Why should insects rush eagerly to an artificial light when they do not attempt to fly towards the moon, however brilliantly she may shine on a summer evening? We cannot tell, nor why some moths are indifferent to lamps which make their brethren excited, often to their peril. By searching gas-lamps, the entomologist can obtain specimens of moths that would otherwise be difficult to find. Lamps, of course, are most productive when their place is along a country road, but even in towns they have their winged visitors after dark.
Dull or cold nights will bring few insects to the lamps, and those would usually be not worth catching. Earwigs appear—a proof that they can fly as well as crawl, and as they are insects of rather a shy habit, it is surprising to find that they are fascinated by a light. Gnats are abundant, and sundry flies often lie in little heaps at the bottom of the lamp; sometimes the number of gnats is thus greatly reduced in a stinging season, when thousands of persons are attacked by these insects. Beetles occasionally come, and spiders also, not drawn by the light, but knowing that they will get prey at the lamps. Away from any town, bats are frequently amongst the evening visitors on the look-out to secure part of the arriving insects, especially those having plump bodies.
Many of the moths, to the disappointment of the collector, have their wings singed or damaged. Others enter the lamp and avoid the flame, settling down quietly upon the glass, and others again stop outside upon the glass or the ironwork. During the twilight the slim moths, or Geometers, arrive, with now and then a large moth; towards ten o'clock the Noctuas, or stout-bodied moths, begin to appear.
NIGHT AND DAY.
HE Night is like a Fairy Prince,
So good, and strong, and great:
His jewels are the stars; they deck
His purple robe of state.
His dinted shield, the silver moon,
Gleams brightly on his breast;
See, how he comes so silently,
And moves towards the West!
The Day a fairy maiden is,
With flower-garlands gay,
And as the Night approaches her,
She blushing hastes away.
But he, undaunted, still pursues
Because he loves her best:
Then lo! he clasps her to his heart,
Far in the crimson West.
THE ROSEMONT GROTTO AND THE PETCHABURG CAVERNS.
