IX. 



A BUTTERFLY EPISODE. 



HE was an airy, fairy orange - tip. 

 He had just emerged from the chrysalis, 

 and stood poised for a moment, like a 

 hesitating Psyche, on the flat - topped 

 blossoming branches of a big white cow- 

 parsnip. For the most part, he sat there, 

 irresolute, plimming his untried wings, and 

 half opening them tentatively from time 

 to time, as if wondering to himself how the 

 dickens they got there. And well might 

 he wonder ; for remember, he was bred a 

 common green caterpillar. Never till this 

 moment did it dawn across his mind that 

 such a motion as flight could exist in the 

 universe. So there he sat still, uncertain 



65 F 



