I don't suppose Harry could smell the roast beef when he was a mile from
home, but sure enough it was done when the boys got there, and they had
only just time to get themselves ready before the dinner-bell rang.
"Well, boys, I suppose you have been very quiet," said Mr Inglis, "and
are ready for a good long walk this afternoon?"
"We're ready for the walk, Papa, but we haven't been very quiet," said
Philip. "One don't seem as if one could keep very quiet this fine
weather. I never do. I should like to be always out."
"I shouldn't," said Harry, with his mouth full of beef and potato; "I
should like to come in when dinner and tea were ready."
"Well said, Harry!" exclaimed Mr Inglis; "that was certainly not a very
polite speech, but there was a good deal of common sense in it; and I
don't think Master Phil, there, would care much about stopping out when
it rained. But make haste, boys; we must not stop talking, for there
are all the things to get ready, and we have a long walk before us."
Half an hour after, Mr Inglis and the boys were passing out of the
gate, and they soon reached the spot where the lads entered the wood the
day they were lost; but this time they kept along the fields by the
side; and beautiful those fields looked, and beautiful, too, the
wood-side. There were wood anemones and hyacinths by the thousand,
spangling the bright green grass here with delicate white, and there
with the dark blue bells; while the brionies and honeysuckle clustered
in every direction along the dwarf bushes by the side of the wood.
"There he goes," said Harry, all at once starting off full speed after a
sulphur butterfly.
"Stop, stop!" cried Mr Inglis. "Here, Philip, take the net, and go
steadily and quietly and see if you cannot catch it, but you must not
hurry, or you will send it right away."
Philip took the green clap-net and went in chase of the beautiful fly
which flitted on before him, now stopping, now going on again, and
sipping flower after flower. At last he got close enough, and stooping
as far forward as he could reach, popped the green gauze net down upon
the grass.
The other boys ran breathlessly up, while Mr Inglis drew from his
pocket a large-sized pill-box and a pair of forceps, and on coming up to
the spot where Philip and the other boys were, he stooped down to secure
the prize.
"Well, where is it?" said Mr Inglis.
"Just underneath," said Philip.
"I don't think it is," said Mr Inglis, looking down at the net.
"Oh yes, it is," said Philip; "I'm sure I caught it."
So Mr Inglis looked through the net in all directions, but not a sign
could he see of any sulphur butterfly, for Philip had popped the net
down just behind it, and the bright-coloured fly was off and away far
enough by that time.
"Never mind; try again," said Mr Inglis, "only don't be so impetuous;
go quietly after the butterfly till you get within reach, and then press
the net down firmly and quickly, or close it over the prize. If you go
so impetuously you agitate the air, and drive a volume of it before you,
which not only alarms the insect, but helps to force it out of your
reach."
"But I was sure I had it," said Philip.
"Just so," said Mr Inglis, smiling; "but it does not do to be too sure
of anything. Now, Philip," he continued, "take the net again, and see
if you cannot have a little better success; there's one of the little
blue butterflies hovering over that dry bank--there, where we picked the
harebells last year. Don't you see it?--it almost looks like a harebell
itself."
"Oh! I see it now," said Philip, seizing the net and rushing off.
"Not so fast--not so fast," cried Mr Inglis; but it was of no use, for
Philip darted up to the bank, and as he did so the little blue butterfly
gently rose in the air, and disappeared over the hedge into the next
field.
"Here, Fred," said Mr Inglis, handing his nephew a small bag net fitted
to a joint of a fishing-rod; "now try what you can do, and see if you
cannot creep up quietly without all that rush and fuss your cousins
make. Now, then, there goes another sulphur butterfly."
