A BUTTERFLY. 25
hour, only to be unrewarded, and all the time obliged to keep a sharp lookout for hungry birds. It takes some food to furnish energy to keep up their flight. They will gladly help themselves from sap that issues from a wounded tree, and some nourishment there must be in the muddy water, and it helps them over a hard time. I have known this species to frequent the drainage of a distillery, and become so chunk they could not fly, and the birds made havoc of them in great numbers, till their wings were scattered like autumn leaves over the treacherous ground — an insect tragedy resulting from the same agency that has so often torn and crushed the wings of human hope and love.
These individuals now flying here and there have all come forth out of great tribulations and hairbreadth escapes. It is but early summer yet, and before the ground freezes nearly all will have been eaten, or fatally wounded. The battered remnant will perish of cold, and not one of them will see the sun of another summer. Let us look a little further into this matter.
t Each female will lay not less than two hundred green eggs. These will be placed, one here, and another there, on leaves of trees — apple, plum, cherry, birch, willow, etc. In two weeks, if nothing serious has happened to them, they