A MIGRATING BUTTERFLY 
i47 
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 
