once. I should say that at a very modest estimate the skin is worth at least 600 guineas. There are a good many who, I have no doubt, would put it down at 1000 guineas. Here then is a veritable gem, the possession of which alone ought to act as a powerful lever in inducing the Council to provide a proper museum in which to house it. It is, I believe, now locked up in an iron safe in the possession of Mr. Whitworth Wallis." In this collection there appears to have been a most formidable weeding-out process.
In the 'Zambesi Mission Record,' a Catholic publication, we notice an interesting article by Father O'Neil, S.J., on "Some interesting Beetles," as observed in South Africa. "'Tockies' are large heteromerous beetles, generally black or brown in colour. They have been called 'Tockies' in consequence of a habit they have of knocking loudly on the ground to attract their mates. Let us watch one of these insects walking about in search of a partner. It advances a few paces, then stops, and, raising a rather unwieldly body on its long legs, gives four or five rapid knocks in succession. Then there is a pause, a further advance, and the knocking is repeated. After a bit answering knocks are heard, and our Tocky sets to work knocking most vigorously to aid in the determination of his whereabouts. As might be expected, the Tockies have given rise to many a ghost story. Though they walk about a good deal during the daytime, they are especially active at night; and, when doors are left open after dark, will frequently enter the bedrooms. Then in the dead of the night some unfortunate individual is awakened by a loud knock, knock, knock. If he be of a nervous disposition, and unfamiliar with our rapping friends, the result can be imagined. I know a pious gentleman who one night was firmly persuaded that one of the holy souls had come knocking for prayers. Here in Dunbrody the Tockies are often very troublesome, owing to the fact that our ceilings consist of thin laths, which make glorious sounding boards. One particular kind of Tocky will insist upon climbing up the walls of the house, and hammering away overhead at night time. More than one member of the community, myself among the number, have been kept awake during the greater part of the night by an almost uninterrupted tattoo. The noise the beetle makes when exercising itself on these laths is just like a loud knocking at a door. Not long ago one of them started rapping overhead about supper time. 'Come in,' cried the reverend father, whose room adjoins mine. 'Knock, knock, knock,' replied the Tocky. 'Come in,' shouted his reverence this time. My laughter unfortunately put a stop to the fun. I must not dismiss the Tockies without alluding to their omnivorous quality. Though it generally feeds on plants of one kind or another, the beetle seems to be capable of devouring
