March, '02] entomological news. 75 



A Trip to Lake Josephine, Fla. 



By John and Hurd Comstock, Evaiiston, 111. 



We were tired of the collecting around Avon Park, not 

 because there were no insects to be found but for the reason 

 that we had become familiar with the country. The scenery 

 on the sand hills is not as tropical as one coming from the North 

 might wish. Having heard of a picturesque " flatwoods " 

 lake some twenty miles south we decided to take a camping 

 trip to this place. 



So after securing our outfit, which consisted of a mule and 

 wagon,' blankets, guns, a frying pan and provisions for four 

 days, also the ever necessary compass and map, my brother 

 Hurd and I started southward. 



The way led through country in which no sign of human 

 existence would be met for miles except the dimmest and 

 roughest of roads. The sun beat down on the sandlike soil, 

 causing the heat to radiate from it in waves. We found 

 pleasure in keeping as quiet as poSvSible, and so did the mule 

 which caused me some exercise. All morning we travelled 

 through a barren waste, overrun with scrub oak and saw pal- 

 metto, and without once seeing a man or dwelling of any 

 kind. At noon we entered a stretch of .saw-grass prairie where 

 we kept the road with difficulty. After passing this open land 

 the aspect of the country changed. The pines became larger 

 and dwarf oaks vanished. In low places cabbage palms reared 

 their lofty heads, and along waterways cypress were in abund- 

 ance. The magnolia baj^ food plant of Papilio palaviedes was 

 commonly met with. Soon we came to a cattle pen where we 

 ate lunch and fed our animal. A log hut stood at one end of 

 the pen and an old woman, who seemed to be the sole occupant, 

 told us the way to Lake Josephine. She was a typical South 

 Florida 'cracker,' dirty and snuff besmeared, but hospitable to 

 a degree, as is the case with most of these solitary people. I 

 left her in a state of wonderment by the information that we 

 had come to hunt butterflies. I can imagine her remarking in 

 the peculiar Southern drawl, "them there Yankees shure are 

 purty big fools," and strengthening the opinion with a liberal 

 portion of snuff. This, of course, after we had left. 



