e," said papa. "We will sit down and I
will show you the honey. Each thistle head has a great many tiny
flowers. See, like these!" and papa pulled some of them out. Then he
took one of the blossoms between his thumb and finger. He pressed the
slender tube till Ralph saw a wee drop of honey at the end. Then Ralph
wanted to do the same. So he pressed one after the other of the purple
tubes and found a drop of honey in each.

"Does the butterfly squeeze them that way?" asked Ralph.

"No; he has no thumb and finger," said papa.

"How can he get the honey, then?" Ralph asked.

"He finds it with his long sucker, which reaches to the bottom of
these slender tubes."

"I wish he would eat this honey, papa, now I have got it all ready for
him," said Ralph. "I'll ask him."

So he walked slowly towards the butterfly, holding out the little
purple blossoms.

"Here's some honey all squeezed," he said softly; "don't you want it,
Butterfly?"

But the butterfly opened and shut his pretty spotted wings and then
flew away.

[Illustration: RALPH.]

Ralph looked sorry. "Never mind," said papa, "he isn't used to having
little boys wait upon him. He likes to get his dinner himself."

[Illustration: {TWO BUTTERFLIES.}]

Bright the sun! gay the flowers!
Gently falls the rain!
O the jolly, the blithesome hours,
Summer is come again!
Eggs in my nest, snails to eat,
A whole round world for my home,
I sing, I sing, so sweet, so sweet!
Summer again is come!

[Illustration: A LITTLE BIRD SAT ON A TWIG.]

TOM'S LETTER.

This is the letter a little English boy wrote to his American cousin
whom he never had seen. He wrote it on his slate in "print letters,"
and his sister Bess copied it on paper in "writing letters."

The words were spelled wrong on the slate. He worked four evenings to
write it all.

[Illustration: THE WAY TOM WROTE IT.]

"DEAR COUSIN DICK:

"You thought I would like to write letters because I am old like
you--ten years. But I am not a school-boy, like you. I am a home-boy.
I think home-boys don't study regular, and learn truly like
school-boys. Mother says she will tell your mother in her letter about
how I have been sick always.

"I think I would like to be a school-boy, but I wouldn't either.
School-boys are mean. If the new boy is lame and shy, they think that
is big fun. _I_ do not see how the tricks can be any fun then.

"If I was a school-boy