W^INGED LIFE 



191 



the ground. The great dragon-fly with his 

 many-lensed eyes, the bees with black and yel- 

 low bodies, the butterflies with bright-hued 

 wings, the white and gray millers — all of them 

 dwellers in the sands — are spots of light and 

 color that illumine the desert as the rich jewel 

 the Ethiop's ear. The wings of gauze that 

 bear the ordinary fly upon the air, the feet of 

 ebony that carry the plain black beetle along the 

 rocks, are made with just as much care and skill 

 as the wings of the condor and the foot of the 

 road-runner. Nature in every product of her 

 hand shows the completeness of her workman- 

 ship. She made the wings and the legs for a 

 purpose and they fulfil that purpose. They 

 are without flaw and above reproach. Once 

 more, therefore, have they character and fitness, 

 and once more, therefore, are they beautiful. 



I need not now argue beauty in the birds, 

 the beetles, and the butterflies. You will admit 

 it without argument. The slate-blue of the 

 quail, the gay red of the grosbeak, the charm 

 of the rock-wren, the vivacity of the bobolink or 

 the scale-runner, captivate you and compel your 

 sympathy and admiration. Yes ; but everyone 

 of them is, after his kind, as much of a butcher, 

 just as much of a destroyer, as the wild cat or 



Butterjlia, 



Design and 

 character. 



Beauty of 

 birdt. 



