BRITISH BUTTERFLIES 



shimmer of the field, and only rarely this absorbing 

 insect concentration is broken for a moment as a bril- 

 liant Peacock or Red Admiral leaves its last blossom 

 and skims down the length of the slope, to fall again to 

 the nectar of the scabious bloom. The long days of 

 mellow September sunshine will soon be over, and all 

 the brilliant butterfly congregation scattered and dis- 

 hevelled in the storm and rain ; scarcely, in the rare 

 interludes of October warmth and brightness, will the 

 last Red Admirals be seen bickering with sluggish 

 wasps and outcast and perishing drones over the open- 

 ing clusters of the autumn ivy-blossom. Let us take 

 farewell of the butterflies in the brilliant scabious 

 meadow of September, as they fill it with their beauty 

 and life, and not seek to follow them further into the 

 darkness and cold. For indeed the tombs of such of 

 them as die are as unknown as the sepulchre of Moses ; 

 and those that sleep out the long sleep into the spring 

 we may hope to see again, heralding the elfin cycle of the 

 butterflies' year under a new and a lengthening sun. 



18 



