312 WANDERINGS AND PONDERINGS 



since kept up something like an intimacy. He is still living, 

 and the hand of time, during the years I have known him, has 

 pressed on him but lightly. T will describe him as I saw him 

 first : there is so vivid an impression made by the first view, that 

 a figure seldom afterwards appears to present itself in so 

 decided relief, seldom affords so striking a contrast with the 



existences around it. Mr. was of a spare make and 



moderate height ; he appeared to have outlived the age of man 

 by some half dozen or half score years, during which period no 

 great change in his garments or equipments appeared to have 

 taken place ; his hat was placed on his head so jauntily aside 

 that it almost hid his left eye ; his coat, waistcoat, and small- 

 clothes had outlived the fashion which formerly, as imperiously 

 as now, dictated their proportions. His net was in his right 

 hand, and such a net! the variety of its hues, and the multi- 

 plicity of its rents, which had been carefully mended, bore 

 ample testimony to its long servitude. A large flat pincushion, 

 the repairs of which, in a diversity of materials, gave it the 

 appearance of mosaic, hung round his neck by a piece of twine. 

 His right hand held a hazel wand, the upper half of which 

 was barked, and the extreme end shivered into a brush by 

 beating the bushes. His entrance was magnificent ; the 

 polished grace with which he lifted his hat with one hand, at 

 the same time giving the wand an inimitable and almost unin- 

 tentional flourish with the other ; the profundity of his bend, 

 his bland and gentlemanly expression of countenance, would 

 have done honour to the politest era of the past century. His 

 overture being accomplished, he addressed me thus : — " Your 



servant, Sir ; took the liberty Sir ; have you taken the 



lobster this year?" The first and second sections of this 

 address I attempted to answer with all the good manners I 

 could muster : the third section utterly posed me. It occurred 

 to me, if there was a lobster in the house, what a pretty 

 addition it would have made to my breakfast ; but I kept this 

 idea to myself. I produced my collecting boxes, which con- 

 tained mostly Hymenoptera and Diptera, many of them very 

 minute. When the old gentleman saw them, a smile of con- 

 scious, yet beneficent superiority irradiated his face. He 

 ejaculated — " Only clear-wings ! " and closing the boxes, 

 returned them to me, with an expression of countenance that 

 told most obviously, although courteously, what an utter 



