A SWALLOW-TAILED BUTTERFLY.
"If I can't have the seat I want, I won't have any; and I think you are
real mean, Mollie Elliot! I ain't coming here any more."
These were the words Miss Ruth heard spoken in loud angry tones as she
opened the door connecting her bedroom with the parlor, where the little
girls were assembled, and caught a glimpse of an energetic figure in
pink gingham running across the lawn that separated the minister's house
from his next door neighbor.
"Now, Auntie," said Mollie, in answer to Miss Ruth's look of inquiry, "I
am not in the least to blame. I'll leave it to the girls if I am. Fan
Eldridge is so touchy! She came in a minute ago and Nellie Tyler
happened to be sitting by me, and Fan marched up to her and says, 'I'll
take my seat if you please'; and I said, 'It's no more your seat than it
is Nellie's,' We don't have any particular seats, you know we don't,
Auntie, but sit just as it happens. Well, she declared it was her seat
because she had had it the last two afternoons, and I told Nellie not to
give up to her because she acted so hateful about it, and then she went
off mad. I'm sure I don't care; if she chooses to stay away she can."
"You don't quite mean that, Mollie," her aunt said gravely. "The
Patchwork Society can't afford to lose one of its members, certainly not
for so small a difference as the choice of a seat. We must have Fanny
back, if I give up my seat to her. But come into this room, girls. I
have something pretty to show you. Softly! or you will frighten him
away."
There was a honeysuckle vine trained close to the window, in full bloom,
and darting in and out among the flowers, taking a sip now and then from
a honey-cup, or resting on a leaf or twig, was a large butterfly with
black-velvet wings and spots and bands of blue and red and yellow.
"O you beauty!" said Miss Ruth. "Do you know, girls, of all the moths
and butterflies I have raised from the larvæ,--and I have had Painted
Ladies, and Luna Moths, and one lovely Cecropia which was the admiration
of all beholders,--my favorite has always been the Swallow-tailed?
Perhaps it was because he was my first love. I was no older than you,
Nellie, when, half curious and half disgusted, I held at arm's length on
a bit of fennel-stalk, and dropped in an old ribbon-box Aunt Susan
provided for the purpose, the great green worm that, after various
stages of insect life, turned into just such a beautiful creature as you
see flying about among the flowers. Since then I have raised dozens of
them."
"I don't see how you could have any thing to do with worms," said Eliza
Jones. "I hate them--the horrid, squirming things!"
"So did I, Eliza, till I studied into their ways and learned what
wonderful things they can do; and now, I assure you, I have a high
respect and admiration for them."
"Will you tell us about it?" Florence asked. "I've always wanted to know
just how worms turned into butterflies,"
"And I should like nothing better than to tell you," she answered.
"'Making butterflies,' as a dear little boy once defined my favorite
occupation, and telling those who are interested in such things how they
are made, is very delightful to me,"
"Come, then, girls, hurry!" said Nellie: "the sooner we get to work the
sooner the story will begin. Good-by, Mr. Swallow-tail,--I wonder what
they call you so for,--we are going to hear all about you,"
But when they returned to the other room they found Sammy Ray and Roy
Tyler on the piazza, close to the open door. Roy beckoned to his sister,
and they held a whispered conference during which the words, "You ask
her," energetically spoken by Roy, could be plainly heard by those
inside.
Nellie turned presently, half laughing, but a little embarrassed.
"The boys want to know if they can't come in," she said. "I tell them
it's ridiculous for boys to attend a sewing society, but they won't go
away till I've asked."
Here the boys stepped forward and took off their hats. Their faces shone
with the scrubbing with soap and water they had given them, and both had
on clean collars. Sammy dived in his trowsers pocket and brought out a
couple of big brass thimbles and some needles stuck in a bit of flannel.
"We are willing to help sew," said the boy, and bravely stood his
ground, though all the girls laughed, and even Miss Ruth looked amused
at the sight of these huge implements.
"If we let you in at all, boys," she said, "it must be as guests. What
do you say, girls? Suppose we put it to vote. As many of you as are in
favor of admitting Samuel Ray and Roy Tyler to the meeting of the
Patchwork Quilt Society, now in session, will please to signify it by
raising the right hand."
