1896.] ENTOMOLOGICAL NEWS. 179 



H. io, and explained also another mystery, where the nettles were that 

 stung them while they were picking peas. They were quite ready to be- 

 lieve that the innocent abbotti was capable of spitting poison, but never 

 thought of receiving injury from the fuzzy little io, which is quite common 

 here and frequently troublesome to our harvesters, but this is the only 

 case I know of where it was the cause of real injury. W. F. FISKE. 



A CONSERVATIVE. 



The garden beds I wandered by 



One bright and cheerful morn, 

 When I found a new-fledged butterfly 



A-sitting on a thorn, 

 A black and crimson butterfly, 



All doleful and forlorn. 



I thought that life could have no sting 



To infant butterflies, 

 So I gazed on this unhappy thing 



With wonder and surprise, 

 While sadly with his waving wing 



He wiped his weeping eyes. 



Said I, " What can the matter be ? 



Why weepest thou so sore ? 

 With garden fair and sunlight free 



And flowers in goodly store," 

 But he only turned away from me 



And burst into a roar. 



Cried he, " My legs are thin and few 

 Where once I had a swarm ! 



Soft fuzzy fur a joy to view- 

 Once kept my body warm, 



Before these flapping wing-things grew 

 To hamper and deform." 



At that outrageous bug I shot 



The fury of my eye; 

 Said I, in scorn all burning hot, 



In rage and anger high, 

 ' You ignominious idiot ! 



Those wings were made to fly !" 



" I do not want to fly," said he; 



" I only want to squirm !" 

 And he drooped his wings dejectedly, 



But still his voice was firm; 

 " I do not want to be a fly ! 



I want to be a worm." 



yesterday of unknown lack ! 

 To-day of unknown bliss ! 



1 left my fool in red and black; 

 The last I saw was this: 



The creature madly climbing back 

 Into his chrysalis. 



CHARLOTTE PERKINS STETSON. 



