REV. A. MILES MOSS ON THE BUTTERFLIES OF SWITZERLAND. 447 
Though T could not resist the temptation of boxing a nice 
specimen of Scoria dealbata which flew out of the grass on my 
way to church, Entomology proper began on Monday, and as there 
were no other bug-hunters in the place, I had it all to myself. 
As a matter of fact, I don’t think my captures would have been 
seriously diminished if half the lepidopterists of Great Britain had 
been staying there. 
Every field was full of flowers, and every flower seemed to have 
its Butterfly. I knew nothing of the place before starting, but it 
was very soon clear that it was an admirable hunting ground. 
After the customary and, to the Englishman, highly unsatis- 
factory repast of coffee and rolls, T started off with my big balloon 
net and a knapsack full of pill boxes, a cyanide bottle, and corked 
zinc for pinning, intending to give the place a general survey. In 
an hour and a half I was back at the hotel, full up, having 
travelled but one hundred yards from the bottom of the grounds. 
I began to realise that there was work in store for me if I wished 
to get my insects set, and that I should have to exercise a con- 
siderable amount of discrimination in the matter of what to 
take and what to leave. After emptying my boxes I was off 
again, and returned with them once more quite full in good time 
for dejeuner at 12.30, and this after rejecting many specimens 
that I would have made a day’s excursion for in England. 
This second trip carried me through sheer force of will about 
a quarter of a mile from the hotel. It was quite unnecessary to 
walk so far, for I believe I could have taken every species in the 
field immediately adjacent to the grounds. 
Given a net and enough boxes I verily believe that if I hail 
been penned up in that one undulating and flowery meadow 
I could have topped the whole British list in point of species in 
a remarkably short time. 
The sun shone forth in all its splendour, the weather continued 
hot and fine, and though we had three excessively grand thunder- 
storms with deluging rain, it always seemed to pick up again. 
One expected that rain would polish the Butterflies off the face 
of the earth. There were, for the time at any rate, fewer stinging 
flies, which were generally an intolerable nuisance, and of course 
many delicate and wasted Butterflies must inevitably have 
perished. 
G G 2 
