_STORY OF THE SMALL GREEN CATERPILLAR AND THE BEAUTIFUL WHITEBUTTERFLY._
[ADAPTED.]
In a kitchen garden at the rear of an old, brick house in a countrytown, stood long rows of stately corn, whose shining green bladesglistened in the sun and rustled if a passing breeze spoke to them. Nearat hand were some thickly-leaved currant bushes which looked as if theyhad been so busy bearing bunches of juicy, red currants that they hadfound no time to grow tall like their neighbors, the corn.
Just across the garden-path was a fine bed of feathery asparagus,separated from the rest of the garden by a low wooden border about twoinches high. I do not know as to whether or not it was this exclusivelife they lived that made them so lacking in strength, but they wereswayed by the slightest breath of air, now this way and now that. In thesame garden were many other vegetables, and towering far above them allwere some giant plum trees. At least they seemed like giants to thepotato vine and tomato plants near by, both of whom were of a creepingnature and had a great admiration for anybody, or anything, that washigher than themselves. The young potato vines used to look up from thetop of their hills and wonder if they would ever get as near to the skyas the branches of the plum trees seemed to be. Silly things! They didnot know that their only value lay in their keeping close to the groundand bearing as many fine, smooth-skinned potatoes as possible; that is,the younger vines did not know this important fact.
Our story, however, is not about the potato vines, but of something verywonderful which took place upon the outside leaf of a round, greencabbage-head which stood along with the other cabbage-heads in onecorner of the garden. I don't believe you would have understood much ofwhat was going on if you had been there, any more than did thehappy-faced, little, black-eyed woman who owned the garden. She thoughtshe loved her garden, every tree, and shrub, and herb that grew in it;still she spent a great deal more time looking at the swift-flowingriver and the stretch of hills beyond than she did at hercabbage-heads. Her neighbors said she was very far-sighted and calledher clever, but the ants and beetles which lived in the garden knew thatshe was dull, because she spent hours each day poring over stupid books,while the most wonderful things were happening all around her, under hervery nose, as it were, or rather, I should say, perhaps, under her veryfeet--things far more interesting than her books could possibly havebeen.
Among these wonderful things of which her garden could have told her wasthe life-story of a little green caterpillar whose home was on theoutside leaf of a large green cabbage-head. He was not an inch long andnot much bigger around than a good-sized broom straw, yet he was anhonest little fellow in his way, and spent most of his time crawlingabout on his cabbage-leaf and nibbling holes in it, which you know, isabout all a caterpillar can be expected to do. The great, beautiful sun,high up in the sky, sent his bright rays of light down to warm thelittle caterpillar just as regularly and with seemingly just as muchlove as he sent them to make the thousand wavelets of the swift-flowingriver sparkle and gleam like diamonds, or as he sent them down to restin calm, still sunshine on the quiet hill-tops beyond.
The little green caterpillar's life was a very narrow one. He had neverbeen away from his cabbage-leaf, in fact he did not know that there wasanything else in the world except cabbage leaves. He might have learnedsomething of the beautiful silvery moon, or the shining stars, or of theglorious sun itself, if he had ever looked up, but he never did,therefore the whole world was a big cabbage-leaf to him, and all of hislife consisted in nibbling as much cabbage-leaf as possible.
So you can easily imagine his astonishment when one day a dainty, whitebutterfly settled down beside him and began laying small green eggs. Thelittle caterpillar had never before seen anything half so beautiful aswere the wings of the dainty, white butterfly, and when she had finishedlaying her eggs and flew off, he for the first time in his whole life,lifted his head toward the blue sky that he might watch the quick motionof her wings. She was soon beyond the tallest leaves of the tomatoplants, above the feathery tips of the fine asparagus, even higher thanthe plum trees. He watched her until she became a mere speck in the airand at last vanished from his sight. He then sighed and turned again tohis cabbage leaf. As he did so his eyes rested on the twenty small greeneggs which were no larger than pin heads.
