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in field and forest, by expansive lake and winding stream. 

 The throbbing Sea, answering by its agitation to the pulses 

 of the wind, will excite his longings and draw his soul out 

 after it. And, when the summer is past and the roses, by 

 thousand ways and voics, Nature will still amuse him until, 

 tired of his quest, he falls into the last sleep in the arms 

 of the universal mother. 



So, by the Lake at Buffalo, Time, winged with happiness 

 passed by and, feigning that he would be thus every- 

 where, lured me away. The world is full of beautiful butter- 

 flies but those that fly at home are the best. Even in the 

 technical works of our noted Entomologists, a local coloring 

 attests the force of this sentiment. Thus there is an in- 

 describable Massachusetts flavor about D r - Harris's book. 

 And, let him industriously gather eggs and caterpillars from 

 what part of the country he may, it is always as from West 

 Virginia that Mr. W. H. Edwards invites his readers to the 

 great feast of facts. In some w r ay the scent of the Maine 

 woods has got into Professor Fernald's writings: we seem 

 to know the famous bog in Orono, whereon Oencis jidta 

 cumbrously flies; through openings in the woods we catch 

 a glimpse of warm-tinted Spring-tide azalea or shad-bush 

 blooms, over which the "Early Bee Hawk" (Lepisesia flavo- 

 fasciata) for an instant hovers to vanish again. And the 

 ridge by the Lake side where, of a June evening, I caught 

 the rare "Particolored Hawk" (Ampelopliaga rersicolor) I 

 would also have remembered out of my own experiences, 

 the Canada shore in the distance and all about me the lovely 

 scenery of Western New York. 



Although what the Poets say must always be taken in 

 a certain wide sense, I have been struck by their particular 

 attention to butterflies. Poe declares that a certain curious 

 sentiment is derived from "the contemplation of a moth, a 

 butterfly, a chrysalis." As to the latter he may have been 

 influenced by the mere euphony of the word itself. Only 

 an Entomologist, with prophetic soul dreaming on the glories 

 to come, can be moved by the sight of a chrysalis. But, 

 perhaps, I am wrong here, remembering the chrysalids of 



