48 Beautiful Butterflies. 



" like an embodied breeze at play," wavers about amid 

 the flowers ; and off you go again in hot pursuit, like 

 the child of Vigillia, in Shakspere's play of € Corio- 

 lanus,' but not like him, I hope, to get into a rage and 

 destroy wilfully the poor fly, because you have a tumble 

 or two in endeavouring to catch it. " I saw him," says 

 Valeria to the boy's fond mother, " run after a gilded 

 Butterfly, and when he caught it, he let it go again, 

 and after it again, and over and over he comes, and up 

 again — catched it again; or whether his fall enraged 

 him, or how 't was, he did so set his teeth and tear it ; 

 O, I warrant how he mammocked it." This is by no 

 means a pleasing picture, but I fear it is too often re- 

 alised among young Butterfly hunters, who, if they do 

 not get into a passion and designedly destroy the object 

 of their pursuit, frequently do so accidentally in their 

 efforts to secure it. So delicate and fragile is the crea- 

 ture, that but the brush of a cap, or the slightest pres- 

 sure of a finger, will, if it crush not that wonderfully 

 organized frame, and render it lifeless, take away much 

 of its beauty, and with it, no doubt, much of its capa- 

 city for enjoyment. And after all, if their efforts are 

 crowned with success, how poor is the prize gained. 

 The poet Byron has some beautiful lines on this subject 

 which I should like you to read ; — 



