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366 Butterfly Hunting in the Desert. [April 
And as we sit about the camp-fire in the grateful coolness of 
gathering darkness, noting the subsidence of the breeze till per- 
fect stillness surrounds us like a second atmosphere; utterly alone, 
yet desiring no other company, the soft-flowing swirl of the water 
invites us to think a moment about this strange stream upon 
whose banks we rest. Fifty miles from here it begins existence 
in springs high up among breezy pines and oaks and cedars ot 
the range of mountains over which we have to-day come, and at 
an altitude that brings frost every month of the year, and dash 
ing down dark cañons lined by alder and dogwood, at length 
, emerges upon the desert and thenceforth knows only a sandy bed | 
over a plain so level that its current is always gentle, changug 
and shifting over its sandy shallows from side to side forevèt : 
Large cottonwoods and willows line its banks or grow upon Its | 
damp islands throughout its entire course. In many places wide 
savannahs and islands of grassy margin feed herds of cattle. The 
size of the river is only that of a good-sized mill-stream, bit 
though not a large river it is of a good deal of use, for, like 
Paddy’s moon that shined in the night when there was no sih 
this river waters a torrid desert where is no other water. A hut ; 
dred miles of desert wandering, however, makes it tired es ue 
tence, and it gradually diminishes in volume, and after a while 
tirely sinks in the sand, afterward to reappear again, and ae a 
several times sinks and rises, till finally it sinks and is see 3 
more; the place of its final exit being laid down on the maps 
“Sink of the Mojave,” about 150 miles from its source 
As during all this fluviatile monologue no nocturnal Lepil 
tera have come to visit our light, we can safely say xe > 
is done, and we lie down and rest, for “ God giveth P 
loved sleep.” Ere dawn, however, we hear a song: 
yow yow yow!” ’Tis the melody of the lovely coyotè ay 
the dogs of the near-by cattle ranch forthwith rush out 
bays both loud and deep, and as the lupine sea pe . 
in- one direction, they approach in another, but he : a 
the advance or retreat sleep is equally out of the que 
all the left-handed things we say of them do no 800%" ad 
rising becomes a relief, and before sunrise breakfast isot = 
we stray about botanizing till the sun can warm the air $ gai 
out the butterflies. Then, with net in hand, we walk s te 
banks, and beat the sandy mesa, but captures are geil 
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