If you look at the commissure or line of junction of the two compound eyes on the summit of the head, you will see just in front of the point where they separate and their front outlines diverge a minute crescent-shaped cushion of a pale-green color, at each angle of which is a minute antenna. Close to the base of each antenna there is set, in the black skin of the head that divides the green crescent from the compound eyes, a globose polished knob of crystal-like substance, much like the “bull’s-eyes” or hemispheres of solid glass that are set in a ship’s deck to enlighten the side-cabins. On the front side of the crescentic cushion there is a third similar glassy sphere, but much larger than the two lateral ones. What are these three spherules? They are eyes, in no important respect differing from the individuals which compose the compound masses except that they are isolated. The shining glassy hemisphere is a cornea of hard transparent substance, behind which is situated a spherical lens, lodged in a kind of cup formed by an expansion of the optic nerve, and which is surrounded by a colored pigment-layer. You may study these simple eyes, or stemmata, as they are called, in many other insects, though they are not so universally present as the compound eyes. On the forehead of the honey-bee they are well seen, as three black shining globules, placed, as in the dragon-fly, in a triangle. FAIRY FLIES --FRED. ENOCK If it were possible to obtain a reply from all living naturalists as to what first attracted their attention to insect life, I venture to think that seventy-five per cent or more of the replies would be: “The first sight of a living butterfly.” How many of us (no matter what our specialty may now be) can look back to that time when, perhaps, a tortoise-shell flaunted its beauty before our youthful eyes, and we were drawn to it and fascinated by its gorgeous color, as it delicately sipped the nectar from a dandelion or thistle, gently opening and shutting its wings, spreading them as wide as possible so that every part should be seen! The colors and markings flashed before our enraptured gaze, and while we were held captive by its beauty, another still more beautiful butterfly--the peacock--sailed past and alighted close to the first, riveting our attention by the marvelously lovely “eyes” on its wings; and again another--this time a red admiral--in full sail bore down upon us, opened fire, and we surrendered, swearing allegiance for evermore to Atalanta and all her crew. Few boys could stand still and not be affected or influenced by such beauty. Such then has been, and will be, the foundation of our naturalists--“butterfly hunters” first, specialists later on.