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The Butterfly from the Wood. 25
flew into the garden and alighted on a frond a little
distance from the crimson rose, and there it sat
gazing at the beautiful belle of the garden.
The sun rose higher and higher, the air became
‘warmer and warmer, and when the sunbeams reached
the budding rose, it swelled with joy in the fulness of
its grateful heart and gracefully unfurled its lovely
leaves, charming all the grand butterflies, while the
bashful little stranger from the wood, dazzled by its
beauty, kept at a distance.
The heart of the snowy butterfly beat so violently
that it almost burst its bosom, as the little wooer
flitted forward in a flutter to the blushing rose, and
whispered, “ How beautiful you are! I wish I had
such a bride !”
But the rose looked disdainfully at the daring
intruder, and said: “Impertinent one! How darest
thou come here in such simple clothing? Thou
hadst done far better to have remained in the wood,
and chattered thy compliments to the flowers of the
coarse heather.”
The gaudy butterflies gathered round the simple
little butterfly and jeered rudely at its plain white
attire; and sorrowful in mind it flew away to its
home in the woods, sighing, ‘‘ Why did I fly to the
garden? I was so happy before, when I lived in the
quiet wood with my innocent bride; but now I still
long for the crimson rose, though I am sure it is not
as good ‘as it is beautiful.”
When the butterfly of the wood had returned home
to its white strawberry flower, it found no longer any
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