even to see it spread out the full glory of its upper surface. I have, in fact, known a third specimen to settle on my net when I had just captured two at one sweep. Nothing can well surpass the velvet black of the outer half of the fore wings, and its sharp contrast with the dead white spots and the red band; whilst the crenulated red margin of the hind wings is charmingly relieved by patches of purple blue at their inner angles. The dull green spined caterpillar of this lovely fly feeds on the nettle, as do also the blacker ones of its beautiful and even more common ally the Peacock, and the smaller, lighter coloured ones of the Small Tortoiseshell.

Whatever may be the case with the flowers of the field, among those of the air the most beautiful are certainly in many instances by no means uncommon. Of this we may very probably have abundant demonstration at the very outset of our day's hunting. Flitting along every sunny roadside bank we are likely to see the Small Tortoiseshell. So familiar an insect is it that we are apt to overlook its beauty. It is not so large as most of its immediate allies, nor so brilliant in colouring, but the red orange of its wings harmonises in a manner that would surprise any one unacquainted with insect coloration, with the little dark blue crescents in the undulations of their margins. The Peacock is sometimes almost as common, its caterpillars living gregariously in great numbers, and the ground colour of its wings is a duller red, more like that of the Large Tortoiseshell; but whilst the Small Tortoiseshell is seldom more than two inches across the wings from tip to tip, the Peacock reaches three inches. Size is not, however, its chief feature, but the four large, indescribably beautiful eyes, one in each wing, which irresistibly suggest the tail feathers of the bird from which it takes its name. Whilst, however, we have been pursuing one of these elusive and strong-flying insects, it suddenly disappears, and but for its again rising on the wing we might have overlooked it altogether. A little closer observation makes clear the reason of this. The Tortoiseshell is a dull dark brown on the under surface of all its wings, and the Peacock practically black. In alighting they close the upper surfaces of their wings together and become a mere shadow, a dead leaf, or a dark stone. Far more elaborately brilliant appears the under surface of the beautiful Painted Lady, which has of late years become almost as common as the Peacock. The white spots, the pink patches, and much of the elaborate mosaic of black and fulvous orange, that

adorn the upper surface appear in this insect, as in the Red Admiral, to show through on its under surface; and yet a little practice soon convinces us that, when settling, the Painted Lady sinks into its surroundings as completely as Peacock or Tortoiseshell. Like the Wall,

it is fond of settling in the dusty road.

It seems almost a bathos, after noticing these princes of the insect world, to pay any attention to the humble Gatekeeper or Speckled Wall that flits with zigzag flight along the roadside, settling constantly on the bare ground or on walls, from which habit it gets its names. Though smaller and more uniform in its warm brown colouring than any of the butterflies already mentioned, it has, however, a beauty of its own. Though of the same colour as most of the less common Fritillaries, it has not the chequering of black that gives their name to that group of butterflies, its wings being marked with zigzag lines of a darker brown, with one black eye, with a white central spot in each fore wing, and a row of smaller similar eyes round the margins of the hind ones.

Equally common is the Large Heath or Small Meadow Brown, which has also confusingly been known as Gatekeeper. This is a more uniformly coloured insect, its wings being of a warm, almost coppery, brown, with a margin of a duller umber tint, and a remarkable eye in each fore wing, by which they can at once be identified, as it consists of a black spot, with two minute white specks within it.

These two butterflies last mentioned, and their allies, the Large Meadow Brown, and the Grayling, or Rock-eyed Underwing, have caterpillars that feed chiefly upon grasses, and these for protective reasons are green, with fine longitudinal markings that closely simulate the veins in the leaf of the grass. The Rock-eyed Underwing, which is fond of heathy places, and the Large Meadow Brown, one of the commonest of British butterflies, are at first sight not dissimilar. Much of a size, about that of a Large White or an Orange-tip, both are of a dusky hue above, and have a much lighter, more fulvous brown colour on the under surface of the fore wing; but they can be generally discriminated by the presence of two eyes in each fore wing in the Underwing, and only one in the Meadow Brown.

On open heaths we may not meet with a great variety of species, though many a Common Blue, Small Copper, and Small Heath may gambol in the sunshine with the Meadow Brown. I have, however,

put up the beautiful Clouded Yellow in such a situation; though seaside cliffs and clover fields are more generally recommended as its favourite haunts. Neither it, nor the less common but equally variable Pale Clouded Yellow, is likely to be found before the latter part of the month, and the south-eastern counties are more favoured by their presence than are others.

The open glades in large woods, or patches of heath adjoining woodlands, are perhaps the richest localities for the butterfly hunter. Here the little Skippers may be found in considerable variety, flying from bush to bush in the characteristic manner to which they owe their name; and here too the majestic High Brown Fritillary, or other allied species, may be seen sailing in strong flight with wings outspread to their full two and a half inches of width.

