128 THE ENTOMOLOGIST. 



take five specimens, settled on grass- stalks out of the sun on the 

 steep quarry face. 



We are hot and tired as we reach our friends, and we hail the 

 cart with delight, and are still more pleased when we find our fair 

 comrades have brought a boy and some tea, and that ready for us 

 is " the cup that cheers but does not inebriate." How we sip that 

 tea ; and how pleasant it is to throw oneself on the grass in the 

 shade and divest oneself of the paraphernalia, which was our pride 

 as we started, but is, alas, an encumbrance now. Refreshed by 

 our dish of tea, and entertained also by a dish of scandal, — for 

 our fair friends, en route to the rendezvous, have called in at a 

 neighbour's, and have just heard everything about everybody up 

 to date from the best gossip of the whole country-side, — we 

 started our " native contingent" home on foot with the spoils of 

 the chase. 



Having changed our linen sun-coats for light cloth ones we 

 place ourselves in the hands of the ladies, who have brought out 

 the team of four-in-hand to show the veteran the country round. . 

 As it is 5 o'clock already, and the sun sets about 6.30, we have 

 not a long time to do ten miles in, which is the drive we 

 propose. 



By permission the nicotian weed is lit, and we are amused by 

 a desultory conversation which goes on between us, — partly local 

 information, partly notes on the work just done, partly tittle-tattle 

 from the " other side " about somebody, and partly caressing 

 remarks by John (the driver) as to the points, qualities, and 

 idiosyncracies of the horses he is driving. The cape cart we are in 

 is like a big dogcart, with shifting seat to balance, with a hood of 

 white canvas over it to keep off the sun and dust ; the wheels are 

 strong and high, and for rough roads and quick travelling they are 

 admirably adapted. After his whiff is over, instead of taking the 

 ribbons myself, I induce the veteran, who is a lover of the art, to 

 " try their mouths ;" and John gives up his place, and the veteran 

 takes kindly to the ribbons, and, guided by me at his elbow, lands 

 us home. 



Ten minutes with the nets in the gloaming on a patch of 

 geraniums gives us Pamphila DysmepUila, on the wing with the 

 hawk-moths, and hardly to be distinguished from Lopluira nana 

 of that ilk. We also take Cyllo Leda looking for sugar, which, 

 by the bye, the boys have forgotten to put on ; our five miles (for 



