Beautiful Butterflies. 49 



* As rising on its purple wing 

 The insect queen of Eastern spring, 

 O'er emerald meadows of Kashmeer, 

 Invites the young pursuer near; 

 And leads him on from flower to flower, 

 A weary chase, and wasted hour, 

 Then leaves him as it soars on high, 

 With panting heart and tearful eye." 



The poet thus, after saying, which is true, how full- 

 grown children, that is, men, are lured by things which, 

 if as beautiful, are also as fragile as Butterflies, sup- 

 poses that the prize is gained, and goes on — 



u The lovely toy so fiercely sought, 

 Hath lost its charm hy being caught, 

 For every touch that woo'd its stay, 

 Hath brush'd its brightest hues away, 

 Till charm, and hue, and beauty gone, 

 'Tis left to fly or fall alone." 



We have heard of an enthusiastic entomologist who 

 followed a Butterfly for nine miles, in the hope of cap- 

 turing it ; and this must be set down to the account of 

 ardour in scientific investigation. Not all grown But- 

 terfly hunters, however, would we hold so excused, 

 many, very many, more unfortunate insects are swept 

 down with the net, and pinned out in the collecting 

 case, than are required for the purposes of science ; and 

 this wholesale destruction of insect life we think scarcely 

 compatible with that abhorrence of cruelty, and rever- 



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