I was fastened to the fence-rail by a 

 slender shining- black peduncle, or stem. 

 Nothing- disturbed me, and on the 

 eleventh day the bright green disap- 

 peared, the golden spots faded, and on 

 the twelfth day I burst open the shell 

 of the chrysalis, found that I had wings 

 and sailed away through the air. How 

 delightful ! So much easier than crawl- 

 ing-. At last I was a butterfly. This is 

 what patience and perseverance does for 

 the "ugly duckling," at least that is what 

 a friend on the milkweed leaf told me 

 one day. 



I saw another butterfly a short dis- 

 tance ahead of me having the same col- 

 ors I had — yellow and black with white 

 dots on the wings — and I flew faster to 

 catch up with her. She was very beau- 

 tiful and knew more of the world than 

 I did, therefore I determined to keep 

 close to her. I found her very modest 

 and unassuming. She made me feel as 

 if I knew it all, and that is the chief 

 qualification that even a butterfly wants 

 in a wife. After a little hesitation I 

 asked her to be my mate. She said she 

 would, and away we raced in the sun- 

 shine to a field of clover. She showed 

 me how to get honey out of the flowers 

 with my tongue, which is like a watch- 

 spring coiled up in the lower part of my 

 head. When I am excited in probing to 

 the bottom of a flower it uncoils and 

 half coils again, ''acting like a little 

 force-pump" to bring up the juice of 

 the flower. 



My mate and I had a jolly time flying 

 over the clover-field, where we met more 

 of our family, the milkweed butterflies, 

 and others. The flowers we like best 

 are the clover, milkweed, goldenrod, 

 thistle and phlox. 



1 soon discovered that birds and in- 

 sects did not trouble us much, because 

 we do not suit their appetites. They say 

 that we taste bitter and disagreeable, 

 like the milkweed, so they seldom dis- 

 turb us, and we lead a happy-go-lucky 



life. We often spread our wings wide 

 and float along in the air with little fear 

 of foes. They see our colors — yellow 

 and black, the badge of the milkweed 

 butterfly — and off they go seeking a 

 choicer tidbit. 



Whenever there is a heavy wind, storm 

 I fly out to battle with it^ What fun 

 to have the angry wind hurl you back — 

 only to get your wings fluttering again, 

 and flying a distance to meet another 

 fling! It is great sport. 



I must tell you of something that 

 happened to my mate one day. She was 

 flying near a piazza where there were 

 some phlox plants. She darted down 

 towards them, keeping an eye out on a 

 sparrow that had been flying after her, 

 when her right wing caught in a spider- 

 web that was in the piazza rail. She 

 fluttered arid fluttered, frightening the 

 spider out of his web, until she got her 

 wing loose ; but it was not so strong af- 

 ter that, as a little piece was torn off. 



I saw some beautiful flowers lying on 

 a table on the same piazza soon after- 

 wards and, as no one was out there, 

 winged down on them. Queer : they 

 had no honey in them. A httle girl in 

 the window exclaimed, ''Oh, sister! a 

 butterfly is on our paper flowers." 



Then a boy sprang out with a hat in 

 his hand and I flew quickly away. My 

 mate and I w^ere so terrified that we did 

 not go near that piazza again. 



The lovely warm summer passed very 

 soon and I had such a happy time that 

 I was sorry when our family flocked to- 

 gether and began to talk of going South 

 in September. We held our meetings 

 on the underside of the branches of 

 trees and, perhaps, some of you saw us 

 there. 



Oh ! the life of a buterfly is sweet, 

 and there is just enough excitement in 

 keeping out of the reach of enemies to 

 make the struggle for existence inter- 



estnig. 



j\I. EVELYX LiXCOLX. 



