Title: Comic Insects
Author: Reid, F. A. S.
Language: English
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[Illustration]

THE ILLUSTRATIONS ENGRAVED BY DALZIEL BROTHERS.

THE COLOURED PLATES BY KRONHEIM & CO.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]



COMIC INSECTS.

    BY
    The Rev. F. A. S. REID, M.A.

    WITH ILLUSTRATIONS

    BY
    BERRY F. BERRY.

[Illustration]

    LONDON:
    FREDERICK WARNE AND CO.,
    BEDFORD STREET, STRAND.

[Illustration: Camden Press

DALZIEL BROTHERS

ENGRAVERS & PRINTERS]



CONTENTS.


                              PAGE
    THE CATERPILLAR              1
    THE MOTH                     7
    THE SNAIL                   13
    THE BEE                     19
    THE BLACK-BEETLE            25
    THE SPIDER                  31

[Illustration]



[Illustration: PREFACE]


    OH, wonder I much what this book contains!
    Can Insects talk, and do they have brains?
    I always thought that these queer little things
    Were made up entirely of legs, wings, and stings.
    A Black-Beetle teach me! And what, Bumble-Bee,
    In all the wide world can you say unto me?
    And surely a Caterpillar never has read?
    With green leaves for books, he would eat them instead;
    While neither a Moth nor a Spider could tell
    How a pen should be held, or correctly could spell.
    And as for poor Snailey,--it's more than absurd,
    He never could read a one-syllable word!
    But I've heard of the School Board, and now it's appalling
    To think that a Moth or a Snail may be calling
    And telling me too, as their little eyes glisten,
    Their funny wee lessons, if only I'll listen.

       *       *       *       *       *

    Yes! they talk in a language that all is their own,
    And here into English you'll find it has grown;
    Where pictures will shew, and the rhymes they will say,
    How Insects can work, talk, and laugh, and be gay.

[Illustration]



[Illustration: INTRODUCTION]



COMIC INSECTS.


    How queer a procession is passing this way,
    Of insects all talking; come, hear what they say!
    The sight is as strange as their words they are true,
    And you'll laugh as they offer their lessons to you.

[Illustration]



[Illustration: "_Led astray._"]



THE CATERPILLAR.


        I'M a Caterpillar green,
        Not the prettiest you have seen,
    And my Chrysalis I enter rather loth;
        Though I know that in the spring
        I shall rise on feathered wing
    In the costume of a fascinating Moth.

[Illustration: "_I'm a Caterpillar green._"]

        Little likeness you will spy,
        With the cleverest little eye,
    'Twixt your green-coated friend of to-day
        And the airy form that sails
        When the golden sunlight pales,
    And the owl flies abroad for his prey.

[Illustration: "_And my Chrysalis I enter rather loth._"]

        Yet the same we are indeed,
        Though the riddle's hard to read,
    One, the Moth and the Caterpillar green;
        And still stranger things than this,
        Which no little one should miss,
    In the Picture Book of Nature can be seen.

[Illustration: "_If you'll only deign to lend your ear._"]

        So I think, my little friend,
        If you'll only deign to lend
    Your ear to these few words that I say,
        Ne'er again will you rely
        For convictions on the eye,
    As appearances have often led astray.

[Illustration]



[Illustration: "_Oh, what a beautiful Moth am I._"]



THE MOTH.


    OH, what a beautiful Moth am I!
    Colours so gay, and sparkling each eye,
    Nobody ever would guess, I ween,
    I once was a Caterpillar all in green.

[Illustration: "_With silver and gold I have decked me too._"]

    I've taken me feathers of brightest hue,
    With silver and gold I have decked me too:
    No, no! you never would guess, I ween,
    I once was a Caterpillar all in green.

    With a tardy foot no longer I crawl
    'Neath the shady leaves, or on ivied wall;
    But, joyously floating in airy height,
    I wander abroad in the pale moonlight;

[Illustration: "_I wander abroad in the pale moonlight._"]

    Or join the Elves as they dance and sing
    In the circle green of the fairy ring,
    Or tease a poor Daisy that's trying to keep
    Its big yellow eye from my curious peep.

[Illustration: "_Want of discretion._"]

    But sometimes I fly to a treacherous light,
    That mimics a star in a darkling night;
    And too late I learn, with my poor singed wings,
    The evil that want of discretion oft brings.

