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A BOOK ABOUT BEES,

A Book about Bees.

Their History, Habits, and Instincts;

TOGETHER WITH

The First Principles of Modern
Bee-keeping

FOR YOUNG READERS.

BY

REV. F. G. JENYNS,

Rector of Knebworth ; Member of the Committee of the
British Bee-keepers Association.

With Introduction by the BARONESS BURDETT-COUTTS.

Published at the Request, and under the Sanction, of the British
Bee-keepers' Association.

LONDON:

WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO.

2 Paternoster Buildings.

1888.

PISG^^^'"^'

©ratffuUg :iS)rtiratf'li

BARONESS BURDETT-COUTTS,

President of the British Bee-keepers' Association.

WHOSE NAME IS A HOUSEHOLD WORD THROUGHOUT THE LAND

IN CONNECTION WITH ALL GOOD WORKS;

AND WHO, WHILE DEVOTING HER WEALTH AND ENERGIES,

WITH THE MOST UNBOUNDED CHARITY, IN THE WIDEST FIELDS OF

BENEVOLENCE, —

IS YET ALWAYS READY TO JOIN HEARTILY IN EVEN THE

HUMBLEST EFFORTS DIRECTED TO THE BENEFIT AND ADVANCEMENT

OF THE INDUSTRIAL CLASSES :

AND,

WITH THIS END IN VIEW, HAS EVER SHEWN

THE WARMEST SYMPATHY WITH THOSE WHO SEEK TO PROMOTE

THE MORE EXTENSIVE KNOWLEDGE OF BEES,

AND

THE PRACTICE OF INTELLIGENT BEE-KEEPING.

148482

INTRODUCTION.

Dear Mr. Jenyns,

I am much gratified by your kind wish
to dedicate to me your valuable educational con-
tribution on Bees and Bee-keeping.

This industry has made a rapid progress under
the fostering care of the British Bee-keepers' Asso-
ciation, and the untiring zeal of its late esteemed
Honorary Secretary, the Rev. H. R. Peel. Bees
now rank as fellow -workers in the objects of the
Royal Agricultural Society ; and, through the form-
ation of the British Honey Company, they are
linked with those industrial and commercial projects,
which seek to promote the food supply of the people
at large, and to render it plentiful and wholesome.

In this book you point out very justly that Bees
and Bee-keeping can be made subservient to an
educational purpose, and also possess an interest
under this aspect of no small value.

X INTRODUCTION.

Religious instruction, with certain other definite
subjects, such as Reading, Writing, Arithmetic, His-
tory, and Geography, must form the foundation of all
teaching in schools, but whilst these must be equally
taught in all, there are always specific subjects to
be added ; and it will probably be found advisable
to adapt these, more frequently than is done at
present, to the circumstances of the locality in which
the schools are situated ; so that information should
be given in agricultural, manufacturing, and inland
districts, somewhat differing to that given at the
sea-board and in towns.

Your lessons on Bees are admirably calculated
to point out how such information can be given,
without adding any additional pressure to the al-
ready high -pressure system of education m vogue
at the present time ; and to direct attention to the
means of conveying instruction to children in matters
which would naturally enter largely into their occu-
pations on leaving school.

I trust your interesting little book may be a
pioneer in this direction, and give an impulse to
Reading lessons calculated to give to children inform-
ation of an accurate and interesting kind, bearing, in
some measure, on their daily life, and strengthening
their powers of observation on things familiar to their
eyes and hands, yet with which they are, through lack
of observation, imperfectly acquainted.

INTRODUCTION. xi

May your Bee lessons have yet a wider mission !
May they promote Manuals which will lead the mind
to the Creator, whether they treat of His wonders in
nature, or of those wonders in art and in those handi-
crafts, which He has given to man the marvellous
power to exercise ! May our children by such means
be led to appreciate the order and variety impressed
throughout His Creation ; and so not only learn to
labour usefully, but to derive that peaceable pleasure
which instruction such as this affords, to sweeten and
lighten the occupations of daily life.

In conclusion, wishing all success to your effort,
I would end with the sweet words of a shrewd ob-
server, as well as a single-hearted Christian, and
say to the Children ' Familie ' who may con your
Bee lessons, —

' First Peace and Silence all disputes control],
Then Order plaies the soul ;
And giving all things their set forms and houres,
Makes of wilde woods sweet walks and bowres.

Herbert.

I am.
Yours sincerely,

BURDETT-COUTTS.

AUTHOR'S PREFACE.

