stronger ring-net of canvass for water-beetles, a few corked boxes, including two or three small ones for the pocket, a hundred or two of pill-boxes of various sizes, some corked boards for spreading out captures, two or three wide-mouthed phials for beetles, and a pocket lens, and the beginner is set up. As the store of insects increases, cabinets or boxes in which to preserve them will be required, but it is better to get them only as they are wanted. The Entomologist's Companion' and the Entomologist's Annual' contain copious directions for collecting, and they are not expensive books. a descendant of Tubal Cain that has ability to work neatly in brass, get him to make a figure of Y with brass tube, the trunk two inches and a half long, and five-eighths of an inch diameter, and each arm two inches and a quarter long and three-eighths of an inch diameter. Into one of the small tubes put a tightly-fitting cane, and bend it till it meets the other small tube and forms a pear-shaped ring. For carrying, this ring may be rolled up, so that it will fit into a collector's hat, or better, because firmer when made up, it may be cut into lengths of a foot (more or less), and when wanted for use they may be fitted together by means of pieces of brass tube slightly curved and about four inches long. Then get a lady friend to make a bag-net of book-muslin, rather larger than the ring, thirty inches long, and cut so that it hangs perpendicularly at the handle, tapering from the opposite point of the circumference, but rounded at the bottom, not going to a point; round the top must be a band of brown holland, into which the cane can slide easily. A handle is made by fitting a walking-stick into the large tube. "This net is very useful for sweeping grass, the edges of bushes or anything that will not catch and tear it; it is also large enough to beat into from furze-bushes or hedges, and its size gives the collector great facility for catching insects on the wing." Insects of all kinds may be killed by means of laurel-leaves cut into small pieces, and kept in a tin or wide-mouthed bottle. Coleoptera should be pinned through the right wingcase: all other Orders through the thorax. The proper setting out of specimens is a matter of importance, not only with respect to their appearance in the collection, but also to ensure their usefulness for scientific examination. In their desire to obtain the former qualification, the old race of English entomologists lost sight of the latter; they adopted the method still in general use of setting their Lepidoptera and Hymenoptera with the wings deflected in a curve, so that they touched the paper of the setting-board. By this means not only is the natural aspect of the insects destroyed, but those species that have characteristic markings at the apex of the wings are not easily recognisable. The continental method of passing the pin through the insect so far as to remove it entirely away from the surface of the settingboard, and then spreading out the wings quite horizontally, has the great advantage of placing the specimen in a position more natural, secure and useful. But John Bull, entomological included, thinks his way is always the best—as I very soon found out, when, some years ago, I ventured to publish a few words on flat-setting.* The wings, legs and antennæ must be secured in the required position by slips of strong paper or card and pins, until they are quite dry: if the insects are placed in the collection before, they are more liable to become greasy. Whenever this nuisance occurs the insects affected should be immersed in camphine for some hours, then taken out, placed upon blotting-paper for a few minutes, * 'Zoologist,' 1849, p. 2500. and covered over with pipe-clay in powder, magnesia or other similar absorbent until dry, when they will come out quite fresh and free from grease. I suppose the old accusation of the cruelty of killing insects is extinct. It has been disposed of in many ways: it is scarcely worth while to revive the argument for the sake of convincing some one who, at the same time he speaks of cruelty, has no compunctions for the thousands of flies destroyed in his "Ketch 'em alive o'," merely to ensure his own personal convenience. I assume that my readers have learned so much of Entomology as to know that insects are divided, in accordance with their structure, into Orders; each of these, with one or two exceptions, contains indigenous species sufficient for the study of any individual who has not the whole of his time to devote to Entomology. Yet, although the majority of students will be obliged thus to restrict their attention, it will be well for them to obtain some general knowledge of all the Orders. Whichever Order they eventually elect to study in particular, it will amply repay the closest attention they can give, not only with matter which has interested, and always must interest, all who have eyes to see and hearts to be affected by the displays of beauty and contrivance stored up in these animated minims, but also with species whose natural history is hitherto absolutely unknown to human ken. It is true a popular writer has lately said that the field of Entomology in Britain is fully explored; but I beg to assure him and his readers that such is not the case, for the chances are that, out of fifty persons who should this year begin to collect insects, * Rev. C. Kingsley, in 'Glaucus:' 1855. twenty-five would each discover either a new British species or a new fact in insect economy. It may be, as it ought to be, asked, "What is an insect?" The popular notion includes under that term spiders, crabs and lobsters, which have some resemblance to insects, but they may be separated at once by the fact that they have more than six legs. A true insect has six legs, four wings and an external skeleton, and undergoes metamorphoses as hereafter explained. The recommendation of a course of reading, during the long nights of winter, through such works as the first two volumes of Kirby and Spence's Introduction to Entomology,' or, as more compendious, Newman's 'Familiar Introduction to the History of Insects,' may well come under the head of this chapter. Either work will give a good general idea of the game to be sought, and the interest that attaches to its capture and subsequent study; and the following pages may, I hope, show that every class of men, in every situation, may find in the natural history of insects a recreation and occupation at once interesting and instructive. Then, when some mild, sunny day heralds the approaching pomp and splendour of the spring and summer, let the learner sally forth to essay his first attempt at practical Entomology. But while waiting for the favourable spring days, which, in our country, but rarely arrive, seeming to have been expunged from the calendar,—when, for instance, a north-easter makes you feel far below zero, and that it is a purely poetic and aggravating fiction to say, and also at other times, when hindered from out-door search by unfavourable weather, it may be well to devote a little attention to some forms of insect-life that are within the immediate neighbourhood. First in our regard is the cricket, "Little inmate full of mirth, Chirping on my kitchen hearth, Always harbinger of good. Though in voice and shape they be Form'd as if akin to thee, Thou surpassest happier far, Happiest grasshoppers that are; Theirs is but a summer song, Thine endures the winter long, Cowper has here combined Natural History and poetry, without any detraction from the latter: with some poets, it would not be difficult to show that the poetry is made at the expense of the Natural History. "Harbinger of good," however, is scarcely a correct phrase, for the cricket, like many other animals with more sense and fewer limbs, finds out and goes to the good things of this world, and is no harbinger where they never exist: he is a consequence, not a cause. "chirping" is made by the rubbing together of the wing-cases of the males, as has been proved by rubbing them together artificially. The Another sharer of our homes, far more familiar than welcome, is the flea, which, although so long one of man's closest |