27 
Mr. Henry Le Keux on the Turnip Fly. 
face, and in such a situation, that the turnip leaf above may afford 
shelter in case of rain. I have reason to believe that it remains in 
the earth about a fortnight before changing into the perfect beetle. 
Some of the first specimens of larvae and pupae which I took in the 
field, I placed in finely pulverized and very dry earth, and in a few 
days they were shrivelled up ; the others I also put into fine earth 
and saturated it with water. Unfortunately there was no opening at 
the bottom of the cup ; and the next day, perceiving that the earth 
was still saturated with water, I drained it and removed the larva, 
but they were all dead ; this accident may serve to account for the 
scarcity of the insects after very wet seasons. I have been equally 
unfortunate in my last attempt to ascertain the precise time between 
the larva and the perfect insect, for I covered the earth in which I 
had placed them so closely, on account of their small size, to pre- 
vent them from escaping unobserved, that the earth became mouldy, 
and they were all destroyed ; but I have a great many specimens 
of the beetle produced from larvae, which I fed and placed in a 
garden-pot enclosed in a cage of fine gauze wire, but they, being 
introduced at various times as they became full fed, I could not as- 
certain the precise time of any individual specimen. 
Not being an entomologist, 1 cannot pretend to describe the in- 
sect scientifically, but it may perhaps be as well to state that, al- 
though commonly spoken of as a fly, it is a small beetle (Haltica 
nemorum J of a black colour, with a longitudinal stripe of light 
brown on each of the wing cases, and it is furnished with six legs, 
the hinder pair of which are powerful springers, like those of a flea, 
by means of which it is enabled to leap a distance of from twelve 
to eighteen inches without the aid of its wings, which latter I have 
not observed it to use except in warm sunshine, or when the ther- 
mometer stood above 70° in the shade. One day in May, 1836, 
when the thermometer stood at 75° in the shade, during a light 
south wind, great numbers of them were on the wing, which, from 
their minute size, I should not perhaps have observed but for the 
circumstance of their striking against me and falling, before they 
could recover their wings, upon a piece of white paper which was 
before me at the time, and I counted upwards of twenty in less 
than half an hour. They were all proceeding southward. When 
many of them are confined together, an odour like that of the “ Lady 
Bird” beetle is perceptible, and is very strong from one that is 
crushed. They pair towards the end of May if the weather is 
warm, and continue to do so during the months of June, July, and 
August. They live through the winter secreted in the crevices of 
old timber, the rough bark of trees, and particularly in dry, loose 