In writing the following pages I have had no wish
whatever to add another to the many existing
' Guides ' to the management of Bees ; neither have
I attempted in any way to produce a scientific
treatise. I have simply endeavoured to write an
introduction to the subject suitable to young readers ;
and, while impressing the importance of habits of
observation, have sought to unfold to them one little
page of the vast Book of Nature ; and, by showing
some of the simplest of the many wonders of bee-
life, to give them that interest in the subject which
may lead them to desire to know more, and, after-
wards, to take up Bee-keeping for themselves, with
that knowledge which, while it adds tenfold to the
interest, is more or less absolutely necessary to make
it profitable.

But, while the book is thus in great measure in-
troductory, and is primarily intended for the young,
it is hoped that it may not be altogether uninter-
esting to those of riper years, and may furnish them
with some inducement to proceed to the investigation
of the science of the subject, and to Bee-keeping in its
most modern and advanced methods.

xiv AUTHOR'S PREFACE.

Its preparation was undertaken at the request of
the Committee of the British Bee-keepers' Asso-
ciation, who felt that, in their efforts to promote
intelligent Bee-keeping as a national industry, the
young should not be neglected, and that there ought
to be a book suitable for use — where found practi-
cable— as a Reading-book in Schools ; or, at all
events, one likely to find its way into the hands of
those young people of all classes, who soon will
be old enough to become bee-keepers.

I have with pleasure, and gratefully, to record
the assistance I have received in its preparation
from my friends the Rev. G. Raynor and the Rev.
J. Lingen Seager — the well-known bee-keepers —
who have most kindly supervised my work. I am
also much indebted to Mr. Cowan, Chairman of the
British Bee-keepers' Association, for much kindness
and very valuable advice. I have also to thank
the Association, Mr. Cowan, Sir J. Lubbock, Mr.
Neighbour, Mr. Baldwin, and Mr. Walton, for the
use of illustrations belonging to them. My especial
thanks are also due to Mr. W. B. Carr and Mr.
Charles Jenyns for many original illustrations.

F. G. J.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGB

The Cottage Bee-keepers' Home . . Fro7iiispiece

Wild Bees and Flowers 23

Italian Bee 26

Queen, Worker, and Drone Bees .... 36

The Queen and her Attendants .... 38

Queen Cells in Different Stages .... 43

The Cottager and his Bees 46

Hiving a Swarm 61

The Head, Thorax, Abdomen, of a Bee ... 61

Wing of a Bee 63

Egg and Larv^ of the Bee 69

Leg and Pollen-basket, Two Illustrations . . 77

Tongue. Two Illustrations 78

Wing, showing Hooklets 80

Bee and its Sting .82

Sting highly Magnified 83

Head and Antennae 84

Comb, Worker and Drone 91

Comb Foundation 91

xvi LIST OF ILL USTRA TIONS.

PAGE

Possible forms of Cells — Circular, Square,

Triangular 02,93

Economy of the Hexagonal Form . . . .94

Leg with notch, Magnified 108

The Cottage Hive of Helpful Children . . .113

Observatory Hive 120

Straw Hive and Super 130

Frame 134

Hive showing Fra.mes in Position .... 135

Frame, Empty, and with Foundation . . . 130

Frame filled with Comb 137

Section of a Hive with Frames 138

Queen Cages 143

Bee Veil 145

Smoker in Use 145

Sections with Foundation ...... 148

Sections in Rack 148

Hive WITH Sections in Position 149

Extractor. Tivo Illustrations 151

Driving Bees from a Skep 159

Flowers— Cherry, Buttercup, Apple, Meadow

Geranium, Wood Sage .... 178—181

Bees and Orchis 183

Bee Tent 199

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.

Habits of Observation i

Wonders of Nature around us Everywhere — The Scotch
Naturalist — Professor Henslow — The Microscope — ' Eyes
and no Eyes.'

CHAPTER II.

Bees to be Observed and Treated with Gentleness 7

Bees : A Subject of Interest — When and ^Vhy they Sting —
To be treated with Kindness — Coleridge.

CHAPTER III.

The Work of the Bee— Introductory ... 10

* Mind your own Business ' — The Bee works itself to Death —
Sir J. Lubbock's Observations on the Work of a Bee,

CHAPTER IV.

The Bee's Busy Life— Continued .... 13

The Bee does not ' rust out :' contented, patient, persevering
— The Donkey at Carisbrooke Castle.

CHAPTER V.
Community of Bees in a Hive 15

Rooks and other Birds congregate — Bees in the Hive as a
Community — Ants — Sir J. Lubbock — Beavers— TI18
' Song of the Bees. '

xviii CONTENTS.

CHAPTER VI.

PARK

Different kinds of Bees 21

Vast Numbers of different kinds of Bees — Humble Bees:
their great Use ; taken to New Zealand — Solitary Bees :
the Leaf-cutting — The Mason.

CHAPTER Vir.

Varieties of the Honey Bee 25

Some Honey Bees more valuable than others — Italian Bees
— Cyprian and other Bees.

CHAPTER VIII.

