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LIBRARY

New YorK STATE COLLEGES
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AGRICULTURE AND HOME ECONOMICS

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CORNELL UNIVERSITY

EVERETT FRANKLIN PHILLIPS

BEEKEEPING LIBRARY

Cornell University

Library

The original of this book is in
the Cornell University Library.

There are no known copyright restrictions in
the United States on the use of the text.

http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924003264250

BUZ

OR

THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF A

HONEY BEE

BY

MAURICE NOEL

NEW YORK
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY

1892

hh

@

SE 523
N7G¢

THE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS,
RAHWAY, N. J.

cy at 4

PREFACE.

& N this little story, the author
ventures to hope that he may
succeed in interesting children
—perhaps even some big chil-
dren—in the habits of bees,
and in inducing them to study
for themselves their most
wonderful lives.

He has attempted to describe
a few only of the many opera-
tions with which all bee-keep-
ers of the present day are
perfectly familiar, and has not introduced any
mention of the bar-framed hives, which make the
manipulation of bees comparatively simple.

His object has been to awaken interest rather

vi Preface.

than to attempt instruction; but, at the same time,
except for such parts of it as are obviously imagin-
ary, his story describes nothing that he has not wit-
nessed in his own hives.

In case any of his readers should wish for practical
information on the subject, he may mention that a
little book, called Modern Bee-keeping, has been pub-
lished for the “ British Bee-keepers’ Association,”
and contains the collective experience of the best
bee-keepers in the country.

CONTENTS.

—_o——

PaGE.

CHAPTER I.

COMING OUT : ‘ ‘ 3 5 : I
CHAPTER II.

FIRST FLIGHTS—NARROW ESCAPE . ‘ : 16

CHAPTER III.

DISPUTE WITH A PEACOCK BUTTERFLY—THE SNAIL
SETTLES IT 3 é ‘ . - 34

CHAPTER IV.
SWARMING ‘ ‘ : : é i 4S

CHAPTER V.

BUILDING COMB—AN ACCIDENT—STORING HONEY—
A SURPRISE . : : ‘ j . 65

Viil. Contents.

Pace.

CHAPTER VI.

A SECOND SWARM—IDLE HOURS—SENT BACK , 78
CHAPTER VII.

DISCONTENTED WHISPERS—A STORMY DISPUTE—THE
MASSACRE OF THE DRONES é . 92

CHAPTER VIII.

DEATH OF HUM—ROBBERY—RESTITUTION A . Io1
CHAPTER Ix.

CAUGHT IN A COBWEB—THE SPIDER’S PLAN , 115
CHAPTER X.

BATTLE—VICTORY—DEATH " . 126

BUZ.

CHAPTER I.

COMING OUT.

ey HE first thing Buz remem-
bered was having the cramp
very badly in two of her
left legs, and not being
able to stretch them; for
she was so carefully packed
up in her cell that it was
impossible to move.

But she found there was a
chance of getting through
the ceiling; so she bit and
pushed, and ee and bit, till she could put her
head out.

2 Buz.

This was satisfactory, as far as it went, but it had
its inconveniences.

A bee immediately ran across her face, and she
shrank back. She put it out again, and two bees, in
a desperate hurry, trod all over it, and she shrank
back again.

And so for some time she kept on trying to
emerge and being driven back, till at last, becoming
accustomed to the manners of the hive, and taking
no notice of the pushes and shoves, she scrambled
out, and stood on the comb—a very promising
young bee.

Then up ran a couple of bees, one of whom
straightened out her proboscis, or tongue, which was
lying folded back, and offered her honey; while
the other caressed her with her antenna, and stroked
her with her fore feet.

“Much obliged to you, I’m sure,” said Buz, suck-
ing away.

“Stretch your wings and legs, and never mind
thanking us,” answered one of the bees.

“We all do our duty here,” said the other, “ with-
out wanting thanks. We attend to you because it’s
our place to do it.”

“You didn’t help me to scramble out of the cell,”
remarked Buz; ‘‘and what a scramble it was!”

Coming Out. 8

“Tt’s not our place todo that. A beethat couldn’t
get out of her cell would be no good here.”

At this moment, a young bee, from the cell next
to that which Buz had just left, came out, very
crumpled, and received similar attentions.

Buz looked on with much interest, while the new
arrival, who was named “ Hum,” was groomed and
fed.

“ Now,” said one of the nurse bees, “ you two had
better go out on the board in front of the hive, and
sun yourselves. You won’t work to-day, of course,
nor to-morrow either, unless it’s very fine; and don’t
forget,” added she, touching first one and then the
other with her antenne, “that you are called ‘ Buz,’
and you ‘Hum.’ Now be off with you.”

“But which is the way to the board?” asked
Buz. “Find out,” replied the nurse who had last
spoken, as she ran off. ‘‘Where’s your instinct?”
demanded the other, hurrying after her without
waiting for an answer.

On being left to themselves, Buz and Hum began
crawling down the comb, looking about them with
great curiosity. The cells they had just left, were
at the top of one of the center combs, and on their
way down they did not meet with very many bees ;
for as the day was warm and bright, most of them

4 Buz.

were away from the hive, gathering honey and pol-
len; but, as they approached the entrance, they
found themselves surrounded by streams of busy
workers, hurrying in every direction, some bringing
in stores, and others, who had just deposited their
last loads, bustling off to work again. But, however
busy they might be, they all found time to touch
Buz and Hum with their antenne as they passed;
and these last, instinctively put their own forward
and returned the compliment; indeed, they felt as
if it would not be comfortable to pass within touch-
ing distance of a single bee without that little recog-
nition; it seemed like saying “ All’s well.”

Arrived on the floor of the hive, they stood still
and looked about them. After a little time they
noticed that the two combs between which they had
just descended, looked rather darker and dirtier than
those on the outside, and that it was toward the lat-
ter that the honey-laden bees were hastening.

“T wonder why?” said Buz.

“Yes, I wonder,” echoed Hum.

“What are you wondering about?” inquired a
great drone, who chanced to be passing lazily along,
and who overheard what Buz said.

“We were wondering why some combs looked
so much blacker than others,” replied Buz.

Coming Out. 5

“Because they are used as nursery combs,” said
the drone. ‘“ Lots of young bees are born in them,
and each cell is used over and over again.”

“ Are they never used for honey?” asked Hum.

“Only if there’s no room for it elsewhere; they
always like to put honey in a nice new comb, and
then it’s called ‘ Virgin honey.’ But,” he continued,
“in an old hive, every comb gets used for young
ones, or grubs as we call them, in time. This isn’t
an old hive.”

“You say ‘they,’”’ remarked Buz, rather timidly ;
“don’t you get honey yourself, then, and work like
the others?”

“T should think not!” replied the drone, with
great disdain. ‘‘ Work, indeed!” And he moved
slowly away.

Then the two young bees went on toward the
entrance of the hive, and, after being well jostled,
and ever so much pushed about and run over, all
of which they didn’t mind a bit, they reached the
board outside, and looked upon the world for the
first time.

But they soon had to change their position, for
they were standing exactly in the stream of traffic.

“Now then,” said a bee, who was waddling in
with two great lumps of pollen on her thighs, and

,

6 Buz.

who bumped against Buz, “get out of the way,
can't you!”

“Come, come,’ said another to Hum, “you
mustn't stand there, you know; which is it to be
now—in or out?”

“T'd rather go out, please,” answered Hum.

“Tn fact, we’ve been sent out to sun,” added Buz.

“Out with you then,” said the bee, “and ask one
of the fanners to show you where to stand.”

“What's a fanner?” thought Buz. However,
she didn't ask, for fear of being again told to find
out; so she passed on with Hum through the
entrance. Just outside, a bee was standing quite
still, and as Buz passed she felt the ends of her
antenne very much whirred against and tickled,
and on looking up found that this was occasioned
by the wings of the bee in question, who was
moving them so fast that they were almost invisible ;
in fact, she was nearly lifted by them off her hind
legs—sometimes quite—and seemed to have hard
work to keep herself down by clinging on to the
board with the claws of her front feet.

‘T shouldn't wonder if that was a fanner,” re-
marked Buz to Hum.

“I’m a fanner, right enough,” said the bee, who
had overheard her. ‘What of that?”

Coming Out. 7

“We were told to ask you where to stand,”
answered Buz.

“Get to the other side of me then, toward the
edge of the board, and out of the way.”

Buz and Hum did so, and were then able
to look quietly about, without getting so tre-
mendously knocked against. They soon noticed
that, besides the fanner they had spoken to, there
were half a dozen more, all busy in the same
way.

““What do you keep on fanning for?” asked Buz,
who was rather a bumptious young bee.

“What for?” replied the fanner. “ Why, to give
the queen and the nurses and all in the hive a little
fresh air; they would be stifled this hot weather, if
something wasn’t done.”

“Ah!” said Hum, “I noticed a current of air as
we came out.”

“T should hope you did,” returned the fanner;
it would be a pretty thing for us all to be working
away like this for nothing!”

At this moment a bee passed in with a splendid
load of pollen on her thighs, the two great yellow
balls she carried being almost enough to prevent
her from staggering along.

“Well done!”’ said the fanner encouragingly as

8 Buz.

she passed. ‘Good again, old mate!” and then,
turning to Buz and Hum, she added—

“That bee came out of the cell next to mine, and
we were born almost at the same time, so we take
an interest in each other.”

“Only an interest?” inquired Buz. “I should
have thought you were great friends, like Hum and
I mean to be; eh, Hum?”

Hum touched Buz with her antennz in a friendly
way.

“There isn’t much time to be great friends here,”
answered the fanner; “we are always so busy,
except in the winter, and then we are too sleepy to
be very affectionate. Besides, we give all our love
to the queen; you haven’t seen her yet, I suppose?
Wait till you do—you'll find it’s just as I tell you.
Now then! Where are you going? Look out,
there! Help! Intruder! Intruder!”

As she spoke, the fanner made at a bee who had
just alighted, and was passing in. She was joined
by several others, and they were about to seize the
intruder, who, however, discovered the mistake, and
flew off just in time.

“What was all that about?” asked Buz, as the
fanner returned.

‘A bee from some other hive was trying to get

Coming Out. 9

into ours,” replied the fanner; ‘but she found out
where she was just in time. If we had caught her,
we should perhaps have stung her to death.”

“How did you know she was a strange bee?”
inquired Hum.

“We can tell at once, by touching or smelling a
bee, whether she belongs to our hive or not ; I don’t
pretend to explain exactly how it is, but we can.”

This quite satisfied the young bees, who now
became much interested in watching the workers
arriving from every direction and alighting on the
board.

Some were laden with pollen, others had collected
nothing but honey, and all, the instant they arrived,
set off to run into the hive as fast as they could,
without waiting to look round or gossip.

They certainly were very much in earnest; any
one could see that at once. Some seemed very tired,
and nearly fell back off the board when they pitched
on the edge of it, and indeed could hardly craw]
along with their booty.

“T know where ¢hat bee comes from,” remarked
the fanner, as one with peculiar colored pollen on
her thighs passed in. ‘I know quite well.”

“Do you?” said Buz. “ How?”

“ By the look, and by the smell, and—in fact, I

10 Buz.

do know; she comes from Cothelestone Hill. It’s
a beautiful place for bees, but rather a long
way off.”

‘How I should like to go there!” exclaimed Buz.

“Gently, gently,” said the fanner; “don’t be in
such a hurry.”

“Indeed,” added Buz, “I should like to try a short
fly, now, this moment.”

“ Vou had better not to-day; your wings will feel
stiff and cramped. Wait till you have had a good
feed, and a night’s rest, and then you'll do very well.
You see, the danger is, that if you get below the
level of the board you may not be able to rise again ;
and if you have to spend the night on the cold ground,
I wouldn’t give much for your chance of swarming,
I can tell you.”

“ What’s swarming?” asked Hum.

“Oh, I can't explain now; it would take too long.
You'll find out before the summer is over, I dare
say.”

At this moment a big rain-drop came splash down
on the board, close to Buz, and astonished her
immensely. It was followed by another and another,
and soon a smart shower drove all the bees near at
hand under shelter, and Buz and Hum entered the
hive with them.

Coming Out. 11

“What’s happening?” asked Buz.

“They've upset the watering-pot somewhere,”
answered the fanner; “ we never caz find out exactly
where they do it.”

“Then how do you know it’s a watering-pot?”
inquired Hum.

“ Sometimes,’ answered the bee, ‘when we are
gathering honey in a bed of mignonette or other
flowers, the gardener comes along with his watering-
pot and upsets it over us, and then it feels so exactly
like what’s going on now, that we think it must be
the same sort of thing, you know.”

When the storm first began, a great many bees
arrived from different directions, and crowded into
the hive; and as those within were prevented from
starting afresh, and were standing near the entrance,
impatiently waiting for the rain to stop, there was a
great bustle, and some difficulty in moving. Buz,
however, kept near her friend and the fanner, and
said to the latter :

“No more bees are coming in now; have they a//
returned?”

“Qh dear, no,” answered the fanner; “those who
were too far off to get back before the worst of the
storm have found shelter somewhere; but,” she
added, “they'll soon stop watering now.”

12 Bus.

“How do you know?” asked Buz.

“JT can feel it,” said the fanner. ‘“ Any bee, after
a little experience, can tell ; and when they are going
to water for a Jong time we do not go out in such
numbers, or so far, as we do before a mere sprinkle
like this. Look! It’s just over.”

This was quite true, and presently the sun shone
brightly out, and the rain-drops flashed and sparkled,
and a clean fresh smell came from the earth, and the
flowers lifted up their heads and offered the sweets
they contained to the busy, happy bees, who now
left the hive in great numbers, and scattered them-
selves all over the kitchen garden in which their hive
stood, and over the pleasant fields beyond.

“What fun!” exclaimed Hum, as they stood on
the board again. ‘ What fun to go out! Oh, how
I long for to-morrow!”

Buz and the fanner looked at her with surprise.
She seemed such a very quiet little bee, that they
were hardly prepared to find she could become
so enthusiastic.

“T can not bear to be idle,” she continued; “I
should like to fill a cell with honey, all by myself;
to be of some use, you know, instead of standing
and looking on while others work.”

“A very proper feeling, my dear,” said the fanner

Coming Out. 13

approvingly ; “‘but you must remember that the
great thing is todo your duty; and if your present
duty is—as I tell you it is—to do nothing, why, you
are working very well and profitably by just stand-
ing still and being nicely sunned, ready for to-mor-
row, don’t you see?”

“Yes, I see,” answered Hum, more contentedly.

«“ At the same time,” continued the fanner, “there
would be no harmin your trying to fan, if you would
like to practice that; only stand well out of the way,
and take care at first not to work too hard.”

Hum, taking the permission without paying much
attention to the caution, went to the side of the
board and set to work, but so vigorously, that she
turned herself completely over on her back, and would
have lifted herself quite into the air if she had not
clung very tightly to the board with her fore feet.

Buz was highly amused at this, and helped to set
her right ; and Hum, though exceedingly astonished,
and a little mortified at what had happened, set to
work again at once, and in a very short time was
really able to fan.

“That will be a useful bee,’ remarked the fanner
to Buz, as Hum continued practicing.

“T’m sure she will,” said Buz; “ but all bees work,
don’t they? I shall, I know.”

14 Buz.

“Oh, yes; a lazy bee wouldn’t do here at all. But
there are different dispositions in bees all the same;
for instance, some will think only of how many cells
they can fill with honey, and will consequently never
go far from the hive, so as not to lose time; others
are more adventurous, go further afield, and try to
get curious sorts of honey.”

“T shall be one of that sort,” said Buz; “I know
I shall.”

“Then again,” continued the fanner, ‘some bees
are good-tempered, and others are cross ; for instance,
I know one who won't let any person but the
gardener come near the hive; if any one else does,
she goes straight at him, to sting or to pretend to
sting him; and I must say it is very amusing to see
a person run. I say, do you feel hungry?”

Buz was rather astonished at the sudden manner
in which this question was asked, but replied, “Why,
yes, I think Ido.”

“ Because it is about time,’ continued the fanner,
“for youand Hum to go back to your cells; young
things ought never to be long without food. You
will find the nurses somewhere about.”

“Thank you,” said Buz; and she went off to fetch
Hum.

