GRAY.

In the course of the next day the two friends met again, and while the Bee did not forget the more important work of gathering food for the approaching winter, he did not so earnestly pursue it as to make him unmindful of other things.

"See here," said he to the Butterfly, as they flew towards a house whose open windows seemed to invite their entrance; "let us go in, I think we shall meet with something worth our notice?" The Butterfly hastened on, but no sooner had he reached the window than turning back, he winged his flight another way, with much greater speed, calling to his friend to follow him.

"What have you seen that has so alarmed you?" enquired the Bee, as he hurried after him, "what is in that house so very frightful?"

"It belongs to a naturalist," replied the Butterfly, "and don't you know what detestable creatures these are? had he seen me I should have lost my life in the cruelest manner."

"A naturalist!" returned the Bee, "I never heard of one, what does he do?"

"Do?" replied the trembling Butterfly, "why, he would tear me limb from joint if I was in his power, and yet endeavour to preserve my life only to try how much he could make me suffer; did you not see how many of my species were pinned up against the walls of his room, whose peculiar form or colour had attracted his attention? he thinks nothing of taking the life of any thing he admires. Oh! it turns me sick to think of it; had I flown one inch farther I might have been thus impaled, and you also; no doubt you would not have escaped his observation, and for the sake of your sting, or examining what you carry your honey in, you would have been quickly dispatched; various are the instruments he has got about him, and numberless insects does he daily destroy."

"These are detestable creatures indeed," answered the Bee; "what can't they be satisfied with viewing our forms as we pass along, but must they pull us to pieces, by way of admiration? I fancy when they have taken the most accurate survey, they could not make either a Bee, or a Butterfly; it is a pity therefore that they should destroy that life which they can never give. I declare the more I see of these human beings, and think of their cruelty, as well as absurdities, it makes me almost determine to quit the haunts of men, and if it ever should be my lot again to seek another habitation, I would use all my influence with my fellow Bees in order to remove to some wild wood where they might never find us."

"You would be perfectly right," returned the Butterfly; "as for us, if we escape them one summer, we willingly resign our lives at the end of it, and led by instinct seek a place in which we die unlamented, and soon forgotten; but this is not the case with you; while you live you are useful, and at your death a whole society feels your loss; but look," continued he, pointing towards a bottle that hung tied to the branch of a fruit-tree, in which were several wasps decoyed thither by the liquid it contained, and dying in the sweets they sought, "there is another instance of their malice, don't you see those poor creatures?"

"Oh! yes," returned the Bee, "and though I am no friend to wasps, who are often wishing to share the fruits of our labour, without having any right to them; and in many things are striving to imitate us, though I believe their chief aim is to do mischief, yet I cannot justify men who use such mean arts to entrap them to their destruction; but what is that I see in yonder window?" continued he with a hurried air, "something that more particularly demands my attention, a Bee in distress; and hark, he calls to me for assistance;" so saying, without waiting for the Butterfly to accompany him, he flew towards the place, where was a Bee nearly drowning in a pot of honey. "And one of my own hive too!" exclaimed he, as he drew nearer; "my dear brother, how came you in such a situation?"

"Surely we are to see nothing but shocking sights to-day," observed the compassionate Butterfly, who had hastily followed his friend, half afraid that something still more terrible had happened, "but," said he, on seeing the struggling captive, "he will not die; 'tis certain he can keep his head above the edge till you have procured more assistance; I fear I am not strong enough to help to pull him out."

While he was speaking, his companion had flown to the hive, and with incredible swiftness returned with more of the community, who altogether lent their aid, and after much toil and pains extricated the poor exhausted Bee from the ill effects of seeking too large a share of those sweets which only proved so, when moderately enjoyed, 'safe in themselves but dangerous in the excess.'

"I only rested on the edge of the pan," said he, as soon as he could speak, "and after an unsuccessful flight was glad to see a store of that which I had been so long searching for in vain; I thought I would just take a sip or two, and perhaps bring home a little of it to the hive."

On hearing this one of the oldest of the throng thus addressed him: "Know, my brother, that what we make ourselves is only welcome there, and that food for which we labour hardest, is the sweetest to the palate of every industrious Bee; idle drones and wandering wasps may sip the honey which others have prepared, but let the danger you have escaped to-day teach you to use the powers nature has given you, and taste the sweets of your own procuring rather than that of others."

The trembling Bee thanked him for his advice, and promising to follow it, he was escorted home by all the train, where he met with other assistants, who cleared away the clammy substance that still encumbered him, and he was suffered to rest within all that day to recover himself. Meanwhile, the Butterfly waited without the hive, till his friend returned, and they renewed their flight.

