This digression puts me in mind of another, and that is to warn the amateur not to "know too much," and think he has nothing to learn directly he can set up a bird or mammal, or anything else, in a fairly respectable manner. The people who know everything, and imagine they cannot be taught, are just the people who know very little and who will never learn more. "Duffers" they are, and "duffers" they will be, to the end of their days. Every sensible man, even should he rival Methusaleh—which heaven forfend!—must be learning Art (even should he teach) all his life.

Make haste to learn, therefore, from anyone who can give you a hint, and don't set yourself up (or down) in some obscure country town and fancy you are great. Come out into the world, measure yourself against the best, criticise your own work as if it were a stranger's. Be honest, and say, "That man's work knocks mine into a cocked hat," and then go home miserable, but determined to beat that man's work or perish in the attempt. Never sneak! If you see first-class work by anyone, go boldly and say, "Sir, I am an amateur," or, "I am a young professional," as the case may be. "Your work interests and delights me. May I look around?" Doubtless, the person addressed will be flattered by your appreciation, and, unless narrow-minded, will exchange views with you to your benefit.

Let us return to our theme. Amongst the water birds, then, we may instance herons with young as making a nice group, moorhens leading out their young on water under a mossy bank and so on; and this brings us to the question of mounting pairs of birds, with their nests and eggs, or nests and young.

GROUPS OF BIRDS AND YOUNG, WITH MODELLED FOLIAGE—Nothing in taxidermy requires more correct mounting and taste, and nothing is more charming, if properly done, than illustrating the life-history of, say, a pair of birds with their nest and young. Take any birds you like—sparrows or robins—and, if you know anything, you may "invest with artistic merit" even such common specimens as these. There is a certain fascination in young things which, I suppose, calls up all the kindly feelings of our nature, and so it is that young birds tended by their parents are groups which appeal the most to the finer senses, besides being really educative if worked out properly.

I remember, quite twenty years ago, when a boy, seeing a collection of nearly all the "British" birds, their nests and eggs, for sale, so that the idea is not a new one, nor is that of surrounding such groups, with proper accessories and modelled leaves and flowers, as will shortly be exhibited to the public in the new "British" Natural History Room at South Kensington, and as is now exhibited in the Leicester Museum. I remember getting foliage done for me many years ago for such groups, and I believe Mr. Shaw, of Shrewsbury, did it long before I copied his lead. Who was the original inventor of this system I know not, but I shrewdly suspect we have to thank French artists for this. Let it be thoroughly understood that I do not intend to disparage the beautiful work done for South Kensington by the various gentlemen and artists interested, but I merely point the adage, "Nothing new under the sun."

Of course, when I say "modelled foliage" I do not allude to stamped leaves in various materials, sold at so much (or so little) a gross, and used to "decorate" "boxes of birds" in the "Black Country" quite fifty or sixty years ago, but that which has arisen on its ashes in response to the cry for "more art," and because of the impossibility of getting any other natural flowers than "everlasting," or any other leaves than those of grasses and ferns (mentioned in the last chapter), to dry for decorative, or, as we say, "fitting up" purposes.

To describe the processes involved in copying leaves and flowers of any plant from nature, so that all will appear perfectly life-like and yet be durable, and stand exposure to moderate heat and cold, would take up too much space, added to which, my personal knowledge of all is required in this is of such recent acquirement, that, although I have fairly succeeded in teaching myself modelling of this kind, and have executed a few groups, yet I would like a little more time to elapse ere I pose as a teacher; but, no doubt, when the time comes, someone—perhaps the publisher of "Practical Taxidermy"—may be induced to give the results of my labours to the class most interested.

I may instance some groups: Robin's nest, in bank covered with ivy, and primroses in flower, the old female bird feeding the young, the male searching for more food, or singing on branch near nest; long-tailed titmice, in furze-bush (South Kensington); chiff-chaff, in long grass, surrounded by willow-herb; chaffinches in blossoming hawthorn; white-throat's nest, with young, surrounded by leaves and flowers of the bramble (Leicester Museum); blue-tits, in apple-tree with modelled foliage and flowers; moorhens swimming, with young just leaving nest, surrounded with water-lilies, flowering rush, and other plants; grouse and young; swallows, in section of cow-house, with plants, etc, growing on roof (Leicester Museum); grebes and nest, amid marsh plants and marsh marigold in flower, etc. (South Kensington).

To give a tenth of the phases of the studies which can be worked out would fill pages of this book; suffice it to say that nature, being the guide in this, must be rigidly adhered to. There is, of course, no need to copy any accidental awkwardness; but don't invent too much, as the greatest charm of all is taking Nature as your guide. At the back of these groups may be placed the eggs, and birds of the same species in change of plumage or winter dress, thus making the life history complete. For museums, and similar educational institutions, the food and the skeleton should be exhibited, with explanatory label attached.

Reptiles and fishes are most unsatisfactory things to treat artistically. When set up and dried they shrivel, and are seldom modelled nicely. (To counteract such shrivelling, see Chapter XII.) I have almost made up my mind that, taking into consideration the stiffness of outline usually present in mounting by the ordinary methods, all fish should be cast in plaster or paper, although even then stiffness may be present unless the fish is posed properly. Fish lying in a mass on a bank, or in a dish, as were some at the "Fisheries," look the most natural and easy.

One plan, new to me, however, was adopted in such subjects as large pike, etc, which were cast, coloured, and placed in a long basket upon straw, the whole covered with glass. This method is especially nice for the hall table as a souvenir of piscatorial success. I was rather disappointed in the colouring of these casts. Many of the artists had entirely missed the subtle colours of the pike, trout, and other fish —one salmon only, and one dishful of grayling, magnificently managed, excepted. [Footnote: One of the very best books I know to help teach the colouring of fish is "British Freshwater Fishes," by the Rev. W. Houghton, M.A. Two vols, quarto, each fish beautifully drawn and coloured.]

Perhaps, the best treatment of fish, when modelled in plaster, was exhibited in the Indian section; here the tints of the fish were beautifully managed, the skins appeared wet, but not varnished, and all the colours were nicely blended in. As for the stuffed fish, their name was legion, and they were there in all degrees of merit. One thing, however, struck me with painful surprise; among the thousands of freshwater fish I saw mounted by taxidermy, not one was without those ridiculous little spears (cut from large rushes, or from paper) growing from the bottom of the case, each one, or each bunch of them, erect as possible, and almost always arranged at equal distances apart, with maddening precision.

Some of the sea-fish admitted of more elastic treatment, and I saw one very good exhibit of these. The artist had, however, rather detracted from their undeniably good treatment by modelling small stones. These were so natural as to require a label explaining this; but I would remind all workers in taxidermy that there is no useful end gained by modelling small stones; a great amount of labour is wasted, and the intention of modelling—which is to replace the great weight of large stones by extraordinary lightness—is completely overlooked.

"SCREENS."—The ordinary screen intended for use is made of two sheets of thick plate-glass, between which are pressed ferns, butterflies, etc, the whole set in an oak or other wood frame, with castors.

Those intended for ornament are more lightly made. Thus: A square frame, about 30 in. by 24 in. by 4.5 in. deep, is made in thin fancy wood, or in pine veneered; no front nor back is fitted, merely a groove ploughed all around, with "beads," to receive and to retain the glass, on each face. This frame is then fixed by screws, with buttons fitting over the screw holes, between two turned and carved uprights (like small bedstead posts), supported by carved feet on castors; a handle of carved wood is fixed on top of the box, which completes the joiner's work. The inside of the frame is papered and coloured; the birds—usually brightly-coloured foreign birds, or humming birds and butterflies—are inserted, properly mounted on light twigs, etc, and the glass beaded in, to complete all.

One very nice "screen" was exhibited at the "Fisheries," almost a reproduction of the woodcut illustrating the outside of Science Gossip, with the addition of a hawk striking the kingfisher. There were also two large and capital trophies, called "The Rod". and "The Gun," remarkably cheap, mounted as screens in framed bamboo. The first represented a string of large fresh-water fish depending from a branch of a tree, a creel, a rod, a landing-net, and other angling gear. "The Gun" showed a fine bittern and heron, and, I think, some other birds, also depending from a branch, with a gun and some old-fashioned tools (powder-flask, etc.) included.

"Screens" filled with corals and sponges (Euplectellae, etc.) would be very handsome and useful. I am not sure whether I have seen any managed in this manner.

Very handsome "screens" for the mantelpiece may be made up from owls, hawks, seagulls, and a variety of other birds. The birds being skinned out through an opening in the back, the wings and tail are cut off and spread out on a board, with fine needle points driven through their webs until the pair of wings—the butts or shoulders placed inward—assume the shape of a long oval; the tail is fully spread by the same means, and wings and tail are "wrapped" with cotton and left to dry. The head and breast are stuffed independently of these and sewn up.

When all is ready, a handle of about 8 in. to 10 in. long by 0.5 in. square must be turned out of ivory, ebony, or any wood desired. One end of this should be turned the full thickness of the wood for about 1.25 in. from the top, then drilled with two holes through its diameter, and a slot cut of 0.25 in. in width longitudinally for the full length of the 1.25 in. to receive a thin piece of oval shaped deal about 4 in. long by 2.5 in. broad by 0.25 in. thick, which should have a silken loop attached, and a piece of blue or other coloured silk stretched over it, and the edges of the silk tucked under the wood and attached by paste; this latter is then fixed to the handle by rivets running through the two holes previously drilled.

The wings and tail are now glued and pinned to the uncovered part of the thin wood, the shoulders of the wing inward, the tail radiating from the bottom. On top of these comes the body (also wired and glued) fitting in the small space left between the wings. The silk during the fixing of the wings, tail, and head, should be protected by paper pasted over all, and which can be removed when the screen is finished.

Screens are also made of single large birds, such as the peacock, or swan and heron; these are stuffed in the same manner as above, but instead of being attached to handles should be fixed on a shield of some fancy wood, the back of which must be polished, and made to slide up and down on an upright standard, springing from carved legs.