American Bees 27

The Wild Bees of America — Bees and Monkeys — Bee-hunting
in America — The Bee-line — Instinct — Story of a Cat.

CHAPTER IX.
Bees in the Olden Time 30

Bees and Honey, mention of, in the Bible — Virgil, and
others — Huber, and his Life.

CHAPTER X.

The Inhabitants of the Hive— Introductory . 34

Modern Discoveries — The different Kinds of Bees in a Hive —
The Workers, and their Number — The Queen as the
Mother of the Colony — Old Errors regarding the Queen —
The Drones, noisy and idle.

CHAPTER XI.

Home of the Honey Bee — Introductory ... 41
The Brood Nest and its Contents — The Queen-cell — The
Store-room of the Hive — Every Portion of Space made use
of — Everything in its place.

CHAPTER XII.
General Outline of the History of a Hive . , 47

A Swarm issuing — The Swarm secured and hived — Its
Work during the Summer — Its Condition in Autumn
and Winter.

CONTENTS. xix

CHAPTER XIII.

PAGE

A Tale of Destruction 53

The Goose and its golden Eggs — The old Custom of de-
stroying the Bees — An inhuman and foolish System —
Thomson's 'Seasons.'

CHAPTER XIV.
The Natural History of the Bee— Introductory . 56

Some Knowledge of the Bee's Natural History necessar)- —
Observe everything, and have a Reason for all you do —
Illustrative Examples of successful Observers and Dis-
coverers— Franklin, and others — Hervey and the Circu-
lation of the Blood.

CHAPTER XV.
The Natural History of the Bee— Continued . 59

The Classification of Animals — The Bee's Position in the
Insect World — Recapitulation, and Diagram,

CHAPTER XVI.
The Transformation of Insects .... 66

The Egg, Larva, Pupa, Imago — The Provision of Nature for
Food for the Larvae of different Insects — Examples.

CHAPTER XVII.

The Natural History of the Bee— Continued . 69
The Process of Transformation from the Egg to the perfect
Bee in the cases respectively of Worker, Drone, and Queen
— ' Royal Jelly 'and its Effects on the Larva — The difference
between the Queen and Worker illustrated by that between
the Greyhound and Pug.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Structure of the Bee adapted to its Wants . . 74

Examples of the same Adaptation to be found in Animals,
Birds, Fishes, and Man himself — The Leg of the Bee —
The Tongue — The Wings.

K CONTENTS.

CHAPTER XIX.

PAGE

The same subject— Continued 81

The Sting of the Bee — The Sting under the Microscope —
The Antennae — The Antennx a means of Communication.

CHAPTER XX.
The same subject— Continued 86

The Differences in Formation of Queen, Worker, and Drone —
A Worker sometimes lays Eggs,

CHAPTER XXI.
Combs, and the Form of Cells 88

Examples of Engineering Skill — The Perfection of the Hex-
agonal Shape of Cell — Mathematics of the Hive — Combs
must have great Strength — How this Strength is obtained
with the least material possible — How Worker and Drone
Cells are joined together.

CHAPTER XXII.

More about what the Bees do 97

The Queen, her Work, and Instincts — The Number of Eggs
she lays — The Drones and their Use — Drones destroyed.

CHAPTER XXIII.

The same subject— Continued 102

The Worker's Work — Shakspeare on the Honey Bee — How
far Bees go from the Hive — The Rapidity of the Bee's
Flight — Bees in any one Journey keep to one kind of
Flower.

CHAPTER XXIV.

More about what the Bees Gather — Honey,

Pollen, and Propolis ..... 100

Honey derived from the Nectar of Flowers — How the Bee
removes Pollen from its Tongue — Propolis, whence
gathered — Curious Instances of its Use — A Snail de-
stroyed— A Slug buried.

CONTEJ^TS. XV.

CHAPTER XXV.

PAGE

Wax, and how the Bees make it 110

Wax produced from Honey — The Time and Labour necessary
for the Process — All Workers, except the young Bees, are
Wax-makers — The Work of young Bees — The Children of
the Hive most Useful.

CHAPTER XXVI.
Night-work and Ventilation 114

Bees never Sleep — The Necessity of Ventilation, and how the
Bees provide for it — The Guard at the Gate.

CHAPTER XXVII.

The Division of Labour in the Hive . . .116

Every Bee has its Work — Their Attention to little Things —
The Importance of little Things — Other Examples of the
Wonders done by little Creatures — The Hive a Savings
Bank.

CHAPTER XXVIII

More about the Observation of Bees . . . 120

The Observatory Hive — Huber's ' Leaf Hive — Sir J. Lub-
bock's Observations of Bees and their Sense of Colour.

