AN IDYL OF THE HONEY-BEE. 69 



But if you would know the delights of bee-hunt- 

 ing, and how many sweets such a trip yields beside 

 honey, come with me some bright, warm, Jate Sep- 

 tember or early October day. It is the golden season 

 of the year, and any errand or pursuit that takes us 

 abroad upon the hills or by the painted woods and 

 along the amber colored streams at such a time is 

 enough. So, with haversacks filled with grapes and 

 peaches and apples and a bottle of milk, for we shall 

 not be home to dinner, and armed with a compass, 

 a hatchet, a pail and a box with a piece of comb 

 honey neatly fitted into it any box the size of your 

 hand with a lid will do nearly as well as the elaborate 

 and ingenious contrivance of the regular bee-hunter 

 we sally forth. Our course at first lies along the 

 highway under great chestnut-trees whose nuts are 

 just dropping, then through an orchard and across a 

 little creek, thence gently rising through a long series 

 of cultivated fields toward some high uplying land 

 behind which rises a rugged wooded ridge or mount- 

 ain, the most sightly point in all this section. Be- 

 hind this ridge for several miles the country is wild, 

 wooded, and rocky, and is no doubt the home of 

 qany wild swarms of bees. What a gleeful uproar 

 the robins, cedar-birds, high-holes and cow black- 

 b.rds make amid the black cherry trees as we pass 

 along. The raccoons, too, have been here after black 

 cherries, and we see their marks at various points. 

 Several crows are walking about a newly sowed 

 irheat field we pass through, and we pause to note 



