Local Attachment.

The next morning our two friends awoke with the sun, and before half my readers are out of their beds, their peregrinations commenced, one in quest of whatever he could turn into something useful, the other to find what was new and entertaining. When they met, the Bee was still desirous of finding his old habitation. "But why?" said the Butterfly, "surely the little cell you now live in will do very well for the summer; you are in no danger where you are, and have the delightful privilege of calling it all your own."

"All this is true," replied the Bee, "but what a life am I now leading? adding nothing to the general stock; while all my brethren are busily employed in gathering what will be of equal benefit to each, no, no: there is a pleasure in being thus mutually assistant to others which only those who have experienced it can know; and I am resolved, if possible, to enjoy it again."

The Butterfly looked surprised, for though capable of that attachment which proceeds from finding an agreeable companion; and with some idea of the services bestowed upon those we love, and which endears the name of friend, he could not imagine that any pleasure could arise from spending his time in labour; but as long as his friend had assured him of the continuance of his regard, he was desirous that he should obtain what he wished, and willingly offered to assist him in the search.

During their airy rounds they often stopped to refresh themselves on some favorite flower, and though seldom fixing on the same, and to a casual observer did not appear to be at all connected, they were never out of sight of each other. It was from one of these resting places, in which the Bee was delightfully employed extracting sweets from an "extended field of blossomed beans," that the Butterfly stretched his wings to a neighbouring garden; here such various beauties met his eyes that he could not help returning to call his friend to enjoy them with him. "Such a bed of tulips, I have met with," said he, "whose splendid colours can only be equalled by my wings; pray come, and see what lovely flowers."

"Have you not yet learnt that there is something more valuable in a flower than its colour?" returned the Bee, with a smile; "for my part I would prefer these honeyed beans, though I suppose you would think them hardly worth looking at, but of all other flowers tulips have the least sweetness about them, and are fit only to please the eye of those men and butterflies who judge only by appearance; but though I have seen the former admiring a bed of tulips, I have often observed that if they wish to ornament themselves, or their houses, the flowers which we chiefly prefer are also the objects of their choice! as for these beans, though I believe they admire their smell, men are, as I said before, such destructive creatures, that while they are enjoying what is sweet they are at the same time destroying it; and as they expect something still more valuable from these flowers, they are content to let them remain upon their stalks; but we can have our fill of their sweets, and yet not injure what they will hereafter produce. Oh! had I but a hive to go to," continued he, as he stretched his wings to accompany his friend, "how many times should I have gone thither yesterday, and to-day from the cowslips and the beans, and what repeated loads should I have carried home."

"Surely, surely," thought the idle Butterfly, "you need not regret that; to fly hither and thither as you like, with no incumbrance of any kind, and, no care beyond to-morrow, is far better;" so thought the Butterfly, and so perhaps think many Butterflies of the human race; but he forbore to repeat his sentiments on this subject, for, unconscious to himself, he was awed by the superiority of his friend, while he felt no wish to be of the same opinion.

"And so these are the flowers you admire," continues the Bee, as they alighted, "and which can only be equalled in Beauty by your wings? Ah, my dear friend, would not your wings be just as useful if they were not covered with red and purple? look at the plain white ones of numbers of your race, who are now flying around us; you cannot extend your flight farther than these; but see, some children are entering the garden, I question if you will not soon have a greater cause to regret the beauty of your wings than to admire it, and that you will be the object of their pursuit as soon as you meet their eyes, while your plainer brethren will pass unregarded."

This prediction was soon verified, for no sooner did the little ones perceive this self-admiring Butterfly than they all exclaimed, "Oh! what a beauty! let us catch it."

"If you get on that side of the bed, and I on this," said a boy, who appeared to be the eldest of the party, "I will throw my hat at it, and we shall soon have it in our possession."

"Not for the world, master Henry," said the maid, who accompanied them; "you would destroy those beautiful flowers at once if you did, and your papa would be so angry."

