BRITISH BUTTERFLIES 



part of the stalk on which it reposes. Saved from 

 harm by the loving care with which Nature has made 

 every minute scale on the fragile fans match some 

 surrounding tint in the undergrowth, the motionless 

 insects await patiently the disappearance of the dew. 

 The warmth of the previous day called some of them 

 to life, but others resemble their weather-worn com- 

 panion that flew before me a moment ago : their sum- 

 mer is past ; they will probably die when day closes 

 over the fields. 



Towards the south, a long bank of rose-tinged cloud, 

 overhung with a thin curtain of pale primrose, hides 

 the risen sun. A partridge calls from the silence of a 

 distant stubble ; the gossiping rooks caw harshly as 

 they sail overhead on their way from the elms on the 

 slope of the hill to the ploughlands near the river. 

 Among the oaks near the outskirts of the wood the 

 ringdoves are already astir, seeking among the branches 

 a meal of ripe acorns ; and the eager cooing of these 

 most amorous of forest lovers is heard in every part of 

 the valley. 



Close by, the webs of the geometrical spiders glimmer 

 among the bushes ; and long silken strands, marking 

 the wanderings of these weavers of the night, are 

 stretched from twig to twig across my path. Now 

 that the sun's power is waning, and insect life is rarer 

 day by day, the spider becomes unusually diligent. 



102 



