cockchafer
dazzled by the light should approach too near and hurt the princess or
shake her throne.

No sooner had twilight faded away, than forth came the golden beetle, who
stood on a stamen and making obeisance, said:--

"I am Lord Green-Gold, I offer my house, my fortune and my love to
Princess Hotaru."

"Go and bring me fire and I will be your bride" said Hotaru-hime.

With a bow of the head the beetle opened his wings and departed with a
stately whirr.

Next came a shining bug with wings and body as black as lamp-smoke, who
solemnly professed his passion.

"Bring me fire and you may have me for your wife."

Off flew the bug with a buzz.

Pretty soon came the scarlet dragon-fly, expecting so to dazzle the
princess by his gorgeous colors that she would accept him at once.

"I decline your offer" said the princess, "but if you bring me a flash of
fire, I'll become your bride."

Swift was the flight of the dragon-fly on his errand, and in came the
Beetle with a tremendous buzz, and ardently plead his suit.

"I'll say 'yes' if you bring me fire" said the glittering princess.

Suitor after suitor appeared to woo the daughter of the King of the
Fire-flies until every petal was dotted with them. One after another in a
long troop they appeared. Each in his own way, proudly, humbly, boldly,
mildly, with flattery, with boasting, even with tears, each proffered his
love, told his rank or expatiated on his fortune or vowed his constancy,
sang his tune or played his music. To every one of her lovers the
princess in modest voice returned the same answer:

"Bring me fire and I'll be your bride."

So without telling his rivals, each one thinking he had the secret alone
sped away after fire.

But none ever came back to wed the princess. Alas for the poor suitors!
The beetle whizzed off to a house near by through the paper windows of
which light glimmered. So full was he of his passion that thinking
nothing of wood or iron, he dashed his head against a nail, and fell dead
on the ground.

The black bug flew into a room where a poor student was reading. His lamp
was only a dish of earthenware full of rape seed oil with a wick made of
pith. Knowing nothing of oil the love-lorn bug crawled into the dish to
reach the flame and in a few seconds was drowned in the oil.

"Nan jaro?" (What's that?) said a thrifty housewife, sitting with needle
in hand, as her lamp flared up for a moment, smoking the chimney, and
then c