h a passing
glance of the butterfly's eye. As soon as the insect spies such a
cluster, the color seems to act as a stimulant to his broad wings, just
as the candle-light does to those of his cousin the moth. Off he sails
at once, as if by automatic action, towards the distant patch, and there
both robs the plant of its honey, and at the same time carries to it on
his legs and head fertilizing pollen from the last of its congeners
which he favored with a call. For of course both bees and butterflies
stick on the whole to a single species at a time; or else the flowers
would only get uselessly hybridized, instead of being impregnated with
pollen from other plants of their own kind. For this purpose it is that
most plants lay themselves out to secure the attention of only two or
three varieties among their insect allies, while they make their
nectaries either too deep or too shallow for the convenience of all
other kinds.

Insects, however, differ much from one another in their aesthetic
tastes, and flowers are adapted accordingly to the varying fancies of
the different kinds. Here, for example, is a spray of common white
galium, which attracts and is fertilized by small flies, who generally
frequent white blossoms. But here again, not far off, I find a
luxuriant mass of the yellow species, known by the quaint name of
"lady's-bedstraw,"--a legacy from the old legend which represents it as
having formed Our Lady's bed in the manger at Bethlehem. Now why has
this kind of galium yellow flowers, while its near kinsman yonder has
them snowy white? The reason is that lady's-bedstraw is fertilized by
small beetles; and beetles are known to be one among the most
color-loving races of insects. You may often find one of their number,
the lovely bronze and golden-mailed rose-chafer, buried deeply in the
very centre of a red garden rose, and reeling about when touched as if
drunk with pollen and honey. Almost all the flowers which beetles
frequent are consequently brightly decked in scarlet or yellow. On the
other hand, the whole family of the umbellates, those tall plants with
level bunches of tiny blossoms, like the fool's-parsley, have all but
universally white petals; and Mueller, the most statistical of
naturalists, took the trouble to count the number of insects which paid
them a visit. He found that only fourteen per cent. were bees, while the
remainder consisted mainly of miscellaneous small flies and other
arthropodous riff-