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the coming flood, which arrived too suddenly for the 
rest of the party to protect themselves against it. 
Mary was wet through by the time she had gained 
the piazza ; the “ Painted Lady” was dashed to the 
ground, her beautiful wings soiled and broken ; and 
before the Amaryllis could close her petals over the 
stigma, the clear drop that stood ready for the pol¬ 
len was washed away, and the cold rain penetrated 
to the very germ. When the shower had past, she 
slowly opened the folds of her garment again, but 
on that day she mourned, with many other flowers, 
the lost chance of ripening any seed. The butter¬ 
fly’s wings could not be mended by the sun, though 
it shone more brilliantly than ever upon the glitter¬ 
ing rain-drops. The beetle alone was uninjured by 
the tempest; for the glutinous substance with which 
he joined together the particles of earth prevented 
their being soaked through, and the stiff leaves of 
