THE ENTOMOLOGIST’S WEEKLY INTELLIGENCER. 
183 
equipped myself with lantern, net and 
boxes, I slowly sauntered up to Glory 
Wood ; the wood crowning the summit 
of a hill, the rough seat just at the 
entrance — carved with numerous rustic 
initials — commands a pretty, though 
somewhat limited, view. As I rested 
for a few minutes after the ascent, I saw 
the sun low in the horizon, streaminsr 
his rays of ruddy gold among the trunks 
and rich green foliage of the oaks, as if 
to render the last hour of his presence 
the most gorgeous of the day. Soon the 
lower rim of the golden orb disappeared 
behind the dark, rounded outline of Den- 
bies Hill, and I then rose to lay on the 
sweet mixture. I commenced with the 
tree immediately behind the seat, and 
then proceeded up the footpath, sugaring 
trees on each side, till I arrived at “ The 
Glory,” which consists of a group of seven 
very large Scotch firs, occupying a small 
cleared space on the very highest ground 
in the wood. Having sugared these 
noble trees I exhausted the rest of the 
liquor on the trees in a neighbouring 
path, and then returned to the seat at 
the entrance of the wood to await the 
arrival of darkness ; but darkness on that 
still summer evening seemed as if it 
would never come. Though the sun had 
“ gone from my gaze,” it still reddened 
the summits of the trees, and when the 
last gleam had vanished, the cloudless 
sky and all around was yet bright with 
light. The orange glow above the hill 
deepened into red, and the red into crim- 
son, — the bright blue above slowly 
changed into pale violet, and the dis- 
tances among the trees became softened 
and obscured. Then, when the real 
twilight commenced, a thick, warm haze 
collected in the valley, and slowly rose 
up the sides of the surrounding hills, 
and objects stood out boldly, though 
flatly, against the sky. There was not a 
breath of air, and the stillness of all and 
everything was almost oppressive. At 
length a large bird swept almost close 
by me on noiseless wing, and presently 
the silence was abruptly broken by a 
whirring, rattling, droning cry. I soon 
recognised my ill-named friend, the 
goatsucker, or, as I prefer to call him, 
the nightjar. “Oh, oh!” I thought, 
“ this moth-catcher seems to have com- 
menced operations, so I suppose it’s time 
for me.” I went out of the wood to watch 
my brother collector, and I soon saw his 
outline on the summit of a tall fir, where 
he rattled away for four minutes without 
once stopping. What can be the object 
of this very peculiar noise? Has it any 
power of attracting night-flying insects? 
or is it, on the other hand, a kind of 
warning cry to them to keep out of the 
way of the swift-winged prowler? The 
Caprirnulgus suddenly slipped from his 
perch and glided among the trees, with 
the ease, swiftness and certainty of a bat, 
though with a more direct flight than 
that of the little winged Mammal. 
As it was now dark, and I saw two or 
three moths flying in the direction of the 
sugar, I proceeded to light my bull’s-eye. 
On turning the light on the first tree. 
I was pleased to behold a number of 
Noctuae feasting heartily. Several va- 
rieties of Noctua festiva, Hadena tha/as- 
sina and Rusim tenebrosa were the cap- 
tures off the first tree; on the next a 
lovely Thyalira Batis, cautiously sipping 
the syrup, quite delighted me: I was not 
up then* to the tricks of this species, and 
by turning the light on too suddenly, the 
beautiful creature was scared and flut- 
tered off: the attraction of the sugar 
was, however, too strong, and in less than 
a minute Batis was again settled: by 
proceeding more cautiously I contrived 
to entrap her, and also some Grammesia 
Irilinea and Xylophasia hepalica. 1 made 
three rounds of visits to my sugared trees, 
and on leaving at 11 o’clock I had 
captured the following species, in addi- 
tion to the above: — Leucania Comma , 
Xylop/iasia rurea, Noctua C-niyrum, Eu- 
plexia lucipara, Aplecla /ttrbida, nebulosa 