CHAPTER XXIX.
Introduction to Modern Bee-keeping . . . 123

Boys and Girls may keep Bees — Best to begin in a small Way
— The Necessity of Common Sense and Perseverance —
WTiatever you do, do it thoroughly — Good Management
always pays— Virgil's Story of the old Gardener.

CHAPTER XXX.
First Principles of Bee-keeping .... 127

This book not 'a Guide-book' — The Golden Rule for successful
Bee-keeping — The best kind of Straw Hive and how to
begin with it — The Disadvantages of the Straw Hive.

xxii CONTENTS.

CHAPTER XXXI.

PAGE

The Frame-hive and the Principles 'of its Con-
struction 133

The Frames and their Use — Comb Foundation, how it is made
and its Use — What is essential in a good Hive — Home-
made Hives — Examples of Ingenuity.

CHAPTER XXXII.
Advantages of the Frame-hive .... 141

Interchange of Frames — Introduction of young Queens — Ex-
traction of Honey — Increase of Colonies — Enemies de-
stroyed— Something about Bee-veils and Smokers.

CHAPTER XXXIII.
Super honey and the Extractor .... 146

Bees will swarm unless they have Plenty of Room — Sections
and Supers how prepared and placed on the Hive — Supers
filled and refilled — The Extractor, its Construction, Use,
and Principle.

CHAPTER XXXIV.
More about Swarms and Casts 162

* A Swarm in May worth a load of Hay ' — Second Swarms or
Casts — When and how brought about, and how controlled
— The Combat of Queens — Note by the Rev. George
Raynor.

CHAPTER XXXV.

The Busy Bee-keeper in Summer, Autumn, and

Winter 156

The Bee-keeper in Summer — The Quantity of Honey to be
obtained from well-managed Hives— Note by Thomas W.
Cowan, Esq. — The Bee-keeper in Autumn— The Operation
of 'Driving' and its Use— The Bcc-kecpcr at rest in
Winter.

CONTENTS. xxiii

CHAPTER XXXVI.

PAGE

The Connexion between Food and Warmth . , 102

Food as the Producer of Flesh and Warmth — The Hibernation
of Animals — The Bee does not hibernate — Warmth in the
Hive sustained by many Bees and Plenty of Food — The
Necessity of pure Air.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

The Busy Bee-keeper in Spring 165

Spring-time and the ' Song of the Bees ' — The Importance of
early Brood — Stimulative Feeding ; to be done with
great Judgment — Artificial Pollen and its Use — Spreading
Brood and its Dangers — The Importance of 'Brains' in
Bee-keeping.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
Diseases and Enemies of Bees 169

' Prevention better than Cure ' — The Importance of Attention
to the Rules of Health — ' Foul Brood ' the most fatal of
Diseases — The Wax-moth and other Enemies — Robber
Bees.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

The Uses of Honey, Wax, and Propolis . . . 172

Honey as Food — Used formerly instead of Sugar — Mead and
other Drinks — Variety of Food necessary for our Bodies —
Nourishment in Honey — -Wax and Propolis put to many
Uses — Bees used to quell an angry Mob.

CHAPTER XL.
Flowers in Relation to Bees 176

Bees as useful to Flowers as Flowers to Bees — Some parts of a
Flower described — What, in a general way. is necessary
for Fertilisation — Provisions of Nature to secure cross
Fertilisation — Without it Plants die out or dci-cncrate —

xxiv CONTENTS.

Flowers in Relation to Bees — Contimtcd.

PAGE

Bees the Handmaidens of Nature to the end in view — The
Use of Honey to the Flowers as an Attraction to Bees and
other Insects — The Colours of Flowers attract Insects —
Flowers fertilised by the Wind are Colourless — The subject
full of Lessons of Divine Truth.

CHAPTER XLI.
The Importance of Bee-keeping 186

Except in a few Localities almost any Number of Bees may be
kept with Profit — Bee-keeping abroad and in America
practised on an extensive Scale — A great Waste in England
of Nature's Gifts — Honey everywhere : Bees required to
gather it — Considerable Profit available for Cottagers —
Bees required for the profitable Culture of Orchard Trees,
and for Garden and Field Crops — 'Welcome to the Bee.'

CHAPTER XLI I.
Superstitions with regard to Bees . . . .191

How Superstitions become prevalent — Bees must be bought
with Gold — A Cornish Superstition — 'Tanging :' its pos-
sible use in former Times — Bees in Mourning — Story by
Rev. G. Raynor.

CHAPTER XLIII.
Bee-keepers' Associations and Shows . . . 195

Bee-keeping Literature— Associations : their Object and Work
— A County Show — The Gathering of Exhibitors —
Success or Failure — The Bee-tent —Conclusion.

A BOOK ABOUT BEES.

FOR YOUNG READERS.

CHAPTER I.

HABITS OF OBSERVATION.

