Many varieties of the Vanessa are often seen flying about in May, but they are far more numerous and perfect in July, August, and September. A beautiful Azure-blue Butterfly, when it is fluttering over flowers in the sunshine, looks like a tiny speck of bright blue satin. Several other small Butterflies which appear at the same time are readily distinguished by the peculiar manner in which their hind wings are tailed. Their color is a dull brown of various shades, marked in some of the varieties with specks of white or blue. "Their presence in the gardens and meadows," says a recent writer, "and in the fields and along the river-banks, adds another element of gladness which we are quick to recognize, and even the plodding wayfarer who has not the honor of a single intimate acquaintance among them might, perhaps, be the first to miss their circlings about his path. As roses belong to June, and chrysanthemums to November, so Butterflies seem to be a joyous part of July. It is their gala-day, and they are everywhere, darting and circling and sailing, dropping to investigate flowers and overripe fruit, and rising on buoyant wings high into the upper air, bright, joyous, airy, ephemeral. But July can only claim the larger part of their allegiance, for they are wanderers into all the other months, and even occasionally brave the winter with torn and faded wings." [Illustration: BUTTERFLIES.--Life-size. Melitæa chalcedon. Thecla crysalus. Anthocharis sara. Papilio thoas. Papilio philenor. Argynis idalia. Limenitis arthemis var. lamina. Cystineura dorcas. Thecla halesus.] THE FOX. "A sly dog." Somehow people always say that when they see a Fox. I'd rather they would call me that than stupid, however. Do I look stupid in my picture? "Look pleasant," said the man when taking my photograph for Birds, and I flatter myself I did--and intelligent, too. Look at my brainy head, my delicate ears--broad below to catch every sound, and tapering so sharply to a point that they can shape themselves to every wave of sound. Note the crafty calculation and foresight of my low, flat brow, the resolute purpose of my pointed nose; my eye deep set--like a robber's--my thin cynical lips, and mouth open from ear to ear. You couldn't find a better looking Fox if you searched the world over. I can leap, crawl, run, and swim, and walk so noiselessly that even the dead leaves won't rustle under my feet. It takes a deal of cunning for a Fox to get along in this world, I can tell you. I'd go hungry if I didn't plan and observe the habits of other creatures. For instance: I love Fish. When I want one for my supper off I trot to the nearest stream, and standing very quiet, watch till I spy a nice, plump trout in the clear water. A leap, a snap, and it is all over with Mr. Trout.