Insects—Why Were They Made?
ThE earth is covered with beauty everywhere, and is teeming with various plants in their early stages of growth. With them comes a new world of animated nature, in the form of insects, whose name is legion. Very few plants escape them. The mullein, chickory, dock and murdock, are, perhaps, exceptions. The more tender and delicate a plant, the better they like it, and that is very sensible in them. Scarcely a plant among all our farm crops or the garden vegetables, escapes their ravages. They are everywhere. They will cut off your thrifty hills of beautiful squash plants in a single day and night, and the row of beautiful egg plants, that were tipped with dew and shone so brightly in yesterday's morning sun, are utterly worthless today, drooping, mutilated, dying! Birds, squirrels, and mice destroy the corn; caterpillars and canker worms destroy the foliage of the fruit trees; and the apple-worm, moth and curculio either drop an egg upon the fruit or puncture it, or seal over an egg, and thus introduce an enemy into the very citadel of life, which preys upon its vitals until death ensues. All the fruits, grains and grasses have their enemies, and nothing but vigilance will save the plants of the cultivator from common destruction. What were these creatures made for? is a question sometimes asked by persons, when the long and careful labor of their hands is cut off in a single day! We can only reply, that they were created and placed in our midst by the same wise and beneficent Being that created us, and who has made it our duty to cultivate and subdue the earth, and make it teem with fertility. If we cannot fathom the mysteries of a single blade of grass, how can we expect to penetrate his designs in the multiplication of so many creatures that destroy the labor of our hands. The thought that he created them—and undoubtedly for wise purposes—should hush every murmur, and lead us to accept what he has given in grateful trust and confiding love. That insects are made in vain we cannot for a moment believe. The evils they inflict upon us have their compensation. Most birds feed upon insects. Should we be willing to give up these, if withdrawing insects were the price? They also serve as food to the larger animals, and even for man himself in some countries. They undoubtedly assist to maintain a due balance between vegetable and animal productions, and are also scavengers, removing nuisances and deformities that become exceedingly offensive to the senses. They serve us in the fertilization of plants, fructifying them with the pollen which they carry along from flower to flower. They afford us medicines, some of which are of such essential service as to be thought indispensable in the practice of the physician. Dyes of exquisite color, are obtained from them, and could scarcely be spared in the arts. So they yield us wax, honey and oils—silks that are in the civilized world—silks in which kings and queens are clad, and which may be found in some form in the humblest hamlet in the land. Let these compensations—and no doubt there are many more—comfort us in our moments of vexation, added to the thought that this is their world as well as ours; that God has created and placed them in it, and caused plants to grow for man and beast, and that we are, all alike, dependent upon his bounty for our daily bread. But, let us be watchful that they do not get too large a share. In this patient watchfulness we may find, perhaps, another compensation of which we have as yet little thought. Stern virtues do not spring up from beds of down and paths of ease, but amid the sharp and rugged ways of life, in trials and disappointments, even after all our powers have been exerted to avoid them. Is it impossible that these tiny destructives are exercising us in lessons of patience, forbearance and love, and leading us more directly to him who is the Author of all! Who knows?—New England Farmer.