Still more handsome screens are those intended to flank the fireplace. These are, however, ovals of glass, set in carved or gilded frames, which are made to slide up or down on a standard or upright, supported by a carved tripod. Humming birds or insects are included between the glasses of the carved oval. These screens are made of all sizes, the standard of some standing 5 ft. to 6 ft. high, the ovals being often 3 ft. by 2 ft.; but smaller ones are constantly made.

JEWELLERY.—Following the example of the ladies who indirectly send expeditions to "frosty Caucasus or glowing Ind" to take tithe of animals for the sake of their skins, of birds for their plumes, and of insects for their silk, to be used in adornment, society demands that objects of natural history should not be all relegated to the forgotten shelves of dusty museums, but live as "things of beauty and joys forever." Hence the new alliance between the goldsmith and the taxidermist, resulting in a thousand ingenious combinations of nature and art—a list of a few of which may not be unacceptable as hints.

For earrings, two leopard's claws are mounted as miniature Robin Hood bugles, the mouth and bell of each being of gold, attached to which is a chain depending by its centre from the ear-wire. Two tiger's claws placed base to base, their hooks pointing inwards, are strung and clasped with gold, thus forming the lyre of the Tragic Muse, as a brooch or ornament for the breast. Beetles, usually of the genus chrysochroa, also, are set as earrings. Humming birds' heads, their throats surrounded with a fillet of gold, form also handsome brooches. The feet of the various species of grouse and owls are capped with silver or gold (in which is set a cairngorm), the toes tipped, or the tarsus banded with silver or gold, to form clasps or brooches.

Pins for the sterner sex are mounted up from the teeth of foxes or dogs, or more curiously of their noses even. Hares' ears are also mounted for both sexes, especially for the Scotch markets. To turn from the adornment of the person to that of the house, we find horses' hoofs mounted in silver or electro for snuff boxes, inkstands, paper weights, etc.; rams' or buffaloes' horns as Scotch "mulls" or as flower stands. Sometimes the whole head of a ram or buffalo is mounted, the horns polished, sawn in two, hinged and mounted in silver, and set with Scotch stones. Deers' heads are mounted as gas chandeliers; foxes' heads as gas brackets or as supports for Duplex lamps; monkeys, bears, ibises, owls, eagles, etc, as "dumb-waiters" or lamp bearers.

These are a few of the uses to which mammals and birds can be put.

Emu's eggs form also handsome goblets when sawn through and mounted in silver, or when mounted as vases for the chimney-piece, or formed into an inkstand group.

Foxes' pads mount up as whip handles, bell pulls, and paper knives, as also do the feet of the various deer. The only satisfactory way, however, to prepare these is to slit them carefully up the back, and pull the skin away from the bone all around, leaving the skin attached to the lowest point you can skin to. Clean out all the flesh and sinews, and dress the skin with the No. 9, and the bone with No. 15, preservatives. Stuff with a little chopped tow where needed, and sew up neatly, sewing also the skin at top over the end of the bone; if done neatly, the stitches will never show. Use waxed hemp, and pull each stitch tight.

Game birds stuffed as "dead game" and hung in oval medallions form suitable ornaments for the billiard-room or hall if treated in an aesthetic manner. Not, however, in the manner I lately saw perpetrated by a leading London taxidermist—a game bird hanging in a prominent position, as if dead, from a nail, enclosed in an elaborate mount, the bird so beautifully sleek and smooth that, although it was hanging head downwards, not a feather was out of place! All was plastered down, and gravity and nature were utterly set at defiance. A little consideration, and a visit to the nearest poulterer's shop, would have prevented such a palpable error.

Kittens or puppies of a few days old, if nicely marked, can be stuffed and mounted on a piece of marble for paper weights, or on red cloth for penwipers.

The shells of small tortoises make tobacco pouches if lined with silk, as do also the skins of the feet of albatrosses (the long bones of the wings of these birds make pipe-stems) or squirrels mounted as a whole.

The shells of large tortoises make fancy baskets if the lower shell or plastron is sawn away, with the exception of the centre piece, which is left to form a handle. The shell may be lined with metal or with any other material or fabric desired.

Lobster claws make up as Punchinellos, or as old men and women, or—as exhibited at the Fisheries—handles of fish-knives and forks, tops of inkstands, paper weights, etc. The uses of ivory, either in the rough, or sawn and polished, are too manifold to notice here.

FEATHER FLOWERS.—I have seen some splendid specimens of flowers (made from waste feathers of birds) brought from China, the Island of Ascension, and Brazil, but can give no directions for making them, further than to say that I should suppose anyone skilled in the making of such artificial flowers as are sold by the best milliners, or makers of wax flowers, would have but little difficulty in making up these beautiful objects.

This is, of course, but a precis of the various uses to which objects of natural history can be applied as means of ornament; and, indeed, so many branches are represented by this department of art that it would require a book double the size of the present, and written by experts of the various professions and trades concerned, to give a full history of the practical working of what is known as "Ornamental Taxidermy."

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CHAPTER XV.

COLLECTING AND PRESERVING INSECTS.

THE taxidermist will, in the course of his avocation, require to know something of various insects, their methods of capture, and how to preserve and utilise them in his profession.

Of the various orders of insects, Hemiptera (earwigs, field-bugs, etc.), Orthoptera (cockroaches, grasshoppers, locusts, etc.), Diptera (flies, etc.), Neuroptera (dragon flies, May flies, Ac.), Lepidoptera (butterflies and moths), Coleoptera (beetles), and Hymenoptera (bees, wasps, and Ichneumon-flies, etc.), the Lepidoptera and Coleoptera will find most favour in his eyes, owing to their brilliancy of colouring, variety of shape and size, and easiness of manipulation.

It must be remembered, however, that insects should be collected with a definite purpose by the taxidermist, and not merely for pastime, or he will degenerate into that most Odious of all created beings—a collector for the sake of collecting, or what used to be called an "exterminator." Indeed, I have known of a case in which over 1600 of the males of a certain species were caught in one day, "assembled" by the attractions of seven or eight females. These figures seem incredible, but for the fact that I myself saw part of the spoil displayed on a 12 ft. board.

Need I say that such slaughter as this is far beyond the bounds of fair collecting, and that such courses, persevered in, give the odious title of "exterminators" to all those who practise it. In this particular instance the moths were made up into "pictures," which, though ornamental perhaps for a workman's home, hardly justify the slaughter of any but the very commonest or harmful species.

The tortoiseshell, peacock, and admiral butterflies are often bred in hundreds for the purpose of making a "picture" of a snake strangling a tiger, or a crown, or the wings are cut by punches to form the petals of flowers, to be afterwards grouped under shades. All these things, though very curious, and really striking if well done, are steps in the wrong direction, and on a par with the use of humming and other birds for ladies' hats—all of which adaptations of natural history objects to commerce inexpressibly "worry" anyone with the slightest taste or feeling.

If a really beautiful object is wanted, in order to show a group of exotic or other insects as specimens, out of a cabinet, you may mount them in as natural a manner as possible on grasses or fine twigs, made as directed, setting them off with a few foreign ferns, and inclosing the whole in a "mount," to hang up, or in a narrow oval shade with carved oak or other stand; or they may be scientifically and artistically mounted, to show the life-history of any one species, by arranging the larvae feeding on a properly modelled representation of its natural food-plant, the imagines, male and female, with some few striking varieties, shown at rest or flying, as also the eggs and the pupa-case, with a description of their economy affixed. A few specimens of families or genera of insects shown thus is, to my mind, of far greater importance, especially to museums, than mere "collectors" are aware of.

Many works have been written on the collecting and preserving of these orders, and especially of the Lepidoptera, vide Dr. Guard Knagg's work on "Collecting Lepidoptera," Rev. Joseph Greene's "Insect Hunter's Companion," and many others, including a little work on "Collecting Butterflies and Moths" by myself.

Cruelty has been advanced as a crime specially to be laid to the charge of the student in entomology; but some of the greatest workers in that science have been ladies and clergymen, as also laymen of the most humane and advanced scientific principles. A vast amount of ignorant ideas, carefully nursed, are used as weapons against the entomologist—the pet one of which is, that impalement of a living insect through the head constitutes the sole aim and end of the collector.

The fact is curiously inverse of this, for not only are insects captured for purposes of study, but they are never impaled alive but by a very ignorant or careless person. The lepidoptera (butterflies especially) are very easy to kill, the simplest plan being to press the thorax underneath the wing with the finger and thumb, which instantly causes death. This is now superseded by the cyanide bottle, of which anon.

It is singular how many people there are, even in the middle class, who fail to recognise the fact that the egg (ovum) produces the caterpillar or "grub" (larva), which, after a due season of preparation, produces the chrysalis (pupa), which latter, lying quiescent for a variable period, either in the ground or in other situations favourable for its development, changes the last time to the perfect insect (imago). This latter, if a butterfly or moth, does not, as some people imagine, grow, but after it has unfolded its wings on emergence to their full extent, it never becomes either larger or smaller.

An insect, especially a butterfly, when seen by a youngster, is usually chased in the most reckless fashion—jacket and cap, and even sticks and stones, are pressed into the service, and the unfortunate insect is usually a wreck before its fortunate (?) captor falls on top of it.

I shall endeavour in the following pages to show the proper way in which to collect and preserve insects, especially the lepidoptera and coleoptera.

NETS.—The first thing to be considered is, how to catch your game. This is managed by a "net," not of the construction of those mentioned in Chapter II, but made of a lighter material. They are of various shapes, the professional, or old English pattern, being something of the construction of a "bat-folding" net. It is, in my opinion, a most unsportsmanlike weapon, rapidly going out of date—if not deceased already—and is fitly replaced by the Continental, or "ring"-net, which is now generally used. However, it may, perhaps, be necessary to describe how to make this machine or clap-net—fit only for dealers or exterminators.

