as if it had been polished; and it has been polished on the wearer's
back, no doubt, for the arms and other points of maximum attrition are
particularly smooth and bright. Round shoulders,--stooping over
some minute labor, I suppose. Very slender limbs, with bends like
a grasshopper's; sits a great deal, I presume; looks as if he might
straighten them out all of a sudden, and jump instead of walking. Wears
goggles very commonly; says it rests his eyes, which he strains in
looking at very small objects. Voice has a dry creak, as if made by
some small piece of mechanism that wanted oiling. I don't think he is
a botanist, for he does not smell of dried herbs, but carries a
camphorated atmosphere about with him, as if to keep the moths from
attacking him. I must find out what is his particular interest. One
ought to know something about his immediate neighbors at the table.
This is what I said to myself, before opening a conversation with him.
Everybody in our ward of the city was in a great stir about a certain
election, and I thought I might as well begin with that as anything.

--How do you think the vote is likely to go tomorrow?--I said.

--It isn't to-morrow,--he answered,--it 's next month.

--Next month!--said I.--Why, what election do you mean?

--I mean the election to the Presidency of the Entomological Society,
sir,--he creaked, with an air of surprise, as if nobody could by any
possibility have been thinking of any other. Great competition, sir,
between the dipterists and the lepidopterists as to which shall get
in their candidate. Several close ballotings already; adjourned for a
fortnight. Poor concerns, both of 'em. Wait till our turn comes.

--I suppose you are an entomologist?--I said with a note of
interrogation.

-Not quite so ambitious as that, sir. I should like to put my eyes
on the individual entitled to that name! A society may call itself an
Entomological Society, but the man who arrogates such a broad title as
that to himself, in the present state of science, is a pretender, sir,
a dilettante, an impostor! No man can be truly called an entomologist,
sir; the subject is too vast for any single human intelligence to grasp.

--May I venture to ask,--I said, a little awed by his statement and
manner,--what is your special province of study?

I am often spoken of as a Coleopterist,--he said,--but I have no right
to so comprehensive a name. The genus Scarabaeus is what I have chiefly
confined my