ii8 



increasing numbers of flowers and flying things, and still lovelier 

 weather. 



At one place we found an American family who had been 

 apprised of our coming. The young lady of the rancho had 

 found for me a few large cocoons about the size of hens* eggs. 

 Some of them were found on the evergreen pepper tree, Schinus 

 molle, others on the cultivated almond, and on southernwood, Ar- 

 temisia. I hunted the pepper tree over again, and found one more 

 cocoon. But what they were I shall never know, for they did not 

 live to emerge. 



Flying about a gorgeously flowering Lantana bush I found a 

 few butterflies, and at dusk also a good many small moths. Here 

 also were beds of Mignonette in blossom, Nastnrtium, Ger- 

 ani2iin, and banana, strawberry and almond flowers, but none 

 of them had butterflies. A few days afterward I found some half- 

 grown larvae on a Pentsteinon., and also the same kind on a wild 

 rose bush, both plants being in leaf. Some of these larvae I 

 brought home with me, fed them to maturity, and got Melitaea 

 CJialcedon. The larvae of this butterfly must hybernate when half 

 grown On the sandy beach, and just above high tide were com- 

 posite plants in blossom and there I took several butterflies. 

 Near by and sheltered from the sea by sand dunes, I found a 

 series of Lycamas on the salt grass, especially L. Exilis. 



One day we went to explore a warm canyon that was so 

 sheltered from the chill ocean ocean breeze as to be more forward 

 in vegetation than any other place. Here I got several Spring 

 Lyccenas, also Lemonias Virgultl, and Colias narfordi. And on 

 a steep, sunny slope, I found one Charis Nemesis on a composite 

 flower. 



Many other canyons, plains and hills, were ransacked, but 

 the narration would be tedious. But I must not omit Lyccena 

 Sonorensis. During the whole trip this delicate butterfly was seen 

 only at one place, a dry mesa or beach, close by the shore, and 

 shut in by some circling cliff, like hills. There, in a little potrero 

 or basin, ond almost in the mist of the thundering surf, there were 

 hundreds of them. As one was caught, one or more others were 

 sure to be seen. The ground was in good part covered with 

 impenetrable clumps of cactus, and between and among the 

 bunches of cactus grew the plant of these little butterflies, 

 Erodium cicntarium, upon which the females were depositing their 

 eggs. I thought it rather singular that this most tender of all 

 butterflies should be breefling at this season, and directly in the 

 breath of the ocean. 



While busily engaged in taking a supply of these beauties, I 

 attracted the attention of three young Indian boys, ten or twelve 

 years old, and they came down to see what I was doing. They 

 wore no hats, no shoes, no clothing. One had a string around 

 his waist ; the second had added to his string a narrow strip of 



