224 ENTOMOLOGICAL NEWS. [November, 



terflies I noted, too, so that I have no doubt that a walk along 

 the rails would be interesting to the collector. 



Boarding the train for the summit, we started up Jacob's Lad- 

 der, seated upon the front platform, legs dangling, and eyes on 

 the watch for any straggler that chanced within reach. I took 

 insects in this way last season, but this year nothing came close 

 enough, though A. atlantis and V. milbertii were numerous. 



There be men, who, finding a good spot for collecting a special 

 rarity, keep the knowledge well locked up in their secret souls 

 for fear, perhaps, that others may go there and get a share of the 

 good things. My main object in writing this is to tempt some 

 other collectors into the charming region, and to describe accu- 

 rately the most prolific hunting grounds, based upon two different 

 season's experience. 



Just before reaching the hotel the train stops at a water-station, 

 possibly a quarter of a mile below. If the collector intends to 

 return to the base the same day, he will have but three hours or 

 thereabouts for work. He would best leave the train at this point 

 rather than go to the summit and waste half an hour for dinner. 

 Having his luncheon with him, he may eat it immediately. He 

 should have his hunting cup, and can get water from a trough 

 that leads pure brook water, icy cold, down to this point for the 

 use of the workmen. This meal will not occupy more than ten 

 minutes, when all is ready for the chase. I may now continue 

 the story of my own expedition. 



Leaving the water-station we worked our way southward, fol- 

 lowing the railroad till it turns for the final ascent, at which point 

 we continued in a direct line, aiming to cross the carriage road, 

 and descend the cliffs on the other side. We did this because 

 we had learned that the heaviest winds seem to be on the north 

 side of the mountain. The C. semidea is hard to see among the 

 rocks, often resting flat upon their lichen-stained sides, which 

 they closely resemble. When disturbed they start up, and, being 

 feeble flyers, are readily wafted away by the winds, sometimes 

 being carried out of sight, and seldom less than a hundred yards. 

 One might follow a butterfly that distance across a smooth 

 meadow, but would scarcely undertake it across Washington's 

 rocks. 



Crossing the carriage road, one finds a wall built up to mark 

 the road in misty weather and keep the horses from plunging 



