The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1879-06-21 00:00:00

SWARMS OF BUTTERFLIES.

Summer sunshine and summer heat have been tardy
in making their appearance this year. Owing perhaps
to the unseasonable temperature which prevailed ia
France, as well as elsewhere, during the month of May
and the beginning of June, butterflies, also were con-
spicuous by their absence until the last week, when, as
reported by French local journals, a veritable army of
these summer insects invaded many provincial towns.
At Marseilles and in the vicinity, regiments of them
covered the fields and settled so thickly in the water that
its surface seemed transformed for a few moments into
an azure carpet. At Albi, legions of saffron-winged
buttei flies travelled hither and thither during Orem or
four days, crowds of persons collecting together to
witness the unusual spectacle. From Spain a similar
invasion is reported, flights of butterflies of the species
known as the Bella Dona making an irruption at
Valencia; whilst at Cordillec-les-aux, in the Drome,
the railway line was covered with swarms of
yellow butterflies, whose passage lasted nearly
an hour, The Patriote of Angers states that
a few days since traffic in the streets was abso-
lutely interrupted by the same insects. A legion of
butterflies, says this journal, amounting, it is esti-
mated, in all, to fifteen or twenty thousand, of
various colours and sizes, traversed the suburb of
the Mail, coming from an easterly direction and
winging their way towards the river. After hav-
ing passed over the public promenades and the
justice-hall, at a considerable height above the
upturned countenances of the amazed pedestrians,
they suddenly descended in shoals to within
a few inchss of the ground, almost blinding the
inhabitants assembled in the Rue de Mail, which they
travelled through from one end to the other in the
most perfect order. Those who witnessed the unusual
flitting, whichlasted from fifteen to twenty minutes,
drew themselves up against the wall on either side to
allow the inoffensive invaders to pass. Some say that
the sudden waking into life of these multitudes of
butterflies forete;ls unprecedented heat; this deduc-
tion, however, requires the corroboration of
naturalists.—Even;mg Standard.

A telegram from Stetton announces that the boiler
of the steamer Orpheus exploded on Sunday morning
shortly before the hour fixed for the departure of the vessel
for Konigsberg. Several persons were killed by the explosion.
Ten bodies are reported to have been recovered.

Mr. P. H. Carpnter writes to The Times from Eton
College, June 16 The yellow dust which has fallen so
abundantly in the neighbourhood of Windsor and Eton
during the recent heavy rains, and is supposed by your
Windsor corre.pondent to be fine particles of ,sulphur, has
a much more ample origin than the supernatural one attri-
buted to it by the c,untry people. It is merely the pollen
grains of a pine tree, protably of the cluster pine (Pinus
Pinaster). There lists excellent representation of it in Bach's
Text-book of Botany,' fourth edition (figure 351 B). The
very abundant pollen grains of all the pines are provided
with two small hollow bags, which act as floats, and thus
favour the distribution of the pollen by the wind, even to
great distances. The pollen which hap fallen here hat pro-
bably come from the nelghbourhood of Ascot and Sunning
hill, or possibly even from Bournemouth and other parts of
the South Coast, where pine trees are abundant."

[From Ptmeh.]
UNSEASONABLE SEASONING.

Spring. Ha! ha I My dirrnise, I conceive, is perfection.
Summer. Hot ho! Who would recognise Summer fume?
Spring. I have poor mankind in the deepest dejection.
Summer. I doubt if my advent will fill 'em with glee.
Both. We 'ye frozen 'am, drenched 'era, and cut off their
sun,
Till they 're getting quite desperate. Isn't it fun?
Spring. The Seasons? Ha I ha! Sounds ironical, very.

Summer. An ancient distinction that's obsolete quite!
Spring. Ho ho I Why they used to consider me marry!
Summer. And I was the blooming, the balmy, the bright!
Both. But the lyres of the poets are both out of tune,

And December' no more like December than June.

Spring. Just look at my nose! 'Ti, as blue as old Winter's!
Summer. Twig my gingham and macintosh—pluvial, eh?
Spring. April showers? I seud mine in keen icy splinters.
Summer. June blossoms ? My deluge will make them look

'
gay.
Both. Ha! ha! We're uncommonly like one another:
'Tis six (months) of one half•a-dozen of Tether I
Spring. Awful joke! Only change from Jack Frost to

Aquarius!
Summer. Rare lark ! Only choke between deluge and

Ice!
Spring. Tve wintered, you water 'em! Hope they're

hilarious.
Summer. They look most lugubrious Isn't it nice P
Both. Together, alternately, Snow, Blow, and Flow
Rule what once were the Seasons. Ha! ha! and
ho! ho
[Left laughing, and l#e blowed to 'erii