44 
THE ENTOMOLOGIST’S WEEKLY INTELLIGENCER. 
of the lantern. Detennined to try our 
luck, we accordingly, on the night of the 
20ih instant, made our way to the above- 
named locality. It was a most beautiful 
moonlight night, although at times rather 
chilly; but, big with hopes of something 
out of the common turning up, we started 
with very bright expectations, which, I 
think, were hardly realized. We arrived 
about seven o’clock, which being too 
early to commence operations we sat on 
the beach, and the sight at sunset was 
sublime: it requires the genius of the 
poet or the skill of the painter to do 
justice to the scene ; but it was neither 
the sublime nor the romantic that we 
were after, for we had real hard work 
before us in climbing the acclivities, and 
many was the slip and catch we had. 
“I have fallen down and broken the 
glass of my lantern!” By jingo! this 
was No. 1 to begin with. “ I have lost a 
box full of larvae,” was No. 2, and “I 
have come away without pins,” No. 3. 
A poor beginning truly. “ Here is a fine 
T. Fimbria larva,” was No. 4, — rather 
more cheering than the others. Well, 
after an hour or so of hard work, with 
but rather indifferent success, we beat 
the roll-call, when we again met. Now 
for the commissariat ; this is the work for 
an appetite ! mine was as keen as a razor; 
we pitched into it like farmers. Don’t 
talk about digestive pills — this is the pill 
that is wanted: go, I say to those who 
seek the aid of such nostrums — by all 
means, go larva-hunting: you will no 
longer need the assistance of quacks. 
But to my story, for this is a sad digres- 
sion. We’ll begin again. “Now then, 
you, H , go right up the middle of 
this valley; and you, R , go to the 
left and work those furze and ling bushes ; 
and I’ll take these nettles, and we’ll all 
meet at that rock.” “ I’ve got a larva — 
a Noctua — on sorrel; 1 don’t know what 
it is — never saw anything like it before ; 
something rare, I’ll be bound,” says a 
hollow voice from below. “ Here’s the 
place,” says H ; “one, two, three 
fine places here.” “All right,” says the 
voice again, “ pick up all you see ; throw 
away the common ones to-morrow.” And 
so all went on like a merry marriage bell. 
About 4 A. M. we beat to quarters, and 
after a consultation agreed to beat a 
retreat and return home — a resolution 
more easily formed than accomplished ; 
for no sooner had we fairly started for 
home than the magic spell was broken, 
and the miles between us and home 
seemed doubled, the cold began to tickle, 
and — worse, 0 worse than all ! — the 
waterman who had to ferry us over was 
not there ; the charms of Somnus, aided 
no doubt by the persuasions of Bacchus, 
were too much for him to resist, so he 
was non est when most wanted. “What’s 
to be done?” asks H . “Don’t 
know,” I replied, rather long-visaged. 
“ Can’t swim across,” suggested E . 
“No,” chimes in H , shivering at 
the thought of having to sleep on the 
beach. “Hallo! hallo! boat, ahoy!” 
shouts E . “What’s the use? no 
one will come this hour,” says H . 
“ Boat, ahoy ! ” still louder, again shouts 
R , in which I joined chorus. “ What 
a pretty mess to be sure ! ” groans poor 
H ; “ throw in the larvae, and let’s 
swim across on their backs ! ” he added, 
poking R in the ribs. Well, at last, 
thanks to the stentorian lungs of E , 
we woke up one that might have well 
been taken for old Charon, the ferryman 
of the Styx: “And, as sure as faith, 
here you are, jintlemin, all snug! and 
I’ll put you across in a jiffy.” And 
across we soon were ; and so ended this 
night’s larva-hunting. Well, now for 
the result — what’s the game ? 
Noctua Xanthographa. More than 
plenty. 
Leucania Litbargyria. Much the same. 
Some other Leucanias, 
Arctia Villica. 
... Caja. 
