master's; but it loved me, and I have nothing to love me now."

Mrs. Merton entered into conversation with the girl, and learnt from her that she was an orphan, and had been bound an apprentice by the parish to a neighbouring farmer. The dog that lay dead before them had been her playfellow and companion, and the poor girl's sorrow at its loss was the greater as she had nothing to supply its place in her affections. As, however, it was impossible to restore it to life, Mrs. Merton thought the best thing that could be done was to change the current of the child's ideas, and accordingly gave her a shilling, which effectually answered the purpose intended; for the little girl, who had never been mistress of so much money before, instantly dried her tears, and ran off, leaving Agnes very indignant at her, for suffering herself to be so easily consoled.

They now passed a farm house, which both Mrs. Merton and Agnes thought might possibly belong to the master of the little girl; and they noticed some remarkably fine poultry feeding at the door of the barn.

"I have noticed in passing through the Island,"

said Mrs. Merton, "that the poultry is remarkably fine everywhere, and that it is apparently very abundant."

"One reason," said Mr. Merton, "is no doubt the fact, that there are neither badgers nor pole-cats in the Island, and till lately there were no foxes; but these have been now introduced for the sake of hunting them."

"The inhabitants of the Isle of Wight," said Mrs. Merton smiling," appear to have been very badly off with regard to the rural sports, for at one time, I believe, no hares were to be found here. At least I remember reading somewhere, that the same Sir Edward Horsley, whose tomb we saw at Newport, was so anxious to introduce hares here, that he gave a fat lamb for every hare that was brought over from the mainland alive."

"Oh! look mamma," cried Agnes, interrupting her mother, "what a beautiful butterfly! Surely that is quite different from those we saw the other day."

"You are quite right," said her mother, "it is different; and it is very extraordinary that it should be here at all, as it is generally found only in low marshy places."

"I have heard, however," said Mr. Merton, "of its being found in the neighbourhood of Dover on the chalk cliffs, and, therefore, it is not very surprising that we should meet with it here.”

"But what is the name of this butterfly, mamma ?" said Agnes.

"It is called the Marbled-white, or Marmoress," said Mrs. Merton, "but I think it is a variety a little different from the common kind."

"Look, mamma!" said Agnes, "there it is again, sitting on that bough with its wings closed.

How very odd it is that butterflies should sit in that queer position !"

"It is their attitude of repose," said Mrs. Merton. "They sit in that position when they are asleep, and they are even found in it when they are dead."

"It is very curious," said Agnes, "that they should be so very fond of displaying the under side of their wings; and it is still more curious that the under side should be so very different from the upper side. How is it, mamma? I should have thought in wings so thin as those of the butterfly, that the colours would shine through."

The marks on the butterfly's wing," said Mrs. Merton, "are composed of a number of delicate little scales, laid over each other like the feathers of birds; and there are two different sets of scales for every wing, one covering the upper, and the other the under side. If you lay hold of a butterfly by its wings, you will find that some of these delicate little scales will adhere to your fingers, on which they will look like fine dust, and that the membrane of the wing from which they were brushed will be laid bare;

just as the skin of a bird would be if you were to pluck off its feathers."

"Ah, mamma," cried Agnes, "there is another butterfly, which appears to me quite different from the other."

THE CLOUDED YELLOW BUTTERFLY (Colias Edusa).

"Yes," said Mrs. Merton, "that is the CloudedYellow, a very common butterfly in every part of England, and, I believe, in almost every part of the world. It is, however, rather capricious in its visits, as every three or four years a season occurs when not one of these butterflies is to be seen; while, perhaps, the next season they are so abundant as to lie dead under every hedge."

"Several other kinds of insects," said Mr. Mer