PLY 



ACE indeed ! Was ever lace even 

 of fairy queen fashioned so daintily 

 as are the wings of this diaphanous 

 pale green sylph, that flutters in its filmy 

 halo above the grass tips ? Yonder it alights 

 upon the clover. Let us steal closely upon 

 its haunt. Here we find it hid under the up- 

 per leaf, its eyes of fiery gold gleaming in the 

 shadow, its slender body now caged within the 

 canopy of its four steep, sloping wings, their 

 glassy meshes lit with iridescent hues of opal 

 the lace-wing fly, a delight to the eye, but whose 

 fragile being is guarded from our too rude ap- 

 proach by a challenge to our sense of smell, 

 which plainly warns us, " Touch not, handle not !" 

 Our first capture of the fairy insect is always a 

 memorable feat, with its lingering, odorous re- 