If we travel through England we find most varied
scenery ; some of it beautiful with mountains, valleys,
woods, and water ; and some of it flat, bare, and wild.
But, whatever the character of the country, we may
always find in the works of Nature much that is
indeed very beautiful and wonderful, and' much to
make us full of good thoughts. We learn of the great
Creator by all that we see of His works and creatures.

' There is a Book, who runs may read,
Which heavenly truth imparts.
And all the love its scholars need,
Pure eyes and Christian hearts.

• The works of God above, below,

Within us and around.
Are pages in that Book, to show
How God Himself is found.

* Thou, who hast given me eyes to see

And love this sight so fair.
Give me a heart to find out Thee,
And read Thee everywhere.'

D. H. HILL LIBRARY ^
North Carolina State College

2 HABITS OF OBSERVATION.

Probably you have been to London, and doubtless
you were astonished when first you saw its great
sights. What did you like best ? Perhaps you can
hardly tell, for you saw so many things to interest
you. You saw its long streets with the shops, and
crowds of busy people ; and you saw its grand build-
ings— Westminster Abbey, and St. Paul's Cathedral,
and the Houses of Parliament, and the Palace of the
Queen ; and you saw the river Thames, and the
bridges, and the great ships. And then, perhaps,
you went to the Zoological Gardens and saw the
elephants, and lions, and tigers, and the monkeys, and
the birds ; and when you returned home you thought
you had never before seen anything so wonderful.

Yes ; but every day, and all around you in the
country, are many things to be seen quite as beautiful
and wonderful, if only you will open your eyes to
look for them, and take trouble to learn the nature,
history, and use of what you see.

There is a story of one who is called ' the Scotch
Naturalist,' — but who was only a poor and very needy
shoemaker, — who loved all he saw in Nature so much
that, after a long and hard day's work at his trade, he
used to go out for long walks of many miles into the
fields and moors, and by the rivers, and stay out all
night, lying perhaps in cold and wet, on purpose to
observe the habits of some little animals, or to collect
specimens of plants and insects to take home and
preserve in the wonderful collection which he m?*de.
13y night, as well as by day, he saw wonders in many
things which other people thought little of, and great
and fresh wonders continually.

HABITS OF OBSERVATION. 8

You cannot indeed go out at night as he did ; but,
for instance, in any walk or excursion in the country
you can gather a little flower ; and if you only knew
how to pick that flower to pieces (and you may soon
learn), and were taught the uses of its several parts,
and how all fit together and grow together, and are
necessary one to another, and provide the seed which
grows into other plants of the same kind another
year, you would indeed be surprised and interested.

' Nature, enchanting Nature, in whose form
And lineaments divine I trace a hand
That errs not, and find raptures still renew'd,
Is free to all men — universal prize.
Strange that so fair a creature should yet want
Admirers, and be destin'd to divide
With meaner objects ev'n the few she finds !'

COWPER.

Some few years ago, at the village school in the
parish of Hitcham, of which Professor Henslow, the
well-known botanist, was the Rector, the elder chil-
dren used once a -week to bring flowers and other
things to school, and were taught to examine and
preserve them ; then, at the end of the year, there
used to be a show of all they had found and prepared,
and prizes were given ; and thus the children's eyes
became very sharp to search for and find little things
that perhaps you would not think worth looking at.

And here I would say that if you want to see the
wonders of Nature, you must always remember that
many of the greatest wonders are found in the
smallest things. You must not think that a thing is
wonderful simply because it is large. When you have

4 HABITS OF OBSERVATION.

seen an elephant you have probably been astonished at
the size of its massive legs ; but really the leg of a little
fly is quite as wonderful — ^just as marvellously made,
and just as beautifully fitted for what it has to do.

Very many, however, of these wonders of Nature
are so minute that it is quite impossible to see them
without the aid of a microscope. This, as probabK'
}OU know, is a very beautiful instrument with several
glasses, made and fixed in a particular way, so that
when you look through them at any very small
object, such as a fine hair, it is so magnified that it
looks almost as large as a walking-stick ; or it will
make the very small tongue of a bee appear as a long
thing with many joints ; or it will show you the sting
of a bee as large as and much more finely pointed
than any needle.* Again, if you take a drop of
water out of some ditch and put it under the
microscope, you will see it full of little animals, like
very odd-shaped fishes, swimming about and perhaps
eating one another, although without the microscope
the drop of water may appear quite clear and to have
nothing in it at all.

But all the same, do not think you must have a
microscope to see a great many of the things of
which I have been speaking. Only use your eyes as
you walk about ; and when you see anything that
attracts your attention, try and find out, and answer
the questions, 'What is this .^' and 'Why is this.-"
and 'What is its use?' You may always be sure
that everything in Nature has some use and serves

* Illustrations of the tongue and sting of the bee will be seen
at pages 78, 82, and 83.

