Flowers seem, as it were, to impart a portion of their own
characteristics to all things that frequent them. This is peculiarly
exemplified in the butterfly, which must be regarded, _par excellence_,
as the insect of flowers, and a flower-like insect, gay and innocent,
made after a floral pattern, and colored after floral hues. But even
with families which are usually dark and repulsive—that, for instance,
of cockroaches, which are for the most part black or brown—the few
species which resort to flowers are gayly colored. What a contrast,
also, between the dark, loathsome, in-door spiders and their prettily
painted green and red, and white and yellow brethren of the fields and
gardens, which seek their prey among the flowers; while more striking
still is the difference between the wingless, disgusting plague of
cities and the elegantly-formed, brightly-colored winged bugs, which are
common frequenters
of the parterre. Whether this be imputed to the effect of light, or the
breathing influence of a flowery atmosphere, and the tendency of all
things to produce their similitudes, there lies beneath the natural fact
a moral analogy applicable to ourselves.
_From_ “ACHETA DOMESTICA.”