Procure two pieces of ash (or beech, as being the lighter wood), each of about 5 ft. in length. With a plane or spokeshave round these up until they taper from 1 in. diameter at bottom to little less than 0.5 in. at top. Now saw each rod into four pieces of 15 in. long, or, for greater strength, but less portability, into three 20 in. pieces. Ferrule these in the manner of fishing-rods, so that each rod joins up to its normal length of 5 ft. At the top of each rod fix a specially-made ferrule, bent or brazed to about the angle of 45 deg.

Next get two pieces of cane, each 15 in. in length, and of sufficient diameter to fit tightly into the bent angle of the top piece; bore the top ends of these canes and tie them loosely together. If the rods with canes attached are now laid down, with the ends of the canes pointing inwards, it will be seen that they assume somewhat the shape of the gable-end of a house, which would fold in on itself by means of the cord acting as a hinge.

Now get some stout black holland, which sew all round the rods to within 6 in. of the ends of the bottom joints, so as to fit loosely to allow them to be inserted or withdrawn at pleasure. When the cane ends are tied together, cut a hole on the top of the holland, so that you may be enabled to untie them when required. This hole, for greater neatness and strength, should be "button-holed" around. To this framework of holland attach at the bottom some strong black tape, which pass through the holes previously bored in the last joints of the rods within 6 in. of their ends. This prevents the net slipping either up or off when in use.

The material of the net itself is the next consideration. This is of "leno," a cheap kind of strong gauze. Procure as many yards of this as will make a loose bag when sewn on and around the framework of holland, when the net-rods are folded together; bagging especially at the bottom part, so as to fall down some inches when the net is held up.

You have now a portable bag, or "clap-net," of over 5 ft. high by 2 ft. 6 in. or more wide. To use this machine, you simply stretch it to its full extent and run out in front of any insect you wish to stop, clapping it smartly together and securing your captive in the bag formed when the net is shut. Some little practice is needed to do this neatly, especially with such dashing, fast-flying moths as the "Emperor," or "Bee Hawks." Laying down the net, and confining the insect to one part, is the best way to get it out uninjured. To take this net to pieces, the tapes at the bottom and the cords at the top require only to be loosened, when the rods can be drawn out, unjointed, and slipped into a bag or a pocket specially sewn in the breast of the coat to receive them.

When portability is not a desideratum, the rods may be easily made of green hazel (or nut tree) wands, bent and secured into shape and dried in the sun, or up a chimney, or otherwise a strong cane may be steamed (or boiled) and dried in like manner; few people, I opine, however, care to carry out from a town two long roughly-shaped rods of 5 ft. or 6 ft. long in this clumsy fashion.

I did not wish to describe this net at all, as it is, in my opinion, a most unsportsmanlike or un-entomological weapon, as nothing can escape it. Indeed, a friend of mine not inaptly describes it as the "gobbler;" and it does really "gobble" up any insect it is used against.

The continental or ring net is now generally used. For one variety a tin or brass Y is made, into the bottom arm of which a stick fits. The spreading arms serve to hold a cane, which is bent round, and each end thrust in. A net of gauze or leno, is attached. My objection to this net is that the cane often slips out of the arms of the Y, which latter also breaks at the junction; added to which it takes up a great deal of room, not being very easily doubled without the risk of breaking. The points which a net should possess in perfection are—first, strength; secondly, portability; and, thirdly, adaptability to more than one use. I shall endeavour to show by the next two figures my ideas of a perfect net.

Fig. 41—Plan of "ring" net.

Fig. 41 shows a strong and easily made net. To make this, procure some brass wire, gauge No. 8 or 9. Cut from the ring of wire sufficient to form a net a foot in diameter, allowing enough in addition for two short arms. Cut off about 3 ft. 8 in, which will allow for joints; divide this so that one half is about an inch and a half longer than the other; make one end of the longest piece into a small loop, cranking it at the bottom, as shown at C; one end of the other piece is then thrust through the loop at A, turned round, and beaten down, forming as it were two links of a chain; this acts as a hinge, and allows the net to be doubled. The other end is then cranked, as shown at B, but shorter than the arm C.

Next procure sufficient of the material known as black "holland," which sew all round the ring of the net in such a manner that it does not interfere with the working of the hinge. For this purpose a strip of about 2 in. wide will be enough, which, doubled over and hemmed at the bottom, allows sufficient for the net—a bag made of the material called "leno"—to be subsequently affixed. About a yard of "leno" suffices for the bag, and the pieces which come off the bottom during the operation of rounding it, form "gussets" to fill the net in up to the point where the arms B and C first spring.

To fit this net ready for use, get an ordinary walking-stick, a portion of which is shown at A (Fig. 42), in which bore two holes, one on each side, to receive the little returns shown at B and C (Fig. 41), and at such a distance from the top of the stick as is determined by the length of the arms. With a 0.125 in. gouge or chisel, groove out the wood from these holes to the end of the stick, until the arms of the net just, "bed" up level with the surface.

The arms being nicely adjusted, remove the net temporarily from the stick. Next procure a piece of brass tube from 2 in. to 2.5 in. long, and of sufficient diameter to slip from the point of the stick until it passes the last hole (a 0.625 or 0.75 in. diameter will be found a generally suitable size). On the extreme point of the stick affix an ordinary walking-stick ferrule of such a size and thickness as not to allow the tube to slip off. To fix the net, slip the tube up the stick past the last hole, and placing the little cranks, B and Q in their proper holes, the remainder of the arms properly "bedded" in the grooves, slide the tube D (Fig. 41) up to the point of the stick, as shown in Fig. 42, and the net is thus effectually locked and ready for use.

Fig. 42—"Ring"-net complete.

I claim for this net the following advantages: That it is the most easily made, the strongest, and the most easily taken down of any net known; added to which its joint A, which does not in the least weaken the frame, allows it to be folded in half the space taken up by the "ring net" or the ordinary "landing net" arrangement. (Note for fishermen: Landing nets, formed as Fig. 41, I have found very useful, as they take up less room in the fishing basket, and are quite as quickly put together as by the screw and socket arrangement.)

Larger nets than are generally used in this country will of course be necessary when collecting such insects as form the genus Ornithoptera or Morpho. For collecting abroad no net will be found more serviceable than a large and strong one, made as Fig. 41; and really when you have five large papilios in your net at one time, as I once had, you require one a little out of the common. A short handle to the net will be found more useful than a long one for collecting some insects, but a brass telescopic handle can be easily made by any gasfitter, and used either long or short as expediency directs.

The next figure shows apparently a more elaborate looking net. The only other one known to me which folds in four, folds by means of the rule joint, and is somewhat objectionable, inasmuch as it must either be made of unnecessarily thick and cumbersome wire, to stand the strain, or if made, as it should be, of the proper sized wire and of light construction, it is sure to break out at one or the other of the joints. Experience having proved this, I devised the net shown in Fig. 43, which, in compliment to a gentleman who gave me a hint with regard to the slide, I have called the "Hill Sliding Net." This slide allows the net to be folded to just half the size of the preceding one, making it, therefore, highly convenient to carry.

Fig. 43—The "Hill sliding net," open.

Fig. 44—The "Hill sliding net," closed.

This net frame is, I fear, beyond the power of the amateur to make for himself, being really a brazier's job. A A A A are four pieces of wire of the same thickness as used for the preceding net. The two top pieces are flattened out at the top and each one drilled with a hole, b b. At e e e e are little brass tubes, brazed to the arms, which allow each arm to slide down on the other. When these are brazed and fitted to slide they are fixed to the tube D by smaller tubes, one on each side, in this manner. At f the arm is brought across the tube and permanently fixed in the smaller tube. At g the other arm is brought across in the same manner, but allowed to revolve in the small tube brazed to the side of D; the end of this am (on the right of Fig. 43) coming through the tube is coiled round and brazed to a screw, H, fixed in such a manner that, though screwing freely through a burr fixed on D, it cannot come out.

There are then no loose pieces to this net, which, from the nature of the slides, is remarkably strong, and is easily opened and shut. (Fig. 44 shows the net folded, and with the arms slid down one on the other.) To finish, tie a piece of whipcord in the holes from b to b, and sew the holland all around the net as before, leaving plenty of room for the playing of the slides; the "leno" is then sewn to this in the usual manner, and thus becomes a fixture, as in the preceding net.

To open and fix the net from the position shown in Fig. 44 (which for the sake of clearness is shown without the "leno "), pull the whipcord C (now hidden, of course, by the holland) and ease up the slides; bend over the revolving arm until the screw H comes over the hole in the burr on D. Push the walking stick A (Fig. 45) into the tube D, and screw up H, the point of which enters the stick, and firmly fixes and locks the net. Fig. 45 shows the net ready for use.

The arrangement of the whipcord at C is to enable the net to be used as a "sugaring" net in addition to its ordinary use for catching; C being pressed against a tree, the corner of a wall, a fence, or a gas lamp, etc, readily accommodates itself to any angle required.

A useful net for sugaring purposes, if Fig. 45 is not used, is one recommended by Dr. Guard Knaggs. It is of triangular shape, the frame of it being formed by socketing two pieces of paragon wire into a metal Y piece, and connecting their diverging extremities by means of catgut, which, when pressed against a tree or other object, will adapt itself to the outline of it, as shown below by the dotted line (Fig. 46).

Killing Insects.—Having caught your butterfly, you will wish to kill it in the most painless and least troublesome manner. For this purpose you will require a "cyanide bottle." Purchase, therefore, at the druggist's a wide-mouthed bottle (a 4 oz. bottle is a handy size for the pocket, but you will require larger sizes for certain uses). Into this bottle put from an ounce to an ounce and a half of pure cyanide of potassium, in lumps, not pounded (a deadly poison), which you will completely cover with a layer of plaster of Paris, mixed to the consistence of paste. The bottle may be corked, have a screw top, or glass stopper, according to your fancy. A glass stopper is, of course, the safest to confine the deadly vapour given off, but in point of convenience, and especially for outdoor work, nothing can surpass a well-fitting cork—rising sufficiently high above the mouth of the bottle to afford a good grip. As the plaster is setting it should be well shaken down to insure an even surface, and afterwards a piece of wool or blotting-paper should be put into the bottle to absorb any superfluous moisture. In the course of a day, the plaster will be dry and ready for use. [Footnote: A piece or pieces of blotting-paper cut to fit will be found very handy to introduce into the bottle from time to time to absorb all moisture, and to keep the specimens themselves mean and dry.]