Fred started off, and followed the insect all along one side of the
field by the wood, and then partly along the other, when the game gently
rose and went over to the other side. But there was a gap in the hedge,
and Fred crept through; but on reaching the other side no butterfly
could he see for a minute, when all at once it rose from a flower close
beside him, and began flitting down the hedge-side again. At last it
alighted upon a bunch of Mayflower, quite low down, a late cluster that
ought to have been out in bloom a month earlier; and now Fred crept up
closer and closer till he stood within reach, when he dashed the net
down and just missed the insect, which began to rise, when, recovering
his net, Fred made another flying dash, and to his great delight he saw
that the yellow treasure was fluttering about inside.
Just then his uncle and the boys came through the gap, and the
butterfly, which Mr Inglis said was a very fine specimen, was secured
and placed in one of the large pill-boxes.
The captures now made became frequent: at one time it was a gorgeous
peacock admiral, with the splendid eyes upon its wings; then one of the
pretty tortoiseshell butterflies, or a red admiral, with its lovely
lace-edged wings; then again, one of the curious dusky-veined, or an
orange-tipped, with its under wings so beautifully traced with green.
Down by the pond side, too, they captured some of the fierce libellulae,
the gauzy-winged dragon-flies, that darted about with such a powerful
flight over the water, and then hovered apparently motionless, as though
looking at their beautiful bodies reflected on the bright surface. On
one bank, too, a bright little green lizard was captured, and carefully
secured, to place in one of the fern cases; besides which there were
rose beetles, watchmen, spiders, and tiny flies, that Fred considered
were neither curious nor pretty, but which Mr Inglis said were quite
the contrary, being both curious and pretty, or, rather, beautiful, as
he would show Master Fred when they reached home. There were plenty of
specimens, too, to have been obtained from the water; but this was not a
water expedition, so they contented themselves with the productions of
the air, and rich indeed was this part of the country in insect wonders.
Fred at first only looked upon the gaily-painted butterflies, and
bright rose beetles, as being beautiful, till he heard some of the
explanations from Mr Inglis, when he found that in some of the smallest
insects they captured there were ten times the beauties and wonders that
were to be found in their larger companions. There were numberless
things that he would have passed over because they were not striking at
the first glance, but which the eye of the naturalist had sought out,
and made known to those who had not chosen insect life for their study.
Fred never before saw such plumes of feathers as some little gnats wore
on their heads, nor knew of such a wondrous or dangerous instrument as
the sting of a bee, so fine and so sharp; and yet fine as it was, able
to contain a channel by which the minute portion of poison was injected
into the tiny wound to rankle and create such great pain.
"But come," said Mr Inglis, "we must talk about these things when we
get back to-night, and have the microscope out. We must have some more
specimens yet. Try after those great cabbage butterflies, boys'--those
we have are getting very shabby in appearance."
Away started Harry and Philip, forgetting in a moment all the advice
they had received, and dashing off after the inserts in a wild chase,
that ended, of course, in the butterflies soaring up out of reach, and
the boys coming back hot and out of breath to be laughed at by their
father and Fred.
At last they reached Mr Benson's farm, where they were most cordially
received by the farmer's happy-faced dame, who seemed delighted to see
her belated friends again, and soon had them into the house to feast
upon fresh-gathered strawberries and some of the thick yellow cream that
she skimmed morning and night from the pans in her snowy dairy; and when
they had finished, and Mr Inglis was having a quiet chat with Farmer
Benson about crops, and markets, and similar matters, which Harry
classed together as "all bother," Mrs Benson showed the boys her famous
dairy, which I was quite right in calling "snowy," for it was in
everything of the whitest and coldest. For Mrs Benson's dairy was
famous for the butter and cream it produced, and was well known at all
the markets round, for from nowhere else was there such sweet
golden-looking butter to be obtained.
After Fred had been initiated in the mysteries of churning and cheese
pressing, they all went into the orchard, and saw what a goodly promise
of apples there was, and then and there Mrs Benson promised them a
basketful, which she said she would send to them at the school. Then
into the garden, which seemed to be overflowing with fruit and
vegetables; and then into the farm-yard to see the fowls, cows, and
calves, and have a peep in at the great brindle bull, whose low
thundering bellow made the door vibrate and rattle upon its hinges, and
who turned round his great heavy, stupid-looking face to the full length
of his bright chain, and stared at his visitors as much as to say, "Did
you ever see such a great bull-headed thing before in all your life?"
