170 THE ENTOMOLOGIST. 



of a single male. This statement lias received neither con- 

 firmation nor contradiction ; nor have I the slightest evidence 

 that it has ever elicited even the most cursory investigation. 

 Yet it is a fact, an undisjiuted fact, that no gall, up to the 

 present hour, has ever been known to produce a male Cynips ! 

 Shall we, then, conclude that their reproduction is entirely 

 agamic ? Who has not smiled at the Irishman's assertion, 

 when boasting of the purity of his blood, that his ancestors 

 had been childless for ten generations ? But here we have a 

 phenomenon far more startling : in gallflies we find an un- 

 interrupted series of generations of virgins from the dawn of 

 creation to the present hour ; each generation building — no, 

 not building, but compelling the trees to build for them and 

 for their children — fairy palaces of the most exquisite beauty. 

 No poetical romance, no " strange story," no tale of the 

 Elixir vi((B, or legend of the rosy cross, was ever half so 

 wonderful. 



When advocating the study of galls, I have generally been 

 met, in the first place, with the difficulty of preserving them ; 

 and in the second, wath the difficulty of learning their his- 

 tory : I admit the existence of a certain degree of difficulty, 

 but I strenuously contend that it may be and ought to be 

 overcome. Is it not an admission of incapacity, nay almost 

 of imbecility, to say we cannot preserve these beautiful 

 objects ? They are neither fragile nor evanescent ; surely 

 nothing more is required than a careful series of experiments 

 to ensure a satisfactory result ; and there is not the slightest 

 reason to doubt that galls may be preserved for years, perhaps 

 even for centuries, in all their pristine beauty of form and 

 colour. 



One of our galls, familiarly and pleasantly known in our 

 boyish days, the " oak-apple," or "King Charles' apple," has 

 acquired something like historical celebrity : I need scarcely 

 recount how King Charles, after the Battle of Worcester, 

 concealed himself in the Boscobel oak ; and how many a sign- 

 board represents that illustrious monarch seated sedately 

 among the boughs, and wearing a very conspicuous crown, 

 which one would have thought likely to betray him, but 

 which seems to have escaped the notice of Cromwell's 

 troopers, who are seated on prancing horses beneath the 

 tree : all this is supposed to be good and true history ; but it 



