110 ENTOMOLOGICAL NOTES FROM AN OLD POCKET-BOOK.
ceding one, being, if possible, even more prolific in insect life, and
species not before noticed put in an appearance in considerable
numbers. The curious caterpillars of the Purple Hair-streak butter-
fly (Thecla quercus) abounded to such an extent that nearly half the
brood was starved, the leaves of entire oak-trees not affording suffi-
cient grazing for the support of all; and a like fate overtook the
teeming families of several other species. The delicate Wood-
white butterfly (Leucophasia sinapis) was plentiful in the woodland
glades. Nemeobius lucina flew in the woods above mentioned, as
well as in the open forest lands : it held its own fairly well for three
years, and then suddenly vanished, never to appear again within my
knowledge. The same year Melitaea aurina (artemis) occurred in
Ongar Park and at High Beach, with M. athalia, but these butterflies
were never seen in after years.
Previous to 1839, only one pair of Notodonta dromedarius had been
seen in the forest district. It now made its appearance, and increased
in numbers year after year for some time, until it became our most
common prominent moth; I have often seen when beating twenty
pairs in one day. Like some other species, it continued to abound
until it had reached its maximum in point of numbers, and then
suddenly we lost sight of it altogether. The other prominent moths,
Notodonta dictaea, N. dictaeoides, N. ziczac, N. chaonia, and N. trimacula
(dodonea), occurred season after season for many years, with the other
usual wood occupants and a continued profusion of insect life. In
1843, Glyphisia crenata was taken in Ongar Park Wood, and subse-
quently two other examples, all females. They are now in the
Doubleday Collection in the Bethnal Green Museum. The only
male specimen of this species that I have seen was bred by a person
in the neighbourhood of the New Forest, and is now in the possession
of our member, Mr. J. J. Mann. In 1844, on May 2nd, a fine pair
of Lophopteryx carmelita were found at rest on an oak trunk. I well
remember that day—the bright sun and delicate, soft, spring air,
and the wood teeming with insect life. In July, the beautiful
Geometra papilionaria occurred in numbers. I noticed that the bats
appeared to be very partial to this moth, and certainly must have
destroyed multitudes. I was surprised one morning in particular at
the havoc made, for in one "ride" I picked up quite three dozen
pairs of the light-green wings of the poor insects, all neatly clipped
off by the bats the evening before. The handsome butterfly, Argynnis
adippe, was then common, but I have not seen one now for many