BUTTERFLY 

 BOTANY TEACHERS 



#' 



June i6th 





BLACK swallow-tail- a black 

 swallow-tail! Look! quick!" 

 Such was the cry I heard 

 many times last summer from my 

 studio windows. But my studio 

 was not in the city. The cry was 

 not that of the hopeful, aspiring, 

 metropolitan dudelet lost in ad- 

 miration for the only " swallow- 

 tail" which is ever likely to thrill 

 - his being, and whose visible 

 haunts of rest and flitting are 

 the tailor's window and the 

 ball-room. "A swallow-tail!" 

 It was a cry that quickened 

 and carried me back to unburdened 

 boyhood. Such was the challenge that was then as 

 now the signal for a tireless chase over the ten-acre 

 meadow with eager butterfly net and panting breath 