The practically harmless dragon-fly, darting in pursuit of small flies, will come suddenly round a corner with that fierceness of expression that has earned for it the undeserved name of horse-stinger; and unfortunately there may also be at hand the by no means harmless gad-fly. Here, near the honeysuckle, on which its light green caterpillar feeds, we may have the pleasure of seeing that magnificent creature, the White Admiral, coming sailing along, especially if we are in the New Forest, or near St Osyth, in Essex.

It was at the edge of a wood in Sussex, though actually in a much frequented lane, that I first had the honour-never shall I forget the day-of an interview with His Majesty the Purple Emperor, sometimes known as the Emperor of Morocco. We were returning to lunch after a blank morning's hunt, and had with us nothing but an ordinary net on a walking-stick. We were not a hundred yards from home, when, sailing like a swallow along the lane, some nine or ten feet from the ground, we espied His Imperial Majesty. It was not a large specimen, not over three inches across; but the powerful flight at first suggested to me a White Admiral. Presently he settled high out of reach on a branch overhanging the road, and then we espied one, two, three, four companion monarchs. What was to be done? We had no game or carrion at hand to tempt their imperial palates, though this is said to be an infallible method of capturing the Purple Emperor; but there was a hop field near by. One of us stayed to keep watch on the prize, while the other took the net to the hopfield, and lashed it on to the end of the tallest hop pole he could find.

September

BIRD LIFE IN SEPTEMBER

ALTHOUGH We should not presume to touch here on matters pertaining to sport, yet some notes on the natural history of our British game birds will not be out of place during this month.

First on our list must come that grand wood-grouse, the capercaillie, the male of which species is distinguished by the title of the cock of the wood. His name is said to be derived from a Celtic word gabur, a goat, and to have been bestowed on him on account of the elongated feathers on the chin of the male bird, as well as because of his lively play for the benefit of the hens in the love-making season. With coille a wood-we have the full name, goat of the wood. Some writers again say it comes from cabhar, an old man, or gobur, a horse. However this may have been, the name cock of the wood seems most applicable to the grand bird, which was once a common inhabitant of our pine forests all over the kingdom. But long ago he was, for some reason or other, killed off in this country, to be re-introduced in the year 1837 from those Scandinavian forests which have always sheltered him and his. In Denmark especially he seems to have been long at home, since we read that the bird's remains are found in the old haunts of pre-historic races who lived when the fir woods mainly covered the land. So far the cock of the wood inhabits chiefly the midland or central parts of Scotland-into Perthshire it had been first re-introduced-but it is increasing so well that we shall soon see the fine wood-grouse further south. The pine woods are not extensive enough for them, and they begin to frequent the oak and birch districts. Howard Saunders says, "The females precede the males by one or two years in the search for new quarters, and under these circumstances they often breed with the blackcock; the male hybrid being a remarkably handsome bird, with plum-coloured breast and a slightly forked tail."

Mr

This fact in natural history is an interesting one, that of the females

leading in the advance movement, I mean; and one that I commend to the notice of the so-called stronger sex who are disposed to sniff or cavil at the aims of the members of one at least of our ladies' clubs, whom a clever man, now gone to the land where no question of sex disturbs our rest, once dubbed as misfits."

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The cock of the wood has an unmistakably masculine form and bearing; his mate being much smaller. His bill is strong and hooked, the upper plumage a dark slate colour, the tail nearly black. His chest is a dark glossy green, the lower parts almost black. The hairlike brown feathers that cover his legs are short in the summer, but they hang over his toes in winter. The general colouring of the female is subdued in its tones adapted to the purpose of protection whilst sitting on the nest; brown marked with buff and white on the upper parts, whilst her neck and breast are an orange-buff, with black bars and white spots. The wood-grouse feed on the tender shoots of the Scotch fir, and many are protesting on this account against the fine creatures being allowed to increase again, as they are now doing in our country. They say that they are injuring and destroying the trees by breaking off the new shoots. But at the worst these will only form a part of the bird's food, and some say these trees are none the worse for a little trimming. If the capercaillie takes some fir-tips, he, and the young ones especially, eats no end of insects, worms and other pests, with berries in the autumn. So fine a bird might surely be made to add very largely to our own food supply, were it not that it needs the proximity of the snow and more extensive pine forests than we have. In the great northern forests of Europe the capercaillie's strong bill no doubt finds work on bigger and tougher quarry than that above mentioned; but he, like other creatures, can adapt himself to circumstances. Most of the capercaillies that we see in the London markets come from Norway; but just for the benefit of those of our readers who may be within the area now favoured by these fine birds, we will note that their nests are merely hollows scraped in the ground at the foot of some tree or bush. There from six to twelve eggs are laid, of a pale reddish-yellow colour, marked with blotches of a rich brown colour.

The nest of the black grouse, the blackcock and the grey hen, is also made on the ground under cover, in the neighbourhood of water or moist grounds. Their eggs, from six to ten of them, are a yellowish