THE WOOD SYLPH 



not wait long for a sight of the sylph. Sometimes 

 he knows it has come by the swift-moving little 

 shadow cast on the path within a few feet of where 

 he lies. Sometimes three or four white admirals 

 will appear at the same instant. 



Settling on the withered leaves of the racked-out 

 underwood stems, or on the fresh green ones of the 

 growing hazel and oak, they will slowly raise and 

 lower their wings, or stay perfectly still with wings 

 spread out, pressed close and yet so lightly ! to 

 the leaf, the tips and edges even a little below the 

 plane of the body. The latter is the most ecstatic 

 of all butterfly attitudes at least this is the im- 

 pression it conveys to the human watcher. The 

 opening and closing of the wings seem thrills of 

 ecstasy ; but this perfect stillness must surely be the 

 acme of it, a butterfly joy too deep for motion. 



Now and then a white admiral drops from the 

 green hazel leaves above to the dead leaves on the 

 ground, and the play of its black-brown, white- 

 barred wings among the stems of the underwood 

 matches the play of sunbeam and shade in this 

 place. The effect is charming, and singular in the 

 world of butterfly display. The woodland ride, 

 flowerless and screened from the sun, seems an un- 

 likely place for a butterfly. How much more so the 

 brown carpet of dead leaves spread among the grey, 

 brown stems of the high underwoods ! In and out 

 among the green leaves above the admirals thread 

 their way, changing perch for perch ; only, once a 

 good leaf throne has been found, and the wings 

 N 177 