He seemed to be anything but the great savage, roaring beast that Fred
had expected to see. But for all his dull look, this very bull could
fly into a passion sometimes when he was out in the fields, and stamp
and bellow and tear up the ground, making the sods fly in all
directions. He once charged at the cowman who was going to drive the
cows all up for milking, and as soon as the man saw him coming away he
ran for the gate, and after him came the bull, full tear. The more the
cowman ran the more the bull ran, till at last the gate was reached, and
over it went the poor fellow, in a half jump, half tumble sort of
fashion, and then away again on the other side; while the bull,
evidently considering the gate as unworthy of his notice, disdained to
try and leap, but went rush at it like a small railway train at a
crossing where the gates have been accidentally left open.
"Crash" went the gate, and "Bellow" went the bull, for it really hurt
him, as was testified by one of his horns being broken short off, making
the poor beast stop short, and stamp and bellow louder than ever; and,
giving up all thought of chasing the cowman, run tearing round the field
in a great clumsy gallop, frightening the cows till they all did the
same, with tails sticking straight up, and having plenty of difficulty
to get out of the poor bull's way, I say "_poor_" bull, for the animal
must have been suffering intense pain, though he deserved very little
pity, for there is no knowing what might have been the cowman's fate if
it had not been for the gate.
When the visitors stood looking at the great staring-eyed, one-horned
beast, the place was quite well, and but for the one-sided appearance
given to him by the ragged stump having been sawn short off, there was
no trace of the feat he had performed in rushing at the gate.
There was so much to see at the farm that Mr Inglis had a hard matter
to get away; besides which, the farmer and his dame were very anxious
that they should all stay to tea, and the lads had not the slightest
objection; but Mr Inglis said, when they came out for a specified
purpose they ought no to turn aside from it, and now; as they had paid
their visit to the farm, as previously arranged, they ought to return to
their collecting, for the moths would now be coming out fast.
At last they were off, and this time took their way across the meadows
by the river side, so as to get to the wood again a couple of miles
nearer home, Mr Inglis considering that several pleasing objects of
natural history might here be collected.
They had not gone far before he called the attention of the boys to the
Ephemene or Mayflies dancing up and down in their beautiful light over
the banks of the stream. Beautiful little objects they seemed, with
their spotted wings and three tails, as straight up they flew rapidly
for five or six feet, and then, spreading out wings and tails, allowed
themselves, without effort, but with evenly balanced bodies, to sink
down again, presenting a beautiful appearance as the fast descending sun
shone sideways upon them.
Fred could have stopped for half an hour watching these Mayflies, but
time was flying as well, and they had to get home to tea; but two or
three fine specimens were captured by Mr Inglis and put safely in as
many pill-boxes, and during their stay as many more were snapped up by
the fish in the river. Then on the party went again towards the wood,
capturing insect treasures as they passed through the pleasant green
meadows and by hedge-rows, all now of a bright golden green with the
rays of the sinking sun. Now it was a great stag-beetle that was
caught--a great horny-headed and horny-bodied fellow, so strong that he
could force his way out of a closed hand by sheer pushing, like his
friend the cockchafer, who now began to whirr and drone about under the
shady boughs of the trees, but who would not come near enough to be
captured, till at last one of them came bump up against Mr Inglis's
hat, in its headlong flight, when Fred picked it out of the grass where
it had fallen, and was astonished at the slow but strenuous efforts the
insect made to escape.
As they came up to the wood Fred stopped short, for from out of its dark
recesses came a peculiar whirring sound, as if somebody was busy with a
spinning-wheel.
