Early Stages.—These remain to be ascertained.
This is a common species in California and Nevada. For many years it has been placed in all catalogues at the end of the list of the species of this genus, where I also leave it, though to my way of thinking its proper location is near A. rupestris. It certainly reveals but small affinity to the species of the Eurynome group.
Besides the species of Argynnis enumerated in the foregoing pages and delineated upon the plates, there are several others of more or less doubtful validity credited to our fauna, and a number of varieties which have received names. With all of these the more advanced student will become familiar as he prosecutes his researches, but it is not necessary to speak of them here.
A RACE AFTER A BUTTERFLY
There is much that is pleasing about "first things." I shall never forget the first dollar I earned; the first trout I took with my fly; the first muskalonge I gaffed beside my canoe on a still Canadian lake; the first voyage I made across the Atlantic. So I shall never forget my first capture of a female specimen of Argynnis diana.
My home in my boyhood was in North Carolina, in the village of Salem, famous as one of the most successful of the settlements made by the Moravian Brethren under the lead of the good Count Zinzendorf, and well known throughout the Southern States as the seat of an excellent seminary for young ladies. The Civil War broke out, and the hopes cherished of sending me North to be educated were disappointed. I was left to pursue my studies under a tutor, and to roam the neighborhood in quest of insects, of which I gathered a large collection.
One day I spied upon a bed of verbenas a magnificent butterfly with broad expanse of wing and large blue spots upon the secondaries. In breathless haste I rushed into the house and got my net. To the joy of my heart, when I returned to the spot, the beauty was still hovering over the crimson blossoms. But, as I drew near with fell intent, it rose and sailed away. Across the garden, over the fence, across the churchyard, out into the street, with leisurely flight the coveted prize sped its way, while I quickly followed, net in hand. Once upon the dusty street, its flight was accelerated; my rapid walking was converted into a run. Down past the church and—horribile dictu!—past the boarding-school that pesky butterfly flew. I would rather have faced a cannonade in those days than a bevy of boarding-school misses, but there was no alternative. There were the dreaded females at the windows (for it was Saturday, and vacation hour), and there was my butterfly. Sweating, blushing, inwardly anathematizing my luck, I rushed past the school, only to be overwhelmed with mortification by the rascally porter of the institution, who was sweeping the pavement, and who bawled out after me: "Oh, it's no use; you can't catch it! It's frightened; you're so ugly!" And now it began to rise in its flight. It was plainly my last chance, for it would in a moment be lost over the housetops. I made an upward leap, and by a fortunate sweep of the net succeeded in capturing my prize.
Many years later, after a long interval in which ornithology and botany had engrossed my mind to the exclusion of entomology, my boyish love for the butterflies was renewed, and I found out the name of the choice thing I had captured on that hot July day on the streets of Salem, and returned to North Carolina for the special purpose of collecting a quantity of these superb insects. My quest was entirely successful, though my specimens were not taken at Salem, but under the shadow of Mount Mitchell, in the flower-spangled valleys which lie at its feet.
Genus BRENTHIS, Hübner
"The garden is fragrant everywhere; In its lily-bugles the gold bee sups, And butterflies flutter on winglets fair Round the tremulous meadow buttercups."