"The flowers then are more admired than you are my friend," observed the Bee, "for you see the maid will not let them be injured, not even to procure a sight of your still more beautiful wings."

"Don't laugh at me," replied the Butterfly, somewhat mortified; "I am glad, however, that I have found a place of safety; if I take care not to quit this station, they will not be able to get at me."

Altho' it was his intention to remain there, his young pursuers would not let him be at rest, but with one thing and another so contrived to shake the flowers upon which he settled, that, at last, wearied out with these repeated removals, he took to his wings, and flew to a neighbouring rose-tree.

"Now, now," cried all the children, "we shall have it; don't let it get upon the tulips again, and we shall certainly catch it."

The Bee lay all this time in the bell of a hyacinth, not unmindful of his friend, or his pursuers, but thinking his present alarm might be an useful evidence of what he had been saying, and a check to his vanity, he resolved to let him feel a little more of the dangerous effect his much-admired beauty was likely to produce; but after the young folk had given him one or two hasty flights round the garden, he came forward, and appearing in front of all the young ones, soon checked the eagerness of their chace.

"A Bee, a bee," exclaimed they, "take care, or it will sting you," while the poor trembling Butterfly began to take fresh courage on seeing his friend approach; and, seating himself on the branch of an honey-suckle, endeavoured to regain his breath.

The oldest boy was now resolved to make one more effort, and creeping slowly to the place, put forth his hand to reach the prize, when the Bee, perceiving his intention, again darted before his eyes, and made him retreat. "Thank you, thank you, my dear friend," said the poor Butterfly, "surely they will not attempt to pursue me any more; you must have sufficiently frightened them."

"I'll do something more than frighten them if they do," replied the Bee; "they shall feel what it is to enrage one of us;" nor would these children, animated by the presence of each other, give up their chace, till the Bee had absolutely fulfilled his threat, by just touching the hand of one of them with his sharp sting: and Oh! what a clamour was instantly raised by the whole party for this cruel act, as it was called; the child cried, and the maid declared it was a shame of the nasty Bee to sting one who never thought of hurting him: while all the others gathered round their wounded brother to express their pity and abhorrence of the deed; and while they retired from the garden to get something to alleviate the smart, our two friends were left to recover themselves and congratulate each other on their safety. "I never was so near being taken in my life, and escaped at last," said the Butterfly; "but to you, my friend, I am indebted for my present liberty; if you had not exerted yourself in my behalf I must have been in their possession; I tremble at the thought of it, and am completely tired out in the chace they have given me."

"Now, then, I hope you will acknowledge that your beauty is no real advantage to you," replied the Bee, "but till you are recovered I will visit yonder beautiful acasia which seems to court my notice; besides, I am not without a hope that from it I shall see my ardently desired home; I seem to remember its being near it."

Our airy traveller spoke this with peculiar animation, but on reaching the tree, his pleasure was still higher, for, from thence, he beheld the spot he was in pursuit of; although many hives were near it, he could distinguish his own from all the rest by a thousand little marks known only to those who inhabit it. His heart beat with transport; it appeared to him the abode of peace and plenty, and it was within his reach also; the flower on which he had rested was entirely disregarded, and he stood gazing on the well known spot, "stung with the thoughts of home."

The endearments of his mother returned to his mind with double force, nor could he fear being well received by her, and if by her, all the rest he knew dared not use him differently; "I will acknowledge my disobedience to her commands," said he, "and when she knows what I have gone through she will forgive me; I shall again receive her commendations, and repose myself under her mild and equitable government."

With these thoughts he could scarcely forbear flying away, and rushing at once into the presence of his friends; but he recollected the poor Butterfly, and though there was nothing in their natures which could assimilate, he still remembered that in a great measure he owed his present health and strength to him; "when first we met," continued he, "there was nothing in me to induce his affection; I was poor, sick, and helpless, and yet he was interested for me, and shall I leave him now? no, I will return and tell him what I have seen, and that though for the future I shall reside with more suitable associates, we may still often meet."

