WILD PASTURES 



one I thought worth following for an- 

 other reason, however, for he seemed to 

 have something on his mind. Not that 

 his flight was direct. A bird with some- 

 thing to do goes to his work in a 

 straight line; but a butterfly must dance 

 along, even if it were to a funeral in 

 the family. And yet with all this my 

 blue and rufous-black white admiral car- 

 ried in his dancing progress something 

 which told me he 'was troubled and led 

 me to follow him over the brow of the 

 hill. 



The hill itself is worth noting. Here 

 the glaciers which some thousands of 

 years ago planed off the rougher sur- 

 face of eastern New England dropped 

 their chips in a vast terminal moraine 

 of sand and gravel, whose northern de- 

 clivity is so steep that you may throw 

 a stone from its rim to the top of a 

 72 