Fig. 45—The "Hill sliding net" ready for use.

Fig. 46—"Sugaring" net.

The insect being captured, you twist your net rapidly over to get it as near to the bottom as possible—a very necessary precaution in the case of a swift-flying or excitable insect. Holding the net now in the left hand, take the bottle, previously uncorked, in your right hand and slip it into the net and over the insect. In case of refractory insects, blowing from the outside will sometimes make them go to the bottom of the bottle. When this happens, you can slip your hand from the outside over the mouth of the bottle, and hold it there until the insect is corked up. In less than a minute it is stupefied and motionless. If taken out, however, it will revive; it must be left in, therefore, from ten to fifteen minutes. In the case of female insects which have not yet deposited their eggs, and are consequently exceedingly tenacious of life, a longer time will be found necessary.

Bruised laurel leaves, chloroform, benzol, etc, are recommended by some authors. The first is, I think, uncertain in its effects, and has, perhaps, a tendency to make the insects go ultimately mouldy. The second stiffens the wing rays of some insects to such an extent as to render them difficult to set. It has been recommended in the case of large insects, such as the hawk moths, to pierce them underneath the thorax at the insertion of the first and second pairs of wings with a steel pen dipped in a saturated solution of oxalic acid. I have frequently done this myself with good results in the days when cyanide bottles were unknown, but for the largest hawk moths—"Death's heads" even—I find nothing to beat a large bottle (a glass jar, such as the French bottle plums in, does admirably), in which is placed about 0.25 lb. of cyanide. With a killing jar of this kind, which I call the "home" bottle, I have frequently instantaneously killed mice and even rats. In fact, the volume of poisonous vapour evolved from one of these bottles is such, that I advise my readers not to take "sniffs" therefrom, lest severe headaches, or worse results, should follow.

As it is nearly all but impossible to pin an insect so correctly as you would wish during the hurry and excitement of butterfly hunting, I recommend that all insects captured when the collector is from home be laid on their sides, and the pin passed through the body whilst in that position. This saves the unnecessary marking of the thorax by more than one pin hole, as the pin can be removed without detriment to the formation of the body, and the insect pinned in its proper position when the collector reaches home.

SETTING.—Having brought the entomologist to this point, I may discuss what to do to preserve the trophies of the day's chase. First, then, the insects must be "set." To do this properly is the vexata quaestio of the day. As a nation we anciently practised the "setting" of lepidoptera with four or eight braces, two or one underneath and two or one on top of the wings. The wings were then not so fully extended as now, but the body was pressed as close to the setting board as it was possible to get it. The next step was the cork setting board, cut to show in section nearly a half oval, the bodies were a little raised from the set, and the rounded points of the fore and hind wings invariably touched the paper of the cabinet when placed therein, curling up wherever they touched.

Fig. 47—Section of "Setting Board"

Fig. 47 shows a section of a "setting board" designed to remedy this evil. The block A is formed of a piece of 0.75 in. deal, 12 in. to 14 in. long, and of varying widths according to the insects required to be set. Exactly in the centre a groove is "ploughed" to the depth of 0.5 in.; from the outer edges of this groove B the board should be "pitched" or "bevelled" 0.125 in. on each side to its outer edge. On top of each half, a piece of 0.125 in. cabinet cork C C is glued, and also in the groove B, where shown at C.

Presuming that you have a "Red Admiral" to set with 1.125 in. or a No. 13 pin, you will find, if allowing 0.125 in. for the body, that after setting an insect in a board of this kind the matter will be pretty evenly adjusted—that is to say, about 0.5 in. of pin above and below the butterfly. This allows the insect when placed in the cabinet to be well clear of the paper, and is the mode now generally adopted by those entomologists who effect a compromise between the ridiculous English low setting and the Continental "high-set." What the real objections are to this latter setting it has always puzzled me to discover, unless it is the true British objection to anything foreign or "French."

In a foreign Camberwell Beauty (Vanessa Antiopa) which I have just measured, the relative proportions are as follow: The whole length of the pin is 1.5 in, it comes through the body on the underside 0.875 in, whilst above the body it shows but a little more than 0.25 in. Its advantages are manifest. First, it brings the insects much nearer the eye when placed in the cabinet. Secondly, by its position the body is prevented from greasing the paper of the cabinet (a not unimportant item when the reader is told that the white velvet of a newly-lined cabinet drawer has been utterly ruined by the grease from the bodies of low-set insects). Thirdly, the almost total immunity from "mites" which high-set insects enjoy.

This last consideration ought to induce our entomologists to adopt the Continental set nem. con. For what entomologist dare tell me that he has no mites in his cabinet? Is it the user of camphor, of creosote, of phenic acid, or of corrosive sublimate? Why, then, this foolish prejudice against the high-set? I have tried both plans, low setting for fifteen, and high setting for ten years. I have, as an experiment, mixed high-set insects in with low-set "exchanges." The brown dust underneath the latter tells their tale too well. In a box of foreign high-set insects which I have had by themselves for four or five years little or no trace of the destroyer is to be seen.

Reform your "setting boards," then, say I; plough your grooves deeper, and if you object to the flat appearance of the foreign set insects, there is no earthly reason why you should not "pitch" your boards to the angle I show in Fig. 47, or to any other angle you desire. The objection to this "high-set" lies in a nutshell: it looks "odd" to one accustomed to the English method, and that is really all to be advanced against its general use.

Let me, therefore, ask my brother entomologists to give the "high-set" a fair trial, and not to be deterred by the sneers of any novice. It may strengthen my pleading and terminate the hesitation of the young entomologist if I mention here that the officer in charge of the collection of lepidoptera in the British Museum—the well-known authority, A. G. Butler, F.L.S, etc.—is not only setting all newly-received butterflies and moths in precisely the fashion advocated above, but is actually re-setting all the old "low-set" insects in the same manner!

Whilst on the subject of foreign insects I should like to impress upon the young beginner not too greedily to rush after "real British" specimens of rarities, or he may find that he has purchased, at the expense of some pounds, perhaps, a reset continental type worth as many pence. I fancy I see our would-be entomologist shaking his head and very sagely saying, "Oh no! I intend to collect all my insects myself." My young friend, let me tell you that you will have to collect far beyond the prescribed threescore years and ten if you would yourself collect all the British lepidoptera. Work, therefore, in collecting as hard as you can, and when you want a rarity to fill up a void in your cabinet, go at once to some respectable dealer and ask for a continental type of the insect you want, place it in your cabinet, label it "Foreign," and when you can replace it with an undoubted "Britisher" think yourself lucky.

Fig. 48—Butterfly "braced" on board.

To make my meaning plain, we will take the Bath White butterfly (Pieris Daplidice) as an example. An undoubted British specimen of this, caught, say, at Dover, is certainly worth a sovereign—the price of a continental one precisely similar, but captured on the other side of the "silver streak," 5d. Difference in cost for a mere fancy, 19s. 7d.!

Again, what would be the price of an English captured Oleander Hawk (Choerocampa Nerii)—shall we say from 12 to 20 pounds, according to the conscience of the vendor and the pocket of the purchaser? A fine foreign specimen, beautifully set and precisely similar, can be bought for about 5s.

To set your butterflies, see Fig. 48, which shows a common white butterfly braced on the setting board. To do this your insect must be truly pinned as before directed, and placed in the centre of the groove A B (which is also shown in section at B, Fig. 47); four pieces of thin cardboard, each about 1 in. long, are cut to the shape shown at C C C C. An ordinary pin is pushed a little way through them at their bases.

With a fine needle now lift up from underneath the left hand upper wing of the insect to about the angle shown in Fig. 48; picking up a brace with the left hand, push the pin in the cork in such a manner that the brace lightly holds down the wing. Do the same with the underwing. Repeat with the other side. [Footnote: The braces shown in Fig. 48 should be a little nearer the tips of the fore wings, or supplemented by stiff papa pinned across, otherwise the tips are likely to curl up when drying.]

I have been assuming that the wings of the insect previously lay flat. If they are folded up above the back they had better be pushed down with the braces instead of with the needle, and pinned to any position they will readily fall to, and from that gradually worked up by means of another brace to the angle required. The fore pair of legs should be braced to the front, and hind pair of legs, especially of moths, are to be braced out to fall neatly between the body and the wings. Sometimes very fine cambric needles are thrust through, just underneath one of the wing rays, to lift up and keep it in position, -until the braces can be brought to bear. This ought not to be resorted to except in extreme cases, or for other than cabinet specimens.

A correspondent (Mr. G. H. Bryan) writing in Science Gossip for December, 1883, says:—"The grooved cork, instead of being glued to one wooden board, is fastened on to the two boards, the groove between them corresponding exactly with the groove in the cork. These in turn are held together by three slips of wood, to which they are firmly nailed. In setting insects, the pin should not be run into the groove just above the slips. If run into the cork anywhere else, the pin can be pushed through to any depth required, and, as a rule, the slips are so high that, when the board is laid down on a table, none of the pins touch the table."

I some time ago saw, at the house of a well-known naturalist and traveller, residing near Cirencester, an ingenious arrangement applied to setting-boards, by which the groove of each board could be altered so as to take in the body of the smallest or the largest butterfly or moth at will. It was managed by one half of the board being movable from its fellow, and capable of being adjusted to any size, by simply turning a screw working in a slot in a brass plate at top and bottom.

Another method of setting insects is by means of "blocks," sections of varying widths cut from the uncorked setting-board, the grooves only being corked. The insect being pinned in the groove is extended with the setting needle, and the wings lightly wrapped, when in position, with silk coming over and over, from side to side. To do this nicely requires practice, to avoid marking the wings with the silk.

The "block" system of setting is more used by collectors in the Midlands and the North than about London or in the South. Insects should be left on the setting-boards or blocks from two or three days to a week, or even more, according to their size; and during this time should be kept out of the dust, but allowed air to dry them thoroughly.

