A Race after a Butterfly 



my way of thinking its proper location is near A. rupestris. It 

 certainly reveals but small affinity to the species of the Eurynome- 

 group. 



Besides the species of Argvnnis enumerated in the foregoing 

 pages and delineated upon the plates, there are several others of 

 more or less doubtful validity credited to our fauna, and a num- 

 ber of varieties which have received names. With all of these 

 the more advanced student will become familiar as he prosecutes 

 his researches, but it is not necessary to speak of them here. 



A RACE AFTER A BUTTERFLY 



There is much that is pleasing about "first things." I shall 

 never forget the first dollar I earned; the first trout I took with 

 my fly; the first muskalonge I gaffed beside my canoe on a still 

 Canadian lake; the first voyage I made across the Atlantic. So I 

 shall never forget my first capture of a female specimen of Ar- 

 gvnnis diana. 



My home in my boyhood was in North Carolina, in the village 

 of Salem, famous as one of the most successful of the settlements 

 made by the Moravian Brethren under the lead of the good Count 

 Zinzendorf, and well known throughout the Southern States as 

 the seat of an excellent seminary for young ladies. The Civil War 

 broke out, and the hopes cherished of sending me North to be 

 educated were disappointed. I was left to pursue my studies 

 under a tutor, and to roam the neighborhood in quest of insects, 

 of which I gathered a large collection. 



One day I spied upon a bed of verbenas a magnificent butterfly 

 with broad expanse of wing and large blue spots upon the secon- 

 daries. 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 novering 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 



127 