HABITS OF OBSERVATION. 6

some wise, although often mysterious purpose of the
Divine Maker.

As examples of what I mean, here are two very
common things for you to explain if you can. You
have often seen a fly walking on the ceiling of the
room, but perhaps you have never thought how it
can do this with its head and body downwards.
You could not do it, neither could the cat ; but the
little fly does it easily. Now, how is this ? Perhaps
you know ; but if not, you must try and find out.
Ask your teacher, or read some book, and you will
learn how very wonderfully its little legs are made,
with a vast number of ' sucker hairs ' clothing the
pad of each foot, exactly fitting it for what it has
to do.

Again, as you walk along some country road you
pick up a little round stone, quite smooth, without
any sharp edges. Now, why is it smooth ? how came
it so .'' Can you tell ? Do you know that once upon
a time it was in the sea and was rubbed about by the
great waves, one stone against another, till it became
quite smooth ? Ask the stone to tell you its won-
derful story. I am sure you will like to hear it.

Even a drop of water could tell you a marvellous
tale of wonderful journeys and changes. Yes, listen
thus to Nature's voice, and, as the great poet, Shaks-
peare, says, you will find —

' . . . . Tongues in trees, books in the running brooks.
Sermons in stones, and good in everything.'

Probably you know the old story called ' Eyes
and Nq Eyes' — about two boys who went out one

6 HABITS OF OBSERVATION.

day to spend a holiday, and, without knowing it,
went the same way, across the same fields, over the
same moor, by the same stream, near the same sand-
pit, and up the same hill.

When they came home at evening, they were
asked what they had seen. Dick, who came home
first, said he had had a very dull, stupid walk, and
had seen nothing of any consequence. Will, on the
contrary, had seen, he said, so many odd and won-
derful things that he had never more thoroughly
enjoyed himself. He had seen the woodpecker at
work, and the lapwing feigning lameness to draw him
from her nest, and many other birds, and a snake,
and some beautiful flowers, and had found some
curious fossils, and had brought home his handker-
chief quite full. And yet Dick had found nothing
even to look at ! The fact was, the one had walked
about with his eyes shut, and the other had kept his
wide open.

And, however long we live in any place, it is
the same — there is always much that is fresh to see.
White, the naturalist of Selborne, says that * that dis-
trict produces the greatest variety which is the most
examined ;' and another naturalist observes, that 'so
rich is nature that a man born a thousand years hence
will still find enough left for him to do and notice.'
But ' many waste a whole life without ever being
once well awake in it, passing through the world
like a heedless traveller, without making any reflec-
tions or observations, without any design or purpose
beseeming a man.'

TREATMENT OF BEES.

CHAPTER II.

BEES TO BE OBSERVED AND TREATED WITH GENTLENESS.

Now this book is about bees, their homes and
habits ; and very curious and wonderful all these
things are —

* A picture wonderful, an insect race,
Their customs, manners, nations, I describe.'

Virgil.

But we shall not see much of these wonders unless
we keep our eyes open. Bees, indeed, must be ob-
served, closely watched, read about, and thought of,
before they can be understood. And the more we do
this, the more wonderful and interesting we find them
in all their ways and doings.

To a certain extent, of course, they are familiar to
us all. It is a pretty sight we think, to see the hives
in a cottage garden in a snug corner, surrounded with
sweet-smelling flowers, and, on sunny days, to hear the
hum of the bees as we see them flying in and out of
their homes, or as w^e see them darting from flower to
flower — the 'busy bee.'

But to many people they are of no further in-
terest. Perhaps, indeed, they only think of bees as
gathering honey, for which they do not care, or as
having sharp stings, of which they are afraid.

I hope, however, you will not thus think of them.
I only wash you could come wnth me, and look at
the inside of a hive, and see what it is like, and

8 TREATMENT OF BEES.

what goes on there ; and I am sure you would be
interested.

As, however, you cannot do this, I must try and
describe some of these things. And then, after a time
I have no doubt, some friend will show you a hive,
and its bees, or you will be able to look for yourself
— take a hive full of bees in your hands, and tho-
roughly examine all that is inside, and touch the
bees, and let them crawl over you ; and all this with-
out getting a single sting.

This may sound wonderful, but it is not really so.
In fact, there is no difficulty about it ; only, first of
all, you must understand something of their habits,
and then, of course, take some precautions. Many
people wear a veil, and it is well to do so ; but that
which is of chief importance is quietness — that we go
to the hive gently, and without noise or bustle, and
take great care not to jar the hives, or to breathe
upon the bees. Carefully attending to these things,
and then using, as you will be told at a future time, a
little smoke, the bees v/ill allow us to do almost any-
thing we like.

