the twilight breeze whispering through the palms, for the green
shade of the matted, tangled vines, for the cool, big-starred
nights of the desert, for the patter of the waterfall after a
hard day's hunt? What, I ask you, are they given in exchange for
THESE? Why, a bare cage with iron bars; an ugly piece of dead
meat thrust in to them once a day; and a crowd of fools to come
and stare at them with open mouths!--No, Stubbins. Lions and
tigers, the Big Hunters, should never, never be seen in zoos."

The Doctor seemed to have grown terribly serious--almost sad. But
suddenly his manner changed again and he took me by the arm with
his same old cheerful smile.

"But we haven't seen the butterfly-houses yet--nor the aquariums.
Come along. I am very proud of my butterfly-houses."

Off we went again and came presently into a hedged enclosure.
Here I saw several big huts made of fine wire netting, like
cages. Inside the netting all sorts of beautiful flowers were
growing in the sun, with butterflies skimming over them. The
Doctor pointed to the end of one of the huts where little boxes
with holes in them stood in a row.

"Those are the hatching-boxes," said he. "There I put the
different kinds of caterpillars. And as soon as they turn into
butterflies and moths they come out into these flower-gardens to
feed."

"Do butterflies have a language?" I asked.