Article March 6, 1909 Issue

EMERGENCE

RUTH G. ROYAL.

How many of us have seen a butterfly burst from its chrysalis—enter upon its new stage of existence, nearly as helpless as a new-born babe? With none but the All-loving to help and protect it in its weakness, the vitality and determination it exhibits are quite wonderful, considering the apparent lack of nourishment provided to foster such strength.

While strolling with a friend one afternoon, in a canyon in southern California, we found a bush of beautiful wild flowers. My friend had broken off a branch, when she was startled by something which was hanging to one of the leaves. She hastily tore off the leaf and threw it away, and my curiosity being thus excited, I stooped to examine the queer-looking object, finding it a strange affair indeed. Firmly fastened to the leaf was a sac of a delicate blue, striped with black and brown and touches of purest yellow, and about as large as the end of one's little finger from tip to joint. I thought it might be a cocoon, though I had never before seen any except those spun of a silky substance, and safely tucked away in the corners of fences, barns, and such places. As I carried this one home with me, I marveled no less at its beauty than at the perfect trust with which this child of nature had wrapped itself up in preparation for the miracle—there on the public highway, its future confided to so frail a thing as a leaf!

I had laid the cocoon in a fern on my writing-table that I might watch it daily, and as the leaf slowly withered I thought, "Surely that within will die." But one morning, five days later, while at the table, my attention was attracted to the little object, and lo, the lidlike back of the cocoon had been torn open, and the butterfly was struggling feebly to free itself! It was of a wonderful velvety blackness, its legs and feelers crimson, tipped with gold. Straight toward me it crawled, wabbling unsteadily as its closely rolled wings partially unfurled and drooped in weakness. I saw now that they were gorgeously traced in red and white with faint suggestions of gold at the edges. "Poor little thing," thought I; "you poor little thing!" But the new-born creature kept on bravely in its course toward me, waving its feelers as though it cried, "Behold, through faith I have come!" Ere long it stopped for a needed and well deserved rest, and its next move was somewhat amusing, for it began to kick vigorously at its wings. Finally it succeeded in freeing them their full length, thus disclosing the under side, which was of crimson, marked in black and white. I chanced to glance at the deserted shell, and my wonder increased as I saw how much so little had contained. Picking it up, I found it was of sheerest tissue and very simple—but how strong to contain so important a treasure!

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