McGlashan Home and Rocking Stone Tower, Truckee, Cal. 



THE BUTTERFLY FARM. 



My "farm" is not so much as a garden. It consists of the home of my 

 parents, the door yards, the cottage under the hill, and the surrounding mountain 

 sides, with the lakes, forests and massive crags of the summits ol the Sierra 

 Nevada. It is a big, glorious farm with an elevation of l'rom 6,000 to 1 0,000 

 feet, contains quail and grouse, deer and bear, and the finest trout streams and 

 lakes in the world. Thousands of tourists help me enjoy it in summer,, and in 

 winter its ice-carnivals, ski-races, toboggan slides, skating, coasting and sleigh- 

 riding attract other thousands of visitors. Of course I do not own one foot of it, 

 but I hunt butterflies by day, sugar for moths at night, and gather foodplants 

 for my larvae, exactly as if I were the sole proprietor of river, trout brooks, lakes, 

 valleys, dense dark forests of conifers, and towering cliffs. My parents allow me 

 to rear lepidoptera in every part of the house from basement to tower. The 

 "Rocking Stone" weighs 16 tons, is inside the tower and rests upon the large 

 boulder which supports the building. It is poised so delicately that a child can 

 move it and is probably the handiwork of some long forgotten race of people. 

 Inside the tower is a large collection of butterflies and thousands of curios, includ- 

 ing the relics of the cabins of the ill-fated Donner Parly. 



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