Every hand was lifted.
"It is a unanimous vote," she announced. "Walk in, boys. One more chair,
Susie. Now, then, are we ready?"
But this was fated to be a day of interruptions, for while she was
speaking the door opened and in walked Lavina Tibbs, bearing a plate
piled high with something covered with a napkin.
"Miss Elliot's compliments," she said, "and would the Bed-quilt Society
accept some gingerbread for luncheon?" She set the plate on the table,
removed the napkin with a flourish, and added on her own account:--
"It's jest out of the oven, an' if it ain't good I don't know how to
make soft gingerbread, that's all!"
Good? If you had inhaled its delicious odor, and seen its lovely brown
crust and golden interior, you would have longed (as did every boy and
girl in the room) to taste it directly; and, having tasted, you would
have eaten your share to the last crumb. Miss Ruth gave Susie a
whispered direction, and the little girl brought from a corner cupboard
a pile of pink-and-white china plates, and napkins with pink borders to
correspond. The plates had belonged to Miss Ruth's grandmother, and were
very valuable; but Ruth Elliot believed that nothing was too good to be
used, and that the feast would be more enjoyable for being daintily
served. But when all were helped, she still appeared to think some thing
was wanting, and, after looking round the circle, her glance rested upon
Mollie. The little girl had been unusually quiet ever since her dispute
with Fannie, for she knew very well, though not a word of reproof had
been spoken, that her aunt was not pleased with her. She dropped her
eyes before Miss Ruth's gaze, and grew red in the face; then suddenly
jumping up, she said:--
"I'll go and ask Fan Eldridge to come back, shall I, Auntie? and she may
have any seat she likes; I'm sure I don't care."
"Yes, dear," Miss Ruth said, in the tone Mollie loved best to hear, "and
be quick, do! or the gingerbread will be cold."
Fannie was standing idly at the window looking toward the parsonage,
already repenting of her hasty departure, when Mollie rushed in.
"Come back, Fan, do! we all want you to," she said. "Mamma has sent in
some hot gingerbread, and Sam Ray and Roy Tyler are there, and auntie is
going to tell us about swallow-tailed butterflies, and she doesn't like
to begin without you. Come, now, do! and you may have my seat."
The little girl needed no urging, but her mother interposed.
"Fannie was greatly to blame," Mrs. Eldridge said. "She has told me all
about it, and I think she deserves to be punished by staying at home."
"Oh, but please, Mrs. Eldridge," said Mollie, "let her off this time! It
was my fault as well as hers, for you see I provoked her by answering
back."
"Say you are sorry, Fannie."
"Yes, truly, mamma, I am," said Fannie, with tears in her eyes; "and
I'll take any seat, or I'll stand up all the afternoon, if you'll only
let me go, and I _will_ try to break myself of getting angry so easy;
see if I don't!"
On the strength of these promises Mrs. Eldridge gave her consent, and
the little girls crossed the lawn hand-in-hand, in loving companionship.
So harmony was restored in the Society, and all ate their gingerbread
with a relish. Sammy and Roy would have liked better to have munched
their share on the piazza-steps, without plate or napkin. Under the
circumstances, however, they behaved very well; for, though Roy took
rather large mouthfuls, and Sammy licked his fingers when he thought no
one was looking, these were small delinquencies, and you will be glad
to know that the girls were too well-bred to appear to notice. Mollie,
now fully restored to favor, was allowed to pass the finger-bowl, while
Susie collected the plates, distributed the work, and made every thing
snug and tidy in the room. Then Miss Ruth commenced the story of
THE SWALLOW-TAILED BUTTERFLY.
"When I was ten years old, my brother Charlie and I spent a summer with
Aunt Susan, who lived in the old homestead some miles out of town.
"One night after tea she sent us into the garden to gather some sprigs
of fennel for her to take to prayer-meeting--all the old ladies in
Vernon took dill or fennel to evening meeting. I had just put my hand to
the fennel-bush when I drew it back with a scream.
