106 Moth-hunting. [CHAP. VI. 
By this time the day was beginning to break, and Ed- 
ward prepared to leave his resting-place and resume his la- 
bors. He felt very stiff as he crept from under the tomb- 
stone, where he had been lying in a cramped position. He 
was both cold and wet; but his stiffness soon wore off; 
and after some smart running in the open air his joints be- 
came a little more flexible, and, shortly after, he returned 
home. 
Edward had frequent mishaps when he went out on these 
nocturnal expeditions. One summer evening he went out 
moth-hunting. The weather was mild and fair, and it gave 
promise of an abundant “take” of moths. He had with 
him his collecting-box under his arm, and a phial of chloro- 
form in his pocket. His beat lay in a woody dale, close by 
the river’s side. He paced the narrow footpath backward 
and forward, snapping at his prey as he walked along the 
path. 
The sun went down. The mellow thrush, which had 
been pouring forth its requiem to the parting day, was now 
silent. The lark flew to its mossy bed, the swallow to its 
nest. The wood-pigeon had uttered its last coo before set- 
tling down for the night. The hum of the bee was no 
longer heard. The grasshopper had sounded its last chirp ; 
and all seemed to have sunk to sleep. Yet nature is never 
at rest. The owl began to utter its doleful and melancholy 
wail; the night-jar (Caprimulgus Huropeus) was still out 
with its spinning-wheel-like birr, birr ; and the lightsome 
roe, the pride of the lowland woods, was emitting his fa- 
vorite night bark. 
The moths continued to appear long after the butterflies 
had gone to rest. They crowded out from their sylvan 
homes into the moth-catcher’s beat. These he continued 
to secure. A little drop of the drowsy liquid, and the in- 
sect dropped into his box, as perfect as if still in nature’s 
hands. Thus he managed to secure a number of first-rate 
specimens — among others, the oak egger moth, the uni- 
