THE is a kind-hearted, happy-go-lucky creature. Carrying his house with him, he leaves no cares at home. He is otium cum dignitate. He is the moral antipode of the ant. He shirks responsibilities, and turns the cold shoulder on and . Deliberation, calmness of intellect, consciousness of superiority, are in his slow, tread. So that he gets to the place in mind, it is of no possible consequence how long the journey may be. The crystal day is all his own. He is a Nabob, a gentleman of leisure, and considers haste vulgar, and proper only to and sparrows.  
Rose-bugs are impertinent. Humming-birds, bright and beautiful, come too seldom amongst our flowers of June, but the bees come instead, and burden the air with their baritone. Yet the bees have a way of pressing personal souvenirs upon you. Pray you, avoid it! as Hamlet tells the players.
 
fascinate a spectator. They are full of mysterious interest, in their soft , caught on to the jagged edges of stone walls, or on travelling from leaf to leaf, with their "many twinkling feet" in full motion. A , however and attractive his coloring, is not a favorite with society, or with that branch of it which goes about in and high-heeled boots. Moralists, rather, shall befriend him, the kind little creeper, and treat him with that which the ............