43 
at a little distance from each other, each trusting that the other believes 
him to be working as hard as possible while he is really glorying in his 
own laziness as he feasts his eyes on the snowy dome of Mont Blanc, 
or on the necklet of cloud from out of which stands up, black and grim, 
the sharp point of the Aiguille Noire de Peteret. Yonder the Glacier 
de Brenva shows its white neve, glistening in the brilliant sunlight, 
whilst The Grammont and Chetif smile grimly across the Dora Valley 
at the two make-believes on the opposite side. Lovely is the Dora 
Valley, with its turbid glacial streams, its emerald green, its snow¬ 
capped mountains, and its beautiful flowers. Bound this delightful spot, 
in favourable localities, butterflies and moths don’t simply exist—they 
swarm. 
Let us glance at some of the butterflies that may be captured round 
about Courmayeur on a morning in early August. 
In the valley below there Papilio podalirius flies lazily but gracefully 
about, sipping from every muddy spot. The few P. machaon we see 
are worn and broken, and a half-fed larva, picked up on the bank, tells 
us that we have hit on a time between the two broods or else that the 
summer brood is past. But the butterfly of these slopes is Parnassius 
apollo. A laz} r , high-living chap is he, sucking away greedily at the 
nectar of knapweed or scabious, too intent to mind the fingers that 
pick him tenderly from his food, simply throwing out his fore legs in 
a wondering sort of way as much as to say, Where am I now ? As 
we put him back he goes on sucking again, flaps his wings once 
or twice to satisfy himself that he has discovered where he is and then, 
after a time, spreads his wings and launches himself in the air so 
lightly and easily that you fail to see his wings vibrate to keep him in 
motion. A really fine fellow it is,with its crimson spots varying in size and 
number, de}iendent, my companion says, on sex; but this flight makes one 
think that, in spite of the neuration being so different, the osmaterium 
of the larva is a better guide, and shows that it has closer affinities to 
the Swallow-tails than one would otherwise be inclined to suppose. 
Leucophasia sinapis threads its way slowly through bush and grass and 
occasionally settles as lazily as it flies, in spite of the fact that some of 
our English collectors think that this species has solved the problem of 
perpetual motion. In yonder lucerne fields Aporia crataegi disjiorts 
itself, the almost diaphanous females reminding one of P. apollo and 
giving one the notion that the most perfect specimens are but in poor 
condition. With it are Pieris brassicae and P. rapae, but P. napi 
does not put in an appearance, although we met with it later on at 
Aix-les-Bains. Pieris daplidice flits easily along, but a regular “artful 
dodger ” it is. It flies slowly, and you cannot help distinguishing it at 
once on the wing, notwithstanding all that has been said to the con¬ 
trary. But for all its slow flight you often miss it; it dodges just as 
you strike, changes its mind perhaps when the shadow of the net falls 
on it; at any rate you miss about as many as you catch. Gonepteryx 
rhamni is just coming out, but no G. cleopatra are seen. The “ Yellows ” 
are in fine condition and in the humour to hunt a fellow on the hill¬ 
side. You may talk about hunting butterflies but I have quite made 
up my mind that these Clouded Yellows hunt me. One took me a 
pretty dance; I nearly broke my neck—and got a peep at him ; had 
after him again—and got a telescopic view at about six yards; then he 
beamed on me as he turned suddenly and passed within an inch of my 
