He was only a butterfly, one of those beautiful, large,
bluish-black ones that we so often see about the garden, but he
knew enough to get in out of the wet.
It was during one of the heavy showers that so frequently, in
the hot days of midsummer, come suddenly upon us, driving every
one to the nearest cover. To escape the downpour, which meant
great injury, if not destruction, to so delicate a creature, he
quickly flew to a near-by Balm of Gilead tree, where, alighting
on the under side of a large leaf, he clung with wings closely
drawn together and hanging straight downward, using the big
leaf as an umbrella to shield him from the great drops falling
all around. High and dry, here he remained until the shower had
passed, and the blue sky and warm sun called him once again to
his favorite haunts.--_St. Nicholas._
(2933)
See COMPENSATION.