On their way into the hive Buz stopped, and said

Coming Out. 15

to the bee, who was still fanning away as hard as
ever, “ Will you tell us your name, please?”

“My name’s ‘ Fan,’”

“What, because you fan?”

“Oh dear, no; certainly not! I don’t a/ways fan,
you know; I only take my turn.”

“T understand,” said Buz; and away went the

two young bees to find their nurses and get some
food.

CHAPTER II.

FIRST FLIGHTS—NARROW ESCAPE,

EXT morning, Buz and
Hum were, of course, in a
great hurry to leave the hive
and try their wings; but
one of the nurses, who hap-
pened to see them on their
way to the entrance very
early indeed, told them not
to be tempted out by the
bright rays of the sun, which
had only just risen, but to
wait till the world was a lit-
tlewarmer. ‘“ Many ayoung bee,” she added, “yes,
and many an older bee who ought to have known
better, has left this hive on a bright-looking spring

First Flights—Narrow Escape. 17

morning, and has never returned, because it was
really so much colder than it seemed that no bee
could stand it. The fact is, we can not endure cold
weather; we should like to be able to, but we can’t,
and so there’s an end of it.”

With these sagacious words the nurse took her
departure, and Buz and Hum, though they felt it
was a great trial to wait, agreed to do nothing fool-
ish.

“ At anyrate,” said the former, ‘we can stand out
on the board, and run in directly we feel cold.”

So out they went, and took a bee’s-eye view of
the garden.

It was certainly a lovely morning, and the sun
shone right into the mouth of the hive, which faced
east, or rather south-east, as a hive should.

The garden in which it stood, had a high wall all
round it; but, as the ground sloped away, Buz and
Hum could see the country beyond, and the end of
the beautiful lime-tree avenue which led from the
old house near at hand.

Such a comfortable, old-fashioned country-house
it was, with many gable-ends, and queer bits of
building sticking out from it in all directions. It
didn’t belong to any particular order of architecture,
and didn’t want to. There was nothing at all cor-

18 Buz.

rect about it; and no architect, traveling through
the country to pick up hints, would have thought
of pulling out his book of plans to take acopy. You
couldn’t copy it—that was just the beauty of it; but
no artist could possibly pass it without taking off a
lot of sketches of odd bits and corners here and
there, or without being delighted with the pictur-
esque old place.

And inside! Was there ever such a place for
children to play hide-and-seek in? There were really
no end of long passages, and big cupboards, and tiny
rooms; while, as for stairs! they were here, there,
and everywhere: almost every room had two or
three steps leading up to it, or two or three steps
leading down to it; for the architect, or rather archi-
tects (there must have been a dozen of them
employed at different times), seemed to have said,
‘No, we won't have any two rooms exactly on the
same level—not if we can help it.” Some of the
rooms had windows that looked down into the old
hall; others had managed to get so exactly into the
middle of the house that there was nothing for it
but to light them from the next room; but that
didn’t matter a bit: they did famously for keeping
bandboxes and odd things in, and there were heaps
of rooms to spare. Nowadays, people wouldn't like

First Flights—Narrow Escape. 19

to build in that sort of way, they are so particular
about turning every inch of space to account; and
one might tell from a glance at the outside of a
modern house the situation of all the rooms within.
Well, that wasn’t the case with Heathercombe, at
any rate; but, such as it was, no one could have
helped saying, ‘ What a dear, comfortable old place!
I wonder what its history is? There must be plenty
of stories belonging to it.” And so there were, as
even the old lime trees in the avenue knew quite
well.

The garden exactly suited the house, so it is
hardly necessary to say that there was nothing formal
about it. You couldn’t take in the whole pattern of
the flower-beds at once, as if you were looking at a
Turkey carpet; for little narrow paths, that twisted
about as much as they possibly could, led you to all
kinds of odd nooks and out-of-the-way corners, here
passing a quaint bit of yew hedge, and there round-
ing aclump of enormous shrubs; and in all the
corners and in every nook you would find a little
flower-bed or two, filled with dear old-fashioned
flowers—moss roses, wall-flowers, columbines, stocks,
marigolds, and many others; and hardly any of
those eternal geraniums with dreadful names, and
calceolarias of high degree, which have to be shown

20 Bue.

in stiff regimental order, and which look very lovely
in certain places, but wouldn’t have suited the old
garden atall. Then there were plenty of rustic
seats and dear little summer-houses, and, of course,
an old sundial, so covered with moss that the figures
on the dial were completely hidden—that didn’t
matter; it would have beena shame to dream of
utilizing it—and on the summer-houses, sweetbriers
-and honeysuckles crept and twined and hung as
much as ever they liked, and mignonette grew in
patches all about the place, and even the steps of
the old sundial were covered with musk.

What with all the sweet flowers, and what with
the yew hedges and tall shrubs, affording shelter
from any wind that might blow, it was the place of
all others for bees.

But Buz and Hum knew nothing about this as
yet, and as they looked at the kitchen garden they
thought it was big enough for any thing. There
were no fanners at work on the board: the morning
was too cool for them to be needed—so cool that,
though plenty of bees kept on walking to the edge
of the board and taking observations—it was some
time before any flew off.

At last, as the sun’s rays grew warmer, one or
two were hardy enough to start away on their long

First Flights—Narrow Escape. 21

day’s work ; but just then Buz and Hum felt quite
chilled, and had to run into the hive, where they
very soon got nice and warm again.

“ How lucky it is,” said Hum, ‘ that we didn’t fly
off at-once!”

“Why, yes,” replied Buz, “it is certainly colder
than it seemed at first; after all, I suppose it’s a
good thing to take advice.”

“ Take advice,” repeated a bee who was standing
near the entrance, and who heard what Buz said;
“ T should think it was, just. But what advice have
you been taking?”

So Buz told her, and she seemed pleased, and
said :

“Tl tell you what it is, if you two will stay with
me I'll let you know when I consider it warm enough
for you to go out; and when I consider it so, it
will be so.”

“Come,” thought Buz, “she doesn’t seem to mis-
trust her judgment much.”

“1 might perhaps be tempted,” continued the
bee, “to go out a little too soon myself, but
when one judges for others one is not led away by
inclination ; do you understand ?”

“ Yes,” replied Buz, ‘you mean that it does not
matter to you how long we have to wait, don’tyou?”’

22 Buz.

‘“That’s about it,” said the bee.

“But shan’t we keep you waiting?” asked Hum.

“No; I'm not going out this morning. I shall
fan when it gets warmer: that’s my work to-day.
Now, if you are warm again, we'll just step out and
take a look round.”

So they all three went out, and even in the short
time they had been away they found that the sun
had become much more powerful.

But their newly-made friend would not let them
start quite at once, and took the opportunity of
giving them several hints about collecting honey,
andsoon. ‘ However,” she added, *‘ I won’t bother
you any more now ; for there is a certain party to
whom you are going to be introduced, who will
teach you more in a day than you could learn from
me in a week.”

“Who?” asked Buz and Hum together.

“Experience,” answered the bee, looking very
wise indeed.

And now at last the time came, and Buz and
Hum were allowed to try their wings.

“Follow me,” said their friend; “I can spare
time to fly a little way ; and when I stop, you stop
too.”

“ All right,” cried Buz, trembling with excitement.

first Flights—Narrow Escape. 23

Hum said nothing, but her wings began to move,
almost in spite of herself.

Away went the bee, as straight as a line from the
mouth of the hive, and away flew Buz and Hum
after her; but at first starting they both found it a
little difficult to keep quite straight, and Buz
knocked against the board to begin with, and nearly
stopped herself, as she had not learned how to
rise.

The bee did not go far, and lit on the branch of a
peach tree which was growing against a wall hard
by. Buz came after her in agreat hurry, but missed
the branch and gave herself a bang against the wall.
Hum saw this, and managed to stop herself in time;
but she did not judge her distance very well either,
and got on to the peach tree in a scrambling sort
of way.

“Very good,” said their friend, as they all three
stood together; ‘‘ you will soon be able to take care
of yourselves now; but just let mesee you back to
the hive.”

So off they flew again, and alighted on the board
in a very creditable manner.

“Now,” said the bee, “I shall leave you; but
before I go let me advise you, asa friend, not to
quit the garden to-day ; there are plenty of flowers,

24 Buz.

and plenty of opportunities for you to meet with
‘Experience,’ without flying over any of the four
walls. Good-by.”

So saying, she disappeared into the hive.

“Tsn't it too delightful!” exclaimed Buz to
Hum. “Flying! why it’s even more fun than I
thought!”

“It is,” said Hum; “ but I should like to get
some honey at once.”

“ Of course,” replied Buz, “only I should like to
fly a good way to get it.”

“T want to fill a cell quickly,” said Hum.

“Oh yes, to be sure! What a delightful thing it
will be to put one’s proboscis down into every
flower and see what's there ! Do you know,” added
Buz, putting out her proboscis, ‘I feel as if I could
suck tremendously ; don’t you?”

“Yes, yes! cried Hum, “I dong to be sucking;
let's be off at once.”

So away they went, and lit on a bed of flow-
ers.

Hum spent the day between the hive and that bed,
and was quite, quite happy ; but Buz, though she too
liked collecting the honey, wanted to have more
excitement in getting it; and every now and then, as
she passed to and from the hive, a lovely field of

First Flights—Narrow Escape. 25

clover, not far off, sent forth such a delicious smell,
as the breeze swept over it, that she was strongly
tempted to disregard the advice she had been given,
and to hurry off to it.

At last she could stand it no longer; and, rising
high into the air, she sailed over the walland went
out into the world beyond.

Yes, right out into the world; and very much did
she enjoy the sense of freedom, of going as high as
she liked and flying as fast as she could, and stop-
ping exactly when and where she felt inclined, with
nobody to bother her with good advice—which she
was ready to admit was all very well, though, at the
same time, a person couldn't everlastingly be taking
it. She had had quite enough for one day, she was
sure of that; and so she hadn’t told Hum of her
intention to leave that poky old kitchen garden :
Hum might be giving advice next and that would be
too absurd !

And so she reached the field of clover, and, flying
quite low over the flowers, was astonished to see
what lots of bees were busy among them—bumble
bees without end, and plenty of honey bees too; in
fact, the air was filled with the pleasant murmur that
they made.
| “To be sure,” said Buz to herself, “this is the

26 Buz.

place forme! Poor dear old Hum! I hope she’s
enjoying herself as much asIam_ I don’t mean to
be idle either, so here goes for some honey.”

But the first thing to do was to pick out a flower
to settle on.

It seemed easy enough, for there were hundreds
of thousands to choose from. That was just it;
who was to choose any particular flower out of such
alot! A dozen times Buz was on the point of
alighting on one, and a dozen times she was attracted
by another close by, which seemed a little fresher,
ora little richer, or a little larger. This wouldn’t
do at all; she felt she was wasting time, and had
just made up her mind to let herself fall anyhow
into the cloverand begin on the first bit she touched,
when she caught sight of a splendid flower close to
her. There was no mistake about it this time ; it
was a king clover, she thought, so tall and fine, and
promising such a supply of honey that she settled
on it at once in triumph.

And she eagerly unpacked her proboscis and
explored, one after another, the cups of the many
flowers clustered together in the head.

But how dreadfully disappointing! Not a drop
of honey, not the least little drop, could she find in
the whole flower !

First Flights—Narrow Escape. 27

“Well, I declare !’’ she said aloud, as she raised

her head at last in disgust, ‘it’s perfectly dry!”

At this the flower gave a low silvery laugh, and
shook a little on its stalk.

“Dry!” it repeated; “I should rather think I
was; sucked as dry as a brick, half an hour ago.”

“Indeed!” said Buz.

“Yes, my dear, indeed,” repeated the flower
cheerily; ‘“‘and so many bees besides yourself have
been sold this morning, that it’s really quite ridic-
ulous! I suppose you’re a young bee, eh?”

‘“‘ Well, rather,” answered Buz. “ Why?”

“ You see, you young things always wll pick out
the biggest and tallest of us, and wz// waste your
time in trying us all over, quite forgetting that
others before you have most likely been attracted
by just the same qualities that you admire yourself.
Now let me give you a bit of advice.”

“More advice,” thought Buz to herself. ‘“ Oh
dear!’’ However, she said politely enough that
she would be glad to have it.

“Then,” said the flower, “pick out the blossoms
that are most hidden and most out of the way.
Flowers that are really almost troublesome to get at
are generally worth trying: you will find this the
case nearly always ; and remember also, that if the

28 Bus.

first two or three cups of a head like mine be dry, it
is hardly worth while trying all the others, for the
same bee who cleared out the first will probably
have worked out every cup in the flower. Don’t
you think so ?”’

“ Yes, I do,” replied Buz ; “I know 7 should, at
least. Well, I’m much obliged to you for the hint,
and I'll be off at once and take advantage of it.”

“ All right,” said the flower. ‘“ Good-by.”

“ Good-by,” answered Buz ; and away she flew.

Not for more than a few yards though ; turning
suddenly back, she lit once more on the same flower.

“T thought I’d just ask you,” she said, “ if it’s a
fair question, do you mind us bees taking away your
honey ; or do you consider us so many robbers?”

“Mind it!’’ replied the flower. ‘“ Not at all;
you do us quite as much good as we do you, with-
out being able so help it any more than we can.”

“ Do we really ?” said Buz.

“ Of course you do,” answered the flower : “ look
at your legs.”

Buz looked.

“T can only see a little yellow dust on them.”

“Well, that’s pollen ; and the pollen from one
flower fertilizes others. But how is it to get to
them? It must be carried, of course; and though

First Flights—Narrow Escape. 29

sometimes the wind does this for us, you bees are
the means we chiefly dependon. In short, without
bees there would be a very poor look-out for flowers ;
and, of course, we are necessary to you: so, you see,
it’s a case of ‘ tit for tat... Good-morning.”

“ Good-morning again, and thank you,” said Buz,
as she flew away.

And now it was high time to set to work in earnest ;
so Buz was very diligent indeed, and, remembering
what the tall clover blossom had told her, she selected
the most out-of-the-way flowers she could find, and
soon collected as much honey as she could carry.

But by the time she had done this she found her-
self close to the further end of the clover field ; and
while resting for a moment, before starting to carry
herload to the hive, she noticed a little pond in the
corner. Feeling thirsty after her hard work, she
flew off to take a few sips; but just as she reached
the pond and was in the act of descending, a light
gust of wind caught her and turned her half over,
and before she could recover herself she was plunged
far out into the water !

Poor Buz! She was a brave little bee, but this
was a terrible accident ; and after a few wild strug-
gles she almost gave herself up. The water was so
cold, and she felt herself so helpless in it ; and then

40 Buz.

the accident had happened so suddenly, and taken
her so utterly by surprise, that it was no wonder she
lost courage. Only fora moment though; just as
she was giving up in despair the hard and seemingly
useless work of paddling and struggling with all her
poor little legs at once, she saw that a bit of stick
was floating near her, and with renewed energy she
attempted to get to it. Alas! it was all she could
do to keep her head above water; as for moving
along through it, that seemed impossible, and she
was tempted to give up once more. It was very
hard though; there was the stick, not more than a
foot away from her; if she could only reach it! At
any rate, she was determined it should not be her
fault if she was unsuccessful; so she battled away
harder than ever, though her strength began to fail
and she was becoming numbed with the cold.
Just as she made this last effort another gust of
wind swept over the pond, and Buz saw that the
stick began to move through the water, and tocome
nearer and nearer to her. The fact was that a small
twig sticking up from it acted asa sail, though Buz
didn’t know this. And now the stick was quite
close, almost within reach ; in another moment she
would be on it. Ah! but a moment seems a long
time when one is at the last gasp, as poor Buz was.

First Flights—Narrow Escape. 31

Would she be drowned after all? No! Just as
she was sinking she touched the stick with one
little claw, and held on as only drowning people
can; and then she got another safely lodged, and
was able to rest for a moment. Oh, the relief of
that, after such a long and ceaseless struggle !

But even then it was very hard work to get up on
the stick, very hard indeed. However, Buz man-
aged it at last, and dragged herself quite out of the
cold, cruel water.

By this time the breeze was blowing steadily over
the pond, and the stick would soon reach the bank ;
but Buz felt very miserable and cold, and her wings
clung tightly to her, and she looked dreadfully for-
lorn.

