A HONEY-DEW PiCNIC I 53 



tic will perhaps remark on examination that the 

 scene is characterized by somewhat too free a li- 

 cense to warrant the ideal of a "picnic." But he 

 is hypercritical. There are picnics and picnics — 

 picnics of high and of low degree. Do I not re- 

 call more than one notorious festive outing of the 

 "next lower than the angels" in which the personnel 

 seemed about similarly proportioned, and the fun 

 and attraction comparatively related to the license? 

 One July afternoon a year ago I was returning 

 home from one of my botanizing strolls. I had 

 just emerged from a deep wood, and was skirting 

 its border, when my attention was caught by a 

 small fluttering swarm of butterflies, which started 

 up at my approach and hovered about a blossom- 

 ing blackberry bush a few yards in advance of 

 me at the side of my path. The diversity of the 

 butterfly species in the swarm struck me as sin- 

 gular, and the mere allurement of the blackberry 

 blossoms — not usually of especial attraction to 

 butterflies — could hardly explain so extensive a 

 gathering. Here was the great yellow swallow- 

 tail (Turnus), red admiral {Atlanta), small yellow 

 butterfly [Pkilodice), white cabbage-butterfly, com- 

 ma and semicolon, and numerous small fry, flutter- 

 ing about me in evident protest against my intru- 

 sion. They showed no inclination to vacate the 



