BUTTERFLIES' BEAUTY SHOW 



heath a jejune-looking little thing, limp and weakly, 

 like the snow-white plume moth, with snow-white 

 stockings settled at this moment on my ink-pot. 

 But in two points large skipper and small heath 

 do closely resemble each other. The skipper, like 

 the heath, will return, after each short excursion, 

 again and again to the same grass-blade or flower. 

 He will find a particular blossom of one of the 

 hawkweeds, and sit there with half-open wings 

 scores of times during the day. 



Another skipper drawing near, he charges im- 

 petuously, and there appears to be at least a sparring 

 match, perhaps butterfly buffets. Seen in a row of 

 preserved butterflies in a collector's case, the large 

 skipper is not remarkable. But, fresh from the 

 chrysalid, darting and tremulous, he is a gem of 

 life. His almost orange-brown upper raiment is 

 tinged with purple at the edge ; the scrap of under- 

 clothing which he disports as he sits and suns on 

 the yellow hawkweed flower is purplish too. His 

 antennae, organs of a sense which we can only 

 vaguely imagine, are ringed with yellow and black. 

 It is worth stalking a large skipper, going on hands 

 and knees, and creeping within a foot of him, just 

 to note the texture of these antennae, or horns, a 

 microscopic joy of sight. 



What has often struck me about the beauty show 

 of many butterflies is its seeming independence. Is 

 it to win the regard of members of the other sex, to 

 secure a mate ? Is this its sole origin and object ? 

 We often reason that it is, and so the greatest 



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