206 Butterflies in the Garden 



about the red admiral's wings of lustrous sable, 

 edged by deep crimson bands, their dark brilliance 

 only heightened by a sparing touch of white. Its 

 livery is not of that season, and then it is far rarer. 

 But now, in the days when all its young are abroad, 

 their swarthy brilliance is in full harmony with the 

 riper tones of the September garden. They feast 

 on the juices of the fallen plum or pear, or on the 

 honey of the heliotrope bloom. The hints of 

 deepening autumn always present in the still and 

 hazy sunshine of September seem gathered to a 

 focus in the peacock's and red admiral's wings. 

 In every September garden they are the living 

 emblem of the splendours of the declining year. 



These four butterflies, with the yellow brimstone 

 and his paler greenish-yellow mate, form the most 

 handsome and conspicuous group among the 

 numerous butterflies and day-flying moths which 

 throng the garden flowers at this time of year. 

 Not one of them, it may comfort gardeners to know, 

 does the slightest harm to any cultivated plant 

 at any period of its life. A well-known novelist, 

 writing for the nonce a book about a garden, 

 solemnly exhorted the gardener to wage war in 

 defence of his flowers on butterflies of every kind ; 

 and the same belief seems general among pro- 

 fessional gardeners, even those of the finished 

 Scotch type, who may be strangely versed in theology 

 or logic. They have a practical familiarity with 

 dichotomy from which no caterpillar may hope to 

 escape. In point of fact, the caterpillars of the 

 peacock, red admiral, and small tortoiseshell butter- 