The best way, in short, is to treat them in some
measure as pets ; and even children may thus keep
bees. I dare say some of you have pet animals at
home — perhaps a kitten, or it may be a canary, or a
goldfinch ; and, if you deserve to have it, you treat it
kindly, you feed it with the right food, you speak to
it coaxingly, you guard it from its enemies. Well, in
the same way almost, you may make pets of bees.
They will not, indeed, come to you when you call,
but they will, by some means, know that you are

TREATMENT OF BEES. . 9

their friend, and will treat you as such. If you are
kind to them, they will be kind to you.

In fact, bees seldom sting except in self-defence,
or in defence of their homes. If you see one on a
flower hard at work, it will never fly at you. Bees
thus occupied never think of stinging, unless they are
touched. And, even at their hives, they will but
seldom attack us, unless by our own fault we make
them angry, and they think their home and young
are in danger. And can we find fault with them for
this.^ Is it not most natural? Is it not praiseworthy?

I do not say, however, that bees will never sting
without just cause, for I must confess that some are
very easily provoked. There are cross bees just as
there are bad-tempered people, very soon put out,
and very resentful. Generally speaking, however, the
temper of our bees mainly depends upon our own
good or bad management.

Always remember then, that just as you get your
companions to be good friends to you, or as you can
get some pet animal to do almost anything you wish,
if only you act with kindness, so bees also, must be
treated in the same kind, gentle way, and then you
will all be good friends together. Treat them, in
short, as if you loved them ; treat them as God's

creatures.

' He prayeth well, who loveth well
Both man and bird and beast.
He prayeth best, who loveth best
All things both great and small ;
For the dear God who loveth us.
He made and loveth all.'

Coleridge.

10 THE WORK OF THE BEE.

CHAPTER III.

THE WORK OF THE BEE— INTRODUCTORY.

Well, we are to keep our eyes open. This was our
first lesson ; and now we have heard how kindness
and gentleness will help us with bees, as with every
other creature of God. And these are two very good
things to learn ; but the bees have many other lessons
to teach us, and before we go on to speak of other
things, we will listen to their pleasant hum, and see
if we can make out anything they have to tell us.

I told you just now that a bee flying from flower
to flower will never sting you if you leave it alone.
Only if you hinder it, tease it, touch it roughly,
will it at last get angry. Yes, and so what I think
it says in its hum is this : ' Do, pray, mind your own
work, and let me attend to mine. I don't want in
the least to interfere with you, and only wish myself
to be let alone. I have much to do. Pray do not
stop me.' And this is a capital lesson, for we all
have our work to do ; and whether it is a great or
little thing, the way to do it well is to stick to it, and
to give it our whole attention. I dare say you often
have lessons at school, or things to do at home that
you find hard or troublesome. Well, follow the
example of the bee, and, while you do not interfere
with others in their work, don't let them stop you.
Always remember that your task or duty, whatever
it is, is of the first importance.

THE WORK OF THE BEE. 11

Then I hear something else in the hum of the
bee as it passes me so swiftly on its way from the
hive to the flower and back again ; I fancy I hear
it say, ' I am very busy, but at the same time I am
very happy.'

It certainly is a very busy bee. Let me give you
some idea of what its work is, how busy its little life.
In the first place, it works so hard that it does not
live long. In spring and summer-time, when there is
much honey to be had, and a great deal of work to
do, its life is a very short one, perhaps not more than
from six to eight weeks. And to show you how this
shortness of life is caused by hard work, you must
know that a bee born in autumn, at the beginning
of September, will live all through the winter, and
generally during the first months of spring, that is
to say, from six to eight months — as many months,
you see, during its winter rest, as it lives weeks in
summer, when it is hard at work.

The daily work of a bee in summer is something
most remarkable. Go into the garden, when the
sun rises early, and you will very soon see the
bee come out and begin its day. And when it has
found a place — perhaps it found this the day before
— where honey, or whatever it wants, is to be had,
whether it is far ofi" or near, it begins to go backwards
and forwards to the place as fast as it can fly. It has
been found out that if the place', where it can get its
food, is tolerably near, it will go backwards and for-
wards as many as eight or ten times in an hour.

Sir John Lubbock, of whose observations you will
hear more, has made many experiments about this,

12 THE WORK OF THE BEE.

and the way he contrived to find out the truth was as
follows : In the first place, he got a few of his bees to
come to some honey which he put ready for them at
no great distance from their hive. He then marked
one of the bees with a small spot of red paint, and
another with perhaps a spot of blue ; and thus knew
his little friends again quite well when they came
back for some more of his sweets.

Then he watched them carefully, putting down on
paper the exact time when, for instance, his little
red-painted friend came to the honey, and how long
it was there feeding itself, or gathering its store to
take home, and again noting when it flew away, and
when it came back. So he watched it all through
the day, and for days together, and thus knew at
last how many journeys and visits to the honey his
little bee made in the course of the day.

