About the middle of last November Miss Annie M. Wittfeld, whose untimely death I have spoken of elsewhere, wrote me that she had taken a butterfly of a species which she had never seen before, while it was laying eggs on purslane. She confined the buttefly with the plant and obtained 74 eggs. She confined the butterfly with the plant and obtained 74 eggs. It was like a Danais, she said, but the caterpillars were like a Vanessan.