Hudson Bay men say the same, but between you and I, I don't believe half of it. Mr. Carcajou is very intelligent, no doubt, but he takes the place of snakes in the legends of the northern trapper, and we all know what stories are told about snakes, in more southern latitudes.

The sun, though very low, is at his noonday elevation, and a short time will be devoted with satisfaction to lunch. One takes the axe and starts for a dead dry spruce tree, another scrapes away the snow from a hillock, with his snowshoe. There we see in the depth of winter bright green mosses and other small plants, with the partridge berry and cranberry vines loaded with berries beneath the snow. The white fleecy covering defends them from the frost, and when the snow melts in the spring they have only to put forth their blossoms and continue to grow, under the warm sun which endures almost till midnight in May and June.

Here comes the wood, and we proceed to make a white man's fire, which is built with the sticks laid parallel in layers which are at right angles to one another. This makes a flat top, and taking a dry stick we whittle a few shavings, which are put on top of the pile. Then with a flint and steel (for matches are luxuries in the Yukon Territory) we light a bit of punk, and with our breath as a bellows, in a few moments we have a light with which we proceed to kindle the fire, putting it on top of the pile, so that the air having free access, it soon produces a cheerful blaze. An Indian builds his fire conically, which is much less convenient and takes much longer to boil the kettle. It is a work of time and difficulty to melt enough snow to fill the teakettle, and taking the axe, we go yonder where a low, smooth depression in the snow indicates the position of what was a pool of water. A few minutes vigorous chopping and the welcome fluid gushes up and rapidly overflows the surface of the ice where we have scraped away the snow. It is full of little red crustaceans, like sand fleas, etc., among which we may distinguish members of the genus Cyclops, giants of their

kind, carrying two pear-shaped bunches of eggs, one on each side of the tail. We throw a double handful of snow into the hole to filter out these unbidden guests, and filling the teakettle return to the bivouac where the others are broiling pieces of dry salmon on sticks by the fire. As soon as the kettle boils we put in the tea and let it boil up once, and our meal is ready. Tin cups in hand, we enjoy the grateful and refreshing beverage, which is worth more to the traveller in the north than any amount of whiskey. Indeed the latter is worse than worthless, and no old traveller would wish to have it along with him. After tea, biscuit and salmon are discussed, the one other luxury of voyageur life is enjoyed, namely, a cheerful pipe of tobacco, and replacing our pipes in our "fire-bags" we continue on our way. By keeping a sharp lookout it is more than probable that we shall see a Marten (Mustela Americana) seeking refuge in some bushy spruce as we pass by. Their tracks are everywhere, and they often disturb the traveller's cache of dry salmon used for dog feed, and left by the roadside until his

return.

We keep on our way through thick spruce groves where the trees may average eighteen inches in diameter and forty feet high. In the interior, on the Yukon, they grow much larger, but all the trees diminish in size and abundance as we approach the coast, where there are none at all. The Aspen (Populus tremuloides), the Spruce (Abies alba), the Poplar (Populus balsamifera), and the Birch (Betula glandulosa), are the largest and most prominent trees. There are no true pines, though the settlers call the spruce "pine." Leaving the bank as we reach the river we continue on our way upon the ice. Although the thermometer may have been as low as fifty below zero since August, yet you will always find open places in the ice. These are formed by the rapid current or by warm springs. At Ulokuk there are a number of the latter, which keep a large space in the river open all the year round. Over this water a cloud, like steam, arises

