THE 
WEEKLY ENTOMOLOGIST 
“ENTOMA qUIDQUID AGUNT NOSTRI EST FARRAGO LIBELLI.” 
Vol. 2. No. 17.] SATURDAY, JUNE 6, 1863. [Price 2d, 
SUGARING. 
The sugaring season has come 
round to us again. Be the reason 
what it may, there is a peculiar 
charm about this method of collect- 
ing, which appears to he felt by all 
who join in the study of the insect 
world. It comes to us for but a 
short time each year — comes to us 
with the budding trees and balmy 
air of spring ; and leaves us with 
the ripe glory of autumn, when 
Nature’s hand has showered her 
richest treasures in their full perfec- 
tion. We all welcome it with plea- 
sure, for it brings many a delight 
with it that we hardly known else- 
where. 
Perhaps we owe this feeling in 
some measure to the close contact 
into which we come with those 
beauties of the creation, which, in 
our narrow-mindedness, we are apt 
to pass unheeded. Who that has 
gone foi’th alone, on one of those 
cloudless evenings, which seem as 
if they would never change, and 
fade, and darken into night, to follow 
his delightful study, in the deep re- 
cesses of the woods, has not felt 
what we describe? For there he 
sees the world, as it came from the 
moulding of the hand that formed it, 
in all the stillness of its primeval 
beauty. He marks the ruddy beams 
that circle all things with a veil of 
golden loveliness, and crown the 
earth with a melting splendour, ’ere 
their source and giver sinks from 
view. And, by and bye, when 
sounds have ceased, and the last note 
of song has died away, into the utter 
stillness and majesty of night — when 
no rustling leaf or whispering breeze 
can break upon the hush that seems 
as if it must never be broken — when 
the tender light of the summer’s sky 
but half reveals the wild and varied 
beauty of forest glade or mountain 
slope ; then, indeed, he sees the 
world in something of that glorious 
g'arb in which man first beheld its 
face. 
We must all love such memories 
as these. What we gather on such 
nights as these is not of our science 
alone. We learn, perhaps, a higher 
lesson than mere science can teach 
us ; and yet we should grieve to 
see the science, whose advances we 
chronicle, neglected. We may well 
