which they were formerly so anxious to wipe out of existence! With the Scutellista parasite the same fact holds. The fly itself does not feed, and its young feed only upon certain scale insects, and so with all the rest.

All of these experiments are being carried on by men learned in the ways of insects, and only beneficial results, or at the very least negative ones, can follow. And even where only a hundred is one such experiment out of successful, what a saving it will mean!

We do not expect the time to come when the farmer, finding Hessian fly in his wheat, will have only to telegraph the nearest experiment station, "Send at once two dozen firstclass parasites;" but in many cases, and with a number of different kinds of injurious insects, especially those introduced from foreign countries, it is probable that we can gain much relief by the introduction of their natural enemies from their original home.

FLOWERS

GEORGE ILES

[From "The Wild Flowers of America," copyright by G. H. Buek & Co., New York, 1894, by their kind permission. The American edition is out of print: the Canadian edition, "Wild Flowers of Canada," is published by Graham & Co., Montreal, Canada. The work describes and illustrates in their natural tints nearly three hundred beautiful flowers.]

IMAGINE a Venetian doge, a French crusader, a courtier of the time of the second Charles, an Ojibway chief, a Justice of the Supreme Court, in the formal black of evening dress, and how much each of them would lose! Where there is beauty, strength or dignity, dress can heighten it; where all these are lacking, their absence is kept out of mind by raiment in itself worthy to be admired. If dress artificial has told for much in the history of human-kind, dress natural has told for yet more in the lesser world of plant and insect life. In some degree the tiny folk that reign in the air, like ourselves, are drawn by grace of form, by charm of colour; of elaborate display of their attractions moths, butterflies and beetles are just as fond as any belles of the ball-room. Now let us bear in mind that of all the creatures that share the carth with man, the one that stands next to

him in intelligence is neither a biped nor quadruped, but that king of the insect tribe the ant, which can be a herdsman and ware house-keeper, an engineer and builder, an explorer and a general. With all his varied powers the ant lacks a peculiarity in his costume which has denied him enlistment in a task of revolution in which creatures far his inferiors have been able to change the face of the earth. And the marvel of this peculiarity of garb which has meant so much, is that it consists in no detail of graceful outline, or beauty of tint, but solely in the minor matter of texture. The ant, warrior that he is, wears smooth and shining armour; the bee, the moth and the butterfly are clad in downy vesture, and simply because thus enabled to catch dust on their clothes these insects, as weavers of the web of life, have counted for immensely more than the ant with all his brains and character. To understand the mighty train of consequences set in motion by this mere shagginess of coat, let us remember that, like a human babe, every flowering plant has two parents. These two parents, though a county's breadth divide them, are wedded the instant that pollen from the anther of one of them meets the stigma of the other. Many flowers find their mates upon their own stem; but, as in the races of animals, too close intermarriage is hurtful, and union with a distant stock promotes both health and vigor. Hence the great gain which has come

to plants by engaging the wind as their matchmaker-as every summer shows us in its pollenladen air, the oaks, the pines, the cottonwoods, and a host of other plants commit to the breeze the winged atoms charged with the continuance of their kind. Nevertheless, long as the wind has been employed at this work, it has not yet learned to do it well; nearly all the pollen entrusted to it is wasted, and this while its production draws severely upon the strength of a plant. As good fortune will have it, a great many flowers close to their pollen yield an ample supply of nectar: a food esteemed delicious by the whole round of insects, winged and wingless. While ants might sip this nectar of ages without plants being any the better or the worse; a very different result has followed upon the visits of bees, wasps, and other hairy-coated callers. These, as they devour nectar, dust themselves with the pollen near by. Yellowed or whitened with this freightage, moth and butterfly, as they sail through the air, know not that they are publishing the banns of marriage between two blossoms acres or, it may be, miles apart. Yet so it is. Alighting on a new flower the insect rubs a pollen grain on a stigma ready to receive it, and lo! the rites of matrimony are solemnized then and there. Unwittingly the little visitor has wrought a task bigger with fate than many an act loudly trumpeted among the mightiest deeds of men! On the threshold of a Lady's Slipper a bee may often be

In the Sage

detected in the act of entrance. flower he finds an anther of the stamen which, pivoted on its spring, dusts him even more effectually.

Bountifully to spread a table is much, but not enough, for without invitation how can hospitality be dispensed? To the feast of nectar

Sage-flower and Bee

the blossoms join their bidding; and those most conspicuously borne and massed, gayest of hue, richest in odor, secure most guests, and are therefore most likely to transmit to their kind their own excellences as hosts and entertainers. Thus all the glories of the blossoms have arisen in doing useful work; their beauty is not mere ornament, but the sign and token of duty well performed. Our opportunity to admire the radiancy and perfume of a jessamine