364 The Naturalist in La Plata, 



have some doubts ; he might think that the 

 stranger had, after all, only mocked him with the 

 sight of a wonderful artificial gem, and that a close 

 examination would have proved its worthlessness ; 

 but the naturalist can have no doubts : if he is an 

 enthusiast, well acquainted with the fauna of his 

 district, and has good eyesight, he knows that there 

 is no mistake ; for there it is, the new strange 

 form, photographed by instantaneous process on his 

 mind, and there it will remain, a tantalizing image, 

 its sharp lines and fresh colouring unblurred by 

 time. 



Walking in some open forest glade, he may look 

 up just in time to see a great strange butterfly — a 

 blue Morpho, let us say, wandering in some far 

 country where this angel insect is unknown — pass- 

 ing athwart his vision with careless, buoyant flight, 

 the most sylph-like thing in nature, and all blue 

 and pure like its aerial home, but with a more 

 delicate and wonderful brilliance in its cerulean 

 colour, giving such unimaginable glory to its broad 

 airy wings ; and then, almost before his soul has 

 had time to feel its joy, it may soar away uuloitering 

 over the tall trees, to be seen no more. 



But the admiration, the delight, and the desire 

 are equally great, and the loss just as keenly felt, 

 whether the strange species seen happens to be one 

 surpassingly beautiful or not. Its newness is Lo the 

 naturalist its greatest attraction. How beautiful 

 beyond all others seems a certain small unnamed 

 brown bird to my mind ! So many years have 

 passed and its image has not yet grown dim ; yet I 

 saw it only for a few moments, when it hopped out 



