At the Water’s Edge 


May, early in October. It was no involuntary 
passage, such as might be produced by a vio- 
lent wind, for the air was absolutely calm ; and 
the flight of such a multitude indicated a pre- 
concerted plan for a prolonged transit. Walk- 
ing along the beach early in the morning, I was 
aware of numerous butterflies passing me, long 
before I gave them any definite thought, except 
that I had never seen so many before. But at 
length they forced themselves upon my distinct 
attention, and I was persuaded there was ‘‘some- 
thing in the air.’’ Beginning to watch them 
carefully, I quickly discovered that they were 
passing along the beach in a regular stream ; 
not in their usual zigzag course, but in a very 
direct line, sometimes in small groups, some- 
times singly, but in almost uninterrupted suc- 
cession. Some were near the ground, and 
others at various heights as far as a hundred 
feet in the air, but not a single one was going 
in an opposite direction from the others, and 
only one alighted, but only for an instant. I 
watched the fluttering, but rapidly moving cur- 
rent for nearly half an hour, and when I left 
them there were still many stragglers in the 
procession. The entire number, as far as I 
could judge, were of one species. Although at 
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