‘The other day,’ said Doctor Kirby, ‘happening to turn over the pages of one of these modern novels, I came upon a scene in which the hero and heroine are supposed to be shaken, tortured by the violence of their emotions, stirred to their utmost depths; and yet the author takes that opportunity to leave them there, leave them in the midst of their agonies – and the reader's as well – to remark that a butterfly flew in through the open window and hovered for a moment over their heads; … Why should the whole action of the tale pause, and at such a critical moment, in order that the flight and movement of an insignificant insect should be minutely chronicled?’

‘But, Doctor, you are attacking there one of our most cherished modern novelties,’ said Winthrop …, ‘namely, the new copartnership between Nature and Literature. Nature is now a very literary personage and a butterfly can mean a great deal.’