we have enjoyed so much, and the error, if it be one, throws an additional charm over his writings. Out of the many species whose manners and customs are described by M. Fabre, we must confine ourselves to three; and even then we cannot in so short an abstract do anything like justice to the wit and brilliancy of the original.

N. H. R-1862.

K

In the memoir which we have placed at the head of this article, M. Fabre devotes himself to the genus Cerceris.

In the latter part of September, this insect, which is one of the solitary wasps, begins to hollow out a sort of gallery in the earthhorizontal or vertical, according to the species-and to enclose therein her progeny, together with the food destined for their future support. She shews herself in no wise particular as to the nature of the soil in which she works, provided it be perfectly dry, and exposed during a great part of the day to the heat of the sun. She takes ingenious advantage of any projection in the ground, or bunch of weeds, under the shelter of which she can pierce her gallery, and thus add as it were a peristyle to her dwelling. Though the Cercerides do not form themselves into communities, M. Fabre observes that they generally choose to live near each other, and the nests lie close together, to the number of eight or ten. It is curious to watch the labours of these insects in forming their habitations, and the patience with which they drag up successive heavy loads of sand, and eject it from the entrance of their holes. The sight of their tiny jets of sand constantly recurring attracted the attention of M. Fabre, in the first instance, to these little excavators. He watched them, resting from their labours and basking in the sun, the females often flying to the surrounding trees, pursued by the males, who hover about, idle spectators of the toil carried on before their eyes. Fights frequently ensue between them for the possession of some particular female, who sits an apparently unconcerned beholder of the struggle for supremacy, and, when the victory is decided, quietly flies away in company with the conqueror. The males, which are only half the size of the females, do not condescend even to enter the galleries which are in course of excavation; and neither by carrying a single grain of sand, nor by assisting in the subsequent troublesome task of collecting provisions for the young, do they share in the industry around them. Having completed the nests for the reception of her eggs, it now remains for the thoughtful parent to provide the nourishment requisite for her young, when they shall emerge from the shell. The victim chosen for this purpose is a large Curculio (Cleonus opthalmicus). On her return from a foraging expedition, the Cerceris may be seen flying homewards, heavily weighed down by her prey, which she embraces, the underside of her body opposed to that of her victim. Alighting at a short distance from her hole, she proceeds to drag the Cleonus painfully up to the entrance of its prison, often slipping back, and rolling with it down among the loose grains of sand, only to recommence undauntedly her toilsome ascent. M. Fabre had the curiosity to weigh both the Cerceris and her prey; the first averaged 150 milligrammes, the second 255; a fact which would render the flight of the Cerceris a matter of considerable surprise to any one not aware of the great muscular power possessed by insects.

Either by robbing her nest of the prey, or by attacking the Cerceris at the moment when she arrived with her booty, and forcing

her by means of a straw to relinquish it, M. Fabre succeeded in possessing himself of about 100 Curculios. The insect to which he directed his attention is not the Cerceris Bupresticida, which attacks indiscriminately all the Buprestes, but one of its congeners, and more exclusive, apparently, in its tastes; as all the Curculios he examined belonged, with one single exception, to the same species.

It is difficult to see why, of four kinds of Cerceris, two should make choice exclusively of Curculios, two of Buprestes; thus restricting their chance of finding victims within such narrow limits: and the total want of outward resemblance between Curculios and Buprestes also raises the question why these two groups especially are selected. As, however, we shall see hereafter, this problem has been satisfactorily solved by M. Fabre.

After what has been written on the subject by M. Dufour, it is needless to state that the Curculios examined by M. Fabre, though deprived absolutely and entirely of all power of motion, were still not dead. In fact, from their freshness of colour, suppleness of membrane, and general internal condition, it was almost impossible to realize their being utterly incapable of the least movement. Through heat sufficient to have dried up any animal which had suffered ordinary death, through damp which would have caused rapid decomposition, M. Fabre preserved these beetles in paper cornets or in glass tubes and after a fortnight the viscera were as fresh, the act of dissection was as easy, as they would have been in the case of a living creature. In the face of facts like these, we cannot possibly attribute this immoveable state to antiseptic agency alone. Life is there, but numbed, as it were, and paralysed: a miracle beyond the power of chloroform or æther to perform, having its origin in the mysterious laws of the nervous system.

