The nigrocaerulea was discovered in August, 1900, in the Sapello Canyon, a beautiful canyon in the Rocky Mountains near Las Vegas, New Mexico. The male is reddish-fulvous on the upper surface, with well defined markings consisting of waved transverse lines and crescent shaped spots. On the under side the design of the fore wings is somewhat indistinctly repeated, and the base is colored with a most exquisite reddish pink. The under surface of the hind wings is a rich brown with a wide yellow border, and is profusely marked with spots of glistening silver. The female on the upper side is bluish black, well marked near the margin by large spots of yellow suffused with blue. The under surface is very like that of the male, though the colors are more pronounced, the brown in the hind wing merging into black. The Sapello Fritillary flies during the month of August. Though the caterpillar is not known, it is supposed to feed upon the leaves of violets, which grow very abundantly in the Sapello Canyon. Diligent search will be made for it, and I am sure all will be interested if at some future time I can give the history and picture of the chrysalis of this beautiful Silver-spot. Wilmatte Porter Cockerell. Lo, the bright train their radiant wings unfold! With silver fringed, and freckled o’er with gold: On the gay bosom of some fragrant flower They, idly fluttering, live their little hour; Their life all pleasure, and their task all play, All spring their age, and sunshine all their day. —Mrs. Barbauld. BUTTERFLY. Butterfly, on golden wings, Tell us of your wanderings! Tell us of aerial spaces, Where, in pleasant sunshine places, You go sailing high and low, Wheresoever you would go! Leisure, freedom, grace, is yours; Earth and air to you ensures Findings for your utmost need, Be it blossom, dewdrop, seed; And you roam the fields of air, Happy, and without a care. When the sudden storm comes down, And the sun flees at its frown, You with folded wings will hide ’Neath a leaf, and safely bide Till the tempest flashes through, And the sky is blue for you. Thus on rested wings you sail In the wake of every gale, Sailing high, or sailing low, Wheresoever you would go; Pilgriming the great, blue sky; Bravo, little butterfly! —M. D. Tolman. A PROLIFIC PEACH TREE STUMP. One day early in the spring, while taking bird notes I discovered a pair of chickadees busily engaged in constructing a home. They had chosen an old peach tree that stood just back of the yard and were rapidly excavating a beautifully rounded circle in the decayed stump.