MOTH HUNTING. 



85 



fragile and fairy -like creatures fly by night as well as by day; so that, to 

 get acquainted with, as likewise to capture them, you must become a 

 nocturnal as well as a diurnal and frequent visitor to their various and 

 respective abodes. 



But, besides being thus so passionately fond of insects, I am also par- 

 ticularly partial to four-footed, aye, and to two-footed animals of every 

 sort. In fact, and in short I have, and it would seem that I have 

 been born with it, a most inordinate, and perhaps unexampled, either 

 in this country or in any other, predilection for everything of this kind, 

 whatsoever be the number of their feet or legs, or whether they have 

 any or none at all; all is one to me, providing they are of Nature's 

 handiwork. 



Accordingly, and one evening in particular, just such a one as I 

 could have wished for, and one which gave the highest promise of an 

 abundant ^tak,' being fair and mild, away I strolled, with collecting box 

 under my arm, my phial of chloroform in my pocket, and heart as light 

 as a feather, in the hope of being in some measure able, at least for 

 the time being, to allay my extraordinary, continual, and I may in all 

 truth say, insatiable craving for these things; as also to see what I could 

 see, and hear what I could hear. It was rather beyond midsummer than 

 otherwise, and as usual I was alone, that is so far as regarded my own 

 species. Glad that my daily task was done, and that my toil-worn body 

 was again for a little from torturing labour free, how merrily I bounded 

 along, never a king so happy, and ever and anon snapping at my prey as 

 they issued from their sylvan and grassy homes — harbingers of the coming 

 night — in the hope and with the intention, no doubt, like myself, to enjoy 

 the beauties of eventide. 



My heat, for I had now taken up one that I might the better secure 

 and watch my game, lay along a narrow foot-path of considerable length, 

 but of course, the portion I trod, that is, backwards and forwards, was 

 only perhaps from a hundred to a hundred and twenty yards long. It was 

 in a woody dale, a most romantic and secluded spot, and close by a river's 

 side, whose soft and balmy-like murmurings mingled with the evening songs 

 of the joyous birds, particularly that of the mellow Thrush, which, as he 

 poured forth his farewell requiem to the departing day, fell gently and 

 sweetly on the listening ear. 



The sun went down, and twilight having spread her mantle of dark 

 grey, the voice of music ceased. The Swallow, [Hirundo riparia.) flew 

 to its nest, the lark to his mossy bed, the butterfly disappeared, the hum 

 of the bee was heard no more, the grasshopper had sounded his last 

 chirp for the day, and all seemed to have gone to rest and repose, 

 except the river, myself, and the nocturnals which were now beginning 



