The Young Collector's Handbook of Ants, Bees, Dragon-flies, Earwigs, Crickets, and Flies: (Hymenoptera, Neuroptera, Orthoptera, Hemiptera, Diptera)

In Short

Intended for the Victorian-era youth, this handbook serves as a practical, foundational manual for identifying and gathering insect specimens. By categorizing five major orders—Hymenoptera, Neuroptera, Orthoptera, Hemiptera, and Diptera—it moves beyond mere stamp-collecting to encourage a deeper, intellectual engagement with the natural world. Its enduring value lies in its structured, methodical approach to biology, transforming the rural landscape into a laboratory. It remains a fascinating snapshot of late nineteenth-century educational philosophy, where the rigorous classification of nature was considered an essential pursuit for the developing mind.

The Story

The narrative begins with a clear, pedagogical objective: to direct the reader’s "collecting ambitions" away from inanimate objects like stamps or coins and toward the living, breathing reality of the fields and woods. It frames entomology not as a hobby, but as a path to intellectual growth and healthful outdoor recreation that is accessible even to the "poorest person." The author immediately establishes a hierarchy of knowledge, grounding the reader in the Linnæan system of classification. He acknowledges that while butterflies, moths, and beetles have historically dominated the attention of collectors, there is an entire, neglected world of wings and stings awaiting serious study.

The book then systematically traverses the five major orders, acting as a field guide that progresses from the social, highly organized Hymenoptera—bees, wasps, and ants—to the more elusive and often misunderstood Diptera, or two-winged flies. Each section functions as a lecture on morphology and habitat. We learn, for instance, that ants are master engineers of chambered nests, and that the "Horse-stinger" dragonfly is a misnomer, as it possesses no sting at all. The text guides the reader through the biology of "beneficial" creatures, such as the lacewing fly, while offering practical, if sometimes grim, advice on how to handle pests like the house cricket or the bed bug.

As the text deepens, it balances descriptions of local British species with glimpses of exotic, tropical giants. It treats the "fantastic" forms of stick insects and the "comical" appearance of mantids with the same clinical precision applied to common garden ants. The arc concludes with the humble, yet ubiquitous, fleas. Throughout this progression, the author consistently argues for the utility of these creatures, often highlighting their roles as scavengers or predators of more destructive insects. The journey ends not with a grand climax, but with a comprehensive sense of order, leaving the reader with the tools to observe the natural world with an informed, disciplined eye. By the final pages, the reader has been led through the entire spectrum of insect life, equipped with a rigorous taxonomy that turns the chaotic movement of a summer meadow into a series of identifiable, scientific facts.

How It Unfolds

The call to observation The author sets the stage by contrasting the fleeting nature of collecting stamps with the inexhaustible, educational rewards of natural history. He argues that collecting insects is an inexpensive pursuit that cultivates "observant and intellectual faculties."

The Hymenoptera taxonomy The text launches into a detailed, hierarchical breakdown of the Hymenoptera, covering bees, wasps, and ants. It distinguishes between social insects, parasites, and vegetable feeders, providing a clear map for the reader to begin their initial categorizations.

The beauty of the Neuroptera Shifting to nerve-winged insects, the book explores the grace of dragonflies and the predatory habits of the lacewing. It corrects common misconceptions, such as the fear that dragonflies sting, and introduces the reader to the aquatic life cycles of caddis flies.

The mechanics of the Orthoptera The focus moves to leapers and runners, discussing grasshoppers, crickets, and the earwig. The narrative explains the "comical" mimicry of stick insects and provides tips on how to manage household pests like the common cricket.

The neglected Hemiptera and Diptera The final chapters address the bugs and two-winged flies, which the author notes have been "sadly neglected" by science. He details the vast variety of these orders, ranging from beneficial hoverflies to the parasitic fleas that pester both humans and animals.

The People

While the book contains no fictional characters, it is shaped by the presence of Victorian-era naturalists who serve as the intellectual anchors of the work. Sir John Lubbock stands out as the primary authority on the habits of ants, a figure whose meticulous studies provide the book with its scientific weight. Mr. Bates is cited as the source for the staggering biodiversity found in the Amazon, providing the reader with a sense of the global scale of the insect kingdom.

The author himself acts as a mentor, guiding the "young collector" through the complexities of the subject. He is a pragmatic, encouraging, and occasionally blunt instructor. He treats his audience as capable of rigor, assuming they are willing to learn technical names and morphological distinctions. He serves as the bridge between the amateur reader—whom he gently steers away from "weak-nerved" attitudes toward insects—and the professional world of entomology. Finally, the "young collector" is the central, albeit silent, protagonist. They are expected to be active, curious, and resilient, ready to spend hours in the field, undeterred by the biting or crawling subjects of their study. They are encouraged to become stewards of their own gardens, learning to distinguish between a destructive sawfly and a beneficial hoverfly, thereby transforming from a passive observer into an active, informed participant in the natural order.

In Its Own Voice

"Most boys have a fondness for forming collections of various objects, such as Foreign Stamps, Crests, and Coins; but very few comparatively collect Natural Objects."

(The author makes his case for why natural history is a more worthwhile pursuit for the young student than common hobbies.)

"It is a question whether they are not very useful in acting as scavengers."

(The author reflects on the often-maligned house cricket and its potential role in the domestic ecosystem.)

"It is commonly thought by persons who are not naturalists that dragon flies sting; such an erroneous idea we take the opportunity to correct."

(The author dispels a common superstition while championing the role of the dragonfly.)

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an argument for the intellectual democratization of science. It posits that the natural world is a vast, orderly library that is open to anyone willing to learn its language. By stripping away the mystery—and the irrational fear—of insects, the book empowers the reader to view the environment not as a collection of pests, but as a complex, functioning mechanism. It asks the reader to engage in a form of disciplined empathy, where even the most "mischievous" creature or the most "annoying" parasite is studied for its place in the grand design of the natural order. It is a plea for curiosity over repulsion, and for the methodical classification of the world as a way of truly knowing it.

Why Read It Today

Reading this handbook today feels like stepping into a Victorian classroom, where the prose is formal, confident, and unapologetically instructive. You will love it if you have an interest in the history of science or if you find comfort in the meticulous, old-fashioned categorization of the natural world. There is a quiet beauty in the author’s insistence that a "poor person" can find a world of wonder in their own backyard.

However, a modern reader must be prepared for the period-typical attitudes. The author’s view of nature is deeply utilitarian, focused on what is "beneficial" or "injurious" to human interests. There are also moments where the descriptions of parasites—such as the mention of lice on "niggers" or the casual discussion of fleas—reflect the colonial and class-based biases of the 1890s. The text assumes a level of patience for dry, taxonomic lists that might challenge a contemporary reader accustomed to more narrative-driven science writing. Yet, what stays with you is the author's genuine enthusiasm for the "graceful and elegant" dragon-fly and his conviction that any child, with a little instruction, can become a scientist. It is a reminder of a time when the study of the smallest, most ignored creatures was seen as a vital, noble, and perfectly accessible endeavor.