arkings. This peculiarity, which was shared
by male and female alike, was very beautiful and very marked; and the
enthusiastic collectors gathered at the Society's meeting were, as the
box of specimens was passed from hand to hand, all delighted with the
new treasure. As for the Professor himself, never, except perhaps in
that supreme moment when he had discovered within his net this new
wonder, had he experienced such a glow of rapture and of triumph.

Amongst the Fellows of the Society met this evening sat Horace Maybold,
a good-looking young man of six-and-twenty, who, having some private
means, and an unquenchable thirst for the collection of butterflies,
spent most of his time in going to and fro upon the earth in search of
rare specie, Horace had travelled in many lands, and had made a good
many discoveries well-known to his brethren; and quite recently he had
turned his attention to the _Achraeinae_, the very family in which
Professor Parchell had made his mark. The new butterfly interested him
a good deal. Naturally he at once burned to possess it in his own
collection, and, after the meeting broke up, he approached the Professor
and sounded him on the subject. In his paper read to the Society that
gentleman had rather vaguely, described the habitat of the new species
as "in the Eastern Province of Cape Colony, in a small and compact area
within fifty miles of the east bank of the Sunday's River." But it
appeared very quickly that the Professor for the present was unwilling
to part with any of his specimens--even for an adequate consideration--
or to impart the exact locality in which the species was to be found.

Horace had rather reckoned upon this, but he was none the less a little
chagrined at the old gentleman's closeness.

"No, my dear sir," had replied the Professor to his inquiries, "I can't
part with any of my specimens, except to the Natural History Museum, to
which I intend to present a pair. As for the precise habitat, I
intend--ahem!--for the present to reserve that secret to myself. It
is a pardonable piece of selfishness--or shall I term it
self-preservation?--you, as a collector, must admit I intend to renew my
acquaintance with the spot towards the beginning of next winter--that is
the summer of the Cape. When I have collected more specimens, I may
publish my secret to the world--hardly before."

Horace looked keenly at the face of the clean, pink and white old
gentleman before him.