174 
THE ENTOMOLOGIST’S WEEKLY INTELLIGENCER. 
published in a cheap form, a perfectly 
come-at-able handbook for the million. 
Further, that if any one could be found 
to take up the thing and carry it through, 
that those wishing copies be requested, 
through the medium of the ‘ Intelli- 
gencer,’ to send in their names to some 
person appointed for that purpose, an 
estimate of the probable cost having 
been first given. 
W. C. Tubnek. 
33, Bermondsey Square , S.E. ; 
Feb. 13, 1858. 
A DAY'S COLLECTING NEAR 
DORKING. 
On an intensely hot morning, towards 
the end of June, I equipped myself, 
according to my almost invariable cus- 
tom during my stay at the bright and 
cheerful little town of Dorking, for the 
capture of my beloved order of insects, 
Lepidoplera. I also provided myself 
with some lunch and a flask of water, — 
for entomologists are not above such 
things, my experience, indeed, going to 
show that they as a body yield the palm 
of an excellent appetite to no other class 
of individuals, — and last, not least, with 
a huge pocketful of gooseberries, which 
I can confidently recommend on an ex- 
cursion as a most successful allayer of 
thirst. 
Thus, armed at all points, I passed 
quickly through the town, and soon 
emerged upon the open road to Betch- 
worlh. Having reached Betchworlh Park, 
l left the road, and proceeded to take a 
foot-path which led directly to Box Hill, 
across the river Mole and some fields of 
grass and beans: thus I soon entered 
the steep, chalky lane that runs between 
tall hedge-banks, and, passing under the 
railway, brings one to the foot of the 
south-west corner of the Hill. In the 
lane sundry Zervne jnocellaria and Bnpta 
temeraria issued from the hedge, at the 
gentle hint of the beating-stick, and were 
in consequence captured. Just as I 
emerged upon the little open space at 
the end of the lane, I perceived a slight 
motion among the tall heads of grass by 
the shady hedge ; on approaching I could 
at first see nothing, though the outline of 
a moth had plainly represented itself to 
my eye at a distauce ; after a little search, 
however, I discovered a most lovely spe- 
cimen of C/itorochroma vernaria : as the 
delicately beautiful insect hung on the 
slender grass stem, motionless, save for 
a slight quivering of its spotless wings in 
the cool breath of air never absent from a 
shady hedgerow, and looking like an ex- 
quisite leaf just animated with the breath 
of life, it seemed to be so perfectly in its 
place, and so in harmony with all around 
it, that the idea of capturing it at first 
seemed to me like a sacrilege. Need 
I say that in a minute or two this feeling 
was conquered by the amor hubendi, so 
inherent, alas ! in all, and more especially 
in entomologists? Yes! I drew a large 
chip-box from my pocket, and enclosed 
the lovely creature and the pendulous 
head of grass at “ one fell swoop,” and 
then, without staying to view the ruin I 
had made, — the temple without its god- 
dess, — I put the box in my pocket, and, 
turning through the hedge to the left, 
emerged on the foot of Box Hill. 
The shady seat under the yew tree 
looked so templing that 1 resolved to rest 
before commencing the ascent. Lying at 
lull length on the broad seat, and quietly 
making my first assault on the store of 
gooseberries, I began to think what tree 
it was whose dark branches nearly hid 
the sky from my view. “ Ah, a yew! — 
one can’t find much on yew. What does 
Mr. Shield say about yew in J une ?” Out 
came Mr. Shield’s ‘Practical Hints:’ 
under “June” an excursion to the Hilly 
Field is given: “Let us beat the yew 
trees on the slope. What is this plain- 
looking, yellowish insect I have beaten 