The German system of setting by means of pieces of glass dropped over the wings when in position is a clean neat method of "flat" setting, allowing the insect to be clearly seen if it be truly "set" or not.

When insects are from any cause too stiff to set without first relaxing them—placing them in the cyanide bottle for a day or night will often do this effectually, or placing them in a wet corked zinc box, or in a box with damp sand, or in a small "plaster box" will do equally as well. This is made by lining the whole of the inside of a wooden box with plaster of Paris mixed with water, and laid on from one to two inches thick. The plaster is, of course, thoroughly damped, and the insects enclosed in the box. The same pins with which they are pinned whilst relaxing should not be permanently left in, if it be possible to remove them without injuring the aspect of the thorax. Pins so left in, being more corroded than usual, frequently break after being in use a short time.

Old insects, which it may be dangerous to relax, or large foreign unset lepidoptera, may sometimes be set by a skilful hand by having their wings carefully pinched off by forceps, and replaced in the required position by using a strong paste or cement (see Formula No. 33): Repairs may be "executed with promptness and despatch" by cementing on parts of other wings to replace torn or missing pieces, or tissue paper may be used, providing the repairer is a skilful artist. I once saw a very poor specimen of Urania rhipheus—a splendid moth from Madagascar—so cleverly pieced by tissue paper and coloured, that it would deceive any but an expert.

Beetles (in science—Coleoptera) may be sought for everywhere—in woods, fields, ponds, rivers, underneath stones and exuviae of cattle; in decaying leaves, trees, and fungi; in and underneath dead animals; in cellars, outhouses, and even in what would be supposed the most unlikely place to find them—ant hills, bees' and wasps' nests—and in the rubbish collected at the sides of streams, especially if after a flood. They may be taken by sweeping, beating, sugaring, or by carefully prospecting tufts of grass, moss, leaves, and flowers. Bags of moss or ant-hills may be brought home and looked over at leisure for minute beetles—throwing rubbish into water, or sifting it over white paper, being the handiest way to reveal them.

For those which inhabit water, a net made of any strong material, which allows water, but nothing else, to run through quickly (a net fashioned as in Fig. 41 or 46 will do for this), should be used as well as for collecting other water insects. Beetles may be brought home in small test tubes, corked at the open end, or in quills stopped at one end with sealing wax, and at the other with wadding, or a quill may be inserted in the cork of a larger bottle, into and through which they may be dropped, or they may be killed at once in the cyanide bottle, or otherwise thrown into a bottle containing alcohol, in which corrosive sublimate (in the proportion of 6 gr. to the ounce of spirit) has been previously placed, which effectually kills and ultimately tends to preserve them.

On reaching home, the contents of this bottle may be turned out into any shallow dish kept specially for that purpose (a photographer's "print" pan) and fished for with small pieces of paper or cardboard, and the spirit afterwards returned to the bottle. The larger beetles are to be pinned through the right wing case, and never in the centre, their legs being nicely arranged in the proper positions, and in some cases the wings may be displayed. The more minute beetles may be gummed on a small slip of card through which the pin passes, their legs arranged by the aid of fine patience, a crooked pin, a camel-hair pencil, and a pair of small forceps, the latter being also very handy for picking up any other small objects.

In setting the larger beetles, as well as the various thick-bodied insects, belonging to the orders Orthoptera, Neuroptera, Diptera, and Hymenoptera, double braces instead of "setting"-boards may be used in the following manner: The insect being pinned high on a board or piece of cork, with legs extended, two large pieces of card, one for each side, are brought up underneath the wings and close to the body by pins stuck through the corners. This forms a rest for the wings when extended, which are then braced on top of the cards by smaller braces in the usual manner, the pins, however, of the braces falling outside the supporting cards and fixing in the wood or flat cork underneath.

Many exotic insects—butterflies and moths—are set in this manner, which is really "flat setting." If the braces are at any time too limp and do not seem to clip the wings properly, a little piece of cork just sufficient for the pin to slip through may be added on top of the brace.

The larger beetles and other insects, such as the dragon-flies, cicadas, grasshoppers, and "walking leaf" insects, should always have the contents of the abdomen removed either by pressure, or by being cut underneath, and, when empty, injected with a little of the corrosive sublimate preparation, and afterwards filled out with wool or blown out with a small blowpipe until the abdomen is again distended and dry. Some insects which are narrow at the "waist" may be advantageously snipped through at that part to remove the contents therefrom, the body being afterwards fixed with gum or cement to its normal position.

In the setting of beetles—as in other things—the ubiquitous Germans and the Frenchmen beat us. Compare the beautifully foreign set coleoptera, with our wretchedly lame and uneven-sided attempts. It is impossible to mistake the ordinary English for foreign setting, and of this I was curiously convinced on my arrival at Leicester, in the Museum of which town I found some exquisitely-set specimens of coleoptera. I said at once, "These are German-set." "No, indeed," I was told, "they are set by a local man." I could not believe it; and after great difficulty, the man himself even persisting in this assertion, I discovered that they were all procured from Germany or were set by a German friend.

This gentleman having subsequently shown me his method, I now give it for the benefit of coleopterists: The beetles, after being killed, are plunged into benzoline (benzol) for two or three days, to cleanse them from grease and impurities. Indeed, it considerably simplifies matters to carry a bottle of benzol, as I do when collecting beetles, to plunge them into when first taken. It instantly kills, and the cleansing operation goes on at once. On reaching home the beetles are, after a day or two, pinned, or gummed unset on to any pieces of card in any manner most suitable at the time to economise space; the cards can then be pinned into a store-box.

During the winter months, or at any time when required, the beetles may be set, thus: first, plunge them into water for a day or so until quite limp, then take them out and place them one by one on separate pieces of card, well gummed in the centre to retain them firmly by the abdomen whilst being set. A very little time will suffice to do this should the gum be strong.

After twenty or so are fixed, the first one gummed down can be finished off. The card is smeared with gum where the legs, or rather "tarsi," will come into place, and arranged with a setting needle. Now carefully place the limbs into a natural and even position, their feet resting on the gummed surface; adjust the antennae, etc, and leave the insect to dry by pinning the card in any suitable receptacle. When perfectly set and dry, the final operations are once more plunging the beetle into benzoline, then wetting its abdomen and feet to release it from the dirty card, and lastly slightly re-gumming the underneath and tips of the feet with cement (see Formula 33) and finally adjusting it on a clean card, which may be labelled or numbered, and secured by a small pin at each end in the cabinet or store-box.

COLLECTING AND OTHER BOXES.—The collecting box is a small box made to fit the pocket, corked top and bottom, opening in the middle, and made of sufficient depth to allow the heads of the pins on one side to well clear the insects, which may be pinned on the other. Collecting boxes may be made of various woods and of various sizes to suit the pleasure and pocket of the collector. They should be made light but strong, and a little fillet of thin wood should be inserted along one side on the front edge, to ensure the close fitting of the box. Another sort of collecting box is that corked at the bottom, having a flat lid, on which a piece of cork is glued, and cut to fit the box tightly when closed, thus forming the top lid. This style is also used for postal boxes.

In very hot weather, or if the collector roves far afield, he will find that many of his butterflies, if placed in the ordinary wooden collecting box, will have become stiff before he can reach home to set them. The remedy for this is a zinc box lined with cork, which latter is soaked in water before commencing the day's collecting. These boxes are made in various shapes and sizes. A handy one for the pocket is a 7 in. by 4 in, 2.5 in. deep, made of an oval shape if desired, corked on top and bottom, the cork held by clips of zinc soldered to top and bottom. For more extended operations a larger box will be required, say, 13 in. by 9 in, 2.5 in. deep, with loops soldered to the back, through which a strap passes to suspend it from the shoulders. These boxes are lighter if made in tin, and the water does not corrode them so rapidly if they are japanned inside as well as out.

"Postal boxes," by which entomologists transmit their captures to one another, should be made of strong white pine, the tops and bottoms nailed on, on the cross. They may open in the middle or at top, as before mentioned, and further have a strengthening piece of thick cork glued all over them outside and rasped down to the shape of a rough oval.

Inside, the cork should be glued down on top and bottom; on this a few small strips of the same cork running across with interstices left between them. On top of this another sheet of cork, thus forming three thicknesses, in which the pin is pushed as far as it will go. In the case of large-bodied moths, or any valuable insects, it is as well to support the abdomen with a layer of wool, cross-pinning the body on either side to prevent it jarring or shifting. The box may then, for greater security, be wrapped in a sheet of wool and tied up. The address should not be written on the box, or the stamps affixed thereto, but on a direction label, otherwise some vigorous post-office sorter, or stamper, will convince you to your sorrow that he scorns such paltry protection as is afforded by the triple alliance of wood, cork, and wool.

The Germans cover the bottoms of a great many of their entomological boxes with peat, and this certainly holds the long pins firmly in transit; and it is also much less expensive than cork.

Foreign insects, when space is limited, may be sent home unpinned and unset, their wings folded over their backs, and each specimen wrapped in silver or tissue paper. It is astonishing what a number of them will pack in this manner in the compass of an ordinary cigar box.

"Drying houses" are sold by most of the dealers, but are expensive and cumbersome, and are really only of service when travelling, or collecting away from home. For this reason I suggest the following—which is a store box and receptacle for setting boards combined.

Make of 0.5 in. deal a box 20 in. long and 15 in. wide by 0.5 in. deep (all inside measurements), glue up all but the front piece (4 in. wide by 20 in. long), which merely tie in its place whilst glueing up the others. Cut the box when dry through the 4 in. back piece to exactly halve it. Hinge each half with strong hinges. It now resembles an open backgammon board box, without its two fronts.

Take now a strip of 1 in. deal, 15 in. long, and form it with a plough plane to the shape shown in Fig. 49. The part marked A will be 0.375 in. thick, the parts marked B B overhang 0.25 in, and rise from A to B B to the height which the thickness of your setting boards determine.

