FLOWERS AND INSECTS 149 



Without the least intention of doing a hurt, 

 and meaning only to stop his flight so that 

 I could seize and put him out of doors, I 

 struck at him with a cloth. Either he was 

 tender or I struck harder than I knew, for 

 the blow killed him. 



Bats or no bats, there is no let up to the 

 life of the yard. It is gay with butterflies, 

 moths, bee-flies, bees, honey and bumble, 

 wasps, and what not. The butterflies are 

 eager creatures, and when they alight on 

 a new star in the crown of a zinnia they fas- 

 ten to it as if they had the thirst of a week 

 to slake. One of the busiest that I saw 

 had a half-circle missing from his wings, 

 the gap fitting both as he folded them to- 

 gether. Evidently the missing parts had 

 been bitten out by a cat a fifth of their 

 substance gone. But he did not seem to 

 mind it. 



Our jimson-weed grows apace with the 

 summer, and is eight feet high, ten feet 

 wide, and filled with flowers. In the twi- 

 light its blossoms are visited by the night- 

 moth, who drops in his immensely long 

 proboscis a good four inches, one would 



