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CHAPTER XXVII. 



BRITISH FIRE-FLIES. 



Although Britain can show no parallel either 

 in number or brilliance to the living lights of 

 the tropics, we are not without several interest- 

 ing phosphorescent creatures of our own. 

 Those whose business leads them abroad in the 

 fields and woods through the short summer 

 nights are often treated to quite remarkable 

 luminous sights. One night we were lying on 

 a towering limestone escarpment, waiting to 

 intercept a gang of poachers. The darkness 

 was dead and unrelieved ; and a warm rain 

 studded every grass-blade with moisture. When 

 the day and sun broke, this would glow with 

 a million brilliant prismatic colours, then 

 suddenly vanish. But the illumination came 

 sooner and in a different way. The rain ceased, 



