JOTTINGS AT BUKJUTOX. 121 



fact which I happened to have in my pocket,) twisted into the shape of a 

 funnel, caught thirty or forty specimens in a dayj I of course was only able 

 to capture them sitting, and this alone testifies to the extreme tameness of 

 the species, since I was obliged to approach every specimen sufficiently near 

 to "put salt upon its tail." The dry, bracing, and most delightful air on these 

 Downs, will of itself amply repay the toil of walking to them. 



Inefficient as the simple apparatus with which I took these insects undoubtedly 

 is, r still prefer it to a hat for that purpose. True it is you may capture 

 an ins33t on the wing with your hat, which you cannot do with a sheet of 

 foolscap; but be it remembered it is one thing to get a butterfly or moth 

 into a hat, and another to get it out again, uninjured. The former, though 

 requiring some degree of dexterity, is comparatively easy; the latter exceedingly 

 difficult. Thus you make a successful sweep at a rare butterfly or moth with 

 your hat; you finish that, sweep by placing the hat, almost mechanically, on 

 ^your head; you congratulate yourself on having captured a beautiful specimen. 

 True, you have captured it; there it is snug enough. But, perchance, another 

 specimen equally rare and beautiful, crosses your path; what are you to do; 

 your first impulse undoubtedly is, to take ofi^ your hat, and make a passing 

 sweep at it too; but it suddenly occurs to you, that by so doing, you will in 

 all probability place yourself in the position of the dog in the fable, who, in 

 grasping at a shadow, lost the substance. You therefore, perhaps wisely, keep 

 your hat on your head, and allow this last specimen to pursue its course 

 unmolested. But it remains to be seen whether the substance in your hat will 

 not, ere you can transfer it to your cabinet, become "the shadow of its former 

 self;" should there chance to be a house near at hand, into which you can 

 enter, all may be well. But it does not generally happen that rare butterflies 

 and moths are found in the immediate neighbourhood of houses; and you may 

 have some miles to walk ere you can place your captive in a place of safety, 

 for assuredly it is by no means safe as yet. As you walk homeward, it 

 may remain quiet enough for a time, but after a while it becomes restless — ■ 

 the closeness of the atmosphere may be oppressive to it, or that atmosphere 

 may be charged with odours to which it has not been accustomed; so that, 

 ever and anon, you hear it making a circuit in the upper region of your 

 hat; this does not much disturb you perhaps, but presently you feel it 

 fluttering about, creeping, crawling amongst your hair. You now begin to 

 have secret misgivings as to the condition in which your captive will meet 

 the light, and not without good reason; for however well "Rowland's Macassar" 

 may agree with the human hair, or how much soever it may be thought to 

 improve its appearance, it certainly does not agree with, or improve, the 

 appearance of the "down on a butterfly's wing." The chances therefore are, 

 that on reaching home and examining your specimen, you will find that 

 Chameleon like, it has completely changed its colour; or rather,. that it has 

 entirely lost all its colours. I have somewhere read of a human captive 

 whose hair, in the course of one single night's captivity, changed from jet 



VOL. III. R 



