310 THE ENTOMOLOGIST. 
females, the majority of which latter unfortunately fell victims to 
the mobilisation générale. P. orbitulus was hardly out. H. alveus 
and II. serratule were fairly common; H. carline were repre- 
sented by individual males. 
On the 26th in the afternoon, after two sunny days, I did not 
see a single butterfly. At about 8000 ft. it was sleeting 
miserably. The day before, encouraged by a clear blue sky, and 
the apparent distance of the mountains dazzling with new 
fallen snow, I trudged off to the Club Alpine (6955 ft.) on the 
Lauteret side of the Col d’Arsine. The path leads up parallel 
for some distance with the road to La Grave through pastures 
of peerless beauty, knee-deep in columbines, campanulas, and 
white anemones, reminiscent of MacWhirter’s masterpiece in the 
Tate Gallery, ‘June in the Austrian Tyrol.” A fine butterfly 
ground in calmer weather; but, alas! to-day the wind shrilled 
higher than ever, effectually keeping everything level with the 
herbage. Out of the wind in a deep gully turning up the last of the 
valley of the Romanche I watched Parnassius delius flying over the 
saxifrage, and every now and again the favoured yellow crucifer 
would be visited by A. simplonia. Once over the brim of the 
hill they disappeared before the wind like magic. A secluded 
meadow near at hand afforded covert to a rather faded race of 
Melitea aurinia var. merope; and here P. argus, C. hippothoe 
var. eurybia, and P. hylas were flitting with Canonympha iphis, 
P. medon, and the usual host of small Erebias. But once 
beyond this shelter and on to the Refuge Hut there was 
nothing except an occasional Argynnis niobe, and swarms of 
Anthrocera exulans. Careful search for H. andrcmedé was 
unrewarded, but I have little doubt than in less boisterous 
weather I should have repeated the successes of La Grave. 
Near the Hut there is an abundance of Dryas octopetala. On the 
28th, despairing of an improvement, I left reluctantly for 
Monétier-les-Bains, where I found comfortable quarters and 
homely comforts with many agreeable French visitors at the 
Hotel de Europe, kept by M. Izoard, a famous Dauphiny 
guide of his day, and a veteran of ‘‘ Soixante-dix.” 
(iil.) Monétier-les-Bains. 
As I walked down, back to the wind, from Le Lauteret on 
another day, blustering and cold as March, visions of Hrebia 
scipio at warmer Monétier rose before my eyes. A single 
specimen on the Col de Larche last year—the sum total of five 
separate years’ hunt—had scarcely satisfied my appetite for 
the chase. Dr. Reverdin had informed me of its existence in 
quantities at Monétier; Mrs. Nicholl, that indefatigable pioneer 
of British collectors in Spain, in Bosnia, in the Balkans, and 
in Dauphiny, had advised me of its presence at Vallouise, no 
great distance away as the crow flies. When just a quarter of an 
