S NEVER DO--GROUNDLESS TERROR--A MISTAKE--USES OF
BUTTERFLIES--MORAL OF BUTTERFLY LIFE--PSYCHE--THE BUTTERFLY AN EMBLEM
OF THE SOUL--THE ARTIST AND THE BUTTERFLY.

Among the _negative_ attributes of butterflies, I may state positively,
that _no butterfly whatever can either sting or bite in the least degree_;
and from their total harmlessness towards the person of man, conjoined with
their outward attractiveness, they merit and enjoy an exemption from those
feelings of dread and disgust that attach to many, or, I may say, to almost
all other tribes of insects; even to their equally harmless near relatives
the larger moths. At least, it has never been my misfortune to meet with a
person weak-minded enough to be afraid of a butterfly, though I have seen
some exhibit symptoms of the greatest terror at the proximity of a large
Hawk-moth, and some of the thick-bodied common moths--"Match-owlets," the
country folk call them.

Once, also, I listened to the grave recital--by a classical scholar too--of
a murderous onslaught made by a Privet Hawk-moth on the neck of a lady, and
how it "_bit a piece clean out_." Of course I attempted to prove, by what
seemed to me very fair logic, that the {33} moth, having neither teeth nor
even any mouth capable of opening, but only a weak hollow tongue to suck
honey through, was utterly incapable of biting or inflicting any wound
whatever. But, as is usual in such cases, my entomological theory went for
nothing in face of the gentleman's knock-down battery of _facts_--_ocular_
facts; he had _seen_ the _moth_, and he had _seen_ the _wound_: surely,
there was proof enough for me, or any one else. So, I suppose, he
steadfastly believes to this day, that the moth was a truculent,
bloodthirsty monster; whilst I still presume to believe, that if any wound
was caused at the moment in question, it was by the nails of the lady
attacked, or her friends, in clutching frantically at the terrific
intruder; who, poor fellow, might have been pardoned for mistaking the fair
neck for one of his favourite flowers (a _lily_, perhaps), while the utmost
harm he contemplated was to pilfer a sip of nectar from the lips he
doubtless took for rosebuds.

Utilitarians may, perhaps, inquire the _uses_ of butterflies--what they do,
make, or can be sold for; and I must confess that my little favourites
neither make anything to wear, like the silkworm, nor anything to eat, like
the honey-bee, nor are their bodies s