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 Sept.,1917 RED LETTER DAYS IN SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA 159 make sure that the mother had returned. Again I had to have the nest pointed out to me. The yellow grass had been combed up and drawn in at the top with cunning art to conceal its enclosed treasures. There the old Duck was, how- ever. Walking up softly and speaking in low tones we Were able to get so near that we could see her eye, the fine brown pencilling of her head and breast, and the blue speculum of her wing. Early the next morning we again made our way eagerly to the nest. Could our tracks have betrayed her to a prowling enemy? Had the sun been too hot for her eggs? What should we find? There she sat on her grassy nest, and-- under the edge of one wing to our delight We discovered a protruding patch of yeilow down. Misinterpreting our excited comments, after a courageous stand she burst away from almost under our hands, coming down in the grass a few yards away, waddling along dragging her wings in appealing decoy. Turning our backs we hurried guiltily down the beach. When we ventured to look back she was swimming around on the lake, picking about with apparent in- diffe'ence; but even as we watched over our shoulders, back she swam, straight for the shore. How fast she went! When nearly there she stopped and took one last look at us, then quickly climbed up the bank and across the beach to the nest. At sunset we were again at the lake and went to see what had happened to the little family in whose fortunes we had become so much interested. Mother and duckling were both gone ! Had the old Duck despaired of the rest of her eggs and hurried off to get safe cover for her one small nestling? Where had she taken it ? We scanned the water eagerly. She was nowhere to be seen. But she must know the secrets of lake and shore, and could choose well the safe harbors for tender little ones. As we stood thinking of the tragedies of the deserted home, the sunset light deepened to orange. In the sky overhead a flock of Texas Nighthawks were beating, and as we watched they flew off toward the hills. Just before we trned to go a Night Heron came flying up the shore and lit beside the water, standing silent and motionless, ready for its night's work. The interests of the day had given place to those of the night. Would that we could stay and see all the nocturnal birds and mammals come out under the stars and take up the task of caring for their families! For in the world of the wild sunset does not end the joys and labors of the day. When the stars shine out, another day begins. Washington, D.C., May 28, 1916. BOTTA'S VISIT TO CALIFORNIA By T. S. PALMER D I. PAOLO EMILIO BOTTA (1802-1870), an Italian traveller and archae- ologist, spent more than a year in California in 1827 and 1828. This visit was made in the course of a voyage around the world, nine years before the visit of Thomas Nuttall, three or four years before David Douglas reached California, and at about the same time that Dr. Alexander Collie, surgeon on H. M. S. 'Blossom' was on the coast. Prior to 1827 apparently only a few of the most characteristic species of birds such as the thrasher, the valley quail and the condor had been described from California. The thrasher or 'Promcrops dc