in very cold weather. Myriads of fish, particularly a delicious salmon-trout, and a small cyprinoid fish, frequent such localities. One would hardly look for insects in this winter weather, yet by watching the snow on the river while the sun shines brightly, a small, shining, pointed creature, like a Podura, may be seen gliding between the particles of snow, and immediately disappearing should a cloud pass over the sun. In September I have found wooly caterpillars, the larvæ of arctians, crawling on the snow, while the atmosphere was even below zero; and I once found (October 20th) the caterpillar of Vanessa Antiopa in the same manner, alive; and on yet another occasion I shot a whiskey jack, or Canada jay (Perisoreus Canadensis), with one just killed, in his mouth. A little way farther on, a bluff of dark colored sandstone fronts the river. Here our hammers may well be employed, and with care fine specimens of fossil leaves may be obtained. These are usually Sycamores (Platanus), but others can be found by searching for them, and in Cook's Inlet some fifty species have been collected, some of which are common to Greenland, Spitzbergen, Northern Europe and Siberia, showing that there was a time when this part of the world was covered with a rich and verdant forest, and the temperature was about that of Virginia. This was before the advent of the hairy elephant, who lived in colder times. It grew at last too cold for him, however, and his bones and teeth may be found scattered over the country, on the surface, and usually much decayed. His remains have been found imbedded in the masses of ice (not glaciers) which fringe the Siberian coasts, and in a perfect state of preservation, as if he had wandered into an enormous refrigerator and been frozen into it.

You will look in vain here for the familiar drift boulders, so common in the stone fences of New England. What was going on during the glacial period in the Yukon Territory is a mystery. There were no glaciers there, for their traces are entirely wanting.

The sun is now on the point of retiring for the night, although it is barely three o'clock, and the sight of the tall caches, like corncribs, which mark the position of the village for which we are bound, is not unwelcome; for thirty miles on snowshoes is a good day's tramp, especially for the first time. In a few minutes we are seated in one of the comfortable underground houses and enjoying the hospitality of the friendly Eskimo. Perhaps some summer's day, reader, we will try our luck together again.

A FEW WORDS ABOUT MOTHS.

BY A. S. PACKARD, JR.

10

THE opportunity of copying a number of colored figures by Abbot, hitherto unpublished, leads me to say a few words regarding our native moths. The Lepidoptera, both butterflies and moths (especially the former, from their constant presence by day) from their beauty and grace, have always been the favorites among amateur entomologists, and the rarest and most costly works have been published in which their forms and gorgeous colors are represented in the best style of natural history art. We need only mention the folio volume of Madam Merian of the last century, Harris's Aurelian, the works of Cramer, Stoll, Drury, Hübner, Horsfield, Doubleday and Westwood, and several others, as comprising the most luxurious and costly entomological works.

Near the close of the last century, John Abbot went from London and spent several years in Georgia, rearing the larger and more showy butterflies and moths, and painting them in the larva, chrysalis and adult, or imago, stage. These drawings he sent to London to be sold. Many of them were collected by Sir James Edward Smith, and published under the title of "The Natural History of the Rarer Lepi

dopterous Insects of Georgia, collected from the Observations of John Abbot, with the Plants on which they Feed." London, 1797. 2 vols., fol. Besides these two rare volumes there are sixteen folio volumes of drawings by Abbot in the Library of the British Museum. The plate given with this article is selected from a thick folio volume of similar drawings presented by Dr. J. E. Gray of the British Museum to Professor Asa Gray, to whose kindness we are indebted for an opportunity of figuring the transformations before unknown of over a dozen moths, whose names are given, as far as possible in the present state of our knowledge, in the explanation of the plate.

The study of insects possesses most of its interest when we observe their habits and transformations. Caterpillars are always to be found, and with a little practice are easy to raise, and we would advise any one desirous of beginning the study of insects to take up the butterflies and moths. They are perhaps easier to study than any other group of insects, and are more ornamental in the cabinet. As a scientific study we would recommend it to ladies as next to botany in interest and the ease in which specimens may be collected and examined. The example of Madam Merian, and several ladies in this country who have greatly aided science by their well filled cabinets, and thorough and critical knowledge of the various species and their transformations, is an earnest of what may be expected from their followers. Though the moths are easy to study compared with the bees, flies, beetles and bugs, and neuroptera, yet many questions of great interest in philosophical entomology have been answered by our knowledge of their structure and mode of growth. The great works of Herold on the evolution of a caterpillar; of Lyonet on the anatomy of the Cossus; of Newport on that of the Sphinx, both in their various stages; and of Siebold on the parthenogenesis of insects, especially of Psyche helix, are proofs that the moths have engaged some of the master minds in science.