The pond, too, was overshadowed by trees; so
there were no sunbeams to warm her.

“Ah!” thought she, “if I can manage to drag
myself up into the sunshine, and rest and be well
warmed, I shall soon be better.”

Well, the bank was safely reached at last ; but
Buz, all through her life, never forgot what a busi-
ness it wasclimbing up the side. The long grasses
yielded to her weight, and bent almost straight
down, as if on purpose to make it as uphill work for
her as possible. And even when she reached the top

32 Buz.

it took her a weary while to get across the patch of
dark shadow and out into the glad sunlight beyond ;
but she managed to arrive there at last, and crawl-
ing on the top of a stone which had been well
warmed by the sun’s rays, she rested for a long
time.

At last she sufficiently recovered to make her way,
by a succession of short flights, back to the hive.
After the first of these she felt so dreadfully weak
that she almost doubted being able to accomplish
the journey, and began to despond.

“Tf I ever do get home,” she said to herself, “1
will tell Hum all about it, and how right she was to
take advice; in fact, my story shall be known
throughout the hive: it may be a useful warning to
many young bees yet unhatched.”

Now, whether it was that the exercise did her
good, or that the sun’s rays became hotter that
afternoon, can not be known: but this is certain,
that Buz felt better after every flight, and before she
had reached the end of the clover field she had
almost determined to say nothing about her adven-
ture, except, of course, to Hum. ‘“ What's the use
of being laughed at ?”’ she thought. ‘I shouldn’t
mind much if it would do any good; but would it?
that’s the point. I fancy not; the young bees would

First Flights—Narrow Escape. a

only be amused at hearing what a mess I had got
into, but they never would think of the story at
the right time. No, I shall certainly not make it
public.”

So she sipped a little honey, cleaned herself with
her feet, and stretched her wings, and, with the sun
glistening brightly on her, looked quite fine again.
Her last flight brought her to the top of the kitchen-
garden wall, from which she was just about to start
for the hive, when she thought how disagreeable it
would be to meet Hum and tell her every thing.
“ After all, what good can possibly come of alluding
to my adventure?” she said to herself. ‘It hurt
no one but me, and I’m all right again now; so I
may say it has done me good. No, I declare I'll say
nothing at all about it to Hum or any one else:
that will be the best way.”

So she opened her wings and flew gayly to the
hive, which she entered just as if nothing had hap-
pened,

7.0.
NS 2RABS 9
os No webags 3

CHAPTER III.

DISPUTE WITH A PEACOCK BUTTERFLY.
THE SNAIL SETTLES IT.

escape, Buz did not venture far
from the hive, and worked
steadily and well. She nowand
then met Hum, and they were
always good friends; but she
found that what she had heard
was quite true, and that there
was not much time for any thing
but work. One morning, how-
ever, as they were both waiting
near the entrance of the hive till it should be warm
enough to go out, Hum asked Buz if she had seen
the queen yet.

Dispute with a Peacock Butterfly. — 35

“T should think so!” replied Buz. “The first time I
met her, I was carrying in some honey, and was pass-
ing between two combs, when, without knowing why,
I found myself turning round to the right and bow-
ing away like any thing! ‘ What’s the matter with
me?’ thought I; ‘this is quite ridiculous ’—but
ridiculous or not, I did not seem to be able to stop,
and was actually getting angry with myself, when I
saw, in the midst of a circle of,bees close to me, one
who I felt must be the queen. She was so long in
the body and so graceful, and her wings were so
much shorter than ours, that no one could help see-
ing the difference at once; and, then, all the bees
round were careful to keep their heads turned
toward her. She was busy laying eggs, and I
watched her for some time; but one got tired of
that, andsoI squeezed out of the crowd. I suppose
you've seen her too?”

“Oh, yes!” answered Hum, “and she noticed me
quite kindly; I’ddo any thing for her—any thing!”

“Certainly,” said Buz; “I suppose you feel that
you couldn’t do a stroke of work unless you knew
that she was in the hive, and all safe.”

“Yes,” answered Hum, “I quite feel so.”

“ With regard to that,” pursued Buz, “ every bee
in the hive is just the same.”

26 Buz.

“ How do you know?”

“ A drone told me.”

‘“‘T have several times seen you talking to drones.”

* IT always go to a drone when I want to know any
thing.”

“Do you really?”

“Ves, of course; bees who work hard like you, old
Hum, never have time to explain, but are always in
such a hurry to be off. Now drones are very lazy in
every other way, but are tremendous gossips, I find.”

“Ah!” said Hum; “ I remember nurse telling me
that if I showed her a lazy person, she would show
me a gossip.”

“ That’s it!’’ cried Buz. ‘Well, a drone told me
that the custom we all have of touching each other
with our antenne whenever we pass, was introduced
on purpose to save the trouble of asking after the
queen. It’s merely a signal that every thing is going
on well with her.”

“IT can believe that,” said Hum, “ for it’s just what
I feel.”

At this moment the sun peeped over a bank of
morning clouds, and called the bees to work; and
out went Buz and Hum with the rest, the former
making her way to the old-fashioned flower garden
near the house.

Dispute with a Peacock Butterfly. 37

Here she was soon busy among some early stocks
and mignonette which grew near the sundial, and
had already made several journeys to and from the
hive, when she was addressed by a peacock butterfly
which she had noticed flitting about, and which was
now sitting on the top of the dial itself.

“Vou seem to have something /ze an appetite this
morning !”’ said the butterfly.

“ What do you mean?” said Buz.

“But you'll make yourself ill, you know,” con-
tinued the butterfly.

“I’m sure I shan’t!” answered Buz, indig-
nantly.

“Unless you're like a snake,” persisted the butter-
fly in an aggravating manner, “and can take in
enough food for a week.”

“You don’t know what you're talking about,”
cried Buz, turning angrily away.

“Oh, yes, I do,” said the butterfly coolly; ‘I’ve
been watching you, and thinking. It’s the only
thing I’ve been doing.”

“And you've done that wrong,” retorted Buz;
“so it’s a pity you weren't asleep.”

“T’ve been thinking,” repeated the butterfly, as if
she hadn’t heard what Buz said, “that you bees area
greedy lot; and the more I think of it, the more I

aa Buz.

can’t remember ever seeing a bee that was doing
any thing except what you're doing now.”

“Do you mind saying that again?” said Buz
sarcastically ; “it’s a pretty sentence, very!”

“ Not at all,” said the butterfly. And she repeated
it all over again, word for word, and seemed quite
pleased.

This bothered Buz, who didn’t exactly know what
to say ; when the butterfly continued in the calmest
manner—“ The simple truth is, you’re a/ways think-
ing of eating.”

“Why, you ignorant, conceited creature!” cried
Buz; “how dare you tell me that?”

“ Because it’s a fact-—come now, isn’t it?” said
the butterfly.

“No! No!! No!!! It’s a most abominable
story!”

“You seem a little put out,” said the butterfly,
“which is foolish; people can’t always agree, you
know. Now, suppose you come here and talk the
matter over with me quietly. I’m sure you can spare
a few minutes.”

Buz was at first inclined to refuse indignantly;
but remembering what a triumph it would be to
prove the butterfly wrong in every thing she said,
consented.

Dispute with a Peacock Butterfly. 39

“ That's right,” said the butterfly, as Buz settled
down close to her. “ Now begin.”

“How?” asked Buz.

“IT made a statement that seemed to annoy you.
You must either admit it, or prove I’m wrong.
My statement was, that you bees are always think-
ing of eating.”

“T certainly don’t admit it.”

“Then disprove it.”

“ To begin with, we don’t—but, I say,” said Buz,
suddenly interrupting herself, “why shouldn’t you
prove you're right ?”

“Any thing you please; I won't be particular
with you. Well then, I’ve observed, not you alone,
but dozens of other bees—not on this day alone, but
on dozens of other days—and you have all been
doing the same thing—always. You have all been
employed in sucking every drop of honey out of
every single flower you could get at; as for ever
resting, or playing about, or even stopping to talk
—why you £uow you never do. Those are the
observations I have made myself, and on those
observations I base my statement—lI base my state-
ment,” repeated the butterfly, speaking very slowly,
and evidently rather proud of herself.

“ Among your other observations,” said Buz, try-

40 Buz.

ing to talk as calmly as the butterfly, ““have you
ever noticed that we are in the habit of leaving at
intervals the flowers on which we are busy, of flying
rapidly away, and of returning after a_ short
absence ?”’ :

“T have,” replied the butterfly.

‘“Can you tell me why we do so?”

“Tf you'll promise not to be vexed, I'll tell you
what I've always thought.”

‘“‘T’ll promise,” said Buz.

“To get an appetite for a little more honey.”

“Ah! then you’re just wrong—as wrong as ever
you can be.”

“Am I really?” said the butterfly. ‘“ Well, you
know, it was only a guess, and isn’t of the least
consequence.”

“ But it is,” cried Buz, “of the greatest possible
consequence, and so you'll be driven to admit when
I explain that we leave the flowers, on purpose to
deposit the honey we have collected, in our hive;
and there it is stored up for our use during the
winter. So you see we don’t eat it at all, or think
of eating it—there!—and so you're wrong!” con-
cluded Buz, excitedly.

“Then you'd like me to withdraw my statement ?”
asked the butterfly.

Dispute with a Peacock Butterfly. 41

“Of course; you must withdraw it, now you know
that I have hardly eaten any honey all this morning
—not so much as you have, I daresay.”

“Very good,” replied the butterfly; ‘ but before
I do so, tell me if I am wrong in thinking you said
the honey was stored for your use during the winter.”

“ That’s just what I said.”

“ May I ask how you use it?”

“ Why, we eat it, of course,” said Buz.

“Then all this morning you must have been
thinking—not of what you were eating, certainly—
but of what you are going to eat in the winter.
Dear me! dear me! This is even worse than I
thought,” said the butterfly, almost sadly.

“ But it isn’t greediness on our part,” said Buz;
“we call it, being provident.”

“Itsounds greedy tome though,” said the butter-
fly. ‘According to your own account, you think all
the summer of what you are going to eat all the
winter. You think of nothing else, and work like
slaves, and never haveany fun. Well, I wouldn’t bea
bee!”

Buz was rather disconcerted at the turn the con-
versation had taken, and, more to gain time than for
any other reason, she asked the butterfly how she
spent Aer time.

42 Buz.

“I do exactly what I like all day long, and never
think of a moment beyond the present. If I feel
hungry, I eat, and directly I’m satisfied I think of
food no longer; if I am hot, I fly in the shade; if
cold,I bask in the sun. When I feel lively, I dance
gayly up and down in the air, and the moment I’m
tired, I stop. I have a thousand companions as
gay and beautiful as myself, always ready to play
with me, and nothing can put me out, for I don’t
care what happens to me.”

“ But when the cold winter begins?”

‘‘Then I shall die,” said the butterfly, very cheer-
fully—“at least, so I suppose; but what of that?
Perhaps I shall like it.”

“ At any rate,” said Buz, “you have described a
very selfish, useless sort of life.”

“ And in what sense is yours useful ?’’ retorted
the butterfly, “except to yourself perhaps. Ifyou
do not gather all the honey you talk about for your
own use, you at least expect a share of what the
other bees in your hive collect; so that in point of
fact you only work hard in order to keep yourself
alive. I ask again, what’s the use of your keeping
alive?”

“To begin with,” said Buz, “I help to make the
cells in which we rear the young grubs, and to col- |

Dispute with a Peacock Butterfly. 43

lect the food with which we feed them—and in that
way I am unselfishly useful, you must allow.”

‘‘Perhaps; but after all, what do you gain by
working hard to rear a lot of things as useless as
yourself? I know there will be dozens of young
caterpillars—nasty things !—crawling about some
day, that will all come out of the eggs I laid yester-
day. Do you suppose I’m proud of that ? Certainly
not.”

Buz suddenly remembered what the clover flower
had told her with regard to the use of bees in dis-
tributing pollen, and eagerly repeated it to the butter-
fly, who only said—

“T sincerely hope you don’t take any credit to
yourself for that. You surely arenot proud of doing
what you couldn’t felp doing, however hard you
tried?”

“Tlike to think I am useful, even if no praise is
due to me for doing so. My life would not be spent
in vain if I were useful even against my will, and I
still say that it isa higher and nobler one than yours.
Iam convinced that the consciousness of being use-
fully employed e

“T deny the usefulness to any one but yourself,
mind,” put in the butterfly.

“Makes life far happier,” continued Buz, “ than it

44 Buz.

can possibly be in your case, who live only for self-
indulgence; and, even if it be true, as you affirm it is,
that my existence is utterly in vain, the very fact of
my longing to be of use, and of your being unwilling
to be useful even if you could, makes me certain
that it is better to be a bee than a butterfly.”

“Pity we can’t agree!” said the butterfly. ‘“‘ Fine
day, ain’t it?”

Buz was so annoyed at the flippant manner in
which the butterfly put an end to the conversation,
in which she had really become interested, that she
turned to leave without saying another word, when
she heard a thick, muffled voice, so close to her that
she quite started—

“T’m very old.” Then there was a pause. “ Very
old indeed,” continued the voice, which Buz now
found proceeded from a large snail, stuck close to
the edge ofthe sundial. ‘Hundreds of years, per-
haps,” said the snail slowly, as if he was reckoning
up.

“Thousands, I should say,” remarked the butter-
fly, in a low voice.

“And I know a lot.” Here there was a long
pause.

“ He knows how to keep silence, at any rate,”’ said
the butterfly to Buz.

Dispute with a Peacock Butterfly. 45

“Which is more than some people do,” retorted
Buz.

“In here I think a good deal,” continued the snail.
“ Twas once imprisoned in a rock for over a hundred
years; I thought a good deal then.”

Buz didn’t know what to say, and even the butter-
fly made no remark; the voice was so very solemn,
and also she felt that the snail wouldn’t have cared
for any words of hers. The latter soon continued—

“T once considered the subject of your late con-
versation (of which, I must tell you, I heard every
word) for fifty years at a stretch.”

“Did you get aheadache after it?” the butterfly
couldn’t help asking. But the snail didn’t seem to
hear her, and Buz took no notice whatever of the
question.

“ Andas,” said the snail, “you were both totally
wrong in the conclusions to which you came, I shall
just put you right. You bee,’ he continued—sud-
denly shooting out the horn nearest to Buz, and
keeping it pointed toward her—“ seem to despise the
butterfly for not working, or taking any care for the
future, and for leading a vain and useless life, as you
call it. Don’t despise the butterfly. And you but-
terfly ’—here he shot out his other horn, and pointed
it at the insect he addressed—“ appear to pity the

46 Buz.

bee because she works hard during the summer, in
order that she may keep herself alive through the
winter, instead of enjoying herself while she may.
Don't pity the bee.”

The snail paused for a moment, and drew in both
his horns, and then continued in a very solemn
manner—

“What is right for one person, is wrong for
another. Ifa bee were to lead the life of a butter-
fly, she would be miserable; for she was created in
order that she might work, and no one can be really
happy who is not fulfilling the object of his creation.
On the other hand, if a butterfly were to attempt to
work, she would fail, and be miserable also. So let
the bee work as hard as she can, without being proud
of doing what is only her duty—and she will be as
happy as the butterfly. Let the butterfly sit in the
sun and look beautiful, and enjoy all the pleasures of
life and be thankful for them: above all, let her never
look down on those whose duty it is to work; let her
always have a soft heart and akind word for suchas
are fagged and worn by the toil she is not called
upon to endure herself—and the butterfly will be as
happy as the bee. As for presuming ’’—(here the
snail became as stern as such a soft thing conven-
iently could)—“ as for presuming to settle which is

Dispute with a Peacock Butterfly. 47

the nobler, or higher, or better life to lead, how dare
you attempt to doso! It is not for youto decide.
In my opinion, whoever does the workhe is given to
do, best—whatever that work may be—whatever that
work may be, mind,” repeated the snail emphatically,
putting out both his horns, and pointing one at each
of the insects in a very significant manner—“ leads
the best life.”

At this moment thesun, which had been behinda
cloud for some time, shone brightly out, and the
snail retired into his shell at once, and rested on the
cool soft moss which grew over the dial. The two
insects looked at each other rather foolishly, and
Buz was the first to speak :

“T’m glad that snail overheard us, and spoke out
so plainly ; I seem to see things differently now, and
retract what I said about selfishness.”