"'What's the matter?' said Charlie.
"'A great, horrid green worm,' said I. 'I almost touched it!'
"'Here, let me smash him!' said Charlie; 'where is he?'
"'Oh, don't touch him!' I cried; 'he might bite you. Oh, dear, I hate
worms! I wonder what they were made for!'
"'That kind was made to turn into butterflies,' said Tim Rhodes.
"Tim was working Aunt Susan's garden on shares that summer, and had
heard all we said, for he was weeding the onion-bed close by.
"'What, that fellow!' said Charlie; 'will he turn into a butterfly?' and
we both of us looked at the caterpillar. He was about as long and as
thick as my little finger, of a bright leafy green, with black-velvet
rings dotted with orange at even distances along his body. He lay at
full length on a fennel-stalk, and seemed to be asleep; but when Charlie
touched him with a little stick, instantly there shot out of his head a
pair of orange-colored horns, and the air was full of the pungent odor
of fennel.
"'It smells like prayer-meeting,' said Charlie, and ran off to play; but
I wanted further information.
"'Mr. Rhodes,' said I, 'how do you know this kind of worm makes
butterflies?'
"'Because I've seen 'em do it, child. If you should put that fellow now
in a box with some holes in the top, so as he could breathe, and give
him plenty of fresh fennel to eat, in a week (or less time if he's full
grown) he'll wind himself up, and after a spell he'll hatch out a
butterfly--a pretty one, too, I tell you,'
"'I mean to try it,' I said; and I ran to the house and Aunt Susan gave
me an old ribbon-box, and Mr. Rhodes punched a few holes in the cover
with his pocket-knife; and after a little hesitation I picked the
fennel-stalk with the worm on it, and laid it carefully in the box,
making sure that the cover was tight. The box was then taken to the
house and deposited on a bench in the porch, for Aunt Susan objected to
entertaining this new boarder indoors.
"I gave my worm his breakfast the next morning before I had my own, and,
forgetting my aversion, sat by the open box and watched him eat, as his
strong jaws made clean work with leaf and stem.
"'He isn't so ugly, after all, Charlie,' I said; 'he is almost handsome
for a worm, with all those bright colors on him,'
"Then Charlie caught a little of my enthusiasm, and said _he_ meant to
keep a worm too. So he searched the fennel-bush and found three, and
tumbled them unceremoniously into the box.
"'Now they'll have good times together,' said he; 'that fellow was awful
lonesome shut up by himself,'
"At Aunt Susan's suggestion I improved my worm-house by removing the top
of the box and stretching mosquito-netting across, fastening it securely
along the edges lest my prisoners should escape. And it was well I took
this precaution; for, though for several days they made no attempt to
get away, and seemed to do nothing but eat and sleep, one morning I
found my largest and handsomest worm in a very disturbed and restless
condition. He was making frantic efforts to escape. Up and down, round
and round, over and under his companions, who were still quietly
feeding, without a moment's pause, he was pushing his way. I watched him
till I was tired; but when I left him he was still on his travels.
"In the afternoon, however, he had settled himself half-way up the side
of his house. His head was moving slowly from side to side, and a fine
white thread was coming out of his mouth. When I looked again he had
fastened himself to the box by the tip of his tail and by a loop of fine
silk passing round the upper part of his body. There he hung motionless
two, three, almost four, days. The green and orange and black faded
little by little, his body shrank to half its size, and he looked
withered, unsightly, dead. I thought he _was_ dead; but Tim Rhodes (who
all along had shown a friendly interest in my pursuit) took a look at my
poor dead worm,' and pronounced him all right.
"'Keep a watch on him this afternoon,' said Tim,' and you'll see
something queer,'
"So we did; and Aunt Susan was summoned to the porch by the news that
'the worm had split in the back and was coming out of his skin.' By the
time she had got on her glasses and was ready to witness this wonderful
sight, it was over. A heap of dried skin lay in the bottom of the box,
and a pretty chrysalis of a delicate green color hung in place of the
worm.
