Having thus noticed these points in connexion with the Life of an Insect, we are led to that most important of all periods, the dawn of life in the egg, or, in common terms, the period of hatching. But before proceeding to the subject, may we not pause and wonder as we behold the varied manifestations of the Creator's wisdom in the actions of the minute, and, as we often call them, insignificant creatures of whom we have spoken? Should David say, when he beheld the sun, moon, and stars, as the work of a Divine hand, "Lord, what is man, that thou considerest him, or the son of man, that thou regardest him!" And shall not we, as we contemplate the few particulars here set down of the wonders of insect-life, exclaim, with even greater astonishment, "What are these, that thou considerest _them_?" Let no one then say, that entomology, or any other natural science whose field of study lies chiefly among the minute portions of creation, are profitless sciences, when they can reveal to us such a display of the power, wisdom, and love of God, as is exhibited even in this small portion of the Life of an Insect. Let us then take up one of these eggs, so minute, but containing within it the rudiments of a being which is in time to assume a form of considerable magnitude, by comparison, and to be adorned with colours richer than art can boast of, and let us examine it on the field of a tolerably powerful microscope. We need not look far for a specimen. In the dark corner of the ceiling in a neglected room, after removing the mass of dust-filled webs that have accumulated there for months, we may find without difficulty a spider's nest of eggs. A more pleasant place to search for insects' eggs is, perhaps, the garden; and if in the crevices of the bark of the trees, or attached to twigs or branches, none can be found, we can almost certainly promise success if the reader will carefully and patiently search the angles of the garden walls, particularly if he has noticed in the preceding autumn many of the beautiful webs of the garden-spider. There, in some sheltered recess, where the pattering rain-drops may be heard, but never venture in, and where few eyes would detect them, may be found little round yellow balls, of the size of a small cherry, made of the most beautiful golden-coloured silk, and attached by a slender stalk to the wall, or perhaps, to a twig. Sometimes they exhibit the more elegant and curious appearance shown in the figure on the next page, resembling an inverted wine-glass or pear. [Illustration: _Nests of Garden-Spider._] On taking our prize in-doors, by the aid of a very sharp penknife we may succeed in cutting it smoothly open, and in turning out some of the delicate eggs which lie warmly covered up at the bottom. Taking one of them up on the point of the knife, and laying it on the microscope-field, we shall be able to see something of the anatomy of an insect's egg.