446 REV. A. MILES MOSS ON THE BUTTERFLIES OF SWITZERLAND. 
After spending a few days in Dieppe, with which I do not 
now propose to deal, I journeyed, via Paris and Lausanne, to 
Villars near Bex, at the western extremity of the Rhone valley, 
reaching it at 5 p.m. on Saturday, July 5th. Here I stayed 
three weeks, leaving on Monday, July 27th, and concluding my 
holiday with a couple of days in the district of Zermatt. 
After the miseries of a long cold night journeying from Paris, 
observations commenced through the window of the railway 
carriage. The snow-clad peaks of the Alps came in sight, the sun 
streamed forth in a cloudless sky, and the Butterflies were quickly 
on the wing. 
Among the first to show up in considerable numbers were the 
Marbled Whites ( Melanargia galatea ) and the Ringlets ( Epinephele 
liyper an thus). 
Then, as though to tempt one to do something rash, the train 
pulled up for a minute at a luggage siding, and a magnificent 
specimen of Limenitis populi displayed its glory in a few graceful 
turns over a pile of stones right in front of my carriage window. 
Once and again it settled, and had my net been rigged up, I should 
certainly have got out, regardless of consequences. Such want 
of discretion was, however, outmatched by disability, and on we 
sped, leaving populi to enjoy its freedom, and reaching Bex 
about 1 p.m. Here there was not much to be done, and I was 
destined to wait two solid hours before the electric tram could 
make up its mind to toil up the steep incline to Villars, some 
4,000 feet above sea level. The climb took another two hours, 
but the lethargic pace of the car was to some extent compensated 
by the gorgeous views which met one at every turn, and here 
the Butterflies began to show up in great force — Fritillaries, 
Vanessas, Whites, and Erebias appearing in almost the same 
profusion as the flowers which lined the banks. On reaching the 
hotel my first capture was Aporia crataegi — the Black-Veined 
White, a specimen of which I knocked down with my straw hat 
as I crossed the garden. This fly, now so rare in England, soon 
proved to be one of the commonest in the district. Entomology, 
however, had to be put aside for a time, for the primary object 
of my visit was to take charge of the little church at Villars as 
Chaplain for four Sundays, and it was now late on Saturday 
afternoon. 
