STAINTON’S MANUAL 
7 
where I netted it. Though I have seen literally thousands of 
Painted Ladies since, I doubt much whether a score of Large 
Tortoise-shells have crossed my path. 
In the earliest of my collecting days that I can recall to mind all 
orders of insects interested me alike. At one time I was especially 
keen on water creatures and remember dredging up the strange 
stick-like insect Banatra linearis from a pond on Wandsworth 
Common. 
When my kind friend Blackmore first showed me Stainton’s 
“ Manual ”—perhaps the best book on the British Lepidoptera ever 
published—it was still coming out in 3 d. parts. It was indeed a 
privilege to be started with such a book in one’s hands, and many 
and many a time have I thanked my stars that I was brought up 
on Stainton, rather than on the spoon-food of Newman. From the 
first I learned the Latin names of insects—and found no difficulty in 
it—and, what is more, learned to name my captures from descriptions, 
instead of from figures. I have never ceased to regret that “ The 
Manual ” did not reach a second edition. A few years later, but still 
as a small school-boy, it was my privilege to attend some of Mr. 
Stainton’s Wednesday evening “at homes,” and I shall never forget 
his kindly bird-like face, his charm of manner, and, above all, his 
unfailing kindness to me. Some delightful letters in his lady-like 
hand-writing are still among my treasures. Later I spent somewhat 
similar evenings with Edward Newman, Bobert McLachlan, and 
H. G. Knaggs. 
I was a collector in the good old days of the Entomologist’s 
Weekly Intelligencer , a delightful little paper which told many a 
tale of the wonderful things caught by the then comparatively new 
method of “ sugar.” Thus, for example, Agrotis saucia} till then a 
great rarity, visited the tempting sweets in all parts of the country. 
A leading article, in 1858, urged the importance of keeping diaries 
and ended with the refrain: “ Let diaries therefore be made.” This 
was followed up by a letter from the pen of S. J. Wilkinson (who 
was then writing “The British Tortrices”) setting forth the best 
form of diary. The reading of article and letter a year or so later 
roused my youthful ardour, and I opened the season of 1860 with 
my earliest diary. This, which lies before me as I write, is inscribed 
in a farthing blue and white washing-book, and solemnly records in 
a child’s round hand the capture of a “ Twenty-plume moth ” and of 
a “ Small White.” It further describes some larvae found drawing 
together the twigs of Broom, which must have been those of 
1 Now, alas ! neither Agrotis nor saucia , but Lycophotia margaritosa. 
