Chapter One
The Butterfly’s Ball And The Grasshopper’s Feast
Come, take up your hats, and away let us haste
To the Butterfly’s ball and the Grasshopper’s feast;
For the trumpeter Gadfly has summoned his crew,
And the revels are now only waiting for you.
On the smooth-shaven grass by the side of the wood,
Beneath a broad oak that for ages has stood,
See the children of earth, and the tenants of air,
For an evening’s amusement together repair.
And there came the Beetle, so blind, and so black,
Who carried the Emmet, his friend, on his back;
And there came the Gnat, and the Dragonfly too,
And all their relations, green, orange, and blue.
And there came the Moth, with her plumage of down,
And the Hornet, with jacket of yellow and brown,
Who with him the Wasp, his companion, did bring—
They promised that evening to lay by their sting.
Then the sly little Dormouse peeped out of his hole,
And led to the feast his blind cousin the Mole;
And the Snail, with her horns peeping out from her shell,
Came fatigued with the distance, the length of an ell.
A Mushroom the table, and on it was spread
A Water-dock leaf, which their table-cloth made;
The viands were various, to each of their taste,
And the Bee brought the honey to sweeten the feast.
With steps more majestic the Snail did advance,
And he promised the gazers a minuet dance;
But they all laughed so loudly, he pulled in his head,
And went, in his own little chamber, to bed.
Then, as evening gave way to the shadows of night,
Their watchman, the Glow-worm, came out with his light.
So home let us hasten, while yet we can see,
For no watchman is waiting for you or for me.
Chapter Two
The Butterfly’s Ball and the Grasshopper’s Feast
Come, take up your hats, and away let us haste
To the Butterfly’s ball and the Grasshopper’s feast;
For the trumpeter Gadfly has summoned his crew,
And the revels are now only waiting for you.
On the smooth-shaven grass by the side of the wood,
Beneath a broad oak that for ages has stood,
See the children of earth, and the tenants of air,
For an evening’s amusement together repair.
It was very early one delightful morning in summer, when the trumpeter Gadfly sounded his horn, inviting all the insects in the forest to the Butterfly’s ball and the Grasshopper’s feast. The sun shone brightly, the air was mild and soft, and the scent of the wild flowers delicious, so that not one of the insects thought of staying at home. Butterflies, Beetles, Bees, Wasps, Snails, Grasshoppers, Ants, all put on their best coats and frocks, all, put on their sweetest smiles, and all hurried off, in little bands, to the ball, talking and laughing, and humming and buzzing, by the way, as if they were the happiest creatures in the wide world. Even the old Beetle, that had been run over by a cart-wheel and squeezed nearly to death, got out of bed when he heard what was going on, and limped along with the rest, though he had been confined to the house for six months before. One or two Butterflies, that were never known to go out except in the very finest weather,—and even then, carefully wrapped up,—determined to venture. They were long in making up their minds about it. One thought it looked a very little like rain; another feared that the light breeze might give them a cold. However, they put on a great many cloaks, and went.
From all directions they came, and assembled on a smooth, grassy spot, under an old oak-tree, where the revels were to take place. Some crawled slowly along the ground, some bounded quickly over hill and dale, some came running and tumbling, jumping and hitting against things in their haste; some came swiftly through the air, and alighted so suddenly as to tumble head over heels; others flew quietly to the scene and fluttered lightly about, admiring the gay company they were about to join.
And there came the Beetle, so blind, and so black,
Who carried the Emmet, his friend, on his back;
And there came the Gnat, and the Dragonfly too,
And all their relations, green, orange, and blue.
The Black Beetle was the first to make his appearance. He carried his dear friend the Emmet on his back, and a sad journey they had of it, to be sure! Being very blind, the Beetle was constantly falling over twigs, knocking his shins against the edges of leaves, and tumbling into ditches, so that the poor Emmet had many terrible falls, and once the great beetle fell on the top of him and crushed him a good deal. But it was very pleasant to see how cheerful they were under all this. On getting up after a fall, the beetle always laughed so boisterously that the tears ran down his cheeks, and his black sides nearly cracked; while the little Emmet said gaily, “Ah! my friend, accidents will happen! not hurt, I hope? Come, get along once more;” and then he jumped up on his friend’s back again, and away they went as merrily as ever.