“ And I,” answered the butterfly—who was really
very good-natured, and was apt to hurt people's feel-
ings only from want of thought—‘“am very sorry
indeed that I should have laughed at you or your
work; for I honor you in my heart, I do indeed.
Now come,” she continued coaxingly, ‘do let us
part friends; and if you would let me take one of
the hints given by that dear old snail, I should think
it so kind of you. If ever you feel tired or over-

48 Buz.

worked, or whenever things go wrong, do come and
let me try to cheer you up; now do!”

“T certainly will,” answered Buz, ‘though at the
same time, I enjoy my work so much that I don’t
expect to have to trouble you often; however it's
quite nice of you to think of it,” she concluded, “ and
Thope we may frequently meet. NowI really must be
off. I don’t consider my time here has been wasted,
but I am perfectly rested, and have plenty to do.”

“T won't try to detain you,” said the butterfly ;
“and mind, I shall always be most interested in
hearing what work you are engaged in, and howit is
getting on.”

“ And on my part,” answered Buz gayly, “it will
always be a pleasure to me to see you flying about
and looking so pretty. Good-by, dear!”

“Good-by, good-by!’’ echoed the butterfly, as
Buz went off.

For some little time after this, the pretty butterfly
sat and thought, but at last, rousing herself with a
merry little laugh— I mustn't become like the snail,”
she said to herself; ‘that’s not my work, at any
rate.”

So away she flew, in the highest possible spirits, in
and out, in and out, among the flowers and over
the shrubs that grew in the delightful old garden,

CHAPTER IV.

SWARMING.

NE morning early, Buz was on
- the point of starting for the
top of Cothelestone Hill. She
had been there several times
already ; indeed it was a favor-
ite place of hers. She so
thoroughly enjoyed the long
flight to it through the air: it
was so glorious to mount high
up above the fields, and to see
the dewdrops sparkling like diamonds in the morning
sun—to listen to the lark as he took his first upward
flight, and poured out his song for joy that another
day had come—to inhale the fragrance of dawn,
knowing that all the flowers which made it so

50 Buz.

sweet, were waiting for her, and would be glad when
they saw her coming. This was delightful in-
deed.

Then again, Buz always looked forward to inter-
esting conversations with the flowers she visited, and
the insects and creatures she met; and she hada sort
of idea that the further she strayed from the hive,
the more curious would be her adventures, and the
more charming the stories she was told. But this
did not follow at all; and many ofthe prettiest tales
she heard, were repeated to her by flowers which
grew in the old garden near the hive, though it was
some time before she would admit this, even to her-
self.

On her way to the entrance on this particular
morning, she perceived that a most unusual bustle
was going on all through the hive; and, directly the
first bee touched her, she felt quite excited and dis-
inclined to work, though she didn’t exactly under-
stand why. At this moment she saw a drone—
“What’s up now?” she cried, running to him in a
great hurry.

“Don’t fuss,” said the drone snappishly.

“Well, I only want to know what all this stir and
confusion means?”

“T’ll tell you fast enough if you won’t fuss. I

Swarming. 51

hate a bustle; and there's enough of that, I’m sure,
without your helping to make it worse.”

“Tl be quiet as a grub,” said Buz, speaking in a
low voice and standing quite still, though she felt
that she was becoming more restless every moment.

The drone looked at her for some time without
saying a word ; and at last, in a provokingly indif-
ferent manner, asked if she had been fanning
lately.

“ Yes,” said Buz, “it was my turn yesterday, and
it was a very hot day, and so I fanned a great deal ;
and stupid work it was.”

‘Did you observe that there were often great
clusters of bees hanging together, just by the board
outside the hive?”

‘““Of course I did,” replied Buz; “they were there
till the evening.”

“ Did you wonder why?”

“No; I heard lots of them say that it was dread-
fully hot inside, so I suppose they hung out to cool.”

“Exactly ; do you know why it was so hot in the
hive? Icantell you: partly because the day was
so warm, and partly because there are such a lot of
bees—too many bees, that’s the fact. Well, the
weather can’t be made cooler, but some of the bees
can go, and they will go too.”

52 Buz.

“Dear me!” said Buz, “ willthey? What! leave
the hive ?—really leave this hive?”

“How can they go without leaving the hive,
stupid ?’’ answered the drone.

“Of course they can’t; but what will they do
without a queen?”

“Our present queen will go with them; she knows
it’s too hot in the hive, so she will leave with a party
of volunteers.”

“Volunteers!” cried Buz; “what fun! I'll be
one! I'll go! I may, mayn’t I? Oh, I hope I
may go!”’

“Now, for honey’s sake, don’t fuss,” said the
drone.

“Certainly not,” replied Buz.

But she was trembling with excitement. Any
thing for a change, any thing for novelty. She never
wished to be idle, and she liked all sorts of work;
but put her to a different job every day—then she
was happy! She cared little for danger, and
explored all kinds of places that many bees—Hum,
for instance—wouldn’t think of going near; and
now the thought of volunteering, and flying off with
the dear old queen, and beginning life again, as it
were, was charming. It suited Buz exactly; but,
as she had still plenty of questions to ask the drone,

Swarming. 59

she kept as quiet as possible ; and he was much too
lazy and indifferent to notice what an effort this was
to her.

“By the row that’s going on,” remarked the
drone, “I should say this would be a big swarm.”

“ A swarm!” exclaimed Buz; ‘then that’s what
swarming is!”

“ A horrid noise, a hopeless confusion, a dreadful
fuss, and anintolerable bustle—that’s what swarming
is,’ repeated the drone disdainfully. “I shall cer-
tainly be glad to have the hive more empty,” he
went on to himself; “but why can’t they go away
quietly, and swarm one by one, I should like to
know?”

“Do none of the drones intend to join the
swarm ?”

“ Hundreds will, no doubt ; I shan’t.”

“ Will you tell me, please,” asked Buz, “how you
will get on here without a queen?”

“You ask such stupid questions,” said the drone.
“ You don’t think ; you’re in such a hurry—that’s it.”

“ How is mine a stupid question?”

“Do you mean to tell me that you have never
passed the royal nurseries? Do you mean to say
that you have never heard of royal food? Do you
wish me to understand that you have never been

54 Buz.

told about the royal grubs?” demanded the
drone.

“ Of course I’ve heard of them.” Buz said this a
little impatiently—the drone spoke so very con-
temptuously.

“Oh, you have, have you? Then you will not
be astonished when I tell you that royal grubs
become queens, and that one of those in this hive is
just ready to leave her cell; but she won't come out
before the old queen has left. Oh, no! she'll take
care of that—or rather the royal nurses will.”

“Indeed ; why?”

“Because the old queen would try to get at her,
and sting her to death. You females are so jealous
and spiteful!” answered the drone.

“T ain't a female!” cried Buz.

“Yes, you are, though; all you working bees are
undeveloped females. Suppose now we had been
in want of a queen, and we had picked you out asa
grub, and enlarged your cell and fed you on royal
bread: why, you would have become a queen!
Actually you!”

“ Really?”

“Yes, really’; but it’s too late zow ; no chance for
you zow, my dear; so you needn’t be proud.”

“T’m not a bit proud,” cried Buz.

Swarming. 55

“No, I see you’re not; on the contrary, you are
condescending enough to come and speak to poor
me! I feel the honor deeply, I assure you.”

He said these last words in such a nasty, sarcastic
manner that Buz determined to leave him. ‘‘ Poor
fellow!” she thought, “this noise and excitement
must have made him cross.” And indeed the con-
fusion and hurrying about increased every minute.

“ Good-by, Mr. Drone, said Buz. “I really am
much obliged to you for what you have told
me.”

“I’m quite overwhelmed,” said the drone, getting
more disagreeable than ever. ‘Your politeness is
something imperial. Are you sure you didn’t get
hold of any royal bread? Are you sure you ain't a
queen? Just make certain of it—do! Fly out of
the hive and see if the other bees won’t swarm round
you. They may. And what shall I do,” he went
on, ‘to showmyrespect? Shall I stick here waxed
to the floor all the rest of my life in case you want
to come back and ask any more questions? Only
say the word. What! going off in a huff, are you?
That’s right, follow your temper—and make haste,
or you'll never recover it!”

These last words were thrown after Buz, as she
hurried away without trusting herself to speak. To

56 Buz.

tell the truth, she was getting a little afraid of the
drone, who seemed to have lost all command over
himself ; and she was so excited about the swarm-
ing that his words affected her less than they would
otherwise have done; at the same time, it was
exceedingly disagreeable to be so misjudged.
“ Though I brought it on myself,” she thought ; ‘and
it shows what a mistake it is tokeep on asking ques-
tions when you see a person’s out of temper. I'll
never do it again, I'll be stung if I do!”

Saying this, she ran round the corner of a comb
in a great hurry, to see where the queen was, and
what might be going on, and knocked up against a
bee coming just as hastily in the other direction.
It was Hum !—positively Hum! Only imagine her
being excited about any thing but work! Buz was
quite amused.

“Then you mean to swarm too, I suppose,” she
said.

“Well, no,” answered Hum; “I think not. I
couldn’t very well, you know.”

“T’m sure I don't know,” said Buz.

“T’ve got into such a groove here, don’t you see,
that I’m almost afraid I couldn’t bear to leave it.
I know where every thing is now, and exactly where
to go; and besides, I’ve got a——"” Here Hum

Swarming. 57

stopped short, asif she had said rather more than
she meant to.

“Got a what?” asked Buz.

“Well, dear, I’m afraid you'll think it foolish of
me—I know you wouldn't consider it a reason your-
self, and I dare say you're right ; but the fact is e
and here Hum fidgeted about nervously, as if she
was a little ashamed, “the fact is, I’ve got a cell that
Iam filling with honey all by myself; it’s up ina
corner, out of the way, and I couldn’t bear to go
before it was full. You understand, don’t you?”
concluded she, almost pleadingly.

“ Tthink I understand what you feel, though I don’t
fancy I should mind leaving it myself. Well, I shall
be very sorry to part from you, for you're the best
bee in the world. I really have half a mindto stay,”
continued Buz suddenly; “I feel as if you would
keep me out of scrapes.”

Oh, please don’t let me prevent you from going!”
cried Hum; “it would never do. I’m sure you are
just the sort of person to join the swarm; you are
so bold and active. I shall often think of you, dear
Buz, and long to know how you are getting on; but
we should seldom meet here you know, even if you
were to remain.”

“That’s true,” said Buz, thoughtfully; “and

58 Buz.

after all, something tells me I ought to join
the swarm. But, I say,” added she briskly, ‘* what
is the state of the case exactly, for I hardly
know?”

“T do,” answered Hum. “I came straight from
the queen when we met.”

“Tell me all about it then.”

“It seems that even yesterday the queen became
restless, and said something about changing her
house. I have it on good authority, for one of the
royal attendents told me as much.”

“Told you she said that ?”’

“Well, hardly; in fact, it’s difficult to say exactly
what she did tell me. She kept on hinting: she
said, ‘there might be changes before long, and what
should I think of that?’—and ‘the queen might
use her wings before long, and what should I
think of that?’—and ‘because a certain royal
person chose to live a certain time in a certain
house, did it follow that that royal person was
never to change her residence?’—and so on, you
know.”

“T hate that!” cried Buz. “Why couldn't she
tell you outright, or leave it alone altogether?”

“Tt does appear foolish, when one comes to think
of it,” said Hum; “especially when one recollects

Swarming. 59

all the nods and whispers; but a¢ the time, I sup-
pose, it makes a person seem important; and I
caught myself nodding mysteriously, and whispering
too: very silly of me, to be sure!”

“Why, yes,” said Buz. “Iwish you had laughed
at her, or, at any rate, pretended not to understand ;
but it can’t be helped. What’s the news this morn-
ing?”

“Nothing has actually happened yet, but the
queen gets more restless every moment, and an old
bee—one who has been in aswarm already—+old me
that she quite expected she would leave the hive to-
day. IknowI can't settle downto any thing. It’s
wretched work!”

“Come along,” said Buz; ‘‘I want to be near the
queen, and watch her.”

The two friends were separated before they
reached the royal presence, for great numbers of
bees were crowding round. Buz soon pushed her
way into a good place, and, just as she got there she
heard the queen say to herself, “I’ve a very good
mind to do it. Is it fine?” she asked, turning to
her attendants.

“Tt is, your majesty,” answered several.

“ A very good mind,” continued the queen to her-
self; “‘my family is becoming inconveniently large,

60 Buz.

and this house doesn’t do: it gets hot, much too
hot. That’s one reason, and there are two or three
others.”

“She means by that,’ said a bee very softly to
Buz, “that there are two or three royal grubs just
ready to come out; but she doesn’t like alluding to
them, even to herself.”

“Too proud?” asked Buz, in a whisper.

“Too proud,” answered the bee, with a confiden-
tial nod.

The queen was now close to them.

“ T declare, I think I’ll do it to-day,” she repeated.
“Did you say it was fine?” she added aloud, turn-
ing to her attendants.

“Very fine, your majesty,” said they.

“Fine enough, eh?” asked the queen.

“Fine enough for any thing, your majesty,” said
the attendants, who were prevented by court eti-
quette from seeming to know what orders the queen
was about to give, though every one knew perfectly
well that every bee in the hive knew all about it.
Curious, perhaps; but the laws of etiquette ave
curious—very.

“T hear a great noise,” said the queen. “ What
is it?”

It was no wonder she did. Thousands of bees

Swarming. 61

were darting backward and forward just at the mouth
of the hive, and the air was filled with a roaring
sound. But the attendants appeared to be quite
astonished.

“We'll go and inquire, your majesty,” they re-
plied.

They did so, and, returning immediately, said,
“A few of your majesty’s subjects are loitering
about near the entrance, your majesty; would your
majesty wish them to disperse?”

“No matter,” said the queen. ‘A few, did you
say?”

“ Well, more than a few, perhaps, your majesty,”
replied the attendants, looking one at another;
“more than a few.”

« Are there enough, do you think?” asked the
queen carelessly. “Are there as many as there
ought to be?”

“There are enough for any thing, your majesty.”

“ And the day, you say, is fine enough ?”

“For any thing, your majesty.”

The excitement was becoming quite intense.

The queen, after showing great restlessness and
indecision for several moments, suddenly grew calm,
and, standing in the ‘center of the circle drawn
respectfully round her, gave a few shrill squeaks,

62 Bus.

and said, “I have made up my mind to go. Let all
who wish to join me wait outside, and be ready to
SWARM!!!”

Directly she spoke the last word, there was an
end to all restraint. It was the word so anxiously
expected all the morning, and was now the signal
for ageneralrush. It was passed round the hive in no
time, and Buz took it up, and found herself repeating,
like every one else, ““A swarm! a swarm!! a
swarm!!!” Meantime she pressed forward to the
entrance. It seemed to her as if she would never
reach it; but then, she was in such a desperate
hurry. At last her struggles were rewarded, and,
with dozens of other bees, she tumbled out of the
hive—head over heels! any how!—and joined the
excited mob in front.

There she dashed backward and forward as madly
as any one, but always watching the entrance;
always ready to follow the queen the moment she
should appear.

She had not long to wait, for her majesty soon
presented herself, and, after looking about her,
spread her wings and flew slowly and steadily away.

By this time the noise was tremendous; such an
angry noise too! But Buz hardly heard it, she was
so excited, so bent on keeping the queen in sight.

Swarming. 63

Her majesty, after taking a short flight round the
garden, just to pick out a good place, alighted on the
under side of one of the branches of a small stand-
ard pear tree, and was immediately hidden by a cloud
of about twenty thousand bees, which settled on and
round her.

Buz was one of the first to take up her position,
but, hardly liking to pitch on the queen, attached
herself to the branch close to her, and was at once
used by several other bees as a convenient thing
to cling to; these in their turn were treated in the
same way, till a lump of bees was formed as big as
a good-sized cabbage, and Buz found it rather hard
work to hold on.

“It must be uncommonly hot in the middle,
though,” she thought: “ better be here than there.”

At this moment the gardener approached. His
coat was off, and his shirt-sleeves were rolled up.
He knew the bees would not sting him for shaking
them into the new hive he carried, but he had to
roll up his sleeves for fear of one crawling up and
being hurt.