In this state of vegetation the animal functions still faintly exert themselves: digestion continues as long as the stomach_contains food. By the aid of benzine vapour and of a voltaic battery, M. Fabre succeeded in obtaining some feeble movements of the legs and antennæ, even up to the fifteenth day after this extraordinary suspension of muscular power had taken place; whereas, the same experiments, when made upon beetles dead, in the true sense of the word, only two hours, were productive of no result whatever.

These facts, indeed, militate strongly against the supposition that the Curculios are dead, and merely preserved by some means from natural decay. The weapon with which they are overcome is of course the venomous sting of the Cerceris: but how can this penetrate through the coat of mail worn by the Curculio? in which, moreover, there is no trace of injury or wound to be discovered after the combat is over. The key to this mystery has been obtained by M. Fabre, after an amount of patient investigation which would have wearied out a less persevering and intelligent observer.

With great difficulty, and after a long search in fields and hedges, he succeeded in capturing several live specimens of Curculio, which

he placed at the entrance of their enemies' abode, in the hope of tempting the Cercerides to attack the prey thus brought to their very doors, and to perform under his eyes the act of which he had already in many cases witnessed the marvellous results. But the victims thus offered were scornfully rejected: the inglorious booty treated with disdain. The experiment of putting a Cerceris and a Curculio together in a bottle was attended with no better success. Their positions seemed reversed: the Cerceris, too overcome by fear to attempt resistance, tried vainly to escape, while her antagonist fiercely seized one of her legs between its jaws. Thus baffled, M. Fabre was struck with the ingenious idea of waylaying a Cerceris returning with her booty, and contriving to substitute for it a living Curculio. This experiment succeeded to admiration. As soon as the Cerceris perceived her prey to have slipped from her grasp, she struck the earth with her feet, and turned impatiently hither and thither: then, suddenly perceiving the living Curculio placed close to her by M. Fabre, pounced upon it, and proceeded to carry it off. Instantly, however, discovering it to be still uninjured, she placed herself face to face with it, seized its rostrum between her powerful mandibles, and pressed her forelegs heavily upon its back, as if to cause the opening of some ventral articulation. Quickly then she slid her abdomen beneath the Curculio, and struck her venomous dart sharply twice or thrice into the joint of the prothorax, between the first and second pair of legs. In one second, without a convulsive movement, without those twitches of the limbs which generally accompany the death agony of any animal, the victim dropped motionless, struck as if by lightning. The Cerceris then, turning the apparently lifeless insect on its back, embraced it as before described, and bore it away in triumph. Three times did M. Fabre repeat this interesting experiment, each time with precisely similar results. It must be clearly understood, that on each occcasion he restored to the Cerceris her original captive, and took possession of that which he had himself provided, in order to examine it at his leisure. Greatly did he marvel at the dexterity with which the fatal stroke had been dealt. Not the slightest trace of a wound was to be found: not the least drop of vital liquid spilt. The puncture made by the sting of the Cerceris is indeed so microscopic, that chemistry can furnish no poison sufficiently powerful to produce with so small a quantity so startling an effect and it is, in fact, not so much to the venom of the dart as to the physiological importance of the exact point at which it enters, that we must ascribe the cessation, so complete, so instantaneous, of all active life.

:

In most insects there are three ganglia, which furnish the nerves of the wings and legs, and on which the power of movement principally depends. The first, that of the prothorax, is distinct from the others in all Coleoptera; but the two last, those of the meso- and meta-thorax, though generally separate, are in some species united together. Now, it is a well-known fact, that, in most cases, the more