222 
THE WEEKLY ENTOMOLOGIST. 
Platystetlms morsitans , Bowling. 
Ocypus cupreus. Wliat a delight- 
ful perfume this insect has. 
Ocypus brunnipes, Bowling. 
I have also taken Pterostichus dili- 
gens and Trechus obtusus lately, both 
new to this district. I have to 
thank Mr. Sharp, of St. John’s 
Wood, London, for naming most of 
the above. — Thos. G. Bishop, 6, 
Nixon Street, Glasgow. 
Lepidoptera. 
Folkestone Cliffs. — A few days 
since, I resolved to walk along the 
Kent Coast, from Folkestone to the 
Shakespeare Cliff, with my friend 
Mr. Leigh, who was travelling with 
me at the time. There are many 
parts of the cliffs which present an 
attractive face to the entomologist. 
Thickly clothed with flowers, among 
which the rest-harrow is conspicuous 
— now crowned by a little clump of 
rough bushes, and now their sides 
covered wtth a short turfy grass, 
peculiar to chalky soils, dipping into 
some grotesque hollow — they please 
the eye, while they promise good 
collecting. Behold us then, starting 
from Folkstone, in good time — the 
day, a true summer’s day, not a 
cloud visible in the whole vast space 
of blue sky ; the sea rippling, 
glorious green, almost as still as 
the old mountain tarns of the lakes; 
the range of cliffs dazzling white, 
more lovely for their deej) setting of 
blue beyond, 
We lose no time in getting away 
from the bare cliffs, with which our 
walk commences. Ascending a 
little hillock, we both exclaim 
suddenly ; for below us is a bed of 
golden rod, near which is an irregu- 
lar and varied patch of low herbage. 
With a graceful floating motion, the 
beautiful Arge Galathea comes within 
reach of our nets — not one alone ; 
but a legion of them, basking in the 
sweet sunshine, as though to spend 
their little lives merrily while they 
may. And the ponderous Filipen- 
dulce , like the clumsy rascal he 
is, buzzes over the flowers, and 
has his share of happiness. The 
pretty skippers, Syhanus and Linea, 
are not uncommon here, and further 
on, Polyommatus Corydon recalls the 
hills of lovely Surrey to our muds, 
as it chases up and down the inclines, 
or gambols over a flower. And now 
we can begin to feel the sun’s full 
power — a power which it seems to 
exercise without shadow of com- 
punction. As we traverse the ir- 
regular and bi’oken ground on which 
our path lies, I groan inwardly, for 
I have imprudently ventured a 
feeble tribute to respectability in 
the shape of a hat, while my moro 
fortunate friend trudges contentedly 
on, his head surmounted by one of 
those indescribable and noble invent- 
ions which so well become the 
British tourist. As if an entomolo- 
gist, with a big net, and a corpulent 
despatch-bag full of pill boxes, ever 