He now held the hive upside down under the
swarm, took hold of the end of the bough on which
it hung, and gave a sharp, strong jerk, which dis-
lodged it and sent it right into the hive. There

64 Buz.

was no hesitation, no indecision about him; it was
all the work of a moment. Instantly, a cloud of
bees ascended all round him, and many alighted on
his arms, and some even on his face. Of these he
took no notice whatever; but, seeing that a great
cluster remained in the hive, he was satisfied that
the queen was among them; he then turned it over
in its right position and stood it on four bricks
placed on the ground, so that the bees outside could
easily join their friends within. Having protected
the hive from the sun with a few freshly cut boughs,
he left the swarm alone till the evening. Buz was
right in the middle this time, holding on like any
thing to the bee just above her.

When it grew dusk, the gardener came back ; and
finding that every bee had entered the hive, he
placed it on a flat board, and carried it off to a stand
which had been prepared for it, close to the old hive
from which the swarm had come.

CHAPTER V.

BUILDING COMB. AN ACCIDENT. STORING HONEY.
A SURPRISE.

: |W long shall we be squeezed
together like this? ’’ demanded
Buz of a bee who was clinging
to her.

“For days,” answered the
bee shortly.

“Come, I say,” said Buz,
“you don’t mean that, do
you?”

“Tf you don’t believe me,

ask some one else.”

“Oh, I believe you, but how slow!”

“J dare say,” remarked another bee, “that you

66 Bus.

have heard of a queen having a great many attend-
ants hanging about her at court; now you know
what it means!”

At this moment the cluster of bees began to move,
and to spread about.

The hive in which they had been taken was very
different to the old straw butt they had left, their
new abode being a square deal box without any bot-
tom. Into the back of this box a pane of glass had
been introduced, through which the bees might be
watched at their work; and at the top of it was a
short narrow slit, closed at present, but capable of
being opened from without, by means of a zinc
slide.

This box was placed in a wooden cupboard, which
stood on four legs, had a gable roof, and doors open-
ing at the back, and was large enough to contain
three other boxes of the same size. Horizontal
apertures, about two inches long and just high
enough to admit a bee, were cut in the cupboard at
the bottom of its front, and opposite each of the
boxes within.

The floor of the cupboard, which was also the
floor of the boxes, was cut away about the cighth of
an inch deep, just underneath each of these aper-
tures, and made to slope up toward the interior, so

Building Comb—An Accident. 67

that any rain driven into a hive might run out again
at once. This pleased the bees, who hate damp
beyond any thing.

The swarm now began preparations for the great
work of forming the comb; and hung from the top,
no longer in a ball, but in sheets or strings, about
which the bees could freely pass.

They formed, in fact, living scaffolding; and, as
they themselves produced material for the building,
all the trouble of hauling and carrying was saved.

Each bee, besides holding on as tightly and as
patiently as a postage-stamp, was busily employed
in preparing plates of wax.

These were secreted in pockets on the under side
of the abdomen, from which the bees drew them
when ready for use, working and molding them in
their mouths.

“IT wonder how you can all goon so long without
eating,’ remarked Buz at length in a general
sort of way to the bees about her.

“In the same way that you can,” answered one of
them.

“Qh, 7 took in as much honey as ever I could,
just before we swarmed,” said Buz.

“Well, so we almost all did,” replied her friend ;
“it is an instinct with bees.”

68 Buz.

“T wonder why,” said Buz thoughtfully.

“It’s simple enough,” returned the other. “If
we do not unload our honey, it is gradually formed
into wax; so that arriving in a new hive with honey
is almost the same thing as arriving with wax—and
that we must have at once. So that only those few
bees who happened to join the swarm without being
full of honey have gone to work. The moment the
honey you arrived with has become wax in your
pockets, you will pull it out, and munch away at it
till you have munched and pulled it into good order.
Then you will place it in position, where you see it
is wanted, and the nurse or architect bees will work
it into shape. Then you will go out and get afresh
supply of honey, and again hang yourself up till
it turns into wax. It’s simple enough, as I said
before.”

Buz found that this was really the case, and in due
time she deposited her bricks of wax, and left the
architects at work, while she went off for a fresh
supply of honey.

The architects began by attaching some wax to
the roof of the box, and fashioning therefrom hexa-
gonal cells—by employing which form, the greatest
number can be arranged in the smallest place.

Each comb consisted of two sets of cells placed

Building Comb—An Accident. 69

back to back. If the bottoms of these opposite sets
of cells had been exactly opposite to each other,
they would have been dangerously thin; and the
architects, knowing this very well, arranged that the
bottom of each cell should be opposite part of the
bottoms of three cells on the other side of the
comb.

In this manner, the thin plate of wax forming the
bottom was in every case strengthened and sup-
ported by the bases of three contingent walls behind
it. Forthe bees, having so well economized their
space, were determined not to use an atom more
wax than was really necessary.

“Let us be consistent all through,” they said,
“and then we shall make a job of it.”

For nearly a week Buz stuck to her post, only
going out occasionally. At the end of that time so
much of the comb had been made, that she, with
many others, was employed in gathering honey.

It was the beginning of June, there were plenty of
flowers about, and the honey season was good.
Things were looking up. Fortune, however, delights
in a practical joke, and often, so to speak, cuts a
hammock down when the owner is most comfortably
asleep. A terrible accident happened to the bees,
just at the time they seemed so prosperous.

70 Bus.

Whether the heat within the hive became so great
as to melt the wax, or whether the top of the hive
was too smooth for the comb to be securely fas-
tened thereto, it isimpossible to say; but, whatever
might be the cause, one of the center combs, nearly
filled with honey, suddenly broke down, and fell to
the bottom of the hive.

The result was dreadful! Numbers of bees were
crushed to death or suffocated, the floor of the hive
was deluged with honey, for the comb had not been
sealed, and there was a barrier formed right in the
line of traffic.

Luckily for her, Buz was away when the accident
happened; and by the time she returned to the hive
the bees were beginning to repair the mischief.

Their first care was to collect all the honey that
had escaped, and to store it in the empty cells.
After that they began to clear away the broken
pieces of comb, and to carry out the dead.

“Of course we are not going to let that great
comb stay where it is?” said Buz softly to an older
bee.

“Of course we are, though,” was the reply.
“Why, what a waste of time it would be to carry all
that wax away and make a fresh comb!”

“ But it’s so dreadfully in the way.”

Building Comb—An Accident. al

“We shall manage to get over that difficulty,”
said the bee confidently.

“How?” asked Buz.

“ Ain’t you supposed to be honey-gathering?”

“Yes, Iam.”

“Gather honey then, do! You'll be able to see
for yourself, each time you come in, how we get on
here. I can’t waste time explaining.”

Away flew Buz, and got honey as near the hive as
she could, and worked particularly hard, so as to
come in often; for she was very much interested in
what was going on.

The fallen comb was leaning against an adjacent
one, the bottom being of course on the floor instead
of a little above it, thus impeding traffic. To obvi-
ate this, tunnels were soon driven through the comb
—beautiful arched tunnels, with waxen pillars to
support them—while little stays and buttresses of
wax were introduced wherever they were required,
to make all firm and safe again.

“Capital!” said Buz approvingly, as she ran
through one of the new tunnels.

“No honey to be stored in this side of the comb,”
remarked a bee shortly.

“ All right,” said Buz.

Now Buz had nearly said “‘ Why,” instead of “All

72 Buz.

right”’; but checked herself in time, remembering
that she had often asked unnecessary questions, and
that she had resolved to try to find things out for
herself. In this case she soon saw the reason
why.

The comb was leaning over a little, and of course
any honey put into a cell on the side toward which
it leaned, would run out again.

“T'm glad I didn’t ask,” thought Buz; ‘‘and now
that I’m about it, I’ll just examine one of the other
combs.”

She did so, and found that the cells on each side
sloped upward, ever so little, but enough to prevent
thick stuff like honey from running out.

“Let me see,” said Buz to herself, as she turned
away, “how will they use the side that can’t be
employed for honey?”

Just at this moment there was a bustle close to
her, and she saw the queen making toward the
fallen comb.

“Oh, I know,” thought Buz: ‘‘the queen will lay
eggs in it; it will do very well for a breeding comb,
of course.”’

Buz was right. The queen, with ten or twelve
attendants round her, passed over the comb, exam-
ining each cell before she deposited an egg within

Building Comb—An Accident. 73

it. Whenever she rested, which she frequently did,
the members of her suite, who formed a sort of
screen round her, overwhelmed her with their
attention and caresses, and offered her honey. In
one cell the queen inadvertently deposited two
eggs; the watchful attendants, much too polite to
call her majesty’s attention to this, quietly took one
out and ate it.

After Buz had looked on for some little time, she
asked one of the suite how many eggs the queen
could lay in a day.

‘“A couple of hundred, or even more,” was the
answer.

“ Does she often have an egg-laying day?”

“ She lays eggs every day—for months. She does
nothing else.”

“Well,” thought Buz as she flew off, “no won-
der there are such a lot of us!”

For several weeks Buz worked very hard, and
met with no adventures. It was ¢he busy time,
and a fine lot of honey was collected and sealed
up.

One morning, as she was passing near the middle
of the hive, she saw a good many bees employed on
a large cell, which was attached to the comb only at
one spot.

74 Buz.

“Ah!” said Buz to herself, “I know what that
is. That's a royal cell: I remember seeing some in
the old hive.”

She stood and watched, and presently observed
to one of the workers, “ What a lot of wax you are
using, to be sure!”

“T should think so, indeed,” was the reply. “I
don’t suppose you'd wish us to be careful of our
wax when we're making a royal cell—that would be
mean !”

“Oh, no!” cried Buz, “of course I shouldn't;
only it seems funny, don’t you know. Ever since I
swarmed I have heard nothing but, ‘Economize
your space; economize your material’ ; and now, here
you are, seeing how much wax you can get rid of
at once! I like it myself, mind, only I can’t help
observing that there is enough wax there to make
fifty ordinary cells.”

“Tf I didn’t think that there was,” returned the
other, “I should feel quite ashamed to be on the
job. Bees don’t economize where royalty is con-
cerned.”

She said this very stiffly, and walked away. Buz
rubbed her head and antenne with her fore legs,
and felt rather snubbed.

Just at this moment there was a sudden movement

Building Comb—An Accrdent. 75

of bees upward, and Buz was off directly to see
what was the matter.

On reaching the top of the hive, she joined a number
of bees who were crowding through a hole in the
roof, and found herself at once in a fine open space
above. Here a bee was gesticulating excitedly with
her antennz, and Buz joined the group of listeners
round her.

“ All I know is,”” said the bee, “that I happened
to be at work on the roof just underneath where
this hole has appeared. Everything was quite
secure, nothing loose at all. There was no passage
up, not even avery little one—that I’m sure of; and
then, all of a sudden there was! I heard a kind of a
tearing, scraping sound, and it became quite light! I
saw this hole, ran up as fast as I could, and found
myself here. That’s all I can tell you.”

“But was there nothing moving near the top of
the hole when you came through?” asked one of
the bees.

“Certainly not: that’s the odd part of it. Every
thing was as quiet as possible. Now, any one may
account for it who can. I can’t.” *

As the bee moved away after saying this, Buz ran

* The gardener had drawn back the slide at the top of the hive,
and placed a glass super in position for the bees to fill.

76 Buz.

off on a tour of inspection. She found herself in a
space about half the size of the hive below; the
walls and roof were very slippery, and the light
came through them.

She climbed up the side and got to the roof, but
had hardly reached it when she lost her footing and
fell with a flop on to the floor.

As she stood rather confused for a moment, a
friend of hers came up and said, “ Isn’t this a piece
of luck! We had nearly filled the place below with
wax and honey, and now here’s room for lots
more.”

“Yes,” replied Buz; “I was wondering the other
day what we should do for space: it was getting so
hot, too.”

“Oh, we should have been obliged to send off a
swarm, I suppose, when a young queen was hatched ;
but now we shall get on without that.”

“What shall we do with the young queen then?”
demanded Buz.

“Oh, let the old one kill her, I suppose,” said the
bee unconcernedly, ‘“‘or starve the royal grubs, or
something. I don’t know,” she continued, “if eggs
have been laid in the royal cells yet; I rather think
not, in which case the queen won’t lay any at all

”

now.

Building Comb—An Accident. a3

As she spoke, something came down on her head
with a great bump. It was a bee, who, like Buz,
had tried the roof and had met with a similar mis-
hap. The floor and sides of the new space were by
this time covered with bees, and some were contin-
ually falling down.

“T can tell you what,” said Buz sagaciously: “it
will be very difficult work, fastening up our comb.”

“Tt may be difficult, but it is not impossible.
We shall therefore manage it,” said the bee who had
just fallen. “When we have fastened a few little
specks of wax about, to hold on to, we shall be able
to manage. I wish it wasn’t quite so light, though ;
I like working in the dark.”

She had hardly spoken the words, when some-
thing came down on the roof and round the walls,
and in a moment the place was quite dark. *

“There!” said Buz; ‘ you've got your wish: but
what will happen next, I wonder?”

“Whatever happens, I shall begin to work at
once,” was the reply; “so, come on.”

‘“Come on,” said Buz.

*The gardener placed a cap of felt, or other thick material, over
the super.

CHAPTER VI.

A SECOND SWARM. IDLE HOURS. SENT BACK.

> Y, NE day, when the heather was

% in bloom, Buz went off to Cot-
helestone Hill, and while she
was at work a sudden shower
came on.

This drove her for shelter
under a rock, where she nearly
ran against another bee, which
had entered from the opposite
direction.

“ Hulloa!” cried Buz.

“ Hulloa!” said the other;

“where do you come from? I don’t know your

smell.”
“Very likely not,” answered Buz, who did not

A Second Swarm—lIldle Hours. 79

admire the manner of the other bee; ‘ what of that?
I suppose I have as much right here as you?”’

“ Don't be waxy,” replied the other; “I said very
little.”

“But you didn’t say it nicely, I thought,” retorted
Buz.

“Well, you ave particular!’ exclaimed the other.
“ How I should like to know where you come from.”

“Oh, a long way from here,” said Buz: “ from the
valley at the foot of the hill. We live in a garden,
where there are several other swarms.”

“ How very odd!”

“Why odd?” asked Buz.

“Well, I suppose you're always fighting; and
that’s an odd state of things, isn’t it?”

“Tt would be, if it were the case; but then you see
it isn’t.”

“That’s odder still, Now we should fight tre.
mendously if another swarm came near us.”

“ Should you really?” asked Buz.

“ There’s a hollow tree not far from ours,” answered
the other bee significantly ; “take it and try.”

“A hollow tree!” echoed Buz contemptuously ;
“T should be sorry to live in one.”

“What do you live in, then?”

“ A hive, to be sure.”

80 Buz.

‘And what may that be?”

“Why, the house in which we were taken when
we swarmed.”

“Taken!” cried the wild bee. “Ah! I begin to
understand : I’ve heard of that sort of thing before ;
then you're a slave bee, I suppose?”

“You're a rude bee, I’m sure,” retorted Buz.

“Am I? Jonly mean, that the honey you make
is not for yourselves, but for whoever shook you into
the hive you seem so proud of.”

“T should just like to see any one taking our
honey,” said Buz. ‘“ Whoever came to do it, would
have to be very fond of honey, or care very little
about stings.”

“ That sounds fine,” replied the wild bee; “but I
have heard some curious stories. Let me advise you
to make a few inquiries when you return. I maybe
wrong, of course; but then, you know, I may be
right.”

“T don't mind asking about it,” returned Buz;
“But you must be wrong.”

“Why so?” asked the wild bee.

‘‘ Because, if what you say is true, it is ridiculous
to suppose that any bees would live as we do now.
We should fly right away, of course, and even put up
with a hollow tree, perhaps.”

A Second Swarm—Tldle Hours. 81

“That’s all very well,” answered the wild bee;
“but when people once get into a groove, they are
slow to get out of it: to make up one’s mind toa
thorough change, requires a deal of energy.”

“Don’t you call swarming a thorough change?”
demanded Buz. “I found no difficulty in making
up my mind about that.”

“ There you only followed an old custom, and did
not strike out a newline. However, as the storm is
over, suppose we go on with our work; mine being
to gather honey for myself, and yours to gather it—
for.some one else.”

