76 HAMPSHIRE DAYS 



hedge, and laboriously sets himself to work his way 

 out. He is a slow, clumsy creature, a very bad 

 climber; and small wonder, when we consider how 

 he is impeded by his long branched horns when 

 endeavouring to make his way upwards through a 

 network of interlacing stems. 



As you walk by the hedgeside a strange noise 

 suddenly arrests your attention; it is the buzz of an 

 insect, but loud enough to startle you; it might be 

 mistaken for the reeling of a nightjar, but is perhaps 

 more like the jarring hum of a fast driven motor-car. 

 The reason of the noise is that the beetle has with 

 great pains climbed up a certain height from the 

 ground, and, in order to ascertain whether he has got 

 far enough, he erects himself on his stand, lifts his 

 wing-cases, shakes out his wings, and begins to agitate 

 them violently, turning this way and that to make 

 sure that he has a clear space. If he then attempts 

 to fly it is one of his common blunders he instantly 

 strikes against some branch or cluster of leaves, and 

 is thrown down. The tumble does not hurt him in 

 the least, but so greatly astonishes him that he remains 

 motionless a good while; then recovering his senses, 

 he begins to ascend again. At length, after a good 

 many accidents and adventures by the way, he gets 

 to a topmost twig, and, after some buzzing to get up 

 steam, launches himself heavily on the air and goes 

 away in grand style. 



Hugh Miller, in his autobiography, tells of the dis- 



