BUTTERFLY HUNTING IN GRBlECK IN THE YEAR 1900. 83 



of fire amongst the tall green reeds and luxuriant flower-mingled 

 grasses, but it was not so easy to find, and some days elapsed before 

 we came across it at all. But at last Marcus, to his great joy, secured 

 a magnificent female. Still we had not really discovered, so to speak, 

 its headquarters, till one day, when Marcus had gone off for a holiday 

 to Patras, and I was out alone, I encountered what appeared to be a 

 rather evil-disposed person, and in order to disembarrass myself of this 

 individual I gave him the slip by pretending to go in hot pursuit after 

 some imaginary butterfly -rarity. Once out of sight I lost no time in 

 taking refuge in flight, by making oft" in an opposite direction ; nor 

 did 1 halt till I had covered some considerable distance ; and by this 

 means I came upon a spot near a little chapel, which we had not pre- 

 viously visited, where ('. otUnnaniis (at least the males) flew in some 

 abundance. So the evil-disposed person did me a good turn after all. 

 I was much surprised to find Para vac roxdana also in this neighbour- 

 hood. It seemed such a wonderful contrast to the grand Hungarian 

 forests in the Carpathians, where I had hitherto met with it always at 

 a certain elevation, to come across it here in these moist meadows and 

 marshes, down at sea -level. 



Lord Byron is the hero of Mesolonghi, as indeed he is of the whole 

 of Greece, his statue in the Public Gardens is almost worshipped, and 

 the little mound hard by, encased in a covering of cannon balls, 

 beneath which lies the heart of this wonderful man, is also a spot ever 

 to be looked upon by the Greeks with the deepest veneration. Another 

 public erection at Mesolonghi, situated in a central position in the 

 town, is a large square, solid block of l)uildings, detached on all sides, 

 upon which the pitiless glare of the southern sun pours down merci- 

 lessly and relentlessly from morn till eve. This building is the common 

 prison, the wretched inmates of which were herded together like cattle 

 in a pen, but were allowed the privilege of sitting at the barred 

 windows of their prison-house, if they were so disposed, and getting 

 what solace they could by attracting the attention of the passers-by. 

 Some of the countenances of these men were savage and repulsive, 

 others were sad and worn. Many wore the national dress, the folded 

 white linen tunic, looking as if it had never been removed since the 

 time of their arrest, as indeed in many cases it probably never had ; 

 some few of them looked cheerful and resigned, almost as though they 

 found a sense of humour in their present surroundings. It was with one 

 of these last that I once held (of course through the medium of Marcus) 

 a short conversation. I began by expressing regret to see him where 

 he was, for which he thanked me ; so I went on to say that I hoped 

 he would soon be released. " In two months," was the reply, " and 

 I have already been here ten." Finding that he by no means resented 

 the idle curiosity which prompted my friendly inquiries, but on the 

 contrary seemetl rather gratified by it, I waxed bolder, and told Marcus 

 to ask him what he had done to merit this term of imprisonment. 

 This was apparently quite the most fetching question I had yet put to 

 him, for he smiled sweetly, and said he had " tried to kill a man," 

 which crime, he explained on further inquiry, he had attempted to 

 effect by shooting at him with a pistol in a fit of rage, adding (unasked) 

 that his only regret was that he had not succeeded in the attempt. 

 Still I could not help feeling sorry for this man, and I would generally 

 give him a friendly nod and smile as I rode by on my bicycle. A 



