her indoors; she, all the while, entranced with the sweet food, remained
quietly on my finger, and when satisfied, crept upon a flower in the
middle of the cage, and after a few flutterings round her cage seemed
content and folded her delicate wings to rest. Whilst engaged in her
capture I had observed a "Red Admiral" hovering over some dahlias, and
thinking "Cynthia"[2] might like a companion, I tried my blandishments
upon him. I had not much hope of success, for though a bold, fearless
fellow, he is very wary, and his powerful wings bear him away in swift
flight when alarmed. Many a circle did I make around that dahlia bed!
"Admiral" always preferred the opposite side to where I stood, and
calmly crossed over whilst I went round. At last, by long and patient
waiting, he, too, allowed me to come near and present my seductive food
to his notice--the wiry proboscis was uncoiled and felt about for the
honey; once plunged into that, all volition seemed to cease, he allowed
me to coax him upon my finger, and he, too, was safely caged; but he
behaved very differently from "fair Cynthia." The moment his repast was
ended he flapped with desperate force against the bars, and in a minute
he was out and on the window-pane, fluttering to escape. The cage had to
be secured with fine net, and he was replaced and soon quieted down.
Twice a day these delicate little pets would come upon my hand to
receive their sweet food, and appeared perfectly content in captivity.

[Footnote 2: The former Latin name for the "Painted Lady" butterfly]

[Illustration]

ANT-LIONS.

(MYRMELEON FORMICARIUS.)

Many years ago a friend sent me some of these remarkable insects from
the Riviera, and for sixteen months I fed them as regularly as possible,
but the cold of a remarkably severe winter killed them, to my great
disappointment, as I had hoped to be rewarded by a sight of the perfect
insect.

Ant-lions are not, I believe, found in any part of England, so I had to
wait till I could again procure some from the south of France, where
they are frequently met with in dry, sandy places.

Early in March this year (1890) three specimens were sent me and were at
once placed in a box of dry silver sand, where they buried themselves
and remained quietly resting for some hours.

Many of my readers may be interested to know what the ant-lion is like,
and why I thought it worth while to take great pains to rear it. These
young specimens were flat,