NATURE NOTES. 



During- the first days of last October 

 I gathered from my celery three cater- 

 pillars of the Asterias Butterfly. I put 

 them into a box covered with netting 

 and fed them a few days upon celery 

 leaves. They grew finally but did not 

 moult. I had some twigs in the box 

 and one morning- I found one had spun 

 its cocoon and was hanging fast from 

 one of the twigs. The other two soon 

 followed and the box was set away to 

 await the springtime. In April the 

 box was put in among some plants in 

 a sunny window. April 29th a flutter- 

 ing was heard in the box and a perfect 

 butterfly was found clinging to the net. 

 We mounted it after it was dry and 

 awaited further developments. May 2d 

 we noticed one of the remaining co- 

 coons had a small opening on top and 

 just behind what you would suppose 

 was the head of the insect. A fierce 

 looking head would dart out occasion- 

 ally and fall to nibbling the edges of 

 the aperture. For a few minutes, less 

 than ten, our attention was drawn away 

 from the box and when we looked again 

 an ichneumon fly was drying its gauzy 



wings and making its toilet in the most 

 approved fly-fashion. So this had been 

 an unwelcome guest of one of the co- 

 coons, devouring its host in its zest for 

 its own growth and development. That 

 followed the way of butterfly number 

 one and was mounted in the same box. 



The next morning as we stood watch- 

 ing the last cocoon, one of us remarked, 

 'T wish that one would come out and 

 so complete the story." In less than 

 ten minutes a bedraggled insect was 

 slowly crawling along the net. Both 

 pairs of wings were tightly rolled up and 

 most unHke a butterfly did it look. 



It was an interesting sight to see 

 those wings slowly unroll themselves as 

 they dried out gradually. Little by 

 little the butterfly gained strength to 

 complete her toilet and soon a beautiful 

 Asterias was flitting about its cage. A 

 larger, finer specimen I never saw than 

 this. Mounted with its companion and 

 its uncanny guest, the ichneumon fly, 

 the three await the touch of the camera 

 to perpetuate the Hkeness of these 

 caterpillars whose story I have told 

 above. Bertie M. Phillips. 



INDIAN SUMMER. 



We deemed the Summer's exquisite volume closed 



And sighed, regretful, in the sharper air. 

 In royal robes the hills, broad-breasted, dozed ; 



The milkweed's fairy fleet sailed everywhere. 



Beneath the fervid blandishment of noon 



The clasped leaves turn back. Once more we trace 



June's radiant and gold-enmargined rune. 



Then, smiling still, the frosty night-winds face. 



— Lulu Wiiedon Mitchell. 



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