Che Travels of a Butterfly.

Everything that lives
Lives not alone nor for itself. Fear not, and I will call

The weak worm from its lowly bed, and thou shalt hear its voice,
— BLAKE.

x NDERNEATH a cabbage-leaf in a gay garden, one
ly summer day, a butterfly was born.

: The cabbage-leaf was all covered with beads of dew,
which made it a most lovely thing to look at—one of the most
charming things which one could possibly fancy.

By the side of the cabbage, on a raspberry bush, a great
garden-spider, dressed in brown velvet, with pearl and silver
ornaments, had spun his web; and that was all a-glimmer with
dew-drops too, which made it look more exquisite than the
finest lady’s best lace, spark-
ling with diamonds. Only the
spider thought the dew-drops
a bother; because they made
his web wet, and he was long-
ing for the sunbeams to come
and drink them all up, so that
the net might be ready to
catch flies.

“Tt is high time that I had
my breakfast,” thought the
spider, ‘‘but not a single fly has come my way yet. Iam
anxious about the web—whether it will bear the weight of all
those heavy water-drops!” And indeed the web was quite

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