132 BIRD HAUNTS AND NATURE MEMORIES 



ing which is worse than no knowledge at all. Unfortu- 

 nately he believes any thing, which is in print. 



Within my memory many of the old school have passed 

 to happy hunting-grounds; those who remain will not be 

 hurt by recollections of their companions of the past. 

 One by one they pass forgotten. Few of these men 

 boasted general knowledge; they took up some special 

 hobby and made a collection, striving with untiring zeal 

 to obtain specimens of everything within their reach. 

 Botany and entomology were the favourite callings, but 

 the accumulating of stuffed birds, birds' eggs, land and 

 fresh-water shells, and of geological specimens occupied 

 the attention of many. Taxidermy was the employment 

 of leisure time, and not only did the devotees of this art 

 stuff their own specimens, but they added to their incomes 

 by preserving and setting-up foxes, dogs, cats, and cage 

 birds for their friends, and some were expert in making 

 plaster casts of fishes, the record catches of the local 

 angling clubs. These works of art have in many cases 

 perished, but others still grace the walls of small public- 

 houses or, from time to time, appear, unclaimed, in the 

 pawnbroker's window. 



Beetles were what Old Joe went in for, and a very fine 

 and valuable collection he gathered together. He had 

 hunted for and captured beetles in every locality near 

 Manchester, had mounted them carefully and arranged 

 them in boxes, each specimen with its scientific name. 

 His heart was in his work, and he loved order; the smallest 

 beetles, too tiny for the finest pins, were neatly fixed on 

 cards. In his palmy days, say in the fifties, Joe would 

 go any distance for a beetle. There were no cheap 

 excursions, and had there been his purse would have 

 been too empty; so he would tramp or beg a lift in a 

 farmer's cart. On Saturday, soon as his work ended, he 

 gathered together a few boxes and nets, tied his food in 



