We will leave then the historical associations, and follow out a pursuit at the present moment more congenial to our minds.

The slopes of the hill make one extensive carpet of flowers all through the summer. We have here a grand metropolis of orchids, not only the commoner ones, the Early Purple (Orchis masada), the Spotted (0. mandata), and the Green-winged (0. Morio), but Bee orchids literally by hundreds, and the Late Spider (Ophrys arachnites) not at all rare among them.   The Pyramidal (Orchis pyramidalis) and the Sweet-Scented (Gymnadenia conopsea) grow thousands, and I know of one specimen at least of the Man Orchis (Aceras antkropophora) found here. Two species of Best-harrow (Ononis arvensis and spinosa) are common, while the Milkwort (Polijt vulgaris) and the  Wild Thyme (T.  Serpyttun) are almost as plentiful as the grass itself.    All along the hedgebank at the foot we find the parasitic Broom rapes (Orolanche).

 And for the Entomologist there are Adonis, A and  Corydon in   their  appointed   seasons,   Semele Cardni, Rhamni, Hyale, and Edusa with stray Helice. One of the grandest entomological sights I ever witnessed was on the hill there beyond the waterworks. It was a summer evening, bird and flower alike preparing for rest, when I saw as I stood at the top, the whole face of the slope covered with innumerable specimens of Adonis resting with outspread wings on the grass, their rich blue throwing back the of the declining sun. It afforded me intense pleasure, and no little astonishment, for there had been a heavy  and  prolonged   thunderstorm   the   evening before, and I had expected to find few of these small butterflies about, at any rate in a respectable condition.    How they managed to hide themselves in that downpour I was at a loss to imagine, but they succeeded in also preserving their resplendent colour deepened the mystery.   But there they were, and I shall never forget the picture.

Among the   moths   we   get Mi and   Ghyphica,
Little Aenea, and all three of the Foresters (Statiees, Globulariae, and Geryon).   Further along the hills west-ward several years ago I took many specimens of the Five-spotted Burnet  (7. trifolii) flying about with Z. filipendulae, but I have never seen it since, either there or in any other part of our district. All along we find in October the handsome larva of the Fox Moth (Bombyx rubi) in great abundance, the perfect insect appearing in May. Only once have I been fortunate enough to see it on the wing, and then, of course, I had not my net. It only flies far tn hour or so towards the end of the afternoon, and. then only the males are about; the females hide
Themselves in the long grass,  and the only way to
find them is to track the males patiently until they drop down.   I took three males in my hat, and they are still my only specimens.    Why should it be so difficult to rear this insect?  The caterpillar hibernates and gets on very well during the winter, but in captivity ninety-nine out of every hundred invariably die in the spring, only a few entomologists have succeeded in rearing them.    Along with my persevering friend, Mr. Blackall, I have hunted for the larvae in April but we have not found above a dozen altogether and those we did find died, mostly from previous attacks by   parasitic   diptera.   We  then searched later on for cocoons among the long grass, furze and brambles, and two crowned our   efforts from one of which Mr. B. was fortunate enough to rear a female.  Bombyjc rubi is in fact, a troublesome insect to get hold of. I strongly suspect that the caterpillar spins up at the end of its hybernation without going abroad much to eat, otherwise we should most certainly find plenty of them in the early spring. They are very prolific, but they have evidently numerous enemies, as we found many fragments of cocoon

The little nook by the side of the hill is known as the Cherry Gardens and contains the Folkestone Waterworks. A few years ago we should certainly have gone down and obtained some refreshment, for the air on these hills is appetizing, but now the cherries have departed, and the place is " private." Let us follow the path and stroll through the short lane and along the meadows homeward. There is one little object of interest here, if you are anything of an antiquarian, and that is the miraculous stream which flows uphill. In the field next to that through which our path runs, we may find a tiny little aqueduct through which one stream is carried, and under which runs a second. This aqueduct (so says tradition) was built by St. Eanswythe, daughter of King Eadbald (see page 2), to allow of the stream being conducted to her religious house for the supply of the inmates. There was a slight impediment in the way however, namely, that the elevation of the nunnery was greater than that of the source of the spring ; but she who "restored the blinde," and " forbade certaine ravenous birdes the countrey," "drewe the water over the hills and rockes against Nature," and the enterprise was successful. And even now this same stream supplies a large pond on the Bayle, near which spot the nunnery stood. If you will take your stand anywhere along the course of this stream, and look up it, you may easily fancy the source to be much lower than the spot where you are. Scientificmen of the present day tell us that the last thing in the world to which we are justified in trusting, is the evidence of our own senses. I give you this caution and there I leave the matter.

As we follow our proper path we may notice a small pond on the left, which I mention here for the sake of the beautiful sight it presents in May and June. Its surface is then covered with the large white blossoms of one of the Water Crowfoots (Ranunculus aquatiMs.) Once only have I seen a similar sight that surpassed it; it was in June, 1879 when I was walking along the canal side from Hythe towards Lympne. For two miles without a break, the water was one mass of blossoms. Once or twice every year I come across the fields for the sake of the view of snow white blossoms mantling this pond ; on a small scale it is to me what the " host of golden daffodils " was to Wordsworth,

" And oft when on my couch I lie,

In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude."

There are at least one or two moments in most men's lives productive of pictures like these —scenes from the Distant or the Past which flash on the eye of the mind and fill the heart with intense delight. One or two for each of us. Mine are but such as may fall to the lot of any ordinary person ; but one stands out supreme—the moment when I stood gazing on those magnificent falls of Cora Linn and Bonnington in that beautiful park near Lanark—gazing in silent worship, filled with awe, mingled with gratitude that it should have been given to me to behold such beauty, fresh almost it seemed from the hand of GOD. Another, nearer home, as I lay resting on one of the steep slopes on the cliff between St. Margaret's Bay and Dover Castle; the bright sun lighting up both land and -water, the sea like glass, and studded with sails, the regular thudding of the paddles of the steamers reaching the ear from a distance of two or three miles—a scene of enchantment, all so quiet, to be looked at only in silence and enjoyed.

Along the banks of this little stream where the trees are thickest, it is worth the entomologist's while to devote a night or two to sugaring. The three Eed Underwings (Latocala mtpta, C. sponsa and C. promissaj have been taken here.