"Did she leave these for me to care for?" said he to himself. Then camethe perplexing question--how could he, a crawling caterpillar, take careof baby butterflies. He could not teach them anything except to crawland nibble cabbage leaves. If they were like their beautiful mother,would they not soon fly far beyond his reach? This last thought troubledhim a great deal, still he watched over them tenderly until they shouldhatch. He could at least tell them of how beautiful their mother hadbeen and could show them where to fly that they might find her.
He often pictured to himself how they would look, twenty dainty littlebutterflies fluttering about him on his cabbage leaf for a time, andthen flying off to the blue sky, for aught he knew, to visit the starswith their mother. He loved the great sun very dearly now, because itsent its rays down to warm the tiny eggs.
One day he awoke from his afternoon nap just in time to see a mostremarkable sight! What do you think was happening? One after another ofthe small green eggs were breaking open, and out were crawling--what_do_ you suppose! Little white butterflies? No, nothing of thekind--Little green caterpillars were creeping out of each shell. Theirfoster-father, as he had learned to call himself, could hardly believehis own eyes. Yet there they were, wriggling and squirming, very muchlike the young angleworms in the ground below.
"Well, well, well!" said he to himself, "who would ever dream that thechildren of that beautiful creature would be mere caterpillars?" Strangeas it seemed to him, there was no denying the fact and his duty was toteach them how to crawl about and how to nibble cabbage leaves. "Poorthings," he used to say as he moved among them, "you will never know theworld of beauty in which your mother lived, you will never be able tosoar aloft in the free air, your lives must be spent in creeping abouton a cabbage leaf and filling yourselves full of it each day. Poorthings! Poor things!"
The young caterpillars soon became so expert that they no longer neededhis care. Feeling very tired and sleepy, he one day decided to make forhimself a bed, or bag and go to sleep, not caring much whether or nothe ever awoke. He was soon softly wrapped from head to foot in thecurious covering he had made, and then came a long, long sleep of threeweeks or more. When at last he awakened, he began to work his head outof his covering. Soon his whole body was free and he began to breathethe fresh air and feel the warm sunshine. He was sure that something hadhappened to him though he could not tell what. He turned his head thisway and that, and at last caught sight of his own sides. What do youthink he saw? Wings! Beautiful white wings! And his body was white, too!The long sleep had changed him into a butterfly!
He began to slowly stretch his wings. They were so new he could hardlybelieve that they were part of himself. The more he stretched them themore beautiful they became, and soon they quivered and fluttered asgracefully as did other butterfly wings. Just at this moment a strong,fresh breeze swept over the garden, and before he had time to refuse,the new butterfly was lifted off the cabbage leaf and was dancingthrough the air, settling down now on a bright flower, and now on anodding blade of grass, then up and off again. He rejoiced gaily in hisfreedom for a time, but soon came the longing to try his wings in theupper sunshine.
Before attempting the unknown journey, however, he flew back to theround, green cabbage-head on which he had lived so long. There were thetwenty, small, green caterpillars, still creeping slowly about andfilling themselves with cabbage-leaf. This was all they knew how to do,and this they did faithfully. "Never mind, little caterpillars," saidthe new butterfly as he hovered over them, "keep on at your work; thecabbage leaf gives you food, and the crawling makes you strong. By andby you, too, shall be butterflies and go forth free and glad into God'sgreat upper world."
Having said this in so low a t
one of voice that you would not have heardhim had you been standing close by, he flew far away, so far thatneither you nor I could have followed him with our eyes. As for thehappy-faced, little, black-eyed woman, she did not even know that he hadbeen near her, for her eyes were fastened on her book, as usual. But thesmall, green, caterpillars must have heard, for they went on crawlingand nibbling cabbage-leaves quite contentedly, and not one of them wasever heard to complain of having to be a caterpillar, thoughoccasionally one and then another of them would lift his head, and Idoubt not he was thinking of the time when he, too, should become abeautiful white butterfly.