As with many other things, so with collecting boxes, the cheapest is often the dearest in the end. You may feel inclined to save a shilling by buying a wooden box, but you are sure to discard it after a little practical experience for a metal one. We shall speak a little later on concerning the advisability of 'setting' the butterflies as soon as possible after capture; but this is not always practicable, especially after a good day's catch. Now, if the insects are pinned in a wooden box, they soon become dry and rigid, and consequently cannot be 'set' till they have been put through the more or less tedious process of 'relaxing.' If you use a wooden collecting box you will often find, on a hot and dry day, that all or nearly all your butterflies are rigid before you arrive home; but a metal box will keep them moist and supple, so that you can even put off the setting till the following day if you are unable to do it immediately after your return. Another point worth considering is the best economy of space. If your collecting box is only about one inch deep inside, you have room for only one layer of pinned insects; but a box only a little deeper may be lined with cork both at top and bottom, and thus be made to accommodate double the number. The zinc boxes sold by the dealers are generally lined with cork in this manner, and are, of course, deep enough for the double layer of specimens; but the wooden boxes are sometimes lined on the bottom only. After these few remarks you will at once see the economy of expending the extra shilling on the former. Although the prices of collecting boxes are low, yet there are many who would prefer making their own, and there is much to be said in favour of this. A great deal of pleasure is to be derived from the construction of your own apparatus, especially when that apparatus is afterwards to be used in the pursuit of a delightful hobby. During the whole of the time thus engaged, you are looking forward with the most pleasurable feelings to the glorious treat before you, and every joint you make seems to bring you nearer to the realisation of your joys. During the bleak winter months there is no better employment for an entomologist who has a little spare time than the preparation for the next outing. It is just one of those artful schemes by which he seeks to get as much pleasure out of life as it is capable of affording. How many there are who, for the lack of a pleasant and instructive hobby, find their leisure hours the most dismal of all, and who complain of the toil and wearisomeness of their lot! The mournful thought with them is, 'Is life worth living?' but who ever heard such an expression from the lips of an active entomologist?