ing the bright green grass here with delicate white, and there
with the dark blue bells; while the brionies and honeysuckle clustered
in every direction along the dwarf bushes by the side of the wood.

"There he goes," said Harry, all at once starting off full speed after a
sulphur butterfly.

"Stop, stop!" cried Mr Inglis. "Here, Philip, take the net, and go
steadily and quietly and see if you cannot catch it, but you must not
hurry, or you will send it right away."

Philip took the green clap-net and went in chase of the beautiful fly
which flitted on before him, now stopping, now going on again, and
sipping flower after flower. At last he got close enough, and stooping
as far forward as he could reach, popped the green gauze net down upon
the grass.

The other boys ran breathlessly up, while Mr Inglis drew from his
pocket a large-sized pill-box and a pair of forceps, and on coming up to
the spot where Philip and the other boys were, he stooped down to secure
the prize.

"Well, where is it?" said Mr Inglis.

"Just underneath," said Philip.

"I don't think it is," said Mr Inglis, looking down at the net.

"Oh yes, it is," said Philip; "I'm sure I caught it."

So Mr Inglis looked through the net in all directions, but not a sign
could he see of any sulphur butterfly, for Philip had popped the net
down just behind it, and the bright-coloured fly was off and away far
enough by that time.

"Never mind; try again," said Mr Inglis, "only don't be so impetuous;
go quietly after the butterfly till you get within reach, and then press
the net down firmly and quickly, or close it over the prize. If you go
so impetuously you agitate the air, and drive a volume of it before you,
which not only alarms the insect, but helps to force it out of your
reach."

"But I was sure I had it," said Philip.

"Just so," said Mr Inglis, smiling; "but it does not do to be too sure
of anything. Now, Philip," he continued, "take the net again, and see
if you cannot have a little better success; there's one of the little
blue butterflies hovering over that dry bank--there, where we picked the
harebells last year. Don't you see it?--it almost looks like a harebell
itself."

"Oh! I see it now," said Philip, seizing the net and rushing off.

"Not so fast--not so fast," cried Mr Inglis; but it was of no use, for
Philip darted up to the bank, and as he did so the little blue butterfly
gently rose in the air, and disappeared over th