Nothing particular met their eye till they passed some flies, who were round a piece of horse-flesh, the smell of which discovered where it lay, and its half devoured state shewed the avidity with which these buzzing insects fed upon it. "See," said the Bee, "what opposite natures are within the circle of creation. These devouring flies find as much pleasure in eating from this stinking carrion, as from the choicest honey; nay, perhaps this is more agreeable to them, though nothing in which they can thrust their devouring trunks escapes their taste, but with this delicious morsel, that really poisons the surrounding air, they are so delighted, that they even chuse it for an habitation likewise. Here they lay their eggs, and bring forth their young, and having no trouble to hunt for food for them, they spend their time in flying round it, till their habitation and provision being gone together, they are obliged to seek another residence equally convenient. Though you bear the same name, my friend," continued he, "I am witness that you have not their nature."

"Their nature!" interrupted the Butterfly, half offended at being mentioned together, "no! I hope not, or their name either! what, shall the beautiful winged tribe of Butterflies be put upon a footing with these carrion-eaters, who live upon what, even in our crawling state, we should reject with disgust. If I may speak my opinion, I think their form, and the noise they make while flying, is more like your race than ours, though alas! in one respect, I feel myself too closely allied to them, that is, I must shortly resign my being; the date of my life will soon be ended; I have felt the chilling blast of the morning air long before you are out of your hive, and if you are not already aware of it, can give you notice that winter is approaching."

"Indeed," replied the Bee, "I have seen some tokens of it myself; the flowers are not in such plenty, and as their faded leaves fall off, no young buds are seen to supply their place; however, such is the use which we have made of the summer, that we are not afraid to look forward to the time when every outward resource shall fail: but, my friend, I fear you are of too delicate a frame to live through the winter, though the place of your retreat be ever so warm; but have you not thought of where you will retire to?" continued he.

"A place to die in is easily found," replied the Butterfly, "and you must not be surprised if you see me no more; the damps of the night will soon prove fatal, and I know not if I shall survive another."

"Do not speak so," returned the Bee, "how gladly would I afford you an asylum if it was in my power; however, I cannot let you resign your life so easily; green leaves are yet to be found, and now, within our reach, I see a convenient crevice, into which you may creep; there cherish life as long as you can, my friend, and by only venturing out when the sun shines brightly, you may perhaps extend your days beyond their usual period, and have your name recorded, as a Butterfly who has survived the summer."

"Thank your kindness," returned the short-lived insect, "my life has been already lengthened through your means, but you cannot renovate my nature; may yours be extended."

"As long as it can be useful," said the Bee, interrupting him, "but to you I owe all that I have gathered this summer," added he; "for had it not been for your friendly and compassionate encouragement when first we met, I should have sunk a victim to the consciousness of deserved destruction; say not, therefore, that you have been of no use in the world."

"I will not," returned the Butterfly, faintly fluttering his wings, as if with his last breath he was desirous of rejoicing it had been in his power to do good.

From this time the poor Butterfly was still more sensible of the weakness of his frame, and flying towards the place his friend had pointed out, he entered, never to quit it more, "self-buried 'ere he died," for in the morning when the Bee visited the spot he was deaf to his voice, and his pitying friend had to lament the sudden change in one he had so very lately seen frisking about in all the gaiety of health and spirits.

"Poor fly," said he, "thou hast been faithful to me, and has even forgot thy wonted pleasures to afford me assistance; I will not leave thee to the devouring jaws of thy fellow insects, at least thy little body shall be preserved from being so destroyed," and with this resolution he spent one whole day in gathering wax, and stopping up the crevice which contained the remains of his friend—all the return he could now make for his former kindness. After having given this last proof of affection, he returned to the hive, and there in the busy labors of the Commonwealth soon forgot the shock which the unexpected death of his airy companion had occasioned.

During that winter they were suffered to remain unmolested, and as the ensuing summer approached, (according to the plan he had formed so long ago,) he proposed their taking a farther flight, and seeking a refuge in some solitary wood; "I have seen more of mankind than you have, my friends," said he, "and have observed both their customs and manners; believe me, they are inconsistent fickle creatures; their conduct towards one another shows that they are not to be trusted; much more, then, have we reason to be afraid of them. You very well know it is in our power to live without their assistance; what is it which they procure us but just an empty shell for our habitation? for this they expect our stock of honey, and to obtain it scruple not to take our lives! We have already seen, in the destruction of one or two of our neighbouring hives, the fate which awaits us; but could I persuade all of my species to wing their flight beyond their reach, they might be taught a little more humanity, and would perhaps spare our lives, if we were again in their power. Content to share with us what our labours have produced, they might then leave us to die when our exhausted nature fails, and for their own sakes also would not cut us off in the prime of life, and while we have health and strength to add to the stock, which would be as much for their benefit as our own."

This speech had the desired effect; the whole community seemed roused by it, and entering into his scheme, on the appointed day not a Bee was left behind, but altogether mounting the air they winged their flight far beyond its usual extent, nor could all the clattering of pots and kettles make them settle, till clear of the noise and out of the sight of man they found an habitation for themselves, and under the covert of a thick wood passed the remainder of their days in peaceful industry.

THE END.

W. Lewis, Printer, Paternoster-row, London.