The Pine Wood 



there came a tint of blue; there was a blue, too, shut 

 up between the wings, visible at the edges. The 

 spots, and dots, and streaks were not exactly the 

 same on each wing; at first sight they appeared 

 similar, but, on comparing one with the other, differ- 

 ences could be traced. The pattern was not mechani- 

 cal; it was hand-painted by Nature, and the painter's 

 eye and fingers varied in their work. 



How fond Nature is of spot-markings ! the wings of 

 butterflies, the feathers of birds, the surface of eggs, 

 the leaves and petals of plants are constantly spotted ; 

 so, too, fish as trout. From the wing of the butter- 

 fly I looked involuntarily at the foxglove I had just 

 gathered ; inside, the bells were thickly spotted dots 

 and dustings that might have been transferred to a 

 butterfly's wing. The spotted meadow-orchis; the 

 brown dots on the cowslips; brown, black, greenish, 

 reddish dots and spots and dustings on the eggs of the 

 finches, the whitethroats, and so many others some 

 of the spots seem as if they had been splashed on and 

 had run into short streaks, some mottled, some 

 gathered together at the end ; all spots, dots, dustings 

 of minute specks, mottlings, and irregular markings. 

 The histories, the stories, the library of knowledge 

 contained in those signs ! It was thought a wonderful 

 thing when at last the strange inscriptions of Assyria 

 were read, made of nail-headed characters whose 

 sound was lost; it was thought a triumph when the 

 yet older hieroglyphics of Egypt were compelled to 

 give up their messages, and the world hoped that we 

 should know the secrets of life. That hope was dis- 

 appointed; there was nothing in the records but 

 superstition and useless ritual. But here we go back 

 to the beginning ; the antiquity of Egypt is nothing to 

 the age of these signs they date from unfathomable 



