78 



SCIENCE-GOSSIP. 



and catch the butterflies as they flit from flower to 

 flower. In a very short time we come upon some 

 Melitaea aurinia, or " Greasies " as they are 

 popularly called by young entomologists, dis- 

 tinguishable by their low, fluttering flight amongst 

 the grass stems. 



After catching a few of these butterflies, however, 

 it becomes plain from their damaged and rubbed 

 condition that we are a week too late in our visit. 

 We therefore leave them to reap to the full the joy 

 which their short lives afford, and look around us 

 for other objects wherewith to satisfy our desire 

 for the beautiful. In truth we have not far to 

 seek, for marvels of loveliness are on all sides. As 

 we advance, bright, flashing, green tiger-beetles 

 spring up from the bare, sun-cracked patches of 

 earth and fly on in front with an activity equalling 

 that of blue-bottle flies. They take short flights 

 though, and soon pitch upon a resting-place a few 

 yards ahead, only to rise again at our approach. 

 Amongst the high grass and moon-daisies other 

 butterflies besides the fritillaries are flitting or 

 taking momentary siestas on the black heads 

 of the plantain flowers or some other dainty 

 couch. Here is the little tawny heath butterfly 

 flapping along, and there a couple of "blues," 

 azure above, but, when settled with folded wings, 

 showing on the underside a beautiful pattern in 

 tiny white and orange spots on a silver-grey 

 ground. An occasional wood- white butterfly comes 

 along the outskirts of the coppice, flying weakly, as 

 becomes so delicately-formed a creature, and 

 orange-tips, most beautiful of all British butterflies, 

 sometimes stray from their beloved lanes to 

 brighten these meadows with their presence. They 

 work carefully and systematically along the hedges, 

 as though they had lost something, and were going 

 back along the path which they have already 

 traversed to seek their property. No doubt the 

 real object of this search is a wife, and the 

 orange-tip does well to look circumspectly, for 

 his sweetheart is not decorated with his rich 

 orange colour. 



Small wonder that the butterflies come to these 

 fields, for there is sunny heat here, which to them 

 is life, and besides there is a large choice of nectar 

 as well. Turn where you will, flowers greet your 

 gaze. Under the shelter of the hedge are tall 

 foxgloves, with only the few of their lowest flowers 

 open as yet, but with the spike of developing 

 buds above, falling gracefully over to one side. 

 Wild parsley and pink and white campions grow 

 amongst the flowering grasses below. As we stroll 

 along our feet are buried in more blooms : beds of 

 white dutch-clover ; patches of bird's-foot trefoil, 

 the flowers exhibiting all shades of rich golden 

 yellow and orange, occasionally almost crimson ; 

 spikes of blue bugle ; trailing, clutching streamers 

 of purple vetch ; hawkweeds, some with orange- 



coloured and some with lemon-coloured blossoms. 

 Huge patches of swampy meadow are completely 

 covered with yellow-rattle ; and the usual bouquet 

 of gorgeous-coloured field and marsh flowers might 

 be gathered. 



Let us sit for a while in this wild garden, under 

 shelter of an oak-tree. It is about noontide now, 

 and the heat is nearly at its worst. Gazing 

 dreamily on this picture, an old question arises : 

 How is it that the trees and the sky appear to us to 

 be in perfect harmony, when artificial greens and 

 blues in combination fail to satisfy our sense of the 

 beautiful ? We are unable to solve the problem, 

 so we rise and make our way to the alder copse. 

 The ground is moist, absolutely boggy in places, 

 and the water soon finds its way over the tops of 

 our shoes. This, however, is somewhat of an 

 advantage than otherwise, for wet feet in summer- 

 time are a luxury. The vegetation here is quite 

 different from what we saw just now, only fifty 

 yards away on the rising ground. Clumps of 

 crimson ragged-robbin are conspicuous in the open 

 patches, and great spikes of the spotted orchids 

 stand erect in the dryer spots. The delicately- 

 scented fragrant orchid, with its high stem of tiny 

 rose-coloured long - spurred blossoms is here too. 

 The unopened portion of the spike bows over, 

 much as do the foxgloves. A yellow iris, backed 

 by its thick sword-like leaves, guides us, flag-like, 

 to where a large clump of this plant is growing. 

 There are many buds, but only a few are open 

 as yet. 



Jumping from tussock to tussock, we reach a dry 

 patch where cotton-grass leaves fluff upon our 

 lower garments as we brush through it ; but we 

 press heedlessly onward, for in the distance we 

 have caught sight of a flower which we have not 

 before seen growing here, the columbine. A 

 beautiful plant it is, with its dark leaves and tall 

 stalks, bearing rich purple flowers with yellow 

 stamen tufts in the centre. These wild specimens 

 are larger than many which we have see growing 

 in gardens. 



Amongst the stoles of the alders the graceful 

 fronds of the lady-fern are very conspicuous. They 

 are of a delicate green, and are exceedingly beautiful 

 to look upon, but as yet they are too young to pick. 

 Carried in the hot hand in this sunshine, they 

 would soon droop and turn black. They have 

 a characteristic but pleasing odour, which is 

 intensified when the leaves are bruised or broken. 

 A cuckoo cries several times as he flies across the 

 valley, and a chaffinch in a neighbouring oak gives 

 out his monotonous, jerky song. The birds are 

 becoming more active now that the heat is passing ; 

 but we are fax from home, and must leave even 

 such congenial surroundings. 



Ivy House, New Road, Reading ; 

 July, 1897. 



