THE ENTOMOLOGIST’S WEEKLY INTELLIGENCER. 
157 
others should enjoy a similar advantage. 
S. C. Tress Beale, Ivy Court , Tenter- 
den. 
MISCELLANEA. 
The Prize Bull. 
We live in queer times, and my 
writing you this is an instance of it ; but, 
since the commotion that has arisen 
amongst entomologists, we insects have 
had to attend to our education more than 
we used to do, and there are few of us 
now hut what can read and write. Read 
we must, because there is scarcely an in- 
sect in the country which has not a direct 
interest in knowing what is contained in 
each number of the ‘ Intelligencer,’ a 
little paragraph there sometimes causing 
us to be massacred by hundreds. To 
write is almost as needful, in order that 
we may be able to appeal to your 
columns for justice when we feel we are 
unfairly persecuted. 
I do not generally take in the ‘ Zoolo- 
gist;’ but in consequence of your notice 
last week that it contained an amusing 
article by Mr. Gregson, I procured a 
copy, and have read Mr. Gregson’s paper, 
which has caused me many a hearty 
laugh, and I always was fond of laugh- 
ing from the time I first came out of 
pupa and laughed all the scales off my 
wings. 
My friend Minos, who is very rich in 
Irish anecdote, once told me the follow- 
ing tale. 
“ A gentleman was writing in a coffee- 
room, at Dublin, a letter to a friend, and 
an Irishman, with more curiosity than 
manners, kept looking over his shoulder 
and reading the letter as he wrote it. 
The letter writer took no notice of this 
impertinence, but concluded his epistle 
to his friend wiih these words: ‘ I would 
write more, but a great awkward Irish- 
man is looking over my shoulder reading 
every word I write.’ On this the Irish- 
man exclaimed, ‘ That’s a lie!’ yet, by 
so doing, proved that it was true.” 
I thought when I heard this tale it 
was impossible any one could do such an 
absurd thing ; but when I read Mr. 
Gregson’s three pages of brag to prove 
that Lancashire men don’t brag, it oc- 
curred to me that the influx of Irish into 
Liverpool must have communicated some 
Hibernian ideas to the residents there, 
and that Stanley could produce a Prize 
Bull even though its name should not be 
“Master Butterfly,” but “Gregson’s last.” 
As to our being looked for before we’re 
found, it’s quite true what you say, no 
one ever dreams of doing such a thing. 
Half London was at Folkslone the other 
day looking for Chrysidiforme because it 
had been found there ; but I know quite 
well that no entomologist in Lancashire, 
aye, or Yorkshire either, has ever thought 
of making a day’s excursion in search of 
me, yet just let some one pick me up by 
accident, and let it be noised abroad that 
there’s a new British Sphinx, and they’ll 
turn out of Warrington, Manchester, 
Preston, and other places, to hunt for 
me, as sure as my name is 
Hylasiforme. 
Should the ‘ Intelligencer ’ 
HYBERNATE. 
Allow me to entertain the hope (with 
many other persons) that your ‘ Intelli- 
gencer’ will not bybernate, but will con- 
tinue to feed (us “ tyros”), and appear in 
the imago state (i.e. a neat volume of 
useful information) once a year. There 
are many facts and scraps of information 
in Entomology to be gleaned from your 
pages that cannot often be met with any- 
where else, that I should feel quite a 
boon companion to have departed this 
life if the ‘Intelligencer’ should hyber- 
nate. — A Chelseian. 
Being very much pleased with the 
‘Intelligencer’ generally, I should be 
