2310 The Zoologist — October, 1870. 



screaming cocT\'atoos as they fly in circles high up in the blue 

 empyrean ; away to the north, he lands on Pratas Shoal, in the 

 Chinese Sea, and anchors at Canton ; visits Shang-tung and Pei-ho ; 

 ascends the great wall of China ; " does " the Korea, so seldom 

 " done " by Europeans since Hamel was there in 1653 ; passes through 

 the Korean Strait ; up, up, to the polynyniic Island of Saghalen, where 

 he scrapes acquaintance with the Aiuos, " the Aborigines of the 

 island ; " is driven by a tempest through La Perouse Strait into the 

 Sea of Okhotsk; botanises at Hakodadi; doats on beautiful Tsu- 

 Siraa ; shoots Diant's pheasant on Sadi, or rather relates how Lieu- 

 tenant Warren shot ihem, while he, the doctor, was " mooning about 

 as usual" after beetles; joins the squid-fishers at Nisi-Bama; 

 compares the cemetery at Nagasaki with that at Kensal Green, greatly 

 to the advantage of the former; and finally fraternises with the 

 Japanese ; his Ultima Thule seeming to be Saghaleen. This is some- 

 thing like a trip ; I commend it especially to the notice of Mr. Cook 

 when he has exhausted Palestine and the Nile. 



Such a traveller as Mr. Adams finds objects of interest everywhere: 

 when on the sea nothing escapes his notice, not even the everlasting 

 flying-fish (that snare of the book-njaker and bugbear of the reader) : 

 he makes amusing capital even out of so stale and trite a subject, 

 and observes, " When, as not unfrequenlly happens, the poor creature 

 flies on board exhausted, it is picked up from the deck, and the 

 * clever one' who secures the prize, holds it in his hand and delivers a 

 profound discourse on its habits and peculiarities to the listening 

 crew." This is perhaps the first, as it may be the last time, this 

 "exhausted" phenomenon has been made a subject for pleasantry. 

 But let us land and accompany our author on one of his beetling 

 excursions in St. Simon's Bay, at the Cape. It is refreshing to one, 

 who, like myself, has outlived the ardour of collecting to observe the 

 zeal with which Mr. Adams still enters on the pursuit, even while 

 indulging a good-humoured smile at the enthusiasm of poor old 

 Turner, — "now" alas "no more," — and at that prince of all beetle- 

 hunters, my friend Dr. Power, who is still amongst us, inspiring the 

 young by his example, and comforting the old by unchanging kindli- 

 ness. Here is a glimpse of Turner: "This reminded me of another 

 great hunt for an emerald beetle, Drypta emarginata, with old Turner, 

 a poor, but far-famed and eccentric collector of insects, now no more, 

 in Hampshire, at pretty Alverstoke. In vain we toiled and tore up 

 the grassy bank, the old mau growling and swearing in a deep 



