which the poor butterfly, and too many other beautiful insects experience, as the penalty they are condemned to pay for the ephemeral enjoyment of their splendid exterior. I placed it on a book in a dark room, and could distinctly read the words which were within the rays of its light. But the light was not so bright, as when it was on the wing and in quick motion; it was more mellow, and like that of the glow-worm, in its state of rest, but I did not perceive it to be in any degree intermittent. The light proceeded from the tail or lower part of the body, and the phosphoric segment is not above one-fourth of its whole dimension. Its antennæ were filiform, and the segments of the abdomen terminated in folded papillæ, lapping over each other. It was a little more than half an inch in length.

It is not easy to account for the silence of the ancient poets upon this most extraordinary insect. Its rapid movements and vivid sparkling beauty, the season and hour and place of its appearance are all poetical, and how it could have escaped the notice of Anacreon and Horace, and their tuneful brethren, is a question which will continue to puzzle the imagination of the critic and entomologist. Some have fancied that the fire-fly, like the orangetree, was not known in Greece and Italy in early times; that it is one of those new animals, with the production of which Nature amuses herself

occasionally in her fantastic moods. I have seen this conjecture discussed in one of the periodical works of the day, but I forget in which.

It is, however, an error to suppose that the fireflies were unknown to the ancient Greeks and Romans. Aristotle mentions them under the name vуoλаμμradas, and distinguishes them from the glow-worm, by saying that these were winged, the others not1. Pliny also speaks of them, and calls them "cicindelæ," and takes care to describe them as having wings, and thus differing from the glow-worm. The Greeks, he says, called them "lampyrides." Pliny admires the benignity of Nature, which has bountifully produced these brilliant insects, to encrease the beauties of the lovely season, in which they usually make their

appearance.

Aristotle's Hist. Ani. Lib. iv. cap. 1.

2" Lucent ignium modo noctu, laterum et clunium colore lampyrides, nunc pennarum hiatu refulgentes, nunc vero compressu obumbratæ, non ante matura pabula, aut post desecta conspicua." Plin. Lib. ii. cap. 34.

66

Atque etiam in eodem arvo est signum illius maturitatis, et horum sationis commune, lucentes vespere per arva cicindelæ. Ita appellant rustici stillantes volatus-Græci vero lampyrides incredibili benignitate Naturæ." Lib. xviii. cap. 66.

CHAPTER IX.

The new Church of San Giovanni. Restraints imposed at the Restoration of the House of Savoy, in 1814. Girls' School at San Giovanni. Female Education in the Valleys.

THE third Sunday after my arrival in the valleys, (July 12) I attended public service at the church of San Giovanni. The venerable pastor, M. Mondon, used the old Genevan liturgy; his prayer before the sermon was extempore, and was poured forth with a considerable degree of devotion. The principal object of his sermon, from Acts x. 2, was to promote a local charity. The application of the clause "with all his house," was enforced with great judgment and feeling, especially where the preacher explained that there can be no true spirit of public piety, where religious duties are neglected at home; and that we must begin by managing our domestic affairs with prudence and economy, or we cannot hope to have the means of answering those demands upon our benevolence, which put Christian sincerity to the test. M. Mondon is not far from fourscore years of age, and he is one of those

Vaudois clergymen, who have often crossed the Alps, at all hazards, to be the bearers of spiritual comfort to the forlorn remnant of the ancient Waldensian Church of Dauphiné. Previously to the year 1786, the Protestants of the Val Queiras and Val Frassyniére, could only obtain the succours of the Church by stealth. Terrible penalties were inflicted on those who administered, and on those who received, the sacraments otherwise than after the ritual of Rome, and it was to "feed the sheep" in these remote folds, that M. Mondon, and others of his brethren of the valleys, made frequent journeys into France. When the new Protestant Church of Frassyniére was consecrated a few years ago, M. Mondon was present. He had traversed the barriers of France and Italy, to enjoy the cheering sight of a new order of things, and to behold the members of the little community, with whom he had often prayed in private, offering up their praises and supplications to Almighty God publicly, and in a sanctuary of their own.

This aged pastor yet retains the vivacity of his earlier days; his manner in the pulpit was both expressive and impressive, and he had all the appearance of being deeply in earnest. It is said that he is severe and inflexible upon some points, where it would be better to yield and to conciliate, to bear and to forbear. Whether this be the case or not, I do not choose to take upon myself to determine. I cordially subscribe to the

sentiments expressed by an English friend, who wrote to me thus, from the valleys: "For myself, I only wish to benefit the Vaudois population. It is not my province to be a bearer of evil report. Whatever defects may exist, I feel how much a body of men deserve respect, who, like their forefathers, have constantly opposed the enormous corruptions of Rome."

The church of San Giovanni, spacious though it is, was nearly full, and a heart-stirring sight it was, to behold such a congregation of Waldenses gathered together in a parish, from which persecution has so often chased the brethren: and in a sanctuary, which the Romish clergy have used their utmost endeavours to put down. It is a noble building, perhaps the most handsome and substantial in the valleys, in form resembling a horse shoe, about 100 feet long and 60 wide, very lofty, large enough to contain 2000 persons, and, with the exception of a strong echo, well calculated for the purposes to which it is adapted. Like most churches on the continent, it is fitted up with seats and benches open to all. There are no pews, those worst introductions of the worst times, whether you consult taste, utility, or piety, and which, with the exception of a very few new churches in England, continue to be the disgrace and deformity of our sacred buildings. Even many of our cathedrals have admitted them.Wherever pews occupy the whole or the greater