as emblems of the mysterious union of the immortal soul and its immortal, incorruptible body! The fable of the Phoenix was more expressive of the real nature of this great change; for there the body of the creature was reduced to death first, and the new-born being sprang from its ashes. As we are anxious to convey only the most clear and accurate idea to the reader's mind of the various stages of insect life through which we are conducting him, it appeared expedient to notice the mistake taught in these pleasing lines, only to avoid the error of its being supposed that they give us an accurate idea of the true nature of the change from pupa to _imago_. The term _Imago_ is a Latin word, and, like those of _larva_ and _pupa_, was given to insects in this condition by the naturalist Linnæus. It signifies properly an image, copy, or representation of any object. In applying it to insects in their last stage, Linnæus intended that we should understand by it, that the insect had now reached its stage of perfection, and had become in all respects exactly like, that is, _the image_ of, its parent. And though a better term might probably be found, yet as no person is likely to fall into any serious mistake merely because we call an insect in its last state an _imago_, it is as well to retain it; better indeed, than, by inventing another, to create nothing but confusion and disorder in the minds of young entomologists. In this chapter, therefore,--the last chapter of the Life of an Insect, the word _imago_ may be considered as synonymous, or having the same meaning, with that of "perfect insect;" it is an insect's last stage of existence. It would be a great mistake to suppose that the insect, so soon as it leaves the pupa-case, is in that instant in every respect similar to what is known to us as the perfect insect. When, for example, a butterfly has just succeeded in extricating itself from its pupa-case, if we were to take it up in the expectation of finding it all at once decked with the glories of its wings, and elegant in its form, we should be disappointed. Owing to the cramped position which its limbs, and wings, and other organs, have so long been made to occupy, its appearance when it emerges from the pupa is necessarily different from that which it wears after all its limbs have been in free exercise, and the flutter of its wings has been heard over hill and dale, throwing the gentle air into an irregular line of tumult.