THE SECOND SUMMER 285 



exactly distanced for reaching its tongue to the 

 bottom of the flower's tube. Then it vanishes as it 

 came, as though the light of a magic-lantern had 

 been cut from a screen. No better name has 

 anything than this, the humming-bird hawk-moth, 

 whose flight so closely resembles that of the bird 

 beauties of tropical America that Brazilians have 

 declared that they have seen humming-birds in 

 England. 



The summer is not a lost one that can bring a 

 humming-bird hawk-moth to the pentstemons in 

 August. Some have said that the butterflies have 

 all been drowned. No doubt we have seen on a day 

 such as this more small tortoise-shells than there are 

 now on the African marigolds, but we can find an 

 excellent reason for that. Hark ! There is the hot- 

 weather " click " of a peacock's wings. He sails 

 disdainfully over our once irresistible border of sweet- 

 scented stocks, of lavender, of bergamot, veronica, 

 Michaelmas daisy, golden-rod, shrubby spirsea, and 

 is lost in a distant part of the shrubbery. There we 

 find him by no means alone. The buddleia of two 

 years' planting has a tangle of canes about four feet 

 long. Every one has more branches than a hand 

 has fingers, and every finger is a foot-long spike 

 packed as tightly with lavender-blue blossoms as an 

 ear of maize with corn. As fast as the base withers, 

 the tip lengthens, and the flame of blossom crawls 

 up the stalk till it is utterly consumed with beauty. 

 There is a whole month's entertainment here for all 

 the butterflies in the county. There is a reek of 

 nectar in the air like that of an open beehive, and 

 it has served so well that surely all the butterflies 



