“6th, Friendship is a sentiment weaker than love.
“This last question was given up as insoluble at the request of the ephemera present. An Alpine hermit made a note of it, so as to be able to meditate on the subject at leisure in the solitude of his cell. I then, taking my friend by the arm, inquired, ‘Is there no spot in this large garden where one could find an insect that would converse without pretending to be interesting?’
“ ‘Yes,’ he replied, scratching his pate with an air of embarrassment; ‘follow me.’
“We flew away into the dark night, but my guide made so many circuits that I perceived he was quite at a loss where to go.
“ ‘I do not think,’ he said, ‘it would be worth while to take you into that vast swamp where one lives in isolation like a water-rat. Let us cross the river. On its bank yonder are lilies to whom I might introduce you. They live in peace and silence, fearing to defile themselves by unkind sentiments.’
“ ‘Is there any gaiety there?’
“ ‘In the land of lilies one is sadder than elsewhere, but the reason of that is too long to enter upon here.’
“Tired of these flights, I profited by the darkness to leave my companion. A bright star, as if by chance, directed me to the third floor of a climbing rose, and there at last I found the object of my search, a good honest family of lady-birds established in a simple and commodious dwelling. Most amiable creatures, living without show or ostentation. Our conversation was animated by a genial gaiety, and we sat down to a simple supper. My place was between two hostesses who proved most agreeable companions.”
Here the Beetle relapsed into silence.
“Mr. Beetle,” said the Owl, “I feel certain your history does not end here.”