HP) THE kntomologist's beoorp. 



and had some difficulty, too, in catching. I would go a long way to 

 make sui'e of netting Iris. But, though I would go a long way, yet I 

 cannot screw up my courage to carry about liigh meat or a 30-foot net. 

 The former makes one so very unpopular in a railway carriage, and the 

 latter so very ridiculous. An ordinary net is bad enough. I shrink 

 from unpopularity and ridicule. 



But though I have to confess with sorrow that I have never taken 

 on the wing the King of British butterflies, I can at any rate boast of 

 having a fair series of my own getting, gotten, too, with quite as much 

 pains and trouble (though with less unpopularity I hope) as if I had 

 sallied forth with a dead cat in my pocket and a net on the top of a 

 large pole, to be the terror of my neighbours and the delight of small 

 boys. 



Let no one think it a light matter to breed Ins. First and foremost, 

 in my ca'»e at any rate, there is the anxiety. I have bred wliat I 

 suppose are rarer insects, but never have I felt care for my precious 

 larvse sitting so near my heart, as when I have had two or three of 

 these splendid larvaj feeding up. Three, four, or even five times have 

 I changed their food during the day, and in the night my sleep has 

 been broken by visions of monstrous earwigs scaling the walls of the 

 pot, patiently gnawing their way through the covering, and finally 

 chewing with huge relentless jaws and fiendish appetite, one after 

 another, my precious infants. I have writhed in agony at the vision, 

 and cried aloud to the monsters to spare my treasures. 



But beyond these troubles of the imagination, Avhich really are very 

 imaginary as the larvfe are very healthy and hardy, there is the much 

 more serious difficulty of getting the beasts. Even in an Iris country, 

 they are not to be found on every sallow bush, and much patient work 

 has to be done with the beating tray. One every two hours is .a fair 

 allowance. Of course, if one comes in the first half hour or so, the heart 

 is emboldened to go on ; but after an hour and fifty minutes it is rather 

 difficult to toil through those remaining ten. Nor is there very much 

 else to pick up meanwhile — a few Foecilocmiipa populi, possibly half- 

 a-dozen IVichinra crataeyi, though this is rather a large allowance. No 

 great bag at the best. But when at last the little green slug is seen on 

 the tray, feeling about with its horns to discover what strange place it 

 has landed in after its unexjiected fall, then one remembers no more 

 the hours of hard work, but sits down contemplatively, lights another 

 pipe, possibly even sijjs a wee drap to the health of the treasure, and 

 seeks out the best and cleanest pill-box, v/hich is carefully perforated 

 and filled with the best of sallow leaves. Who would care to pick up 

 the infant in his fingers, at the risk of squeezing him unduly ? Nay, 

 choose with care a clean sallow leaf and let him crawl on to it ever so 

 slowly ; then lay him with trembling fingers iu the box, to be 

 anxiously looked at at intervals during the rest of the da3\ Often have 

 I felt inclined to rush for the nearest train and take him home at once, 

 knowing full well that if any box is to be lost or crushed, this is the 

 one which an unkind fate has her evil eye upon. 



I once took five in a day — others have done better. I can tell 

 yon now where each one was. 1 began my day about eleven in the 

 morning by a little sulky pond, with a water-hen's nest on a branch 

 which touched the water. I can see the nest and eggs now. After beating 

 round the pond on the outside without result, I determined to reach to 



