I 
A MOUNTAIN TOP. 1 85 
moves up till the butterfly is exactly in a line with its 
centre, and then I give the word to myself — one, two, 
three, off! But the butterfly is off first, and without 
showing the least alarm, settles a few feet further away, 
where a stout branch will effectually obstruct the net. 
Pelt it with stones. What a lot of pelting it takes ! 
In fact, nothing appears to start it except a butterfly net. 
At last a good sized stone actually knocks it off its perch, 
and it flies clean away. We must just wait patiently ; it 
will certainly return. So it does in half an hour, and the 
second act of the drama is very like the first. So are the 
third and fourth. At last, with our necks dislocated, our 
faces toasted like cheese for a rat trap, our mouths dried up 
like a potsherd, and our minds dejected and embittered, we 
shoulder our nets and trudge down the hill. 
P.S. — That Euripus consimilis has a pin through its 
thorax. It tempted fate again next day and the fifth act 
of the drama closed with a tragedy. 