Divide this down the whole length with a cutting gauge where shown by the dotted lines; glue one of these halves to the side of one of the bottoms of the box, and from here measure off 5 in, which will be the size of your largest setting board for hawk moths. At this point glue down a whole strip, as shown in Fig. 49, which (supposing you have commenced from your left) clips the right-hand side of the first or 5 in. setting board, and the left-hand side of the second. Proceed in this manner until the bottom of the box is covered with setting boards, which will now slide in and out between the 0.375 in. divisions. Turn the box round and do precisely the same with the other half.

As many more insects under, than above, 4 in. in expanse of wing will be captured, the most useful sizes for setting boards, as also the proper proportions of boards and divisions to fill up the bottom of each half of the box, are as follow:

First half.—0.25 in. strip, 5 in. board; 0.375 in. strip, 4 in. board; 0.375 in. strip, 3.5 in. board; 0.375 in. strip, 3 in board; 0.375 in. strip, 2.5 in. board; 0.25 in. strip = 20 in. total.

Second half.—0.25 in. strip, 3.5 in. board; 0.375 in. strip, 3 in. board; 0.375 in. strip, 2.5 in. board; 0.375 in. strip, 2.5 in. board; 0.375 in. strip, 2.25 in. board; 0.375 in. strip, 2 in. board; 0.375 in. strip, 1.5 in. board; 0.25 in. strip = 20 in. total.

Fig. 49—Section of division strips.

There are thus twelve setting boards 15 in. long, of the most useful sizes, contained in this box. The front is still as it was, open. The loose piece of wood, 20 in. by 4 in, must now be cut down the length, and each half must (making 20 in. by 2 in.) be hinged to the top and bottom of the box; a lock can then be fixed to bolt together the two halves, hooks also being fixed at each end of the box to further secure the front flaps. Fig. 50 shows the arrangement of the box at this stage—shut, but with the front flaps lifted up and down, showing the "sliding" setting boards snugly fixed within. Insects may by this method be left on the boards whilst travelling without the slightest risk, as nothing can come loose, and the pins of one side miss those of the other when the box is shut and locked.

Fig. 50—Front of setting-board box, with flaps open.

A more simple plan, serving equally as well perhaps, and having the advantage of dispensing with the intervening slips, therefore giving more space for setting boards, is simply fixing a slip of wood at each inner end of the box, and another on each flap, so arranged as to hold all the setting boards down when shut. This is managed by allowing the wood of each setting board to protrude beyond its cork to the thickness of the slip—say half an inch. [Footnote: This box should be made in oak or mahogany; put together with brass screws, if for "foreign service."]

Insects, after removal from their "sets," require to be stored in glazed cases or cabinets for greater security and protection against evils previously glanced at. Some collectors content themselves with using for this purpose the ordinary store-box, made in the same manner as the collecting box, but of greater capacity. One 15 in. by 10 in. by 4 in. deep will be found a useful size; this—opening in the same manner as a backgammon board—is corked with cabinet cork, each sheet of which is usually 11 in. by 3.5 in. or (double size) 12 in. by 7.5 in.

The cork being glued evenly over each half of the box, is rubbed down with pumice-stone, and afterwards with sand-paper, to get an even surface and reconcile the joints one with the other. It is then papered with white blotting-paper, toned, or black paper, pasted down over the cork with paste, in which has been previously stirred a little carbolic acid or corrosive sublimate (both poisons).

It has also been recommended to previously steep the cork, especially if for "foreign service," in a solution of:

Corrosive sublimate, 0.5 oz.

Camphor, 1 oz.

Spirits of wine, 1 pint.

Some little care is, of course, required in the handling of poisoned cork, etc, but I do not write expecting that infants will be allowed to handle the various lethal agents with which these chapters necessarily abound.

Another sort of store box is the book box, hinged at the back and opening along the front, representing two distinct volumes of a book. This is either covered in cloth, labelled with gilt letters, or is made in mahogany, the bands let in in ebony, or white wood, and strips of lettered leather pasted in between them. [Footnote: see remarks on leather in chapter XII.] All around the box inside runs a little ledge of wood for the reception of glass, which, as each half is filled with insects, is pasted in with ornamental paper.

For those who delight in camphor, a piece of perforated cardboard or cork should be placed in the corners, forming angle pieces, and enclosing within the triangle thus formed, the (un)necessary morsels of the drug. When filled, it should be pasted over on the top, and the glass then fits close on top of it. Book boxes have one or two advantages: they look well in a library and take up but little room, and are easily handled when showing them to friends. As exhibition boxes they are nearly perfect.

CABINETS.—The entomological cabinet is a much more serious matter; there is no limit to its size, from the modest one of six drawers to the "working" one of thirty. The size of the drawers varies with individual taste. A nice size, however, is 18.5 in. long by 16.5 in. by 2.5 in, or the 20 in. by 18 in. by 2.5 in, or deeper if for large insects.

No amateur, unless he is a past master at joinery, can hope to construct a thoroughly well-made cabinet; indeed, few cabinet makers know how to turn out one to suit a veteran entomologist. Briefly: the drawers of a first class cabinet should be made of the best Spanish mahogany, or oak, in every part; no "baywood," "cedar," or any such spurious stuff should enter into its composition (good white pine being preferable to such). Cedar is totally unfit for store boxes or cabinets, owing to its tendency to throw out in time a gummy exudation, which settles on the wings of the insects and utterly ruins them. This remark applies also to cabinets for eggs.

The frames which hold the covering glass should preferably fit by a tongue resting in a groove, ploughed with a "filister" in the substance of the drawer itself. A fillet should rest inside, fitting against the inner edge of the frame, which should also be lined with velvet, to further exclude the dust. Drawer and frame should be made so true that the latter should fit back to front, if required, equally with its normal position. The carcase, or part into which the drawers fit, either by runners or in grooves by tongues attached to the drawers, should be made so truly that No. 1 drawer should fit in the place of Nos. 15 or 30, and vice versa, and all should "suck" back when pulled out half way. The drawers should be looked by "pilasters," or have glazed and framed doors.

There are but few makers of such cabinets as I have just described, and prices are proportionately high, a sovereign a drawer being about the figure. Fair cabinets in mahogany or walnut, quite good enough. ordinary purposes, can be made, however, for half this sum, and deal ones a little less. The corking of these best cabinets is generally done before the bottoms are fixed, as thus an open surface is obtained for rubbing down, by leaving out the bottom until corked. White or black velvet, instead of paper, is often used to cover the cork.

Some little skill is requisite to do this without soiling the delicate material; the best way is, perhaps, to glue the cork on cardboard, cut to the size of the drawer, less the thickness of the velvet all round; on this glue the cork, rub it down as before directed, and strain the velvet over it, bringing its edges underneath the cardboard; glue the bottom of the cabinet drawer, and drop the prepared velvet-covered cork and cardboard into it, place clean paper over the velvet, and weight it down for a day or two. This plan ensures the cleanliness of your covering medium—a highly necessary precaution if using white velvet.

There are many other ways of fitting glass to drawers than that recommended. For instance, a hinged frame may be used, dropping in a "rabbet," ploughed around the front, back, and sides of the drawers; or the top frame may have a tongue fitting inside the whole substance of the drawer, or the glass may be a fixture, beaded or puttied in on top, the whole of the bottom unscrewing from the drawer frame. This latter is very well for a collection when fully made up and complete, but if required for an incomplete collection, the risk and annoyance of unscrewing and screwing up, to constantly remove or insert a specimen, are great.

In view of the almost impossibility of keeping dust out of even the best-made cabinet drawers, if made on the top-lifting system, and also to do away with the screws, I have devised what I call the "dust-proof cabinet drawer." The glass is "beaded" and puttied in as a fixture on the top of the drawer, either from the inside or out. At the usual distance from the glass, to clear the pins, a strip is fixed all around the frame of the drawer. Below this, at a depth settled by the thickness of the bottom, a groove runs all around, except at the back, which is cut out up to the bottom edge of the groove. The bottom, when corked and papered, fits inside the frame, "butting" up to the strip which clips it all around to about the width of 0.25 in. A false bottom now slides in the groove below, and fastens with a catch, making all perfectly secure and altogether dust proof.

If well made, this drawer is easy to open, as, directly the false bottom is removed the inner one slips down and is found on the table when the upper part is lifted off. The only thing to be said against this drawer is that the fronts show a little deeper than usual to allow for the extra bottom.

A modification of this is a closely glazed cabinet drawer, with a false corked bottom, loosely held down by a slip affixed to each side of the drawer, and sliding out from the back; managed by hinging the back piece or fixing it by brass eyes and hooks. Note, that all loose flaps to drawers or door-frames, in best cabinet-work, should be worked and fitted by "Dust-joint" planes. This reduces risk and dust to a minimum.

PINS.—The pins used are those called entomological, and are made in various sizes to suit various insects. An insect should be pinned with one of these exactly in the centre of the back, running through truly to the underneath, slanting, however, a little downward toward the body, thus throwing the pin's head a little forward, but exactly in a line with the longest axis of the body. These are specially made by one or two firms only. Messrs. D. F. Tayler and Co, of Birmingham, issue a sample card, the most useful sizes of which are No. 11 (at 6d. per oz.) for the hawk moths, No. 13 (at 6d. per oz.) for smaller moths and butterflies, and No. 7 (at 2s. 6d. per oz.) for small moths, and such butterflies as the "Blues." I have, of late, almost confined myself to No. 2 (at 2s. per oz.), a long fine pin, useful for many purposes (see chapter V).

There are many other sizes, but these will be found quite sufficient for the beginner. These pins are also gilt, under the impression that gilding tends to prevent the corrosion of verdigris which the juices from the bodies of some moths, the Hepialidae especially, induce. This is not so; the Continental black varnished pins are better safeguards, but prejudice forbids their use. Messrs. Tayler now make all their sizes in "enamelled black" to order, at the same prices as their gilded ones.

