IN THE western part of England if the first Butterfly you see in the spring is white and if you succeed in killing this Butterfly, good luck will surely come to you. Some gentlemen on their way to church one day saw a friend dashing down the road wildly brandishing a cane. He could not stop to explain. He was as a rule a sedate, calm man, so this excitement alarmed them. As nothing could be done, they went on their way and soon met the father of their friend, an old man who usually hobbled painfully along on two canes. He too was excited and was doing his best to make his way down the road with only one cane. His first words were, "I'm afraid he has missed it." "Missed what?" thought the gentlemen, and finally after many efforts to quiet him enough for conversation learned from the old man that his son had seen his first butterfly, that it was white and that without more ado he had snatched his old father's cane and set off in pursuit. Still the old man was perfectly willing to hobble along as best he could, if only good luck and prosperity could be procured by the slaughter of the pretty little insect. The color of its wings is due to what seems to us a fine dust scattered over them, but in reality this dust is made up of little discs fastened by stalks to the wings, arranged usually in rows somewhat like the shingles on a house.

Notice its two great round eyes and remember that each of these is composed of thousands of perfect little eyes. Its trunk you will find coiled up under its head and sometimes this Butterfly of ours completes its toilet by opening its trunk and cleaning it. By the antennÆ of the Butterfly you can tell it from, the Moth, for those of the former are immovable and furnished with knobs, while those of the other have not the knobs and can be stowed away under the wings. If you wish to distinguish the Butterfly from the Moth, remember this fact, and also that Butterflies fly only in the daytime and always rest with the wings erect. These facts are trustworthy, for no Moth has ever been found to possess all three of these characteristics, though some do possess one or two.

Though curious in itself, its life history is still more curious. Man, in passing through his seven ages never loses the distinguishing characteristics which make him a man, but our Butterfly as it passes through its three ages changes so much that we seem, while studying it to be studying three distinct creatures—the Caterpillar, the Chrysalis, and the Butterfly.

In the Caterpillar our dainty little fairy presents itself as it appears in its first stage, having just spent a few days, or a month, or perhaps the whole winter in the egg. It changes its old skin many times during its Caterpillar life of twenty or thirty days, at each change gaining in weight and brilliancy, until with the last it appears as a Chrysalis "a legless, mummy-like creature," which maintains its suspended position by means of the hooks on its tail or by a silken girth around its body. A few days before the Butterfly comes forth, it can be seen through the thin cases. Finally the skin on the back bursts open and the little insect is free. For a few minutes it stands with drooping wings. Gradually the wings distend and in a short while reach four times their original size. Then our Butterfly hastens away to carry its joyful greeting to man and flower. So the cycle of Butterfly life can thus be indicated: Egg, Caterpillar, Chrysalis, Butterfly, Egg.

Why they migrate is not known but evidence enough has been brought in by eye witnesses to prove that this does occur. One flight seen in Switzerland lasted for two hours, the continuous stream of insects being ten or fifteen feet wide and made up of the species called the Painted Lady. Similar companies have been seen at sea, as Mr. Darwin bears witness, also before and after tornadoes in certain places. In Ceylon a gentlemen drove through a cloud of white Butterflies for nine miles. But very interesting to us, is a great migration recorded to have been seen in our own country, in Massachusetts, about Oct. 1, 1876. These are strange stories, but really hardly more strange than other facts about these little animals, graceful and beautiful in form and motion, whose very presence adds greatly to the charm of mother Nature.

Such quantities of eggs are laid by the Butterflies that if certain animals did not contend against them, man would not be able to withstand the ravages of the Caterpillar. Man has one powerful ally in the birds which devour enormous quantities of these eggs, but a still more powerful ally is the Ichneumon Fly. This little insect is a parasite through its grub state and chooses as its host either the egg of the Butterfly or the Caterpillar. The full grown Fly lays its egg by means of an ovipositor, a sharp, hollow instrument with which it can pierce the skin or shell of its victim. The eggs of the fly hatch and the grubs feed upon the Caterpillar, but usually do not touch upon its vital parts until it is full grown, then they devour them and within the skin of their former host form their own cocoons. Sometimes they wait until the Caterpillar assumes its Chrysalis state before they finish their dread work, then much to the surprise of interested beholders, a little cluster of flies appears at the breaking of the cocoon, and no beautiful Butterfly.

Some of these brightly colored little messengers of gladness live through the winter. Usually they pass this trying period wrapped warmly in the cocoon or nestled under some leaf, still a Chrysalis; but a few species weather the cold and the snow and, shut up in some hollow tree or some empty shed, sleep away the happy days of Jack Frost and Santa Claus and are ready to awake with the spring, when they are not abashed in their bedraggled garments to appear among their brothers, who come forth brightly clad, fresh from the soft, warm resting place of the cocoon.

Perhaps the marvelous migration of Butterflies which occurred on Oct. 3, 1898, will be more interesting to us than those already mentioned because it happened so recently and in our own country, and perhaps, most of all, because the reason for flight is hazarded. The inhabitants of Wichita, Kansas, at 3:15 o'clock in the afternoon of that day were greeted with the sight of many Butterflies flying south. Gradually the number increased until business practically ceased, the inhabitants all turning out to view the brilliant spectacle. The stream of yellow and brown insects, with the accompanying purr and brilliant effects of fluttering wings flowed on until within a half an hour of sunset, and even after this, millions of stragglers hastened southward. But you are interested in the reason given? They say that our little friends were driven away from their customary haunts by the forest fires in Colorado. This is only one more supposition to add to the list already awaiting some enterprising student, who shall at last solve the mystery of these wonderful flights and fully acquaint us with all the other interesting facts which our little Butterflies are still keeping secret.