the degradation of mind and taste to which it may lead.
THE BEE AND BEETLE —A FABLE.
A bee and beetle chanced to meet,
One sunny day, upon a rose; His neighbor thus the bee did greet,
Although, meanwhile, he held his nose:— " I wonder much to meet you here,
For surely you don't least on roses?'1 The beetle answered, with a sneer,
" I know the idle fool supposes That in a rose there 's nought but honey.
You think a flower, so fair to view, With breath so sweet, and cheek so sunny,
Is only made for things like you ! But,—prithee, do not look so sour,—
A thing that hath a nose like mine May turn the breath of sweetest flower—
Of rose, carnation, columbine— To odors fetid as the air
Where beetles love to delve and dine. Each has his gift for foul or fair—
You, buzz, have yours, and I have mine!"
Though the body is but the temporary residence of the soul, yet, during life, the most intimate union subsists between the two. The former is material, and the mere instrument of the latter: but every portion of it is penetrated by nerves, which carry home to the brain, the