Thus determined, he hastened back, with all the liveliness of joy, to inform his friend, who observed his coming, and the cheerful air with which he approached; "I have seen my hive," cried the Bee, without giving him time to make the enquiry, "I have seen it! come, won't you go with me, and at least see the place to which I am going to return, and though I cannot ask you to enter with me, (none but bees being permitted to come in there) I shall never see you when I am out of it without pleasure."

"My dear friend," replied the Butterfly, "after the kindness you have shewn me this morning, it would be ungrateful not to rejoice in what gives you pleasure; I think I am now able to use my wings again, and will readily accompany you; and though I know I must stand at an humble distance while you enter, yet I shall be anxious to hear how you are received, and whether your old companions will forgive your leaving them."

"I have but the displeasure of one to fear," replied the Bee, "and if she forgives me, the rest have nothing to do with it, nor have I much to apprehend from that quarter, since the authority of a sovereign is tempered by the affection of a parent."

Thus conversing they pursued their flight till arriving at a short distance from the well-known hive, "Don't you see it?" said the Bee, fluttering his wings for joy; "don't you behold the welcome spot?"

"I see a number of hives," returned the Butterfly, not quite so enraptured as his friend, "but which is yours I cannot tell."

"Mark the one into which I fly," said the Bee, "and then you'll know it."

"But when shall I see you again?" enquired the Butterfly in a melancholy tone, on seeing his friend preparing for flight; "to-day?"

"Perhaps not," replied the other; "I may not be permitted to come out again, or I may be indulged with a day's rest, and conversation with my mother, but do not suffer yourself to doubt my friendship for you, because I do not fly out every hour and repeat my professions of it; to-morrow, at farthest, I shall renew my labours for the general good, and then if you like to accompany me in my flights, I shall be glad of your company."

With these words he stretched his wings, while the Butterfly bade him farewell, and watching his approach and entrance to the hive, resolved to hover round the place in hopes of learning what reception he had met with.

As the returning vagrant advanced towards the centre of all his hopes and fears, he felt the latter sensibly encrease, yet he could not but advance; at first he settled on the block upon which the hive was placed, every part of which was perfect in his recollection; he observed no one near, for as it was now the middle of the day, almost all were out, busily employed, except a few, whom he knew were always on the watch to keep out every intruder; at length he ventured within the hive, and immediately all the humming inmates which were then at home flocked around him; some concluded that he had mistaken his hive, while others imagined they could recollect his form and figure. "Do you not know me?" said he, "I once belonged to your fraternity, and my heart is still knit towards you."

On hearing an unusual murmur the mother queen appeared, with all her attendant train, to enquire who the bold intruder was? The way was cleared for her approach, and a solemn silence prevailed, while the stranger, with unfeigned humility, answered to the question. No sooner did her majesty know her returning child, than in one loud hum she expressed her satisfaction, and this was heard and attended to by all around, and presently the general voice was that he should be re-admitted.

"I am not returned unto you sick, or unable to work," replied the delighted Bee, after he had expressed his thanks for their generous reception of him; and then related to his attentive and sympathyzing parent all he had gone through since he had so rashly left the hive, whilst the rest waited till the close of the day before they indulged their curiosity by hearing it, nor did he forget to acknowledge that it was to the attention of a Butterfly that he owed his life.

"A Butterfly," returned the queen, whose dignity felt hurt that any of her race should be indebted to so trifling a creature, "sure you must have been sunk very low indeed, to need the assistance of a Butterfly."

"I have learnt, my dear mother," replied the young one, "that there is no creature, however mean, but may be of service some time or other; the Butterfly is well aware of the great difference there is between us."

"And sensible, I hope, of the honour done him, in being permitted to assist a Bee?" rejoined the mother.

This important affair being settled, though not entirely to the satisfaction of the queen, who while she forbore to say more upon the subject, resolved narrowly to watch the conduct of her son, fearing he would gain too much of the frivolity of the Butterfly if he long associated with him: and after shewing him a cell in which he might for the future reside, she left him to prepare it for his reception.