"Chur-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r," went the noise, rising and falling, now farther
off, now nearer, and all the time kept up with the greatest regularity.
"Whatever is that?" said Fred to his cousins.
"Oh!" said Harry, laughing, "that's old Dame Durden spinning her yarn."
"What?" said Fred incredulously.
"There, look," said Mr Inglis, for the noise had stopped. "There goes
Harry's Dame Durden;" and just then there came swooping out of the wood
with noiseless flight, a large brown bird, which then went skimming
along by the wood-side and back to where there stood a noble beech with
wide-spreading boughs, beneath whose shade the bird went circling round
with a beautifully easy flight, sometimes keeping quite in the shade,
and every now and then rising higher up the tree; but still skimming
along almost like a swallow, "There," said Mr Inglis again, when they
had watched the bird for some minutes, "that is the way to turn
entomologist; see how easily that bird captures the moths that flit
round the tree. If we could only secure specimens like that, what rare
ones we should get sometimes of those that always fly high out of our
reach! There, did you see him catch that moth, high up above the big
bough? With what a graceful curve he turned upon the wing, caught it,
and then dipped downward. See, he must have got a mouthful, and has
gone off to the wood again, where perhaps he has nestlings."
"Well, but," said Fred, "that can't be a swallow, it is so big, and I
thought swallows were the only birds that caught flies and moths upon
the wing."
"No," said Mr Inglis, "it is not a swallow, though it has similar
habits, and always catches its prey upon the wing. It is a bird that
bears a good many different names; one of the most appropriate is that
of the `night-jar,'--though it is not really a night bird, but more of
the twilight. It is called `jar,' from the peculiar jarring noise which
you heard, just like that made by the vibrating of a spinning-wheel. In
some places they call it the `goatsucker,' from a foolish idea that it
sucked the milk from the goats, as it is sometimes seen to fly close
down to them, and, between the legs of various animals, to capture the
flies that infest them in the soft, tender parts of their bodies. A
glance at the bird's great gaping mouth should be sufficient to convince
anybody that it was meant for nothing else but catching flies, and the
spiny fringe of hair at the side for caging them there when caught. In
some places it is called the `night-hawk,' and I should scarcely think
there is any bird that has more names than our friend there."
A few more moths and insects were captured, among which was a very fine
puss moth, whose downy appearance made it a great object of attraction
to the boys, as was also one of those noble-looking insects, the privet
hawk moth, which was also captured, with gold-tails, tigers, etc, etc;
and at last, regularly tired out, the lads walked quietly along by the
side of Mr Inglis, listening to the mellow evening notes of the cuckoo,
the distant lowing of the cows, and the occasional "tink, tink" of a
sheep bell; while skimming along the surface of the fields, the
never-tired swallows kept sweeping away the flies front out of their
path. With the setting sun, however, the last swallow disappeared; and
one by one in the pearly-grey sky appeared the stars; and then, loud,
sweet, and clear, from out the grove came the notes of the nightingales,
ringing away through the distance, till bird answered bird, and the song
seemed almost continuous, cheering the party till they finished their
walk.
Mr Inglis had been highly amused with Harry's humorous description of
how they had attacked the citadel of the wasps. And how ignominiously
they had been put to flight; and told them how foolish their plan was,
for they might have been sure that a large number of the insects would
be out, seeking for food; and, as they would be constantly returning,
they would be certain to attack those whom they found interfering with
their castle; for soldiers as they were among insects, and armed too
with such a powerful weapon, the attack was nothing more than the boys
might have expected. However, he promised the lads that he would assist
them the next evening, and detailed his plan of attack, giving them a
long description of the way he should proceed, for he saw that they
could hardly get along; but his account so took up their attention, that
just in the midst of one of his remarks they reached the gates, and he
exclaimed:--"Now, boys, enough entomology for one day; for, like you,
I'm tired out; so let's see what Mamma there, who is waiting at the
door, has in store for us."