"After this whenever an event of this nature occurred scientists would find that it always happened when the Vanessa urtica, or the Vanessa polychloros species of butterfly were uncommonly plentiful in that particular district where the phenomenon was observed."
"Yes, it is rather remarkable; but many of the so-called prodigies of ancient times are explainable through natural causes. In France, during the thirteenth century, one of these rains occurred, and the people, believing that evil could be averted in no other way, slew ten thousand hapless Jews."
"And all because of a little butterfly," observed Bee musingly.
"Yes; all because of a little insect that Moore calls 'winged flowers,' or 'flying gems.'"
"How pretty!" cried Bee. "And they are like flowers, aren't they?"
"Well, they are certainly like them in that each kind has its own season for appearing in perfect bloom; and thus they decorate the landscape. Now let us go for our walk. When I return I must chloroform these specimens. They are rather fine."
"Do let the lovely things go until tomorrow," pleaded the girl. "Surely, they should have a little while of life."
"There speaks the woman, Beatrice. That is the reason that there are so few naturalists among the sex. Yet I would not have it otherwise. Yes; they may have life until tomorrow since you wish it. Theirs is but a brief span at best. Come, get your hat, my daughter! You have been in the house too long today."
"Out in the open country fields, With the green grass blowing merrily, The daisies nod and the dewdrop shine, And the sunbeams dance right cheerily.
"A lassie and laddie come tripping along, Like the fair day smiling brightly; They pluck the flowers and they hum a song As they shake off the dewdrops lightly."
"Beatrice, do you see that butterfly on the verbena bed?" asked Doctor Raymond one bright morning in July, as he and his daughter sat at work in the study.
Beatrice glanced through the open window to the bed of verbenas, over which hovered a large butterfly.
"It is beautiful!" she exclaimed looking with delight at the insect's broad expanse of wing. "Wouldn't you call that an orange-red, father? And see the white spots on the secondaries. What kind is it?"