10 FOOTING IT IN FRANCONIA 



haste ; I had chosen my route partly with a 

 view to just such idling ; and the birds were, 

 and were likely to be, nothing but old favor- 

 ites. And they proved to be not many, 

 after all. The best of them were the winter 

 wrens, which I thought I had never seen 

 more numerous ; every one fretting, tut, tut, 

 in their characteristic manner, without a note 

 of song. 



On my way back, the sun being higher, 

 there were many butterflies in the road, flat 

 on the sand, with wings outspread. If ever 

 there is comfort in the world, the butterfly 

 feels it at such times. Here and there half 

 a dozen or more of yellow ones would be hud- 

 dled about a damp spot. There were mourn- 

 ing-cloaks, also, and many small angle-wings, 

 some species of Grapta, I knew not which, 

 of a peculiarly bright red. Once or twice, 

 wishing a name for them, I essayed to catch 

 a specimen under my hat ; but it seemed a 

 small business, at which I was only half 

 ashamed to find myself grown inexpert. 



The forenoon was not without its tragedy, 

 nevertheless. As I came out into the open, 

 on my return from the river woods toward 