Varnishing the common entomological pins with a hard and nearly colourless varnish has been tried with good effect, though it is a trial of patience to do this to pins one by one. Really the only thing to stop grease appearing in the bodies of moths, to the subsequent breaking of your pins and soiling of your cabinet paper or velvet, is to open all the insects underneath, take out all their internal organs, carefully paint the inside with a little of the corrosive sublimate preparation (see Chapter IV), and fill up the void with cotton wool. Unfortunately the evil of greasy exudations from the bodies of unstuffed or low-set insects does not stop at the corrosion of the pins or greasing of the paper, but in many cases extends to the underlying cork, which is sometimes so badly greased as to necessitate the cutting out of the damaged patch to prevent the grease reappearing when the drawer is newly papered.

GREASE AND MITES.—"Grease" and "mites" are in fact the betes noires of the entomological collector. When you have an insect, therefore, old and greasy, but yet "too fondly dear" to throw in the fire, place the offender on a piece of cork weighted at the bottom with lead and sink it bodily in a wide-mouthed bottle, partly full of benzoline; leave it there from a day to a week, according to its state. When it comes out it will look even worse than before, but after being covered up with a layer of powdered chalk, magnesia, or plaster of Paris, it will often come out as good as new.

I say often, for cases occur now and then in which no amount of pains restores the insect to its pristine freshness; but these exceptions are few and far between. "Mitey" insects are cured in a similar manner; in fact, I would advise that all exchanges be submitted to the benzoline test. I have also used Waterton's solution (see chapter IV) to plunge them in, though 6 gr. of corrosive sublimate to the ounce of alcohol are about the proportions of the bath for most insects; but the spirit may be increased, if, on trial with a common insect or black feather, it should be found that the mercury is deposited as a white stain on the evaporation of the spirit.

Rectified aether (pure) is a better medium than alcohol for rapidity of drying (especially in a draught), but is more expensive. Nothing, I believe, prevents mites (psocidae) appearing now and then even in poisoned insects. Constant care, stuffed bodies, and soaking in benzoline, are the deterrent agents; camphor is a pleasant fiction, so is wool soaked in creosote, phenic acid, cajeput oil, crystals of napthelin, etc.—in fact, it may be laid down as an indisputable doctrine that no atmospheric poison is of the slightest avail against mites. [Footnote: See remarks on this in chapter IV.] Get them to eat poison, or drown them and shrivel them up in spirit and you may settle them, but not otherwise.

I have heard of cabinet drawers suffered to remain upside down to prevent mites getting to the insects; but I very much fear that such a plan as this, is on all fours with that of a man whom I knew, who, being abroad in a "Norfolk-Howard" infested country, turned the head of his bed every other night to puzzle the enemy!

The late Mr. Doubleday, the father of English entomology, never admitted camphor in his cabinet (thinking, as I do, that it conduces to grease), but used the corrosive sublimate preparation instead, to touch the underneath of the bodies of doubtful strangers. Loose quicksilver or insect powder is by some strewn amongst their insects; but the danger of the first to the pins, and the untidy appearance of the second, militate against their general use. [Footnote: It is quite true that, although camphor evaporates rapidly, and settles on anything, so as to be perceptible even to the naked eye, yet that it re-evaporates and ultimately disappears. This, to my mind, is the most fatal objection to its use: its ready evaporation leaving the insects etc, ultimately without any protection.]

HAUNTS.—Having given a brief outline of the capture, setting and storing of an ordinary insect, I will, in as few words as possible, give a short history of any peculiarities attending the capture of extraordinary insects.

Some butterflies and moths (the autumnal appearing species) live through all the winter hid up in hollow trees, outhouses, etc. appearing at the first rays of the spring sun to lay their eggs and die. Others pass through the frost and snow as pupae, bursting their cerements in the sunshine, to live their brief life and perpetuate their race; others eke out a half dormant existence as minute larvae, others pass the winter in the egg state. In fact, each species has its idiosyncrasy. [Footnote: Here, perhaps, I may explode that myth and "enormous gooseberry" of the mild winter or early spring, headed in the newspaper every year as "Extraordinary Mildness of the Season": "We are credibly informed that, owing to the mildness of the past week, Mr. William Smith, of Dulltown, Blankshire, captured a splendid specimen of a butterfly, which a scientific gentleman to whom it was sent pronounced to be the small tortoiseshell Vanessa, etc." Now the fact is, that Urticae merely came out for an airing, awakened from its winter sleep by the extraordinary warmth of the day, and it might just as likely have been "shook up" on the preceding Guy Faux or Christmas-day; all the Vanessidae, and many others, being hybernators. Far different, however, is it when any of the "Whites"—Pieridae—are seen or caught. They indeed do herald the coming spring, as, lying in the chrysalis state throughout the autumn and following winter, some degree of continuous warmth must take place 'ere they can emerge.]

The swallow-tail butterfly, first on some British lists, must be sought for in the fens of Norfolk, and Cambridgeshire, and Northamptonshire. It is a strong flyer, and requires running down, unless when settled on the head of one of the various umbelliferous plants it delights in. The clouded yellow is usually a lover of the sea-coast during the months of August and September—though in that year of strange climatic changes (1877) it appeared in considerable numbers from the beginning of June, whether hybernated, or an early brood evolved from pupae lying dormant throughout the last summer, is an open question.

The Purple Emperor, now one of our rarest insects (I have not seen it alive since the time when I was a boy, and saw it around the oaks of Darenth Wood), was formerly captured by the aid of a net fixed to a pole 30 ft. or 40 ft. long. But accident or science discovered, however, that this wearer of Imperial purple possessed a very degraded taste, descending, in fact, from the tops of the highest oaks to sip the juices from any decaying or excremental matter. Now, therefore, the recognised bait is a dead dog or cat in a severe state of "highness." The "gamekeeper's museum" in the few places where Iris now resorts may be searched with advantage, yielding also a plentiful supply of beetles of various sorts. The "Holly Blue" I have noticed to have a similar degraded taste.

Mud holes also in hot weather attract many butterflies, as do the sweet exudations from various trees, or from fallen or over-ripe fruit.

Occasionally a high-flying insect may be induced to follow to the ground a stone or piece of turf thrown up in front of it. The persistent manner in which some species will return again and again to the very same spot is something wonderful. The same flower head, the same muddy puddle or patch of road, is selected. The collector, if foiled in his first attempt, will do well, therefore, to wait for the probable return of his prize. Certain species frequent the chalk district only, others woods and sandy lanes; some are found only high up in the mountains of the north, others but in the low-lying valleys of the south.

The sea coast has its specialities, some insects even flying well out to seaward, in crossing from land to land. I remember a "crimson-speckled footman" moth, Deiopeia pulchella, flying on board a steamship whilst we were fully a hundred miles from the nearest land. No place, in fact, should be disregarded in which to search for insects, for some are so exceedingly local that a district of perhaps twenty miles in extent may be searched in vain for a desired species, until the collector suddenly comes upon one or two fields swarming with them.

Nor is this all, for in the case of two or three extremely local species, but one or two spots in the British Isles are their favoured haunts. Bean fields in flower, clover and lucerne fields in sunshine, are first-class hunting grounds, whilst on cloudy or very windy days many butterflies, such as the Blues, may be found resting on grasses or on tree trunks in woods; or, as in the case of the Hairstreaks, higher up under the leaves. Beating the boughs with a long stick will often force insects to fly, when their presence is unknown to us.

I have hitherto spoken of the collecting of insects by day only, but as there are many insects—moths—which appear but at night, we must follow them to their haunts, prepared with lantern and net. In the dusk of the evening, just as the sun sets and twilight comes on, we must take our stand near the flowers frequented by certain moths. In spring the blue bell, cherry, and apple blossom may be watched.

Later on, the blossoms of lime trees, flowers of the honeysuckle, bramble, petunias, scabious, and a host of others. Nettle beds also are great hunting localities at this time of the evening for many moths. Dark and sheltered hedgerows of lanes, fields of mowing grass, willows near water, heather, the seashore, all add their quota to the persevering entomologist. The sallow blooms (commonly called "palm"), both male and female, must be searched early in spring time for the whole of the genus Taeniocampa and many other newly-emerged or hybernated species. As they usually drop at the first contact of the light from the lantern, the net must be held under them, or a sheet may be spread under the bush, and those which do not fall at first may be shaken off the blooms with a smart stroke or two of a stick. If the bushes are not high, "hand-picking" with the net held in readiness is really the best.

Ivy blooms in the autumn are also sure finds, several species—many of great rarity—being taken off this plant at night. Owing to the usual localities in which ivy is found, the spread sheet and subsequent "beating" come in more often than the safer method of "netting" and "bottling."

Light is also a great attraction to many moths, some of our greatest rarities being captured frequently, inside or outside street lamps, and the spectacle is by no means rare to see a "grave and reverend signor" climbing up the lamp-posts at a most unseemly hour of the night in search of specimens. Lighthouses have also yielded important captures, and there are worse things than being on friendly terms with the cleaner of street lamps, or the keeper of a lighthouse. True, you will get some awful rubbish, but the day will come when Alniaria or Celerio (which latter I once received alive), or some other rarity, will reward your faith. Light surfaces, such as white cloths or sheets left out all night, sometimes attract moths.

SUGARING.—The great nostrum for capturing moths is—"Sugar!" A legend tells that many years ago someone discovered (or imagined) that moths came to an empty sugar cask, situate somewhere in a now-unknown land; and acting as the Chinaman is said to have done, in re the roast pork—thought perhaps that the virtue resided in the barrel, and accordingly carted it off into the woods, and was rewarded by rarities previously unknown. A sage subsequently conceived the grand idea that the virtue resided in the sugar and not in the cask, and afterwards came the idea of an improved "sugar," made as follows:

Coarse brown sugar (foots), 1 lb.

Porter (or ale), 1 gill.

Treacle (common), 0.25 lb.

Rum, a wineglassful or 0.5 quartern.

Mix together the sugar, treacle, and beer in a saucepan, and bring the mixture to the boiling point, stirring it meanwhile. Put it in corked bottles, and just before you wish to use it add the rum. Aniseed is sometimes used as the flavouring medium. Honey is also substituted for sugar, and sometimes the whole is mixed unboiled; but if the collector will try the foregoing recipe, the result of many years' experience, he will, I am sure, be thoroughly satisfied.

