are fraught with discomfort and even hardships. Nevertheless, little alluring as were the accounts given me of the country, the prospect of adding to my collections--I am a naturalist--an entomologist--was so tempting that when I had a longer vacation than usual I determined to fulfil a long cherished desire and to pass a spring in Southern Ukraine.

And then the question arose as to what place I should make my headquarters. A naturalist cannot travel hither and thither like an ordinary tourist; he must establish himself somewhere, and make excursions into the surrounding country, which he must investigate thoroughly or he can hope for no results from his labours; moreover, the paraphernalia of his profession are too bulky to be moved easily from place to place.

Unfortunately all the guide books were too incomplete to give me the least assistance; I had recourse to the admirable maps of the Austrian Government, and in them I found a small town--Luttach--which seemed well fitted for my purpose. It is situated in a deep valley in the midst of the Carpathians, at the foot of a long spur of Mt. Nanos on the road from Adelsberg to Görz--a road once much travelled, but fallen into disrepair since the intrusion of the railroad. From Luttach the topmost peak of Mt. Nanos could be reached in a few hours, and in the valley itself there was sure to be a mingling of the southern fauna and flora with those of the Alps proper. I might promise myself rich additions to my collections. Moreover the many German names of the surrounding villages, and indeed the German name of the town itself, were very attractive for me, giving me hopes that there might be German elements mingling with the Slavonic civilization.

Luttach it should be then. My two huge travelling trunks were duly packed and I was provided with every requisite for collecting. The last of April I left Berlin full of pleasant anticipations.

In Vienna, where I stopped for a day as I passed through, I called on a friend; he gravely shook his head when he heard that I had chosen Luttach for a stay of some weeks. "I never heard before of this God-forsaken hole," said he; "I should not risk going there, but since you are determined to go, provide yourself at least with a good revolver, for without it you never ought to venture among the dreary deserts of the Carpathians, or to wander in those primeval woods and forests. It is dangerous for an elderly man like yourself. You know besides that there are still bears and wildcats in the forest on Mt. Nanos, not to mention those two venomous reptiles native to the rocky retreats of the Karst range--the cross-adder and the sand-viper. More to be feared than all these, moreover, is the human beast of prey whom you will surely meet in your wanderings there. You had really best relinquish your plan of visiting so inhospitable a region. But if you insist upon it, pray be cautious. Go well armed, and do not venture too far among those desert fastnesses."

I cannot say that I was agreeably impressed by my friend's warning. I was not formed in an heroic mould and I do not willingly court danger. At sixty, after a life spent principally in study, there is small desire for perilous adventure. Although I am not deficient in personal bravery, as I had opportunity to prove in my student-days, and afterwards in political embroglios, it is not my nature to seek for perils. Bears and wildcats, and even venomous serpents, caused me no alarm--the beasts are rarely dangerous in summer, and I knew well how to manage the reptiles; I had frequently encountered them in my excursions in the Swiss Alps and even in Northern Germany. The danger from human beasts of prey appeared to me far more serious, but even this could not deter me from carrying out the plan I had contemplated for so long. In Vienna I purchased an excellent revolver with the necessary ammunition and started the next morning for Görz, where I wished to visit an old friend and fellow-student, who, dwelling so near the frontier, would, I hoped, give me a less alarming account of the country I wished to explore. But my hope was vain; he was even more emphatic than my Vienna friend had been, although he laughed at the story of bears, wildcats, and snakes. He shook his head and said: "I know nothing of Luttach and the surrounding country, except that on Nanos the Saturnia cæcigena was formerly to be found. You will probably make some good additions to your collections, although I doubt your making as many as you hope, since in the rocky parts of the mountains insect life is sparse, and where the mountain sides are clothed with trees, they form an impenetrable primeval forest. I doubt also whether the richest harvest you can reap will compensate you for the hardships, the discomforts--yes, the dangers to which you will expose yourself. The greatest of these lies in the fact of your being a German. The unhappy strife between nationalities in Ukraine has so embittered the inhabitants there that all kindly feeling is extinct. The Slav considers hatred of the German his first duty; it is his greatest delight to annoy--even to maltreat--a German. Whether you can defend yourself with your revolver from such maltreatment is more than doubtful. You could not use it against any single peasant who should meet you in the forest, and insult you, or even against three or four, who might amuse themselves by annoying you in countless ways. There certainly is danger of encountering robbers in those wilds; your revolver might serve you there--to me danger from the determined hostility towards Germans seems far greater."

This was encouraging! I almost wonder now that I was not deterred from my undertaking. If my respected colleague had not expressly stated that I should find Saturnia cæcigena on Mt. Nanos, I should probably have followed his advice not to go to Luttach, but my passion for collecting outweighed every other consideration. I refused to be intimidated, and started upon my journey the very next day, arriving at four o 'clock in the afternoon at Adelsberg, whence I could reach Luttach in four hours by a carriage road. So desirous was I to attain this goal of my wishes that I resisted the temptation to visit the world-renowned Grotto at Adelsberg, postponing this pleasure until my return. I hired a vehicle, large enough to accommodate myself and my two huge travelling trunks, and in half an hour I was on my way to Luttach.

The road was excellent, leading through an attractive mountain region among low hills, although loftier eminences bounded the horizon. I should have liked to know the names of those giant mountains, but my driver was a genuine Slav, who could not understand a word of German, and who was too stupid to comprehend signs, so all intercourse with him was impossible. We drove swiftly, almost as swiftly up-hill as down-hill, through a charmingly varied landscape, through forests, past meadows and cornfields, with only a glimpse of the desolate Karst range now and then in the distance, until we rapidly approached the bare gray rocks of Mt. Nanos--which, as we descended by a winding road to the valley of Luttach, stood out boldly against the sky.

Time passed rapidly during the long drive; there was so much to see, and everything that I saw was distinctly in contrast with what I had been led to expect in Southern Ukraine. The numerous villages through which the road ran were entirely different from the ruinous Polish hamlets with which I was familiar in Upper Silesia; they consisted mostly of flourishing farms, with very few straw-thatched cottages. The peasants whom we met greeted me as we passed along with friendly courtesy--they could not recognize me as a hated German--and the inns as we drove by them, so far from presenting pictures of dirt and decay, were most attractive, and invitingly clean.

And when in the valley we drove among meadows bright with the luxuriant growth of spring--past vineyards