“Put it as you please,” replied Buz; “always
remembering that I don’t want your opinion.”

“Inthe same way,” answered the wild bee, “ gather
for whom you please; always remembering that I
don’t want your honey. Good-by.” And away
she flew.

As Buz followed her example, and went to
work again, she could not help admitting to herself
that there was something in what had been said.
“When I get back to the hive,” she thought, “I'll
just talk the matter over.”

In the evening, therefore, she asked one of the
older bees whether what she had heard was true.”

“No doubt it is,” was the answer. “ This very

82 Bus.

spring, a fine super of honey was taken from the hive
next to ours, and a lot of excitement it caused;
surely you remember?”

“No, I don’t,” said Buz.

“It must have been just before you were hatched
then.”

“But what were they all about?” cried Buz,
excitedly; “why did they let their honey go?
Couldn’t they sting ?”

‘“T heard one of them say that they tried at first,
and that something prevented them from getting
near the robbers—something soft ; and besides, there
was so much honey running about, that they were
busy sucking it up; and, what with the excitement
and what with being glutted with honey, very few
of them felt like fighting.”

“Then my rude acquaintance at the top of the
hill was not very far from right after all,” said Buz
thoughtfully.

“She was right toa certain extent, but there’s
another side to the question.”

“ Indeed,” cried Buz ; “I should like to know it.”

“The tradition is, that those who robus look after
us in the winter, and supply us with food if our
honey runs short; so we need never starve. Now, I
have heard, that after a bad honey season whole

A Second Swarm—TIdle Hours. 83

swarms of wild bees are starved to death. Then
again, our hive is much more convenient than a
hollow tree : dryer and warmer, and with a better
entrance. I’ve seen some pretty good hollow trees
in my time, certainly; but there’s nothing like a
hive after all.”

Buz was somewhat consoled by this, but still felt
indignant at the idea of being liable to lose any of
the beautiful honey she had worked so hard for.

“ Wait till some one tries it on with us,” said she
to herself. “Not sting, indeed! We'll see about
that.”

Soon after this, Buz began to find her present
hive almost as inconveniently crowded as the one
she had left ; the super was nearly filled with comb,
and that was half full of honey ; the queen had laid
a great many eggs in the hive below, and the young
bees were daily emerging from their cells.

Some of the grubs, also, in the royal cells were
nearly ready to come out.

A feverish excitement, similar to that which she
remembered ona former occasion, began to set in,
and the queen frequently squeaked.

This time, however, Buz made up her mind to
remain where she was.

“T’m getting too old,” she told herself, “ for

84 Buz.

knocking about; let the youngsters do the
swarming.”

But although she was inclined to be patronizing
toward the “ youngsters,” she could not help feeling
surprised at her disinclination for change and excite-
ment ; she was even a little sorry for herself.

The fact is, she had become a middle-aged bee,
and was beginning to go down the hill—a fact which
it is not always pleasant to look in the face.

And now the queen became more excited than
ever, and sometimes attempted to tear open the
royal cells and kill the poor little princesses. She
was prevented from doing so by the royal nurses,
who were respectful, but very firm.

“Though it’s a tremendous thing, mind you,”
said one nurse to the other, “ to find oneself tackling
the queen herself, and preventing her from doing
what she likes.”

“Tt certainly is,” said the other ; “but she knows
it is only our duty.”

Opinions in the hive began to differ as to whether
it would be better to let the queen kill the young
ones, or to send off a swarm. Some thought it was
too late in the year ; others declared that any thing
would be better than being so crowded.

A particularly hot day settled the question, and

A Second Swarm—Idle Flours. 85

those who were in favor cf a swarm “ had it.
Then began the same sort of orderly confusion des-
cribed before, and away flew the queen, with many
of her loving subjects, but without Buz.

After the swarm had left, the latter felt disinclined
to work: she was a little upset, and wanted a gossip.

There was no difficulty in findinga bee similarly
disposed, for work in the: hive was slack that after-
noon.*

“ Bother the pollen,” grumbled a bee, as she was
passing Buz; “how it does stick to one, to be sure ;
but this is the last lot I bring in this blessed day.
My name is ‘ easy ’ for the rest of the afternoon.”

“And so is mine,” cried Buz; “ let us go to the
garden, and sit in the sun.”

“ All right,” said the other; “just wait till I un-
load; I won’t be a minute.”

As soon as she returned, the two bees flew off
together.

“We are not the only ones who are taking it
easy,” observed her friend to Buz, as they settled
comfortably on a cucumber frame ina corner; “ I]

* It is a fact that bees do not work so hard after a swarm has left ;
and it is sometimes necessary to send it back to the hive, in order that
a half-filled super may be completed. Ifthe queen be caught and
removed, the swarm will return.

86 Bus.

heard several bees say they intended to knock off
work.”

“ After all,” she continued, “ why should we take
any more trouble. We had nearly made honey
enough to carry us through the winter, and now we
shall not want so much, in consequence of that
swarm having gone off.”

“ Exactly so,” replied Buz; “we have enough,
and to spare. I don’t mean to say,” she continued,
after a pause, “that I intend to do nothing at all—
that wouldn’t suit me; but I do zof mean to hurry
up. I've worked pretty well all through the summer,
though I say it myself, and made honey enough to
support half a dozen drones. By the by, talking of
drones, why should I make honey for those lazy
fellows?”

“Can’t say,” replied her friend; * I don’t see the
fun of it myself. But, do you know,” she continued,
sinking her voice, “ I hear they are not likely to eat
much more honey in our hive.”

“ What do youmean?’” asked Buz. “ The stupid
great things are always hungry. ‘The lessI do,
the more I want,’ seems, in fact, to be their motto.”

“ Well, what I tell you is quite between ourselves,
of course,” said her friend; “ but, mark my words
—we shall get rid of them, and that before long.”

A Second Swarm—IlIdle Flours. 87

“Oh, my queen!” cried Buz. ‘You astonish
me! How shall we manage it?”

“The working bees will rise against them, and
turn them out of the hive; see if they don’t. Why
should we keep them all through the winter? That’s
what I want to know.”

“Why indeed?” said Buz hastily; and then con_
tinued after a pause: “If we do get rid of them, there
is all the more reason for our taking a little holiday
now ; for we shall have plenty of honey.”

“My sentiments exactly,” returned her friend ;
“but as I feel inclined fora littleon my own account,
I shall have a turn at the flower-beds. What doyou
say?”

“Come on,” said Buz, and away they flew.

Later on, when they returned to the hive, they
were surprised to see a great commotion, and crowds
of bees pouring in.

“ What isall this bustle about?” asked Buz of the
first bee she encountered. “Is any thing the mat-
ter?”

“Ever so much,” was the answer. “There has
been an accident, and the swarm that left so lately is
returning.”

“Tndeed!” cried Buz; “but what accident could
possibly induce the old queen to come back?”

88 Buz.

“Nothing would ever have induced her to do
such a thing,” replied the other; “but ’’—and
here she spoke very impressively—“ she has disap-
peared!”

“Disappeared!” echoed Buz. ‘‘Oh, how? Do
tell me more about it.”

“If you want to know the particulars, ask one of
those who joined the swarm: I didn’t.”

Buz lost no time in following her advice.

“T'll tell you all I know,” said the bee she ques-
tioned, “but I can’t quite understand it myself.
Our poor queen settled on a branch of a smallapple
tree, and we all clunground her of course; and there
we hung in a big bunch—in such a big bunch, that
I really thought the branch we were on would come
off. After a short time, something gave such a jerk
that we all fell off into something, and it was very
uncomfortable. Most of us kept crawling about,
not liking to leave the queen; but some flew up,
to see what was the matter.”

“T should have been one of those,” put in
Buz.

“Well, so was I, my dear; and I found that the
thing that had done it was the man we always see
about the garden, and the thing he had shaken us
into was a kind of box like this.”

A Second Swarm—lTldle Flours. 89

“T know,” said Buz; “that’s just what happened
tome. Well?”

“Well, the man carried us off to where some-
thing large and white was lying on the ground,
and upset us on to it, and we all began to run
about.” *

“ Hulloa!” interrupted Buz: “ that didn’t happen
to me.”

“T had joined the others in the box,” continued
the bee, “just in time to be upset; and found
myself close to the queen, who did not attempt to fly,
but kept on crawling in underneath us, wherever we
were thickest. Presently the man began to paddle
among us with his hands, and he rolled us about a
good deal, I can tell you;.but he was not rough
enough to hurt us, and we really were too much aston-
ished to be angry. This went on for some time,
when all of a sudden I missed the queen. I ran
about, asking every one, ‘ Have you seen the queen?
Have you seen the queen?’ And presently I came
across others asking the same question. We didn’t
know what to do, or what to think, and there we
were, hunting round andround. At last, a bee who
had been near the queen at the moment, told us

* The gardener had spread a sheet on the ground, on which to shake
out the bees, in order the more easily to find the queen.

ref) Buz.

that she had seen her caught up between two great
things, and that she had disappeared allin a moment
—that was all she could tell us.”

“But what was that bee about?” cried Buz.
“Surely she did something ?”

“She said it was all so sudden and unexpected,
that she didn’t know what to do. She thought it
must be the man; but he was walking quietly away,
and by the time she had recovered herself, and made
sure that the queen was gone, it was too late to do
any thing.”

“Oh dear! but this is all very bad,” said Buz.
“What next ?”’

“Why, the next thing we did was to come back
here. You see,” added the bee apologetically, “we
had no queen, no honey, and no hive; so what were
we to do?”

“T don’t know,” answered Buz; “but 7 should
have felt ashamed to return.”

“So did we; we felt very much ashamed, and have
had to listen to all sorts of disagreeable remarks
since; but what were we todo, you know—no queen,
no honey, and no hive! What on earth were we to
do?”

The bee moved off as she said these words, and
went away grumbling to herself: “It’s all very

A Second Swarm—ldle Hours. gI

well; but what were we to do, I should like to
know ?”

Buz, having no answer ready, let her go, but felt a
good deal put out by what had happened, and very
much inclined to do something to somebody.

CHAPTER VII.

DISCONTENTED WHISPERS. A STORMY DISPUTE.
THE MASSACRE OF THE DRONES.

N the following morning, the
hive seemed to Buz very in-
conveniently crowded ; and not
being in the best of tempers,
she was disgusted to find the
passage along which she was
hurrying between the combs,
nearly blocked by a lot of
drones.
“ Bother the lazy things,”
: said she to herself, as she
pushed past them; ‘I’ve no patience with them.”

Discontented Whispers. 93

“No more have I,” cried another bee, who hap-
pened to overhear her, ‘and I’m glad to find you're
of the same opinion. But I can tell you what it is,”
she continued, when they had reached the entrance,
“there is quite a strong feeling growing up against
them, and they had better look out for themselves.”

“Ah!” said Buz; “I’m not surprised at what you
say; I heard only yesterday that they were likely to
have a bad time of it soon.”

“It is getting to be the common talk of the hive,”
said the other; ‘‘and now that the swarm which left
us yesterday has returned, we shall want more
room and more honey than we expected.”

“As for honey,” said Buz, “that’s very true. I
had not intended to work much more; but now, I
suppose we must fill every bit of comb we have
made.”

“ And as for room,” said the other bee, “I think
I can tell you how we shall get that.”

She spoke very slowly and deliberately, and
tapped Buz’s antennz with her own in a very mean-
ing way.

“T understand you,” said Buz. ‘“ Down with the
drones, say I.”

“When the time comes,” replied the other, mys-
teriously.

94 Buz.

“Just so,” assented Buz; ‘when the time
comes.”

With this understanding they parted, and Buz
began work again in earnest, stowing the honey she
collected in the glass super. All the other bees
did the same, and were as busy as ever they had
been before the swarm went off.

Every day, however, honey became more and
more difficult to get, and the combs filled slowly.

This, again, was bad for the drones; for the
scarcer honey was, the more valuable did the
stores already collected appear to the bees, who at
last could scarcely bear to see a drone go near a
honey-cell.

The latter, however, appeared not to observe how
unpopular they were becoming, and went about the
hive as usual.

But the time expected came at last! One day,
as Buz, who had just returned to the hive with
some honey, was storing it away in the super, she
overheard a dispute between a drone and a working
bee.

‘“No, you shall not,” cried the latter, ‘not while
I am here.”

“Get out of the way, can’t you,” answered the
drone.

Discontented Whispers. 95

“T can, but I won't,” replied the other.

“Do you suppose I care for you?” cried the
drone. “I want some honey, and I mean to have it.”

“Then take it from a cell already opened,”
answered the working bee, “and don’t break into a
new comb.”

“T shall take it,” said the drone deliberately,
“from any comb and from any cell I choose.”

“Tf you can,” retorted the other.

“Who’s to prevent me, I should like to know?”

“T, for one.”

“You, indeed!” cried the drone angrily. “How
dare you talk in that saucy way to one of the queen’s
husbands.”

““Queen’s fiddlesticks!”’ replied the other con-
temptuously. “The queen does not want a lot of
idle, good-for-nothing fellows like you loitering
about the hive, I can tell you. Go and ask her.”

‘No, I shall not,” replied the drone sulkily.

“T knew you wouldn’t ; you dare not go near her;
she never takes any notice of you now, and is tired
of your idle habits, as indeed we all are.”

Here there was a hum of approval from a small
crowd of workers, who had collected as the dispute
went on.

“Well, I don’t care,” said the drone. “I'm tired

96 Buz.

of standing here, that’s all I know; so‘ out of the
way, I say again, for 1 mean to have the honey.”

“Out of this cell, which I have just sealed up,
you don’t get it,” returned the other firmly.

‘For my part, I don’t see why he should get it
from any cell in the hive,” remarked a bee who was
standing near Buz.

‘‘Hulloa!” cried the drone, turning angrily round
on the last speaker; ‘‘and pray who may you be?”

“Qne who earns her honey before she eats it,”
was the reply.

“Well said, indeed!” cried the bee with whom
the drone had been disputing.

As the drone turned indignantly round again, he
bumped against Buz, who instantly ran at him, and
gave him a good push, which sent him against
another bee.

‘Now then, where are you shoving to?” cried the
latter, pushing him back. ‘Get out of the way.”

“ He's always in the way!” cried one.

“And always eating !”’ said another.

“Why don’t you go out and get your own honey?”
demanded a third.

“I don’t choose to leave the hive, except in the
very finest weather,” replied the drone.

“ Here’s a pretty fellow for you,” cried Buz; “he

Discontented Whispers. 97

doesn't choose, indeed!’’ And she gave him another
push.

“T vote we turn him out,” cried another bee,
pushing him back.

“Yes, and keep him out,” said a third.

“Out with him!” cried several bees at once.

“Down with the drones! Out with them! Turn
them all out!” was the general cry.

And the drone, now beginning to be really fright-
ened, was pushed backward and forward in the
midst of a crowd of workers. At last, in answer to
the cries, Buz and another bee caught firmly hold of
the drone, and began dragging him toward the
entrance.

But he was strong and heavy, and did not want to
go at all, and struggled hard.

“ Push behind there,” cried the bee who was help-
ing Buz.

“Not all of you, though,” added Buz. “Arethere
no other drones in the hive?”

This produced new cries of “Out with them!”
“Down with the drones!” “ Turn them out!” and
parties of bees, hastening in every direction through
the hive, fastened on the drones, and dragged them
toward the entrance.

As he was being pulled and pushed rounda corner,

98 Buz.

the drone with whom Buz was occupied got such a
firm hold, that he resisted for a long time all efforts
to dislodge him.

“If nothing else will do,” panted the bee who was
helping Buz, “I'll just slip my sting into him: that
will soon settle the fellow.”

“Oh, give the poor wretch a chance,”’ said Buz.
“Tt seems a shame to sting him, as he has no sting
himself.”

“Allright then,” returned her friend; “but we
shall be a long time clearing the hive at this rate.”

“Now,” cried Buz, “ all together!” and, making a
grand effort, they dislodged the drone, and got him
onto the floor of the hive. Thence, by dint of pull-
ing and pushing, and tumbling over and dragging
him, they at last reached the footboard outside.

“ Now,” said they, “clear off!”

“Where?” said the drone. “Oh, dear me!
Where?”

“ Anywhere you like,” was the reply. ‘“ You want
honey, don’t you? There’s the whole world before
you, and plenty of flowers in it; so be off.”

