CATKIN TIME 57 



anchor like the important ships that they are. 

 Besides the brown bees that we call our own, 

 and which I prefer in my apiary to any foreigner, 

 there are some yellow Italians that must have come 

 nearly two miles, for Italians are not kept nearer. 

 Then there are humble - bees, yellow - banded, 

 furnace-tailed and yellow-headed. Far more im- 

 portant people these than the worker bees from 

 the hive, for each of them represents a community 

 in herself; each is a mother out for the house- 

 keeping of a family that shall by and by be a great 

 and flourishing city. 



In sheer contrast to the fussing, industrious bees 

 are the peacock and small tortoise-shell butterflies 

 that sit and sip and bask with slow-winking, painted 

 wings signalling their ecstasy. Theirs is a rare 

 pleasure even in butterfly-dom, for it is a renewal 

 of joy after personal annihilation. These gems 

 knew the ivy blossom last autumn, and then laid 

 themselves by in winter coma to be called only a 

 day or two ago by the warmth of summer's new 

 sun. Even in autumn they did not know any joy 

 comparable to this spring riot of sallow blossom. 



The full glory of the sallow blossom is not quite 

 yet, but there is much fascination in finding now 

 the few trees in favoured situations that have 

 struck the golden note in advance of their rivals. 

 The entomologist, who does not care for hibernated 

 specimens, goes to the sallow by night, and there 

 gets a few of the hardy early moths of the year. 

 I can see them now as I saw them twenty years 