The entomologist having provided himself with a bottle of the foregoing mixture, a tin pot to pour it into, and a brush to lay it on with, the net figured at Fig. 46, the cyanide bottle, a collecting box, and a lantern, is equipped for sugaring.

A special sugaring can may be made from a tin canister, to the rim of which a sort of funnel has been soldered in such a manner as to prevent any spilling of the contents, and to the lid of which a brush has been affixed. The wood-cut (Fig. 51), will explain.

This is, however, but a "fad," intended to do what it never does—viz, keep your fingers from sticking, and "your tongue from evil speaking" about the "messiness" of the sugar.

Fig. 51—Sugaring can.

All seasons of the year (except when too great an abundance of a favourite flower abounds) yield a certain percentage of moths attracted by sugar. Mild nights in the depth of winter, or in very early spring, sometimes afford rarities, and certainly many hybernated common species. Warm, cloudy nights, with a little wind stirring, are generally the most favourable; but one of the best nights I ever had amongst the "Peach Blossoms" and "Buff Arches" (Thyatira batis and derasa) was in a wood in Warwickshire, when the rain fell in torrents, accompanied with fierce lightning and thunder, from about 11 p.m. until 6 the next morning. On this night everything swarmed, a hundred or more common things on one patch of sugar being of frequent occurrence.

Moonlight nights are, as a rule, blank ones for the "sugarer"—(Do the moths fly high to the light?)—but I once had a grand capture of many specimens of the "sword-grass" (C. exoleta) on a bright moonlight and very windy night in February; and Dr. Knaggs says that on one occasion he met with night-flying moths literally swarming on a sugared fence in a field once in his possession, whither, in the small hours, he had taken a stroll with a friend on the brightest moonlight morning it was ever his lot to behold.

Many nights which appear the most favourable will, on the contrary, be unaccountably disappointing; not a single moth will make its appearance. The presence of ground-fog, "honeydew," more attractive flowers, or a coming change of wind or temperature (nothing caring to stir in an east, north, or northeast wind) will sometimes account for this.

"Showers, rain, thunderstorms, provided they are accompanied by warmth, are," says Dr. Knaggs, "very favourable, and the catch during these conditions of the atmosphere will generally repay the inconvenience of a wet jacket. On one terrible night, when the lightning was perfectly terrific, almost blinding even, though my companion's eyes and mine were kept upon our work, an incredible profusion of moths of various kinds were hustling one another for a seat at the festive board, and continued thus to employ themselves until a deluge of rain swept both sweets and moths away from their positions. On another stormy night, I well remember having counted no less than a hundred and fifty moths of several sorts and sizes struggling for the possession of two small patches of sugar. Perhaps the best condition of the air may be described as cloudy overhead, but clear and free from ground-fog near the earth; and when this state of things has been preceded by sultry weather, and a steady west, south, or south-west wind is blowing at the time, the collector need not fear the result, for he can hardly fail to be successful."

July is usually one of the very best months for sugaring, and, if warm, what can be more charming than to select a fine night at this season of the year and to spend it in the woods?

Just before dusk get your sugar painted on the trees, at about the height of your chest, in long narrow strips, taking care not to let any fall at the foot of the tree or amongst the adjacent bushes (though I have sometimes done very well by sugaring low down near the foot of the tree). Just as the nightjars and bats begin to fly you will have finished the last tree of your round, and rapidly retracing your steps to the first you will perhaps see a small moth, with wings raised, rapidly flitting up and down your patch of sugar. This is most probably the "Buff Arches," usually first to come; in fact, during the summer months, it is perhaps as well to get the sugar on at eight o'clock, as I have known this species, the "Peach Blossom" and the "Crimson Underwings" (Catocala promissa and sponsa), to come on the sugar in bright light while yet the last rays of the sun were lighting the westward side of the tree-trunk, when all the rest lay in shadow.

Fig. 52—Impaler.

If you are not facile princeps at "bottling," do not attempt it with the three or four species named above, but strike them with the net o at nce, for they are the most skittish of noctuae, especially in the early part of the evening. Striking down such insects with a parchment-covered battledore, which Dr. Guard Knaggs considers inflicts the least injury, or impaling them with a triangle of needles stuck in cork, in the manner shown in Fig. 52, or even with a single darning needle, has been recommended, but after a trial I have come to the conclusion that such plans are clumsy in the extreme.

A little practice will enable the beginner to dispense even with the net, which tends to "rub" such dashing or unquiet insects, and to rapidly cover them with a large cyanide bottle, or, failing this, with the instrument shown in Fig. 53, which is a combination of the "drum" and cyanide bottle, and will be found very useful for skittish insects. A, represents a cyanide bottle with no neck—a wine or ginger-beer bottle cut down, by filing it around, and then tapping it smartly, does very well on an emergency.

Fig. 53—Diaphragm bottle.

On this is fixed a tin cylinder, B, having a slot cut in at D, in which a diaphragm, C, works, and is prevented from falling out by a stud fixed to its inside, and from falling inside by the stud above C. To use this, the bottom must be stopped with a cork, through which a piece of stout wire is bolted, the wire to come up to, but just underneath, the slot D, allowing the diaphragm to close. In action this machine is worked thus: Supposing an insect is seen resting on a flat surface, such as palings, a wall, or the trunk of a tree, you having previously removed the cork and pulled the diaphragm out of the slot to its full extent, take aim, as it were, at the insect with the open mouth of B, and rapidly cover him with it. The moth, or what not, as a matter of course, flies toward the light which is at the bottom of the bottle, A; directly it has done so you push in the diaphragm, which of course effectually bottles him up. Now enter the cork in the mouth, B, and pull out the diaphragm again to allow the cork to pass to its place in the mouth of the cyanide bottle, which stopping is of course fatal to the insect.

Fig. 54—Sugaring drum.

The "sugaring drum" referred to is thus described and figured by Dr. -Knaggs; and it will be seen that in its main principle it is similar to my diaphragm bottle, sans cyanide:

"This is a hollow metal tube of two or three inches diameter, over one end of which a piece of gauze has been strained, while at the other end a valve, to open and shut the mouth, works in a transverse slit (shown in Fig. 54). To use it we open the valve and deftly place the mouth of the drum over the insect which, in nineteen cases out of twenty, flies towards the gauze. We then seize the opportunity to close the valve, and pushing the corked piston represented at the right side of the figure against it, once more open the valve, and force the capture up to the gauze, through which it may be pinned, and the piston should then be withdrawn with the insect stuck upon it."

After all, I like nothing so well as working two or three large cyanide bottles in this manner: Get some 6 oz. or 8 oz. bottles, with as large mouths as possible—a confectioner's small and strong glass jar is about as good a thing as you can get. To this have a cork, cut as tightly as possible, sloping outwards above the bottle some little distance, to afford a good grip. Fill with cyanide as before directed, putting in enough to make the bottles work quickly. When you see one of the restless hovering kind of insects at your sugar, aim at him stealthily, as it were, with the mouth of your bottle, and when near enough rapidly close the mouth over him—ten to one he flies to the light, and with a little management you can contrive to get the bottle recorked. Let him remain in the bottle until stupefied, meanwhile using another bottle. When this is tenanted and the insect drops, gently shake him into the first bottle, using the last to capture the next insect, and so on. By using three bottles you can always have one disengaged, and the bottled insects can thus be allowed to remain a sufficient time to go dead before pinning.

Many insects sit very quietly at the sugar, but some few have a nasty trick of "dropping" at the least alarm; to prevent this, the whipcord of the net (Fig. 43 or Fig. 46), should be always pressed close to the tree to receive them. The cyanide bottle should be held with the left hand, and the insect gently "flicked" in with a disengaged finger, the cork held in the right hand to close the bottle as quickly as possible.

My readers will say, How is the necessary lantern held all this time? Between the teeth by a piece of wood, or leather, fixed round the top or swinging handle; or by being strapped on the chest at the height of the sugar patch. This is, of course, on the assumption that you work solus—not too pleasant if in a lonely wood for three or four days and nights. Unless you are greedy, therefore, and wish to make a regular trade of your loneliness, you will find that a friend, holding the lantern or net while you "bottle," is not by any means prohibitory to enjoyable collecting. Two working together can get over more ground than one, and what one friend misses, the other stops.

From dusk to eleven on a favourable night in the summer months the fun is fast and furious; thousands of moths of the common sorts come and go; now and then a "good thing" to sweeten the toil. The "Peach Blossoms" and "Buff Arches" slacken at about half-past nine, and do not reappear until exactly the same light reappears in the morning, going on well into the daylight. In fact, I have taken them still coming to the sugar as late as a quarter past three, when the first rays of the sun were just appearing.

This is one of the most curious things about sugaring. The swarming of one species at a certain hour of the night, their almost total disappearance, and their replacement by moths of quite a different genus, giving way again to others; then comes a lull—remarked by everyone—between half-past eleven and one or half-past, then a rush again up to daylight, when they all disappear, save one or two, who remain until they tumble dead drunk off the tree—a shocking example to the wood fairies, who are popularly supposed to draw the line at rum!

Another curious thing is that you may sugar in a wood for years and will always find certain trees unprofitable. I remember one tree in a favourite wood, which tree I sugared for years without taking a single moth from it. You can assign no reason for this, as the unproductive tree may be precisely similar to others on which insects swarm. As a rule, however, rough-barked trees are the best; and smooth, or dead or rotten ones, the worst. Still there is no hard-and-fast line in this.

Failing trees on which to put your sugar, paint palings, walls, bushes, leaves of plants, and even flower heads: or, if working on the seashore, on which several rare and local species are found, "sugar" flat stones, rocks, or even make bundles of the mat weed, as you will have to do on the "denes" of Norfolk or similar places, and sugar them. If you are entirely at a loss for bushes or grasses, soak some pieces of cloth or calico, before leaving home, in the sugar, and peg them down on the ground, or stick them in the crevices of the rocks, if the latter are, from any cause, too wet to hold the sugar.