150 COLLECTOR'S RAMBLES 



plants, and briers abounded. It was near a lovely, 

 quiet river, and the dark reflections of the trees in the 

 water made it look cool on the warmest day. Oh, the 

 butterflies in that place ! They swarmed in hundreds. 

 On every bush they spread their brilliant wings, and 

 the variety seemed almost endless. I usually arrived 

 at this spot about ten o'clock, and by that time the 

 place would be literally alive with them; and, although 

 I kept constantly at work, their numbers were appar- 

 ently undiminished. The opening was about an acre 

 in extent, and I made the circuit of it many times, 

 jumping bushes, and tearing through briers, in the 

 eagerness of my pursuit. 



Some persons will smile at my enthusiasm; but, 

 after all, those were some of the happiest days of 

 my life. 



The man who cannot get enthusiastic over some 

 subject be it a gorgeous butterfly, a sparkling jewel, 

 a magnificent waterfall, a frightful storm, an eloquent 

 lecture, a dimpled child, a lovely woman must lead 

 an exceedingly dull and uninteresting life. 



If I have a hobby (and I hope I have many), it is 

 collecting butterflies ; and I am always filled with 

 intense excitement when that which I delight in is 

 all about me. I have run a mile before now, at a 

 break-neck speed, over bushes and fences, through 

 swamps and forests, and all for one butterfly; and 

 I would gladly do it again to experience the same 



