LEPIBOPTERA IN THE HAUTES-ALPES : ABRIES. 261 



still in their first beauty, becomes frequent and here and there forms a 

 dense scrub, and then one hears the stream that rushes away down to 

 Eistolas. A big Parnassiiis flops near you — P. delius, by its denser 

 and less transparent appearance — and soon the nets are busy for these 

 are large and in fine condition, but one keeps climbing and then the P. 

 delius are left behind. We hesitate as to whether we shall stick to the 

 right, i.e., follow the course we have pursued to the present or bear to 

 the left, and, by following the cowpaths cross the stream. He who 

 hesitates is lost ! We have no doubt now that we should have followed 

 our own path and come out on the slopes above the larches on the side 

 of the stream by which we had ascended, but we took the cowpaths, and 

 after following the course of the stream some time, crossed the latter, 

 higher up than by the recognised paths. The marmot screamed its shrilly 

 welcome from the rocky slopes leading up to the rugged peak above us, 

 and the clouds began to gather on the mountains- Soon the sun went in 

 and we had to wait for the gleams of sunshine to show us what insects 

 were there. In these short periods we soon learned that on these steep 

 short pastures, now well above the topmost larches, the highest alpine 

 fauna had come. Setina aurita fluttered actively as soon as the sun 

 showed itself, and the slight hollows were soon filled with Psodos 

 trepidaria. The little grey Pyralid — Hercyna alpestraUs — buzzed quickly, 

 dropping like a stone as the clouds covered the sun again. The 

 absence of the sun was soon felt ; insensibly, we pulled our coats 

 around us and trudged on. A moment's break, the sun peeped out 

 on the steep and treacherous skrees, and Erebia gorge was fluttering 

 everywhere ; we step on the skrees, and away goes a large black 

 butterfly, Erebia glacialis, and then another, and another. Evidently 

 we had hit an excellent place for these species but the sun was covered 

 by another bank of clouds, and the butterflies disappeared as if by 

 magic. We climbed on and at last reached the first cairn. It was 

 now 1.30 p.m., and we had been six and a half hours on our journey. 

 Selecting a point of vantage, we swept the horizon. Far away to the east 

 the snow-clad peaks of the Dauphine Alps — Les Ecrins, La Meije, 

 and other old friends. Directly south the huge Monte Viso and all 

 its attendant peaks, to the north other old friends — -the peaks round 

 the Mont Genevre pass and Brian9on — and to the south-west the 

 peaks of the Embrunnais, whilst almost at our feet, some 3,000 feet 

 below lay the Guil, and the villages of the upper valley between 

 Abries and the Italian frontier. But the highest peaks are more or 

 less buried in cloud, continuously changing, and opening up ever and 

 anon vignettes of beauty in a new direction. A sharp ridge separates 

 the basin of the stream that we have ascended from that that falls on 

 the other side. We step over the ridge and immediately come upon 

 an abundance of edelweiss that is growing everywhere. This limita- 

 tion of its distribution struck us as being very peculiar, for not a plant 

 was to be found anywhere on that side by which we had ascended, whilst 

 on the opposite (southern) slope, within five yards of the crest, it was 

 in profusion. We rested for a time, and then commenced the descent 

 for it was clear that the sun would shine no more on these higher 

 pastures until the late afternoon, although it was brilliant enough 

 in the valley. We picked up several odd things on our way 

 down, but we made no zig-zags and went straight down the slopes, 

 walking, slipping and sliding in a most delightful manner. Soon we 



