392 THE ENTOMOLOGIST. 



In the woods, near Stamford Bridge, Arge Galathea 

 formerly abounded, but it has not been seen for some years ; 

 indeed, several of our most conspicuous butterflies (notably 

 lo, Paphia, Rhamni and Galathea) have lately become rare, 

 or disappeared from the neighbourhood of York, Leeds and 

 Sheffield, and this not from any "improvement" of the land, 

 or, so far as appears, any alteration of the former conditions 

 of their existence, but simply from their merciless pursuit 

 and wholesale slaughter by the makers of butterfly pictures. 

 The numbers thus annually destroyed are almost incredible. 

 I have known 250 peacocks used in the construction of an 

 elephant, and upwards of 500 Vanessa Urticae in the figure of 

 a crocodile 3 feet long ! Galathea was an especial favourite 

 with the tribe ; a portrait of Lord Brougham in butterflies, the 

 checked trousers depicted by Galathea's wings, is considered 

 a very clever work of art. The ancient story of " Acis and 

 Galathea" seems to have come true; that Entomological 

 monster, the butterfly-picture maker, taking the role of Poly- 

 phemus in the tragedy : — 



" When fatal chance 

 His looks directing with a sudden glance, 

 Acis and I, were to his sight betray 'd. 

 Where nought suspecting, we securely play'd. 

 From his wide mouth a bellowing cry he cast — 

 I see, I see ; but this shall be your last : 

 * A roar so loud made ^tna to rebound, 

 And all the Cyclops labour'd at the sound. 

 Affrighted with his monstrous voice, I fled. 

 And in the neighbouring ocean plung'd my head. 

 Poor Acis tum'd his back and Help, he cried, 

 Help Galathea, help my parent gods. 

 And take me dying to your deep abodes. 

 The Cyclops followed ; but he sent before 

 A rib, which from the living rock he tore ; 

 Tho' but an angle reach'd him of the stone. 

 The mighty fragment was enough alone 

 To crush all Acis ; 'twas too late to save, 

 But what the fates allow'd to give, I gave 

 That Acis to his lineage should return, 

 And roll among the river gods, his urn." 



Ovid's Metamorphoses, Book 13. 

 August 8, 187 L 