“But at night,” cried the drone, “when it gets
dark and cold, what shall I do then?”

“Whatever you like,’ answered the bees. “We
don’t seem to care very much.”

CARY post a Oe 2

Discontented Whispers. 99

“But I shall die! I shall die; I know I shall!”
cried the drone piteously.

“ Very likely; but that isn’t our business, so good-
by. We really can’t stand here arguing with you all
day.”

“Please let me in again; do let me in,” pleaded
the drone. ‘I would creep away into a corner, and
do nobody any harm.”

“Oh, yes, you would ; for, without being of any
use, you would take up a certain amount of room,
and eat a certain amount of honey, and we have
none of either tospare. Now go.”

But the drone seemed too much overcome to
move, and lay helplessly down, close to the edge of
the footboard.

Buzand the other bees pushed him over, and,
hardly making an effort to fly, he fell to the ground
and remained there.

At this time the scene was most exciting: there
were parties of bees in every direction. Some were
carrying the dead bodies of drones who had made so
much resistance, that, losing patience with them,
their captors had stung them to death. Others
dragged along unresisting victims; and others again
were engaged with obstinate drones, who fought and
tumbled the whole way. Some of the drones took

inere) Buz.

wing of their own accord the moment they were
released on the footboard; others behaved like the
one that Buz had first taken out; and, allowing
themselves to be pushed over the edge of the foot-
board, lay among the bodies of those that had been
killed,

At last the hive was quite cleared of them.

“Double the sentries, and admit no drones,” were
the orders given.

But none dared to return; the night came oncold
and wet, and before the sun rose next morning every
drone was dead.

CHAPTER VIII.

DEATH OF HUM. ROBBERY. RESTITUTION.

OR the next few days Buz kept
steadily at work, and the combs
in the super were at last filled and
sealedup. They were quite beau-
tiful! clean, regular, and of a
golden straw color: the wax was
= thin and transparent; and as no
- eggs had been laid in the super,
> it was all virgin honey—a perfect
* picture !

Buz had now plenty of leisure,
but she spent a good deal of her time in the hive;
for the days began to get short, and the nights long
and cold, and the sun himself was lazy about getting
up in the morning.

4a

102 Buz.

And Buz began to feel that the bright beautiful
summer of her life was over too; and she remem-
bered with tenderness the lovely mornings she had
known, when the sun, streaming early into the hive,
had tempted her away to flowery fields and pleasant
gardens; when the dew-drops, sparkling so brightly
on the gossamer webs, seemed strings of fairy dia-
monds; and when the flowers, fresh from their
night’s rest, lifted up their heads and shook out their
petals, and offered her all their store of honey; and
then she thought of Hum, dear, gentle Hum, in
whose company she had enjoyed her first exper-
iences.

“T declare I will go to the old hive again, as soon
as I can,” said she to herself, “and try to find out
how she is getting on. They won't let me in, I sup-
pose; but I may hear something of her. I quite
long to see her once more.”

So the very next day, when the sun shone out for
a time, Buz paid a visit to her former home.

What was her disappointment, however, to find
that the old hive was gone!

As she approached, and was about to alight on the
footboard, a sight met her eyes that caused her to
dart aside. On the board itself, and lying in heaps
upon the ground beneath, were thousands of dead

Death of Hum—Robbery—Restitution. 103

bees. Pieces of breeding-comb were lying about,
and a sickly smell filled the air all round. It wasa
hideous wreck—a pitiable end!

“What horrible thing can have happened?”
thought Buz, as she flew wildly about. ‘And what
can have become of poor dear Hum? When I
remember the orderly life we used to lead here, the
busy work, the watchful sentries, the combs full of
promising grubs, and the rich stores of beautiful
honey, how terrible this change appears! It is too
sad—too dreadful!”

But after the first feeling of terror, her anxiety to
find out something about Hum overcame every other
consideration, and she alighted on the footboard.
Tremblingly she approached a heap of bees—they
were indeed dead!—stiff, cold, and in many cases
clogged with honey that had escaped when the hive
was torn from its stand.

But not a// dead—not guzte all. Here and there
she saw a faint motion, as a bee gave a weary strug-
gle with her legs, or moved her antenne. Hurrying
from one to another, Buz came at last to a bee which
had evidently crept into an empty cell to die; and
a thrill passed through her as she touched her an-
tennz, and discovered the object of her search.

Yes, it was indeed Hum! and she was not too late

104 Buz.

to say “good-by,” for Hum recognized and feebly
caressed her.

“Oh, Hum!” cried Buz; “dear Hum! What has
happened? What can I do for you, my poor dar-
ling?”

And she began to lick her with her tongue, and to
stroke her softly.

“Dear old Buz,” whispered Hum faintly; “how
good of youto come! I shall die quite happy now,
if you will stay with me for a little time—such a
little time.”

“T will zever leave you!" cried Buz impetuously.
“Let me die with you, if you must die; but surely
it isn’t so bad as that. I can not bear to lose you.
Let me get you some honey; let me do something
for you.”

“You can do nothing, dear; I am past eating;
only come close to me. There! I want nothing
more now.”

“But what has happened, Hum? My dear, dear
Hum! Who can have been so cruel? Are you
strong enough to tell me?”

“T will try,” answered Hum; “I should like you
to know. Last evening I was out late, for I wanted
to finish filling the very last cell there was to be
filled. A shower of rain came on, and I crept into

Death of Hum—Robbery—Restitution. 105

a hole for shelter. This made me later still, and
when I got back I found the entrance of the hive
closed, and smoke coming out from every crevice.
Two men were standing close by; the smoke made
me feel sick and giddy; presently the men pulled
the hive from the board. Oh, Buz! it was dreadful
to see them shake out the dead bees in heaps. Some
of the honey came out, and they pulled out the
breeding comb. Only to think how many grubs,
which would soon have become busy bees, have been
destroyed! Only to think how much honey they
would have collected next spring! It is very, very
sad. For myself, dear, I think I had done my work;
Iam getting to feel quite old, and could hardly have
expected to live through the winter. Ah!” she
continued more faintly, “how long and cold the
night has been! I found this empty cell and crept
into it, or I must have died hours ago. A few other
bees, who, like me, had not returned before the hive
was filled with smoke, were going about at first, but
I have seen none moving lately. Where are you,
Buz, dear? Where are yourantenne? It is so dark
and so cold.”

“Tam quite, quite close to you, my poor Hum!”
said Buz. “Can’t you see and feel me?”

“No, no,” answered Hum in a whisper; “it is too

106 Buz.

dark and cold for that. I am going, dear—I am
going fast. You have been so often in my thoughts;
you make me so happy now. Good-by, dear! good-
by!”

As she ceased, a shiver convulsed her for a
moment, her antennz quivered once more, and—her
busy, useful life was over.

For some time Buz remained by her side; she
could not bear to leave her friend; but at last she
flew sorrowfully away.

“Tt would do poor Hum no good,” she thought,
“if I staid in that miserable place. What a sad
story it is! and how cruel! Not only hundreds of
bees, that have worked hard all their lives, are re-
warded by thus being killed, but hundreds of grubs
are prevented from ever doing the work they would
have done so well. If I meet the wild bee again, I
shall not have much to say. JI begin to understand
that there may be advantages in a hollow tree, after
all.”

So saying, she went disconsolately home.

But misfortunes never come singly, and Buz had
hardly settled herself ina corner of the super, when
she became aware, byasudden commotion among the
bees near the aperture which led down to the hive
below, that something unusual was taking place,

Death of Hum—Robbery—Restitution. 107

Buz ran down the comb at once, and found a
crowd of bees collected round the place where the
aperture had been: there was no aperture now!

Azinc slide, worked from the outside, had been
pushed across, cutting off all communication from
below; anda bee, who had been ascending at the
time, had been caught and crushed to death.

At this moment the covering of the super was
removed, anda flood of light admitted.

Then there was running and bustling indeed!
Every part of the glass was explored again and again,
and each bee continually revisited the slide, in hopes
of finding it removed.

But no—they were completely cut off! The only
way out of the super had been through the hive be-
low, and that way was closed.

The bees grew very angry—particularly Buz !

‘“‘Ah, my fine fellow!” said she to herself, as she
ran up and down, looking through the glass at the
gardener outside, “just you wait tillI’m out; I’ve
something more than honey for you!”

The more angry and excited the bees became,
however, the hotter grew the hive.

Many of them began to fan violently; but that
did no good, because no cool air from the outside
could be obtained.

108 Buz.

“T shall be choked,’’said a bee to Buz, as she
passed her; “I know I shall.”

“T shouldn't mind what happened to me after-
ward,” cried Buz, almost beside herself, “ if I could
go at that man, and make him run.”

It became hotter and hotter.

The bees began to get frightened, and hardly
knew what they did.

Many of them went to the honey for consolation,
and ate as fast as they could.

Even Buz, in spite of her fury, couldn’t help feeling
anxious.

The man outside now passed a thin, sharp knife
between the edge of the super and the top of the
hive on which it stood. He was obliged to do this,
because the bees, when they first took possession of
it, had cemented it down with a kind of resin. In
spite of all his care, some little honey escaped, and
one or two bees were injured.

Now Buz, although she had determined to take no
honey, found it impossible to keep her resolution
when she saw itactually running at her feet, and, in
a feverish excited way, she began to suck it up.
This made her feel a /z¢¢/e less spiteful, but she still
kept her eyes on the enemy outside.

The latter, having by this time loosened the super,

Death of Hum—Robbery —Restitution. 109

lifted up one side of it, and inserted a small wedge
of wood, which gave the bees an opportunity of
getting away.

Some of them, being still frightened, darted off at
once, and entered the hive as usual. Others took a
turn round, and then went back to the super, irre-
sistibly attracted by the honey.

But Buz, the instant she was free, flew as straight
as she could and as hard as she could at the man’s
nose, meaning to give him the full benefit of her
sting. What was her astonishment and indignation
on finding herself stopped, when close to his face, by
something soft and yielding, which she had not
noticed at first, and which she could hardly see, even
when close to him!

Again and again she flew at him—at his ears, his
chin, his nose—and each time she was prevented
from getting within stinging distance. The most
provoking part of it was, that the man did not take
the least notice of her efforts, or seem even to know
that she was trying to drive him away. One
ortwo other bees had joined Buz in her attack on
him, but, as he was quite safe behind his veil, they
at last left him alone, and even Buz gave it
up.

By this time the greater part of the bees had left

110 Bus.

the super; but a good many stragglers still remained,
and feasted to excess on the honey.

In order to get rid of these, the gardener removed
the super to some little distance, turned it upside
down, and with a soft feather gently dislodged
them, and though it took him some time, he at
length persuaded the very last bee to fly heavily
home.

Then he carried off the super in triumph.

Buz, on meeting a friend near the entrance of the
hive, eagerly talked the matter over.

“Here’s a pretty thing!” she exclaimed. ‘Were
you up above when it happened?”

“No; I was down here.”

“Why didn’t you ali come out and help, then,”
said Buz, ‘ or do something?”

“We couldn’t think what had happened ; we have
only one way of getting up, you know, and we kept
ontrying that. How we did try, to be sure!”

“Well,” said Buz; “between us all, we managed
it about as badly as we could. Of course you know
they have taken away that beautiful honey?”

“Yes, and very provoking it is; still, it’s a mercy
we have so much here.”

“Yes, indeed,” answered Buz; “things might be
worse than they are, I suppose.” For she remem-

Death of Hum—Robbery—Restitution. 111

bered what had happened to poor Hum, and to her
old home, and felt that she had still something to
be thankful for.

Soon after this came a week of wet weather,
and the bees were obliged to fall back on their
stores.

“I do wish,” said a bee one day, who was working
near Buz, “that we‘hadn’t lost all that honey. I
declare I’m almost afraid to eat at all now.”

‘“We have enough to last for a long time, at any
rate,” replied Buz; “and I ave heard that food is
sometimes supplied.”

“Indeed!” said the other. ‘Who supplies
it?”

“Ah!” replied Buz, with an important air—she
was rather proud of being able to give information
now, instead of, as formerly, always asking questions
herself—“ You will be surprised to hear that.”

“The only thing that surprises me is that azy one
should supply it.”

“T was told,” said Buz, “ by a bee who had heard
it from a very old friend of hers, that the man who
stole the honey will very likely try to make up for
it by giving us some other food.”

“That would be curious, I must say,” admitted
the other. “I wonder why he does it. Perhaps,”

112 Buz.

she added, ‘‘he thinks we like it better than
honey.”

“Or, perhaps,” answered Buz, with superior
wisdom—it was a very young bee to whom she
spoke—“ he likes our honey better than the stuff he
brings. Why, whatever is the matter with you?”
she continued quickly, addressing a bee who had
stopped, in passing, to rub her forelegs over her
head, and to lick and clean herself. ‘ You are all
sticky and shiny, and there is such an odd smell
about you.”

“T hardly know myself,’ was the reply; ‘ but
something has happened up above, at the hole by
which we used to get into the top part of the hive.”

“Something is a/ways happening up there!”
cried Buz, pettishly.

“ Now, keep your sting in!” returned the other.
“As far as I can make out, there is no need to
grumble; though I got more than I want of what-
ever it is, ] can’t say it’s bad.” She began to lick
her forefeet again.

“T suppose,” remarked Buz, “you wish me to
understand something; can’t you explain?”

“T know very little about it, I tell you,” answered
the other impatiently. ‘I was standing close to
where the hole used to be, when there was a sudden

Death of Hum—Robbery—Restitution. 113

movement, and the light came through. I was run-
ning up to see what was going on, when something
soft and sticky came down on top of me; I was half-
smothered for a moment, and could not get away.
At last I crawled off, and now I’m cleaning myself.
And I still say,” she added, as she passed her feet
over her head and antenna, ‘that it’s by no means
bad stuff.”

Buz went at once to see what had happened.
She found that the aperture, instead of being
covered by the slide, was now filled up with a soft
material, which bulged out in the middle, and was
covered with drops of something sticky.*

Several bees were already sucking at these, and
Buz followed their example. Whatever it might
be, there was certainly no harm in it—it was sweet
and pleasant to eat.

The best of it was, that as fast as the bees
sucked up the drops, more were formed on the sur-
face of the material; but the latter was too thick
to allow them to fall right through: they only hung
on, ready to be sucked.

“Come!” said Buz; “if this is how they supply

* A wide-necked bottle, containing a thick syrup of sugar and
water, with a piece of flannel tied over the mouth, had been placed,
inverted, over the hole.

114 Buz.

us, we shall do very well: a capital notion, / call it,
if they will only keep it going!”

With this addition to their stores, the bees were
able to look forward without apprehension to the
long winter, which was so rapidly approaching.

CHAPTER IX.

CAUGHT IN A COBWEB. THE SPIDER’S PLAN.

<7, HE days now began to grow very
B.\ short; and when the rain fell,
as it often did, it chilled the
sodden ground, and was fol-
lowed by cold, unhealthy fogs,
instead of by the warm sweet
smell that rises from the earth
after a summer shower. The
wind wailed dismally through
the trees, stripping them of their many-colored
leaves, and preparing them for rougher weather to
come—as sailors take in canvas before the approach
of a gale.

The few flowers that were left, were fading

116 Buz.

quickly away, and the beescould hardly find enough
honey for their own eating, during the short excur-
sions they were able to make.

But there were still occasions when the clouds
were content to linger along the horizon, and let the
sun take a peep at the world; and although his rays
were comparatively weak and watery, they were
sometimes pleasant enough to tempt the bees out
of their hive.

Buz seldom neglected such opportunities, and
was fond of exploring places which she hardly had
time to notice during the busy season of the honey
harvest.

There was a pretty old cottage, with a thatched
roof, standing a little way back from the lane lead-
ing from the manor house to the village.

It stood by itself, some way from any other habi-
tation, and in front of it there was a little garden,
beautifully kept.

Buz had often visited it during the summer, and
had always fancied that its flowers were particularly
sweet and full of honey. No wonder if they were,
for the poor old man who lived in the cottage was
very fond of them.

He kept them free from weeds, and watered them
daily, in hot weather, with the sparkling water of a

Caught 7n a Cobweb, 117

little spring just across the lane, which was almost
hidden by ferns and mosses, and which sent downa
tiny rill, wandering through watercresses and marsh
marigolds and long waving grasses, to join the merry
mill-stream at the bottom of the hill.

