"Surely we are to see nothing but shocking sights to-day," observed the compassionate Butterfly, who had hastily followed his friend, half afraid that something still more terrible had happened, "but," said he, on seeing the struggling captive, "he will not die; 'tis certain he can keep his head above the edge till you have procured more assistance; I fear I am not strong enough to help to pull him out."
While he was speaking, his companion had flown to the hive, and with incredible swiftness returned with more of the community, who altogether lent their aid, and after much toil and pains extricated the poor exhausted Bee from the ill effects of seeking too large a share of those sweets which only proved so, when moderately enjoyed, 'safe in themselves but dangerous in the excess.'
"I only rested on the edge of the pan," said he, as soon as he could speak, "and after an unsuccessful flight was glad to see a store of that which I had been so long searching for in vain; I thought I would just take a sip or two, and perhaps bring home a little of it to the hive."
On hearing this one of the oldest of the throng thus addressed him: "Know, my brother, that what we make ourselves is only welcome there, and that food for which we labour hardest, is the sweetest to the palate of every industrious Bee; idle drones and wandering wasps may sip the honey which others have prepared, but let the danger you have escaped to-day teach you to use the powers nature has given you, and taste the sweets of your own procuring rather than that of others."
The trembling Bee thanked him for his advice, and promising to follow it, he was escorted home by all the train, where he met with other assistants, who cleared away the clammy substance that still encumbered him, and he was suffered to rest within all that day to recover himself. Meanwhile, the Butterfly waited without the hive, till his friend returned, and they renewed their flight.
Nothing particular met their eye till they passed some flies, who were round a piece of horse-flesh, the smell of which discovered where it lay, and its half devoured state shewed the avidity with which these buzzing insects fed upon it. "See," said the Bee, "what opposite natures are within the circle of creation. These devouring flies find as much pleasure in eating from this stinking carrion, as from the choicest honey; nay, perhaps this is more agreeable to them, though nothing in which they can thrust their devouring trunks escapes their taste, but with this delicious morsel, that really poisons the surrounding air, they are so delighted, that they even chuse it for an habitation likewise. Here they lay their eggs, and bring forth their young, and having no trouble to hunt for food for them, they spend their time in flying round it, till their habitation and provision being gone together, they are obliged to seek another residence equally convenient. Though you bear the same name, my friend," continued he, "I am witness that you have not their nature."
"Their nature!" interrupted the Butterfly, half offended at being mentioned together, "no! I hope not, or their name either! what, shall the beautiful winged tribe of Butterflies be put upon a footing with these carrion-eaters, who live upon what, even in our crawling state, we should reject with disgust. If I may speak my opinion, I think their form, and the noise they make while flying, is more like your race than ours, though alas! in one respect, I feel myself too closely allied to them, that is, I must shortly resign my being; the date of my life will soon be ended; I have felt the chilling blast of the morning air long before you are out of your hive, and if you are not already aware of it, can give you notice that winter is approaching."
"Indeed," replied the Bee, "I have seen some tokens of it myself; the flowers are not in such plenty, and as their faded leaves fall off, no young buds are seen to supply their place; however, such is the use which we have made of the summer, that we are not afraid to look forward to the time when every outward resource shall fail: but, my friend, I fear you are of too delicate a frame to live through the winter, though the place of your retreat be ever so warm; but have you not thought of where you will retire to?" continued he.
"A place to die in is easily found," replied the Butterfly, "and you must not be surprised if you see me no more; the damps of the night will soon prove fatal, and I know not if I shall survive another."
"Do not speak so," returned the Bee, "how gladly would I afford you an asylum if it was in my power; however, I cannot let you resign your life so easily; green leaves are yet to be found, and now, within our reach, I see a convenient crevice, into which you may creep; there cherish life as long as you can, my friend, and by only venturing out when the sun shines brightly, you may perhaps extend your days beyond their usual period, and have your name recorded, as a Butterfly who has survived the summer."