"'O Auntie!' said Charlie, 'you ought to have seen him twist and squirm
and make the split in his back bigger and bigger till it burst open and
tumbled off, just as a boy wriggles out of a tight coat, you know!'
"After this came three weeks of waiting, during which the green
chrysalis turned gray and hard and the other worms, one by one, went
through the same changes, until four gray chrysalis were fastened to the
sides of the box.
"Every day I looked, but nothing happened, until it seemed to me, tired
of waiting, that nothing ever _would_ happen. But one bright morning I
forgot all my weariness when I found, clinging to the netting, a
beautiful creature like the one we saw on the honeysuckle this
afternoon, with a slender black body and wings spotted with yellow and
scarlet and lovely blue. When I opened the box he didn't try to fly. He
was weak and trembling, and his wings were damp, but every moment they
grew larger and his colors brighter in the sunshine.
"While Charlie and I stood watching him, we discussed, in our own way, a
problem that has puzzled wiser heads than ours--how three distinct
individuals (the worm, the chrysalis, and the butterfly) could be one
and the same creature, and how from a low-born worm that groveled and
crawled could be born this bright ethereal being--all light and beauty
and color--that seemed fitted only for the sky.
"Aunt Susan listened to our talk a while and then repeated a text of
Scripture:--
"'Who shall change our vile body, that it may be fashioned like unto his
glorious body?'"
"While we talked the butterfly grew stronger and more beautiful, until
at last, spreading his wings to their widest extent, he darted high into
the air and we lost him. But from the day I took the green worm from the
fennel-bush in Aunt Susan's garden I date my introduction to a
delightful study which I have followed all my life as I have found
opportunity. So you see it is no wonder I am fond of the swallow-tailed
butterfly; and I have another reason, for once on a time I tamed one so
that it sucked honey from my finger."
"Auntie, you are joking!"
"Indeed, no. It was a poor little waif which, mistaking chimney heat for
warm spring weather, hatched himself out of season, and whose life I
prolonged by providing him with food."
"The dear little thing! Tell us about it, please."
"Well, I had put away some chrysalids for the winter in a closet in my
sleeping-room, and one day my nurse--I was ill at the time--heard a
rustling in the box where they lay and brought it to me for
investigation; and, behold! when I opened it there was a full-grown
swallow-tail, who, waking too soon from his winter's nap, left the soft
bed of cotton where his companions lay sleeping side by side and, wide
awake and ready to fly, was impatiently waiting for some one to let him
out into the sunshine.
"But the March sunshine was fitful and pale, and the cold wind would
have chilled him to death before night; so we resolved to keep him
indoors. We gave him the liberty of the room, and he fluttered about the
plants in the window, now and then taking a flight to the ceiling,
where, I am sorry to say, he bruised his delicate wings; but he seemed
to learn wisdom by experience, for after a while he contented himself
with a lower flight. Every day my bed was wheeled close to the window,
and I amused myself for hours watching my pretty visitor. He would
greedily suck a drop of honey, diluted with water, from the leaf of a
plant or from the end of my finger, and by sight or smell, perhaps by
both senses, soon learned where to go for his dinner.
"And so he lived and thrived for a fortnight, and I had hopes of keeping
him till spring; but one cold night the furnace fire went out, and in
the morning my pretty swallow-tail lay dead on the window-sill. Wasn't
it a pity?
"Oh," said Florence, "I like to hear about butterflies! Will you please
tell us about some of the other kinds you have kept?"
"Tell us about that big fellow you said every body made a fuss over.
Ce-ce--I can't remember what you called him."
"Cecropia!" said Susie, promptly. "Yes, do, Auntie! if you are not
tired."
If Ruth Elliot had been ever so weary I think she would have forgotten
it at sight of the interested faces of her audience; but in fact she was
not in the least tired, but was as pleased to tell as they were to
listen to the story of
THE CECROPIA MOTH.
"One day in November," she said, "a man who used to do odd jobs about
the place for my father, and whom we always called Josh,--his name was
Joshua Wheeler,--left his work to bring to the house and put into my
hand a queer-looking pod-shaped package firmly fastened to a stout twig.
