THE ENTOMOLOGIST’S 
WEEKLY INTELLIGENCER. 
No. 14.] SATURDAY, JULY 5, 1856. [Price Id. 
THE ENTOMOLOGICAL SOCIETY. 
(No. 2.) 
On Monday next, July 7th, the Entomo- 
logical Society of London holds its usual 
monthly Meeting at its rooms, 12, Bed- 
ford Row, Holborn, at 8 p. m.: please to 
copy the address ; for don’t imagine that 
if you forget the number any one in the 
street can tell you where to find the En- 
tomological Society. An excellent illus- 
tration of the ignorance which prevails 
in London as to one’s neighbours was 
given at the last Meeting of the Society, 
on which occasion the celebrated Swe- 
dish entomologist, M. Dahlbom, had in- 
tended to be present, but unfortunately 
some kind friend had misdirected him to 
No. Eleven, Bedford Row, where not only 
did he not succeed in finding the Society, 
which was located at No. Twelve, but he 
could not meet with any one who could 
tell him where to find it, and conse- 
quently spent about an hour walking up 
and down in search of the Entomologi- 
cal Society, and arrived just as the Meet- 
ing was over; but “ Sero nunquara est 
ad bonos mores via,” and M. Dahlbom 
arrived in time for tea. 
Several of our readers responded to 
our invitation in our No. 9 to come and 
see the Entomological Society, but some 
were unfortunately prevented by the 
blunders of their booksellers from seeing 
the ‘Intelligencer’ till late on the Mon- 
day evening. And even of those who 
read our article on the Saturday a few 
are disheartened at the anticipated dif- 
ficulty of “ what are they to say if the 
porter asks them w'hat they want?” and 
their idea of having to frame a satisfac- 
tory answer to a portly official in a red 
coat and brass . . . . but we have 
no porter ! “ Impossible, there can be no 
such man.” 
The continuation of the imaginary 
scene so abruptly broken off at p. 66, 
may be conceived as follows. 
“ What is the reason that while appa- 
rently some scientific business is going 
on, every one at this end of the room 
keeps talking ?” 
“Well I think we mustn’t complain of 
that, as we are contributing our share : 
but the fact is the Secretary is only read- 
ing the minutes of the last Meeting, and 
it is looked on as a mere form.” 
“ Who is that gentleman sitting with 
his back to the window who might pass 
for the effigy at a tobacconist’s shop, he 
is so continually taking a pinch.” 
“Oh! that is Mr. Desvignes, so deep 
in the literature of the Ichneumonidce : 
they say he has so much snuff in his in- 
sect drawers that it drives away all the 
mites.” 
“ Is that Mr. Wollaston there?” 
“ Oh no ! he very rarely comes ; be- 
sides now he is out of town.” 