[Illustration]



[Illustration: "_How very pale._"]



THE SNAIL.


        POOR little Snail,
        How very pale,
    Your cheek is blanched with fear!
        What horrid dread
        Has made you shed
    So many a slimy tear?

        Come! faster crawl
        Along the wall,
    Leave care behind,--all's well!
        That seeming pack
        Upon your back
    Is near an empty shell.

[Illustration: "_Leave care behind._"]

        Come! smile again,
        And let the rain
    Of tears at once be dry;
        Faint-hearted quite,
        And far from right,
    Before you're hurt to cry.

        No one will doubt
        Who thinks about
    This great world spinning round,
        That all have hours
        When sorrow's showers
    Make April all around.

[Illustration:

      "_That seeming pack
        Upon your back
    Is near an empty shell._"]

        But May and June
        Follow full soon,
    And joy succeeds to sorrow;
        So dry the tear,
        And from the year
    Your cheering lesson borrow.

[Illustration: "_Ah, Snailey! see._"]

        Ah, Snailey! see
        To you and me
    Our burdens oft appear
        Much heavier far
        Than what they are,
    When we give way to fear.

[Illustration]



[Illustration:

        "_Buz! buz! buz!
    Over blossoms heavy laden._"]



THE BEE.


          BUZ! buz! buz!
    Over blossoms heavy laden with their treasures;
        Hear its music as it rifles
        From the flowers their seeming trifles;
    We may watch it in the sunshine at our leisure.

[Illustration: "_Hearty toil._"]

        See! their secrets it espying
        In their tinted depths while prying,
    As it works thro' the long summer day;
        "Be in earnest in your quest,
        Hearty toil brings well-earned rest,"
    Seems the burden of its light-hearted lay.

[Illustration: "_Well-earned rest._"]

        Lessons here of self-reliance,
        And "defence but not defiance,"
    As Volunteers are taught by the Bee.
        As it works on active wing,
        Self-protected with its sting,
    'Tis a grand working model, good to see;

[Illustration: "_. . . Its music as it rifles._"]

        Pointing out how each is sharing
        In the common task, and bearing
    His just portion; where no idler is seen:
        All are busy in the hive
        Where these happy workmen thrive,
    And they're loyal, every one, to their Queen.

[Illustration]



[Illustration: "_This poor Black-Beetle's ill!_"]



THE BLACK-BEETLE.


        OH, dear! Oh, dear!
        I sadly fear
    This poor Black-Beetle's ill;
        And to him now
        No use, I trow,
    Is the cleverest doctor's skill.

[Illustration:

    "_No medical sage
      His pain can assuage._"]

        No medical sage
        His pain can assuage.
    You can see at a glance how bad
        He's made himself,
        All thro' his pelf:
    Isn't it dreadfully sad?

[Illustration: "_When the cook was asleep._"]

        For wandering wide
        On the floor he spied,
    Last night when the cook was asleep,
        And rejoiced to find
        Some cucumber rind,
    And now no more he will creep!

[Illustration: "_Cucumber at night._"]

        Yes! sad though it be,
        This little "B-B"
    Would follow his own appetite;
        He could never say "no,"
        When it tempted him; so
    His epitaph is, "Serve him right!"

        And thus tearfull-ee,
        He begs you and me
    His case as a warning to mind;
        Cucumber at night
        To regard with affright,
    And never to eat up the rind.

[Illustration]



[Illustration: "_Spiders,--heugh!_"]



THE SPIDER.


        SP . . . I . . . DERS,--heugh!
    Horrible forms that creep and crawl,
    And hang their webs from ceiling and wall!

[Illustration: "_As they joy in the breeze._"]

    From leaf and fern as they joy in the breeze,
    From moss-grown arch and ivy-clad trees,
    And catch the flies--the poor little things--
    That carelessly use their gossamer wings.

[Illustration: "_Their beautiful nets._"]

    It makes one shudder to think of the fate
    That giddy bluebottles and gnats may await.
    Yet wonder we must, as we watch them spread
    Their beautiful nets with their silken thread;

[Illustration:

    "_It makes me shudder to think of the fate
      That giddy blue-bottles and gnats may await._"]

    And happier feel at the sign of that Power
    That guides each to weave such a fairy-like bower;
    And think of that Hand, that no eye can see,
    Which fashioned these Insects, and made you and me.

[Illustration]





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