One day I spied upon a bed of verbenas a magnificent butterfly with broad expanse of wing and large blue spots upon the secondaries. In breathless haste I rushed into the house and got my net. To the joy of my heart, when I returned to the spot, the beauty was still hovering over the crimson blossoms. But, as I drew near with fell intent, it rose and sailed away. Across the garden, over the fence, across the churchyard, out into the street, with leisurely flight the coveted prize sped its way, while I quickly followed, net in hand. Once upon the dusty street, its flight was accelerated; my rapid walking was converted into a run. Down past the church and--_horribile dictu!_--past the boarding-school that pesky butterfly flew. I would rather have faced a cannonade in those days than a bevy of boarding-school misses, but there was no alternative. There were the dreaded females at the windows (for it was Saturday, and vacation hour), and there was my butterfly. Sweating, blushing, inwardly anathematizing my luck, I rushed past the school, only to be overwhelmed with mortification by the rascally porter of the institution, who was sweeping the pavement, and who bawled out after me: "Oh, it's no use; you can't catch it! It's frightened; you're so ugly!" And now it began to rise in its flight. It was plainly my last chance, for it would in a moment be lost over the housetops. I made an upward leap, and by a fortunate sweep of the net succeeded in capturing my prize.

Many years later, after a long interval in which ornithology and botany had engrossed my mind to the exclusion of entomology, my boyish love for the butterflies was renewed, and I found out the name of the choice thing I had captured on that hot July day on the streets of Salem, and returned to North Carolina for the special purpose of collecting a quantity of these superb insects. My quest was entirely successful, though my specimens were not taken at Salem, but under the shadow of Mount Mitchell, in the flower-spangled valleys which lie at its feet.

The Butterfly Book — Part 104

"The garden is fragrant everywhere; In its lily-bugles the gold bee sups, And butterflies flutter on winglets fair Round the tremulous meadow buttercups."

The Butterfly Book — Part 104

_Butterfly._-Small or medium-sized butterflies, very closely approximating in form and color the species of the genus _Argynnis_, in which they are included by many writers. The principal structural difference between the two genera is found in the fact that in the genus _Brenthis_ only one of the subcostal nervules arises before or at the end of the cell of the primaries, while in _Argynnis_ the two innermost subcostal nervules thus arise. In _Brenthis_ the palpi are not as stout as in _Argynnis_, and the short basal spur or branch of the median vein of the front wings, which is characteristic of the latter genus, is altogether lacking in _Brenthis_.

The Butterfly Book — Part 104