Hibernating Butterflies. 145 



No matter how low in intelligence she may rank, Antiopa 

 has nevertheless, or all experience is at fault, some general 

 ideas of the time and fitness of things. From her gloomy 

 abode in the wood-pile she has emerged, while all the gay 

 butterfly world, barring a few familiar exceptions, is asleep, 

 for a tour of investigation. Her venture is seldom ill-timed, 

 for the violets have preceded her, and from their delicately 

 curved flagons proffer her food and refreshment. 



Cool and unhealthful as the mornings are at first, it is not 

 till the sun is nearly overhead that she leaves her retreat, for 

 what of plant-life exists is then, under the full force of his 

 beams, at its very best. Three or four hours a day, with few 

 intervals of rest, she is actively on wing, regaling herself with 

 exercise and food, thus storing little by little her body with 

 some of the strength and vivacity which were hers when the 

 famine of winter overtook her and forced her to retirement, 

 so as the better to prepare for that work, the propagation of 

 her kind, which is the principal, but not the only, aim of her 

 existence. After four in the afternoon her presence is scarce, 

 as she has sought her old, or some other, place of shelter and 

 security. 



But when the days have grown longer and warmer, and 

 the trees are arrayed in their livery of green, she is in the 

 fields bright and early, and often ere the dew has disap- 

 peared from the grass and the flowers. The most restless 

 of beings she now is. Anon alighting upon a bush for a 

 momentary rest, then off for a dozen or more rods, when 

 the presence of some favorite blossom meets her quick sight 

 and invites her to pause, which she does, but only for a 

 second to quench her thirst. Where willows, or elms, or 

 poplars abound, she is more frequently seen later on in May, 

 but flying more slowly and sedately than ever before. The 

 flowers pass unheeded. She seems in a dream, in a reverie. 

 But all of a sudden she quickens her speed. You look 

 for the cause. There, in the distance, another is seen, just 

 like her in mien, some would-be suitor for her hand and 



