HABITS. 115 



new friend is a daughter of high noon. There are 

 few butterflies abroad in New England before 

 eight or nine o'clock of a summer's day, and long 

 before nightfall, with closed wings, and antennae 

 snugly packed between, they are quietly resting 

 beneath some leaf or clinging to some grass-blade. 

 Each species has its own peculiar haunts from 

 which it may be easily stirred. Driving one 

 morning within an hour after sunrise across the 

 sandy plains of Nantucket, along a road fringed 

 with a row of stunted pines some fifty feet from 

 the track, a continuous stream of Blue- eyed 

 Graylings (Cercyonis Alope) [see Figs. 143, 144] 

 arose, stirred from the low tops of the bordering 

 pines by the rumble of our wagon- wheels ; none 

 were to be seen either before or behind us, but on 

 either side they constantly arose as we reached 

 them, and, wafted by the wind, sank drowsily to 

 the earth. Just be- 

 fore nightfall, at 

 the proper season, 

 one may readily 

 discover the 

 American Copper 



HypO- FIG. lOS.-Eurymns Philodice, male, nat. size; 



phlaeas) or the ' 

 Clouded Sulphur (Eurymus Philodice) [Figs. 

 102-104], clinging head upward and with droop- 

 ing wings to any common herbage. 



