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their name "Legion," and when one batch is no more, do no more come on?

And pray (asks somebody) what does our "Ento." under these, it must be admitted, somewhat ruffling circumstances?—Do rash thoughts of trying "a dance upon nothing at all," after the approved fashion of the late Mr. Müller, but unassisted by the professional talent employed in his case, occur to him?—Does he seek oblivion in the bowl, comforting himself at the bar of the "Wooden Nutmeg" with slings, smiles, cock-tails, and tangle-legs?—Does he exhaust himself in forcible, though unavailing language?—Has his landlord instant notice to quit?—Is entomology henceforth to be renounced?—To file an injunction? It would hardly do. But hah! How about writing to the Times? Or do ideas of trotting down to Ratcliff Highway, to see if Mr. Jamrach has a Myrmecophaga jubata upon hand, ever enter his head?—My dear sir, nothing of the sort; he has become inured to such occurrences, and merely smiles (faintly, perhaps) as he mutters "tck, tck, tck, well this is a go, but there—it can't be helped," for he's a philosopher is your flycatcher.

For some time afterwards, however, he wears a taciturn expression, if I may use the phrase, his lips being more or less compressed, and his eye evidently in search of "something"—the hawk-like precision, too, with which he spies and pounces on any object bearing the remotest resemblance to Diplorhoptrum is truly marvellous. He hums tunes, and retains much of his cheerful placidness of countenance, but he occupies himself more than is his wont in pouring benzine into all sorts of suspicious-looking holes and cracks, very much to the discomfiture of his aged housekeeper (that is if he happen to have one), who can't a-bear the smell of it; and what with turpentine, creosote, and various essential oils, he certainly succeeds, upon the whole, in making the ants and everybody else exceedingly uncomfortable; he even, peradventure, brings a light to see how matters progress, to the infinite risk of being arraigned on a charge of arson, and then, perhaps, alarmed at the unexpected inflammatory effects of his too readily combustible agents, confines himself for the future to the free use of boiling water, tries the virtues of some lauded vermin powder or other, or contents himself by dabbing bits of liver in various parts of the premises to the intense gratification and delectation of bottle-flies, but to the infinite disgust of any individual on the feed, and, after all, finds most relief in the conversion of his tables and cabinets into islands by means of rotting the legs thereof in gallipots of water.

You see it come to this: what's the good of my waging a war of extirpation against antdom when my neighbours don't do likewise, and while a stray female of two are amply capable of populating (excude the word) a mansion with their abundant offspring? Indeed, there does not appear much chance of immunity from their attacks until London shall have been laid under water (boiling water best for the purpose) for a few weeks at their most ticklish time of life, which is, of course, the "swarming season." And so—having arrived at this conviction—small wonder that I take things as they come, and that it is my fixed intention so to do until some benefitter of his species shall hit upon an antidote for my disorder, and to console myself with the fact that, though my troubles are undeniably great, I have, at any rate, learned the truth, the wisdom, and the force of the old adage, "What can't be cured must be endured."H. G. K.

Persons who reside in our large towns, especially the largest, are very apt to slander the milkman, and ascribe the semi-lactescent appearance of his commodity to a free use of "the cow with an iron tail." It is not our intention to join in any such scandal, for the milk of our history is genuine and unadulterated, although not derived from a quadrupedal cow, goat, or any animal whatever. Some, perhaps most, of our readers will have heard something of the existence of vegetable cows, or plants yielding milk; it is of these "wooden cows" we purpose to refresh their memories.

The caoutchouc, or india-rubber of commerce, as it exudes from the tree, very much resembles milk in colour and density. Many other plants yield a similar fluid, and in some instances this is so sweet and palatable as to be employed by the natives for almost all the purposes of animal milk.

The "Cow-tree of Demerara" was first observed by a traveller of the ubiquitous family of Smith in an excursion up that river. It is described as a tree from thirty to forty feet in height, with a diameter at the base of nearly eighteen inches. This tree is known to botanists by the name of Tabernæmontana utilis, and to the natives as the Hya-hya. It belongs to the same natural order as the Penang India-rubber tree, and the Poison-tree of Madagascar (Apocynaceæ). It occurs plentifully in the forests of British Guiana, and its bark and pith are so rich in milk, that a moderately-sized stem, which was felled on the bank of a forest stream, in the course of an hour coloured the water quite white and milky. The milk is said to be thicker and richer than cow's milk, mixes freely with water, and is perfectly innocuous, and of a pleasant flavour; the natives employing it as a refreshing drink, and in all respects as animal milk.

The Cynghalese have also a tree which they call "Kiriaghuma," but which belongs to a different order of plants (Asclepiadaceæ). It is the Gymnema lactiferum, and yields a very pleasant milk, which is employed for domestic purposes in Ceylon.