The next morning our two friends awoke with the sun, and before half my readers are out of their beds, their peregrinations commenced, one in quest of whatever he could turn into something useful, the other to find what was new and entertaining. When they met, the Bee was still desirous of finding his old habitation. "But why?" said the Butterfly, "surely the little cell you now live in will do very well for the summer; you are in no danger where you are, and have the delightful privilege of calling it all your own."
"All this is true," replied the Bee, "but what a life am I now leading? adding nothing to the general stock; while all my brethren are busily employed in gathering what will be of equal benefit to each, no, no: there is a pleasure in being thus mutually assistant to others which only those who have experienced it can know; and I am resolved, if possible, to enjoy it again."
The Butterfly looked surprised, for though capable of that attachment which proceeds from finding an agreeable companion; and with some idea of the services bestowed upon those we love, and which endears the name of friend, he could not imagine that any pleasure could arise from spending his time in labour; but as long as his friend had assured him of the continuance of his regard, he was desirous that he should obtain what he wished, and willingly offered to assist him in the search.
During their airy rounds they often stopped to refresh themselves on some favorite flower, and though seldom fixing on the same, and to a casual observer did not appear to be at all connected, they were never out of sight of each other. It was from one of these resting places, in which the Bee was delightfully employed extracting sweets from an "extended field of blossomed beans," that the Butterfly stretched his wings to a neighbouring garden; here such various beauties met his eyes that he could not help returning to call his friend to enjoy them with him. "Such a bed of tulips, I have met with," said he, "whose splendid colours can only be equalled by my wings; pray come, and see what lovely flowers."
"Have you not yet learnt that there is something more valuable in a flower than its colour?" returned the Bee, with a smile; "for my part I would prefer these honeyed beans, though I suppose you would think them hardly worth looking at, but of all other flowers tulips have the least sweetness about them, and are fit only to please the eye of those men and butterflies who judge only by appearance; but though I have seen the former admiring a bed of tulips, I have often observed that if they wish to ornament themselves, or their houses, the flowers which we chiefly prefer are also the objects of their choice! as for these beans, though I believe they admire their smell, men are, as I said before, such destructive creatures, that while they are enjoying what is sweet they are at the same time destroying it; and as they expect something still more valuable from these flowers, they are content to let them remain upon their stalks; but we can have our fill of their sweets, and yet not injure what they will hereafter produce. Oh! had I but a hive to go to," continued he, as he stretched his wings to accompany his friend, "how many times should I have gone thither yesterday, and to-day from the cowslips and the beans, and what repeated loads should I have carried home."
"Surely, surely," thought the idle Butterfly, "you need not regret that; to fly hither and thither as you like, with no incumbrance of any kind, and, no care beyond to-morrow, is far better;" so thought the Butterfly, and so perhaps think many Butterflies of the human race; but he forbore to repeat his sentiments on this subject, for, unconscious to himself, he was awed by the superiority of his friend, while he felt no wish to be of the same opinion.
"And so these are the flowers you admire," continues the Bee, as they alighted, "and which can only be equalled in Beauty by your wings? Ah, my dear friend, would not your wings be just as useful if they were not covered with red and purple? look at the plain white ones of numbers of your race, who are now flying around us; you cannot extend your flight farther than these; but see, some children are entering the garden, I question if you will not soon have a greater cause to regret the beauty of your wings than to admire it, and that you will be the object of their pursuit as soon as you meet their eyes, while your plainer brethren will pass unregarded."
This prediction was soon verified, for no sooner did the little ones perceive this self-admiring Butterfly than they all exclaimed, "Oh! what a beauty! let us catch it."
"If you get on that side of the bed, and I on this," said a boy, who appeared to be the eldest of the party, "I will throw my hat at it, and we shall soon have it in our possession."