A HO>fEY-DEW PICNIC t^^ 



tic will perhaps remark on examination that the 

 scene is characterized by somewhat too free a li- 

 cense to warrant the ideal of a "picnic." But he 

 is hypercritical. There are picnics and picnics — 

 picnics of high and of low degree. Do I not re- 

 call more than one notorious festive outing of the 

 "next lower than the angels" in which \h& personnel 

 seemed about similarly proportioned, and the fun 

 and attraction comparatively related to the license.'' 

 One July afternoon a year ago I was returning 

 home from one of my botanizing strolls. I had 

 just emerged from a deep wood, and was skirting 

 its border, when my attention was caught by a 

 small fluttering swarm of butterflies, which started 

 up at my approach and hovered about a blossom- 

 ing blackberry bush a few yards in advance of 

 me at the side of my path. The diversity of the 

 butterfly species in the swarm struck me as sin- 

 gular, and the mere allurement of the blackberry 

 blossoms — not usually of especial attraction to 

 butterflies — could hardly explain so extensive a 

 gathering. Here was the great yellow swallow- 

 tail {Turnus), red admiral {Atlanta), small yellow 

 butterfly {Philodice\ white cabbage-butterfly, com- 

 ma and semicolon, and numerous small fry, flutter- 

 ing about me in evident protest against my intru- 

 sion. They showed no inclination to vacate the 



