124 Dr. G. B. Longstaff’s Notes on the Butterflies 
P. dissimilis, L.,1 took three, but probably saw more, since 
it so very closely mimics Tirwmala limniace or a large 
Parantica ceylonica, as easily to pass for one of those 
insects; it is deed most easily distinguished from them 
by its habit of fluttering while feeding on a flower. One 
of my specimens has the anal angle and a great portion 
of both hind-wings bitten off in an almost symmetrical 
manner, suggesting the bite of a lizard. It should be 
noted, as was observed long ago by the President, that, 
whatever the cause may be, it is in the great majority 
of cases the hind-wings that suffer these injuries; doubt- 
less the framework of the fore-wings is the stronger, 
but that does not seem to be a sufficient explanation, 
since from their greater length they must be more exposed 
to chance injuries from thorns and the like. Mr. Freedley 
took a Papilio that mimicked Huplwa, but I believe that 
P. dissimilis is dimorphic, one form mimicking each genus. 
Indeed it would appear that the name dissimilis implies 
that its bearer is like anything rather than a Papilio. 
In a shaded glen down which a tiny stream and a foot- 
path strove for the possession of the ground, I took close 
to the water a faded specimen of my Kallar acquaintance 
Papilio telephus, and missed another that was drinking at the 
mud. But far more exciting than all the before-mentioned 
species was Papilio polymnestor, or as Moore has it, P. 
parinda, a truly magnificent fly that dashed about in all 
directions. It measures about 54 inches across the wings 
and is rendered most conspicuous by its colouring—French- 
grey and black. It rarely settled and was very hard to 
catch; Mr. Freedley and I were constantly striking at 
it, but it almost always eluded us. After many fruitless 
attempts I succeeded in netting two, one so battered that 
its powers of flight were seriously impaired; Mr. Freedley 
was even less fortunate, probably because he had a very 
small net. 
There was yet another Papilio which eluded me alto- 
gether. It was black-and-green and I feel pretty sure 
P. agamemnon [which I also missed at Kallir in the 
Nilgiris]. It had the extraordinary and most aggravating 
habit of flying up and down, or rather backwards and 
forwards, just like a sentry, over some small trees below 
the road. Its path, if one may so call it, was about a dozen 
yards in length, and it always turned round at the same 
place, moving by a succession of jerks. I once actually 
