220 THE ENTOMOLOGIST. 
by it in Britain, years ago, probably largely in consequence of 
the partial cultivation of its haunts. A valley some half-mile 
in width, the sides gently undulating up one or two hundred 
feet to its vine-clad crest on one side, and to the locally famous 
Budapest national playground, the Kammerwald, on the other. 
Except for a narrow strip at the bottom of varying width, the 
slopes were taken up by cultivation, and produced, in addition to 
grapes, luxuriant crops of wheat, barley, rye, sainfoin, potatoes, 
and maize; the remaining uncultivated portion being the 
present stronghold of C. dispar. Centuries ago this had been no 
doubt a quaking, undrained, reedy bog, where the food-plant flour- 
ished luxuriantly and the outflow from which found its way to 
the mighty Danube close by. Modern improvements had 
changed all this; down the centre ran a ditch, willow-planted, 
which had drained the water off, and into this ditch emptied at 
intervals smaller channels, each one of which played its part in 
the general scheme. ‘This drainage system had converted the 
surface, leaving it moist indeed, but firm and covered with 
a thick crop of coarse grass, intermixed with flowering plants, 
amidst which the great waterdock grew abundantly in places. 
The sun shone brightly that June morning, and we had not 
got ten yards from the railway station, when slowly flying along 
the grassy side of a ditch I saw my first large ‘‘ copper”’ in the 
flesh, var. rutilus of course, but a very different object to the 
rather puny butterfly one usually gets from a dealer if a speci- 
men is purchased; for, next to our own peerless type, the Buda- 
pest is certainly one of the finest, if not the very finest, form to 
be found anywhere. My largest male and female expand 
respectively 44 mm. and 45 mm., as against the 46 mm. and 
49 mm. expanse of my largest British specimens. 
There is no mistaking C. var. rutilus on the wing for any 
other European butterfly ; the unique coloration identifies it at 
once. It has very similar habits of flight to the other Huropean 
species of the genus, the males usually flying briskly but not 
fast over the long grass, with a jerky movement common to most 
of the Lycenide, searching for the females; if another male is 
approached, either flying or settled on the grass, the two will 
rise in the air and fight together for a few moments, then 
separate and each pursue its way. It does not seem to be partial 
to resting on, or sucking at, the numerous flowers that grow 
in its haunts. I saw two or three specimens at rest on one 
flower or other, but these were quite the exception; it is very 
fond of, especially during the afternoon, settling on a grass 
stem, and opening its wings to their full extent to enjoy the 
sratifying warmth of the sun’s rays. It is then a magnificent 
object, brilliant beyond one’s power of imagination, a patch of 
living, sparkling, ruddy gold; but even a study of the brilliant 
upper side does not reveal all the glory of C. dispar. If you see 
