at me;
I can learn all things to know;
So sing merrily, merrily, O!

The morning was lovely; the blue shadows, extending over the fields, made the leaves of the chestnut trees, wet with the morning dew, still more brilliant. Agitated by a light breeze, they glistened in the rays of the rising sun. Every blade of grass lifted its dewy head as soon as a ray fell upon it, and each in its turn was crowned with its halo of diamonds.

The flowers, in sweet accord, sent up their perfume towards heaven. Already the lark had saluted the day with his brilliant song, eternal hymn, ever repeated, never omitted. Every little bird sent up his clear note and his joyous song from his nest; the insects were beginning to hum. The sound of the voice of man, slow to join in the morning prayer of the whole creation, was not yet heard when Piccolissima, already awake, entered the garden.

She had obtained permission to do so the evening before. Her mother's confidence had increased with the growing prudence and good sense of the little girl; qualities which a habit of observation has the effect of strengthening rapidly.

The child was desirous to witness the morning labors of the ants, and to see how, when the dew had prepared their mortar, they built their long galleries. They commenced their work at the top, and Piccolissima would have liked to see them again raise and make their walls. She was, however, disappointed in her purpose, either that the earth dried too quick, as the sun was now high above the horizon; or the tiny republicans, with six feet, were employed in their interior halls, in bringing out the young ants, and were busy tearing off the veils of silk which confined the larvae, and in developing the wings of the males and females; or, whatever might be the cause, the ant hills were deserted.

The lazy amazons did not appear. Now and then a single miner might be seen wandering alone at the entrance of their subterranean dwelling.

Seated upon a piece of turf near the parterre, the little girl followed with her eye, all along the stem of a plant, two or three brown ants who led their flock of grubs to pasture, when a murmuring sound near her, which seemed to spread all over the beds of mignonette, attracted her attention to some large flies, of a dull color, who whirled about among the flowers, darting from one to the other, and seemed very busy.

"Can these be any of my old acquaintances?" said she; but she could not be satisfied with this idea; the new comers, much larger, had also a very different physiognomy from that of her old friends. They had oval eyes, with a network over them; a protruding jaw; antennae of twelve olive scales, terminated by a button. Their brown corselets covered with a tawny fur; their brilliant cuirasses, and their legs of unequal length,—all these things attracted the attention of the young observer.

She saw these flies rolling themselves over in the bosom of the flowers, with a joyous activity which amused her very much, and the reason of which she desired to understand.

There was, however, in their appearance and manners, something repulsive which prevented familiarity. Each one of them caused to vibrate four gauze wings, two large and two small ones. In their rapid and measured motions, these wings produced sound, and the air, issuing from little breathing places situated, as in the common fly, on each side of the corselet, produced a sort of a song.

As if attracted by the song, these insects flew in swarms to the flower-bed. Very soon it was evident that they were heavier when they went away than when they came. Two large, round, red and yellow, or rather golden balls loaded their brilliant brown thighs. Some of them plunged into the bosom of a lily. Raising herself on tiptoe, Piccolissima kept them in view. She saw their slanting teeth, which formed the point of their triangular head, open and close like two strong pincers, and shake the tops of the stamens. She had never noticed before, but now she perceived, at the end of the six threads in the centre of the flower, a sort of little green box; this was the anther. These flies pressed it and pulled it, till it opened and scattered a quantity of little yellow pellets, which covered the insects so thoroughly, that they and the flowers seemed to have changed garments, so completely were they clothed with it.

Piccolissima could contain herself no longer. She cried out to her sister, whom she saw coming towards her:

"O, come, come quickly! See the flies putting on their ball dresses, and making their toilet in the cup of a flower."

Linette, still at a distance, did not hasten her steps, notwithstanding the exclamations of her sister; and before she came, Piccolissima was convinced that the flies did not think much of their brilliant toilet. She saw them push off all their finery by means of the brushes with which their legs were furnished. These excellent little square brushes were placed on their hind legs mostly; they had brown horn backs, and short, stiff hairs, ranged regularly. These brushes did their work so well, that in less than a moment every fly had resumed his modest livery.

But what had become of the rich yellow powder? The insect had taken care to brush himself so rapidly that Piccolissima could but just see the dust he had collected pass from one part of his body to another, till the whole came to the third pair of his legs, and was collected together in a little oval cavity, surrounded by a thick circle of skin which closed in upon it. Every fly used his middle legs afterward to press and roll up into his basket his little store.

"Hast thou forgotten how to walk faster than a snail?" said Piccolissima to her sister. "These great flies were just now dressed with a cloak of gold, and now they carry their toilet in a bundle; look at the third joint of their largest legs, which they join together and let hang behind them when they fly."

"Nonsense! I know all about them," said Linette, as she saw them fly away with their burden; "these are bees who make honey, such as I have brought you for your breakfast;" and the young girl put into her sister's hand a double slice of bread and honey.

Without noticing her breakfast, Piccolissima eagerly tasted of what remained of the yellow dust of the stamens of the lily.

"But, Linette," said she, "this does not taste like honey."

"Very true; it is for the bees to entitle it to that name, and not for me. All that I know is, that they call them honey bees because they make honey. They also make wax; and I have often seen them carry away little balls of the dust of flowers. Whether they make it afterwards into honey or wax, is their business. You have only to ask them."

Piccolissima meant to do this as soon as she had courage. Meanwhile, she rubbed in her fingers the dust of the lily, yellowed the end of her nose in smelling of it, her lips in tasting of it, still without finding in it the consistency of wax, or the taste of honey.

"How do the flies do it?" said she. "I have tasted at the bottom of the tube of a honeysuckle, or of a jasmine, something more like honey than this powder." While speaking, she was going to her bread and honey, when she perceived some one had got the start of her. A number of bees were on the edge of it, and were so busily employed that Piccolissima had an opportunity of examining them closely without fear of disturbing them. It was a pleasure to see them. From under their chins protruded, as far as their teeth, a little case of shell, opening with two little leaves, whence projected a second little case, polished and shining, half open, from which was thrust a transparent tongue, covered with hairs. This tongue was stretched out and plunged into the honey, and was then moved round and round and soaked in it; soon it was contracted, and now again it became larger; the insect seemed to enjoy all these various movements. Through the hairs and the opening pores, Piccolissima saw the liquid ascend; and between the teeth of the bee, above its