PICTORIAL AND POETICAL. 403 



and as Dr. Leach has observed — " No person can pretend to the 

 distinction of a gfood naturalist, who has altogether excluded 

 from his attention the subject of entomology." 



But I appeal not to the naturalist — I will be content to take a 

 verdict even from the citizen of the world — from the man of 

 business and bustle — if he will permit me to revert back for a 

 single moment to the buoyant period of childhood. Is there any 

 one, who compelled in former days to con his wearisome dogs- 

 eared book beneath the frown of the now bye-gone village dame, 

 or stern rod-bearing pedagogue arrayed in sable velvet and 

 tempest-threatening brow (a race happily now extinct) — that has 

 not occasionally lifted his aching eyes, and envied the glittering 

 butterfly bobbing in and out of the open window where the honey- 

 suckles spread profusely their trumpet-like blossoms ? Or if by 

 some lucky accident " the master" was called away, and the hum, 

 the smile ,and the laugh began to circulate, till one astounding 

 hubbub frightened propriety from her seat; — did you never hear 

 of some adventurous stripling risking shame and disgrace all for 

 the sake of a rambling, weary, vain chace after that gaudy 

 butterfly ? Ah ! watch the motions of the boy and the butterfly ! 

 now settled upon a flower, it waves its oscellate wings — now at 

 rest, the youth softly advances and dashes his hat upon his 

 victim — the prize is caught ! No ! in vain he searches the dark 

 recesses of his frontal covering — for lo ! high up the fields of air 

 the triumphant insect dashes its renewed flight, nor settles again 

 till vales, woods, and rivers are far far behind. I paint not the 

 mysteries attendant upon the boy's return, nor will I blame him 

 for what the man will, under some other name, pursue with still 

 greater avidity — happy could his emotions then be as guiltless as 

 those of the boy disappointed of his lost butterfly. 



But, can any one look out upon the lovely face of nature with 

 a listless eye, when the bright beams of an April sun, and the 

 first balmy flowers of early spring have tempted forth the 

 brilliant-winged butterflies in all their loveliness of hue ? Who 

 is there that would not wish to emulate their flight ? or who does 

 not admire the gorgeous hue that, sparkling in the sun, forms a 

 vivid contrast with the meeker lustre of the paler flowers on 

 which they settle ? 



" Behold ! ye pilgrims of the earth, behold ! 



See all but man with unearn'd pleasure gay ; 

 See her bright robes the butterfly unfold, 



Burst from her wintry tomb in prime of May ; 



"What youthful bride can equal her array ? 

 Who can with her for easy pleasure vie ? 



From mead to mead on careless wing to stray. 



From flower to flower on balmy gales to fly- 

 Is ail she hath to do beneath the radiant sky." 



And yet, perhaps, many mellifluous voices have warbled 



" I'd be a butterfly," 

 July, 1835. — VOL. ii. no. xii, 3 g 