It was of a rusty gray color and looked as much like a thick wad of
dirty brown paper as any thing I can think of.
"'I found this 'ere cur'us lookin' thing,' he said, 'under a walnut-tree
on the hill yonder, where I was rakin' up leaves--an', thinks I, there's
some kind of a crittur stored away inside, an' Miss Ruth she's crazy
arter bugs an' worms an' sich like varmints, an' mebbe she'd like to see
what comes out o' this 'ere; so I've fetched it along.'
"You may be sure I thanked him heartily and gave him a sixpence besides,
which I am afraid went to buy tobacco. 'Law, Doctor, don't I know it?'
Josh used to reply when my father urged him to break off a habit that
was making a shaky old man of him at sixty; 'don't I know it's a
dretful bad habit; but then you see a body must have somethin' to be
a-chawin' on.'
"But what was in the brown package? That was the question I puzzled my
brains over. I had never seen a cocoon in the least like it before, and
I had no book on entomology to help me. With the point of a needle I
carefully picked away the outer layer till I came to loose silken fibers
that evidently were the covering of an inside case. Whatever was there
was snugly tucked away in a little inner chamber with the key inside,
and I must wait with what patience I could command till he chose to open
the door.
"I kept my precious cocoon all winter in a cold, dry place; but when
warm spring weather came it lay in state on my work-table, in a box
lined with cotton, where I could watch it all day long. Nothing
happened till one bright day in June I heard a faint scratching inside
the brown case. It grew louder and louder every moment. Evidently my
tenant was bestirring himself and, with intervals of rest, was scraping
and tearing away his silken wrappings. Presently an opening was made and
out of this were poked two bushy legs with claws that held fast by the
outside of his house, while the creature gradually pulled himself out.
"First a head with horns; then a part of the body and two more legs;
then, with one tremendous effort, he was free!--an odd beast of no
particular color, looking exceedingly damp and disagreeable, with his
fat chunky body and short legs, like an exaggerated bumble-bee, only not
at all pretty. He was shaky on his legs and half tumbled from his box
to the window-sill, along which he walked trembling till he came to the
tassel of the shade, just within his reach. This he grabbed with all
four claws, his wings hanging down.
"'It's nothing but a homely old brown bug!' said my brother Charlie,
whom I had called to see the sight.
"'No,' I said, "'it isn't a bug. I'm sure I don't know what it is,'
"I was ready to cry with disappointment and vexation, for I had expected
great things from my brown chrysalis.
"The tassel was gently swaying with the weight of the clumsy creature,
and in the warm sunshine which was gradually drying body and wings faint
colors began to show--a dull red, a dash of white, a wavy band of gray,
with patches of soft brown that began to look downy like feathers. Every
moment these colors grew more distinct and took new shapes. None of
them were bright, but they were beautifully blended and the whole body
was of the texture of the finest velvet.
"But the wings! How can I describe to you how those thick, crumpled,
unsightly appendages grew and grew, changing in color from a dingy black
to a dark brown, with bands of gray and red? how the great white patches
took distinct form, and some were dashed with red and bordered with
black, and others eye-shaped with crescents of pale blue? It must have
taken an hour for all this to come about--for the great wings to unfurl
to their widest extent and the cecropia moth to show himself in all his
beauty to our admiring gaze.
"The whole family had gathered to see the show. My father lingered, hat
and riding-whip in hand, though he had a round of twenty miles to make
among his patients before night; and Aunt Susan, who was on a visit,
stood peering through her spectacles, too much absorbed to notice black
Dinah taking a nap in her work-basket and the kitten making sad havoc
with her knitting. Josh was called in from the wood-shed, and, with his
hat on the back of his head and hands deep in his pockets, gazed in
silence.
"'Wal,' he said at length, 'if that don't beat all natur'! Look at the
size of that crittur, will you, and the hole he's jest crawled out of.
Why, he's as big as a full-grown bat, measures full seven inches across
from wing to wing. Wal, now, I'd gin consider'ble to know what's be'n
goin' on for a spell back in that leetle house where he's passed his
time; and I'll bet, Doctor, with all your larnin', _you_ can't tell.'"