One day, Buz, after taking a sip of water at the
spring, flew tothe top of the little garden gate, and
thence right into the cottage through the open
window.

This she did because her wings happened to carry
her there.

It was the first time she had ever entered a room ;
and, after taking a turn round, the sight of so many
things which were new to her caused her to feel
nervous, and she made for the window. Unfortu-
nately, however, there were two windows in the
room, and Buz darted to the wrong one, which was
shut! Against this she flew at such a pace, that
fora moment she was quite confused, and taking
another turn, came back and bumped herself once
more, though not quite so hard.

Hard enough, however, to make her feel a little
cross; and so she buzzed noisily about, going over
every pane several times—more slowly and carefully
as she went up, but coming down again in a great
hurry.

118 Bus.

“Well!” said Buz to herself; “this zs a nasty
jar! Icame in here—that I know for certain—and
as Icame in, I suppose I can get out. I wll get
out—I won't be sealed up like this!’’ And in a
sudden fit of impatience, she buzzed so fiercely
against the window that she turned herself head
over heels once or twice, and came to the bottom
anyhow.

There she remained for a moment, rubbing her
antenne, and considering matters.

Then off she went again, right up to the top of
the window.

“T’ll explore every corner,” she said. “I'll try
over and over again! I wl not be beaten!
I'1|——”

Here there was a most tremendous buzzing; for,
right up in one of the top corners, she was caught in
a large and dusty cobweb!

Never in her life had Buz been so angry and
indignant! She lost all control over herself, and
buzzed, and bit, and struggled, and felt all round
for something to sting.

There was nothing, however, but the soft, yield-
ing cobweb; and the more she struggled, the more
it stuck! and the more she turned, the more it
twisted! and the more she rolled, the more it

Caught tn a Cobweb. 119

wrapped round her! and the angrier she got, the
more aggravating it became!

At last she was quite exhausted, and lay still.

Now when she had cooled down a little, she.
began to see that she had not gone the right way to
work.

“ How foolish of me!” said she toherself. ‘“ Just
what a great drone might have done! If I had
taken it quietly at first, I might perhaps have got
out; but what will happen now, I can’t think.
What a fool I ave made of myself, to be sure!”

“Ho! Ho!” cried a deep sarcastic voice close
by.

Buz looked round, startled, and saw a great big
spider near her on the web.

He was horrible to look at, with his cruel, blood-
thirsty expression, but seemed perfectly composed,
and fixed his wicked, hungry eyes steadily on Buz.
For a moment the latter was quite paralyzed with
fear, but, recovering a little, made some frantic
efforts to free herself. These, however, were unsuc-
cessful, and she again lay still, exhausted by her
struggles.

“Ho! Ho!” cried the spider again.

By this time Buz had recovered from her first
shock of horror, and her blood was up. Besides, she

120 Buz.

felt quite a match for the spider, if it came toa
fight.

“Ts that all you’ve got to say?” asked Buz scorn-
fully.

“Ho! Ho!” repeated the spider, for the third
time.

He said it in such a cold-blooded manner, and
seemed so triumphant and confident, that a thrill of
horror again ran through her; but, shaking off the
feeling, she said:

“ T suppose you made this nasty web, didn’t you?”

The spider answered never a word.

“In any case,’ continued Buz, “ you might as
well unwind me. I’m not a poor fly, you know,
that you can kill and eat. Besides, your web is all
torn,” continued she, as the spider sat without mov-
ing or speaking—only watching; “and you'll have
tomend it, you know, if you want to catchany thing.
You can’t mend it while I am here; I'll take care
of that!”

The spider neither moved nor spoke. This con-
tinued silence disconcerted Buz very much, and
made her feel dreadfully helpless; but she presently
continued as briskly as she could:

“Come, come; I’m sure we can arrange matters
in a sensible way, without any professions of friend-

Caught in a Cobweb, 121

ship. You want to mend your web; very good.
I’m not anxious to stay in it, and you can do noth-
ing while Iam here. Give me your assistance, then,
and I will go quietly away without hurting you.
Come, what do you say ?”’

The spider partly opened his mouth, as if about
to speak, but ended by saying nothing.

His appearance, however, was so terrifying, and
his fangs looked so cruel, that Buz could hardly
prevent her voice from trembling as she continued,
“ Have you any argument against what I propose?
Tell me that, at any rate.”

The spider spoke at last, and as he slowly moved
his jaws, his fangs swept round like scythes.

“You are my prisoner,” said he: “ that’s my argu-
ment.”

He spoke with such contemptuous confidence,
that Buz was struck dumb for the moment, and could
think of nothing to say.

“A good argument, too,’
“good enough for me.”

There was a long pause, during which Buz strug-
gled hard to throw off the feeling of dismay which
had crept over her.

“ At any rate,” she said at last; “if Iam unable
to get out, you, on the other hand, dare not come

,

continued the spider;

122 Bus.

near me; so I don’t know which of us would get the
worst of it in the end.”

“Tdo,” returned the spider, ‘and you wll before
long.”

He said this with such a sneer, that Buz’s brave
little spirit rose, and she answered quite sharply:
“You seem very wellsatisfied with your own opinion,
Mr. Spider; but mine may be just as good—perhaps
better. And I say that I can go quite as long with-
out food as you can, and that you dare not come
near me. No, you daren’t, you brute!” she con-
tinued, as the spider again half opened his mouth
without speaking.

“You hungry-looking wretch!” she went on, “if
you were not afraid of me, you would have rushed
upon me long ago, and dragged me into your den;
but you are afraid, you sneaking coward!”

“ Tf I could only put him ina passion,” she thought,
“so as to make him come at me, we might fight it
fairly out, and I could bear whatever happened ; but
to lie helplessly here is dreadful.”

“My plan is ’ remarked the spider, after a
long silence. ‘“ By the way, would you like to know
what it is?”

“Not I!” cried Buz disdainfully. “What are
your plans to me?”

Caught tn a Cobweb, 123

The spider said no more, but moving off to his
den, which was close by, settled himself at the mouth
of it, and remained perfectly motionless, with his eyes
fixed on Buz.

The latter was silent for some time, but although
she tried to keep it out of her head, she could not
help wondering what the spider’s plan was. This
thought returned again and again, and each time
with greater strength, till at last it became a perfect

-torment to her. Several times she was on the point
of asking, but just managed to prevent herself from
doing so.

At last she could restrain the inclination no
longer, and said, though as defiantly as she could:

“T might be able to show you the folly of your
plan, as you call it; so you had better tell me what
it is, after all.”

“Tf you ask meas a favor, I'll tell you,” replied
the spider; ‘not else.”

“Indeed, I shall ask no favor from you!” cried
Buz.

The spider making no reply to this, there was a
prolonged silence; butat last, the feeling of anxiety
to know the worst, overcame her pride, and Buz
said more humbly, “ Well then, I ask you as a
favor.”

124 Buz.

“ My plan is,” said the spider, speaking very slowly
and deliberately, “to do nothing yet myself, and to
leave you to do what you can. It will answer very
well, because you willsoon get too weak for mischief,
and then I shall kill you and suck you dry, and tear
you limb from limb. That’s my plan.”

“Pray, how do you know,” said Buz, “that I
shall get weak sooner than you?”

“How foolishly you talk!” replied the spider.
“Why, you are nearly exhausted, and half choked
already ; you are in a terrible fright, and well you
may be, for you have nothing to look forward to
but death. Iam quite comfortable, even enjoying
myself, watching you; and J look forward to dinner:
it makes a good deal of difference.”

Buz felt that this was only too true, and her heart
began to fail her, brave as she was.

“ Besides,” continued the spider, “I dined well
yesterday on a fat fly, whose wings you can see
here at the mouth of my den, as you call it; so I
can easily wait for you. I shall not have to wait
very long.”

Buz could not help trembling at these cruel words,
and after a pause, she said, in a weaker voice, “I
suppose it would be in vain to appeal to your
generosity—to your ”

Caught in a Cobweb, 125

“To my generosity!” interrupted the spider.
“Ho! Ho! That’s good, that is! Why, I have
never, in all my life, granted an appeal, or a favor,
and I never mean to. It is true,” he continued,
“that I told you my plan, as a favor, but I only did
so in order to punish you for the ridiculous airs you
gave yourself at first. The punishment has already
begun, I see. I knew it would! And you begged
me to tell you as a favor! That’s good, that is!
Ho! Ho!”

The malicious cruelty with which he spoke was
enough to freeze her blood; but even at that
moment poor little Buz did not lose her pluck.

“He shall not triumph over me,” she thought,
“more than Ican possibly help. I will not say
another word, nor attempt to move him to pity.
Let the worst come to the worst, I can but die!
And if he ventures near me before I am guzte gone,
let him look out for himself!”

So she remained perfectly still; and the spider
sat motionless at the mouth of his den, watching.

CHAPTER. 2,
BATTLE. VICTORY. DEATH.

HE nice tidy little old man who
lived in the cottage, had a
nice tidy little old wife. They
had no children, and as he had
earned good wages all his life
at the mill down below in the
village, they had put by a
nice tidy little sum of money.

Of this, the kind old people
had promised to give twenty
res to their nephew Jack, who was on the point
of leaving the old country, and going off to seek his
fortune as an emigrant.
As it had been arranged that Jack should call for
his money next day, the old man had been over to

Battle—Vactory—Death. 127

the neighboring town to draw it out of the Savings
bank; and while poor Buz remained a prisoner in
the cobweb, the old couple sat by the fire, counting
out the yellow gold which it had taken them so long
to collect, but which they were giving away with
such ready generosity.

It looked so bright and beautiful—quite tempt-
ing!

Tempting? Yes, indeed; too tempting by far!

For as they were counting it over, a face appeared
at the window outside.

It was an evil face, deeply carved by many vices
—drunkenness, cruelty, theft, and even bloodshed
having stamped their ugly marks upon it.

It was the face of a convict recently discharged
from prison, who, coming to the cottage to see
what he could pick up, was having a stealthy look
round before knocking at the door.

As his cruel, cunning eyes peered into the room,
they suddenly caught sight of the money, which
had been counted out ona small round table in
front of the fire.

The instant he saw it, he crouched down, hiding
himself as well as he was able, and devouring the
gold with hungry eyes.

After a time, the old man took up the pieces one

128 Buz.

by one, and dropped them into a stocking, which he
placed under the pillow of the bed.

Directly the convict had seen where the stocking
was hidden away, he dropped on his hands and
knees, and crept to the garden gate, opening which
as quietly as he could, he slunk out into the lane,
and stole away unobserved.

But before he had gone far he stopped, and
clenching his hands, swore a horrible oath that he
would have the gold that night, even if he did mur-
der to obtain it.

Meanwhile, the cruel spider was getting very hun-
gry; for when he told Buz that he had lately eaten
a fat fly, he told her what was false.

The fact is, he had eaten nothing for a very con-
siderable time, and the wings he had pointed out
were those of a miserable victim devoured long
since.

So now he was becoming impatient, and had twice
left his den to see if Buz was yet weak enough to be
attacked with impunity.

On both occasions, however, she had seen _ his
approach, and had made such a struggle to free her-
self, that he had been frightened back.

But the third time he came, Buz lay perfectly still,
and to all appearance dead. Several times the spi-

Battle—Victory—Death. 129

der made ready to attack her, but each time his heart
failed him. At last—desperate with hunger—he
rushed upon her, and seizing her in his jaws, began to
drag her toward his den, taking the greatest care not
to put himself within reach of her sting.

But Buz was not nearly so weak as he thought her,
and had only remained quiet in order to deceive
him.

The moment, therefore, that he made his attack,
she clung tightly to him with her forelegs to prevent
his getting away. Then began a fearful struggle!
The spider tried to hold her down with his terrible
fangs, and to prevent her from twisting her body
round; and she, though weak and half-strangled,
never lost heart, but battled bravely on, seeking for
an opportunity.

After some time, she managed to break one of the
threads which held her, and then another, and at last,
turning over with a great effort, she brought her
body alongside the spider, and shooting out her
sting sideways, she drove it fairly into him.

The effect was instantaneous! The spider let go
his hold, and curled completely up; then, as the
poison took effect, his limbs again relaxed, and he
lay dead, ulmost at the mouth of his own den.

Dead! where he had killed so many victims him-

130 Buz.

self. Dead! where he had so lately mocked at Buz
in her misery !

Just at this moment, the good wife, attracted by
the sound of the struggle, during which Buz had
made a sharp whirring with her wings, approached
the window and called out to her husband, “ Well,
to be sure! if there isn’t a poor little bee in a spi-
der’s web! Come and look, John.”

“So there be,” said John, as he came up.

“And only see, John, she’ve a killed the spider, I
do declare!”

“Well done!” said John; “so she have, I see.”

“ Poor little creetur!” said the old woman, as she
released Buz with a feather, and put her on the win-
dow-sill.

For some time they watched Buz, who at first was
too much exhausted to free herself from the web
which still clung to her; but, gradually recovering
her strength, and receiving occasional help from the
feather, she was able to do so at last.

“There!” said the old man; “let her bide till
to-morrow morning. The room is nice and warm,
and ’tis too late to turn her out to-night.”

So they left her there, and drew the curtains, and
put the kettle on, and had tea, and in due time went
to bed.

Battle—Victory—Death. ua

Buz crept about a little to stretch her legs, and
finally settled herself for the night on the handle of
the lattice window.

Ten o'clock sounded from the belfry of the old
church down in the village—eleven o’clock—mid-
night—and the old couple were sleeping soundly.
But if they had been awake soon after midnight,
they would have heard a stealthy, scraping sound!
What was it?

It was the convict, engaged in removing the lead
round one of the panes of glass close to the handle
of the window. The knife that he was using was
curved, and strong, and sharp; and in his hands, and
close to the cruel face that was bending over the
work, it had a murderous look.

A hammer with a long handle, such as is used for
breaking stones, stuck out from his coat pocket.

He wore no mask—that was not necessary ; for if
either of the old people woke when he was once in
the room, there should be no one left alive to give
evidence against him—he had quite made up his
mind about that. And as he could hardly draw the
stocking from under their very pillow without wak-
ing them, he meant murder!

Murder was plainly written on his scowling face,
and expressed in every motion of his body.

132 Buz.

Oh! for something to wake the old man, before it
should be too late!

But he slept quietly on.

And now the villain removed a small pane of
glass, large enough to admit his hand; he had only
to open the window, climb into the room—and
then

But in turning the handle gently, he began squeez-
ing Buz, who had settled there, and who, resenting
such disturbance, planted her sting deeply in his
thumb. With a dreadful oath, the man hastily
withdrew his hand, but in so doing, swung violently
open the window he had just unfastened.

The latter, coming against a flower-pot standing
on the window-ledge, threw it with acrash upon the
ground. This woke the old man, who realizing
what was going on, got out of bed as quickly as
he could, seized the poker, and made for the win-
dow.

Startled by the sudden pain of the sting, the noise
he had himself made, and the shouts of the old man,
the would-be murderer hesitated what to do, and
thus gave the former more time to get to the win-
dow.

Now, to strike down a poor old couple in bed, or
to cut their throats, was one thing; but to climb

Battle—Victory—Death. 133

through a window guarded by a man who, however
old he might be, was armed with a stout poker, was
quite another matter.

On the whole, the cowardly ruffian thought it
best to sneak away as quietly as possible, without
letting his face be seen.

But the old people went to sleep no more that
night, and were very glad next day to hand over to
nephew Jack the money that had so nearly cost them
their lives.

And Buz, brave Buz! the instrument by which
their lives had been saved, lay dead upon the ground
outside the window; for on feeling her sting, the
man had given a sudden pressure of his thumb,
which had killed her instantly.

Perhaps it was as well after all.

She could not have withdrawn her barbed sting
from the horny hand of the man, as she had from
the soft body of the spider; and in losing their
stings, bees always receive a fatal injury.

She was therefore spared the pain of a lingering
death.

And even if she had returned to her hive without
any adventure, she would probably have died before
the sweet soft spring time came round again. The
life of a bee is very short, and one born as Buz

134 Buz.

was, early in the year, seldom survives the win-

ter.
So perhaps she could hardly have died at a better

time.
She had been useful all her life, and was useful

even in her death.