202 
HUNT FOE, AN EMERALD BEETLE. 
energy and cnterj)risc fruitlessly expended in such 
researches ? How disappointing it is, when tons of 
mud have been sifted, when bushels of sand have 
been examined, when huge stones have been 
laboriously upturned, and when the bushes have 
been beaten in despair, to discover nothing to 
reward all this labour, nothing to kindle hope or 
animate to future exertions — not even a beetle to 
reward tlie patient enthusiast. 
To rctm’n, however, to the ‘‘emerald wing!’^ 
Colhnson the indefatigable was seen minutely 
semtinising the fissured bark of old trunks, and the 
sound bark of stately trees, peering, like a jackdaw, 
into rotten wood, or scratching up the earth like a 
terrier who suspects he is on the trail of a rat. On 
a sudden, riveting his gaze on a young oak, he gave 
utterance to a cry as wild and exulting as an Indian 
war-whoop ; for he had seen the owner of the 
“ emerald wing ” sunning itself on the tender green 
surface of a leaf. This reminded me of another 
great hunt for an emerald beetle (Dr)rpta emarginata) 
with old Turner, a poor but far-fiimed and eccentric 
