EARLIEST BUTTERFLIES 



all things with an inch-thick armor for 

 days. All the wrecks that these might 

 have caused him he has in some mysteri- 

 ous fashion escaped, and here ,he is, as 

 merry as a grig. 



He did not seem to be hungry, unless, 

 like me, he was eager to devour the sun- 

 shine. He sat on the gray, weather-worn, 

 fallen trunk of the ancient apple tree, his 

 wings gently rising and falling, while I 

 noted the beauty of his rich reds with their 

 black and white markings and margins 

 of black just tipped with a blueish tinge 

 on the tips of the fore wings. Then he 

 closed them for a minute, showing me the 

 dark blurring of the under parts that had 

 made me think him a dead leaf as he blew 

 over the ridge with the wind, though now 

 I could note the blue ocelli of the after 

 wings. 



It was only for a moment that he rested 

 143 



