d
them over those dear ones who had helped her in the days of her poverty;
and the fragrant blossoms thus spread over the hedge and the bramble
enhanced their beauty, and rendered them still more lovely in the eyes
of the passers-by.

'Dear me!' exclaimed the Butterfly, as one very hot day he alighted to
rest upon one of the Honeysuckle's leaves. 'Dear me!' he repeated,
surveying her critically; 'why, really I did not know you again. How did
you contrive to get so high up in the world?'

'Kind hearts, loving hands, helped me,' was the simple answer given.

'Oh, indeed!' he curtly said. 'Well, I owe gratitude to no one. I
suppose you will not get any higher?' he questioned, after a pause.

'No,' she replied, with her usual humility; 'and even if I could, I
would not wish it; for, living as I do amongst all who are dear to me, I
have no higher ambition.'

'You were always a faint-hearted thing,' exclaimed the insect, quite
forgetting even to be commonly polite, so elated was he with pride.
'Just compare the difference in our lives! I fly here, I fly there, now
on this flower, now on that. Ah, mine is a glorious life! nothing but
pleasure and excitement all the livelong day. Confess, now, would you
not like to be me?'

'No,' she answered, with the utmost sincerity; 'I am so happy here, I
would not change my lot even for a career so brilliant as yours.'

'What a taste!' he exclaimed, with scornful pity; 'no wonder you remain
a hedge-flower! Why, poets write about us, and there is actually a song
called "I'd be a Butterfly." Only think of that!' he exultantly cried.

'What! and have a pin stuck through one's head, and to be suffocated
with camphor, merely for the sake of being placed in a glass-case for
people to stare at!' ejaculated Spleenwort, with a dash of malice in his
tone.

'Don't talk of such things, you common flower!' the insect angrily
exclaimed. 'I'll not stay here any longer to listen to such vulgarity. I
prefer more refined society!'

And away he flew, evidently very much disturbed in his mind by what
Spleenwort had remarked as occurring to butterflies in general, although
he would not acknowledge that it was so, even to himself, but tried to
banish the thought by indulging more freely in what he considered
pleasure. You see--poor, giddy flutterer--he did not like to hear the
plain truth spoken; flattery would have pleased him better, yet truth,
though sometimes bitter, is a wholesome tonic when ta