A MIGRATING BUTTERFLY 147 



in an apparent effort to get above the rain. But that 

 is only an occasional folly, for they generally antici- 

 pate the storm and suspend themselves carefully 

 out of harm's way. The young generation, ready to 

 try their beautiful, untarnished wings in the long 

 southern journey, will not have the guidance of 

 experience. That is a means of progress and advance- 

 ment denied in the insect world, for each generation 

 passes with the fulfilment of its procreative mission* 

 As long, black and white crawling larvae they have 

 been feeding voraciously on the leaves of the Milk- 

 weed, a plant named after Asclepias, whose know- 

 ledge of medicinal herbs was so profound as to excite 

 the envy of Jove himself and thus led to his undoing. 

 And the Butterfly larvae, whose preference for the 

 Milkweed is no doubt more wise than the medicinal 

 faith of the earlier generation, have also inherited the 

 name. 



A short time ago they ceased devouring the Milk- 

 weed leaves, curled themselves up for a brief nap as 

 inert pupae, then burst from the shroud of their own 

 weaving as winged insects, their jaws discarded for 

 long tubular tongues to draw the nectar from the 

 nodding flowers above the leaves they so lately dis- 

 figured. They have changed from the Caterpillar 

 to the Butterfly and turned from the leaf to the 

 flower. Their long southern migration is merely a 

 climatic necessity. They will come back again in the 