Then he did the same with other bees, and so at
last by this means could pretty well guess what is
generally the daily work of a bee. Sometimes, for
one cause or another, his bee did not make so many
journeys as at other times, but, generally speaking, its
day's work was something as follows : — It would come
to the honey very early, at six o'clock, or earlier ac-
cording to the weather. It would then stay at the
honey about two minutes loading itself, and then,
flying away, would be gone about six minutes, in
which time it went home, unloaded what it carried,
and made its way back. Then again, it immediately
began to load itself once more, taking about the same
time, and going off again as at first.

This would go on hour after hour, so that perhaps

THE BEE'S BUSY LIFE. 13

it would make nearly one hundred journeys in the
day. Is not this a wonderful story of hard and
persevering work ? And when, at night-time, or on
bad, rainy days, the bee was at home, we must not
think it was idle. You will hear at a future time of
what the bee does at home and at night ; but now I
only want you to think of the busy bee as you see it
flying backwards and forwards, that so you may
know something of what it does, and how hard
it works, and the reason why, as I told you, the
bee's life is not a very long one.

CHAPTER IV.

THE BEE'S BUSY LIFE— CONTINUED.

There is an old saying that ' it is better to wear out
than to rust out,' which means that anything is better
than an idle life. A thing that wears out, wears out
by work, by being used, by fulfilling the purpose for
which it was made, as, for instance, a spade, or a
plough, or a knife. These wear out after a time by
being constantly used, and it is far better that they
should thus wear out, than be laid by, and so at last
get rusty and useless. They have done their work
when worn out, they have been of no use at all if they
have only rusted out.

I think the bees must know something of this old
saying. Most truly they do not ' rust out,' but ' wear
out ;' and if we are at all like the bees our lives will

14 THE BEES BUSY LIFE.

not be lives of idleness. We shall not get rusty for
want of work.

' I come at morn, when dewdrops bright

Are twinkling on the grasses,
And woo the balmy breeze in flight
That o'er the heather passes.

* Deem not these little eyes are dim

To every sense of duty ;
We owe a certain debt to Him
Who clad this earth in beauty.

* And, therefore, I am never sad,

A burden homeward bringing,
But help to make the summer glad
In my own way of singing.

' And thus my little life is fixed
Till tranquilly it closes.'

Chambers' Journal.

Indeed, as they work unceasingly day after day,
doing the same thing, I do not think we ever can
hear them say, in bee language, whatever it is, ' Oh, I
am tired of all this ! It is just the same thing every
day ! It is so dull to do it again and again !' The
cheerful hum we hear, as the bee flies past us, docs
not, I think, sound at all like such a grumble. Do
you think it does ? It may be the same thing every
day, but it is what the bees have to do, and they do it
very cheerfully ; and I am sure of this, that they are
never so happy and in such good temper as when
they are at work ; and never so cross, as you will find
when you keep bees, as when they are obliged to stay
at home by the weather being cold or wet. Then they
are much more inclined to sting.

COMMUNITY OF BEES IN A HIVE. 15

Their patience puts me in mind of a well-known /
patient donkey. At Carisbrooke Castle, in the Isle
of Wight, where Charles the First was confined as |
a prisoner in 1647, there is a very deep well, three
hundred feet deep, and, in order to draw the water,
there is a contrivance of a great wooden wheel, which,
when it is turned, draws up the bucket. This wheel
is made so large and broad that a donkey stands
inside, and turns it by stepping on, as if walking,
although, in fact, the poor animal never really ad-
vances an inch, for, as it moves, the wheel of course
moves from under its feet. What dull work does this
seem, always stepping on, but always in the same
place ! But the donkey, like the bees, is patient.
One donkey was known to do it for fifty years, and
another for forty years.

CHAPTER V.

COMMUNITY OF BEES IN A HIVE.

The next thing to notice, as we see the bees in hun-
dreds going in and out of the same little door, is the
fact of their living and working together, and helping
one another. They form thus, what is called a com-
munity or colony.

In thus living together they are different from
most insects and animals. Indeed, but few do the
same. We may find in many cases vast numbers of
insects living together in the same place, such as
swarms of gnats in a damp cellar, or millions of

16 COMMUNITY OF BEES JN A HIVE.

flies filling the air, or coming in great numbers
into a house. Or again, amongst birds, we may
find thousands of starlings congregated together ;
or large colonies of rooks, many of them building
their nests in the same tree, and then in winter time
coming home to roost at night in countless numbers,
so that the very air is darkened. But, although they
thus congregate together, they do not form a com-
munity ; they do not work together for a common
purpose ; they do not feed and take care of each
other's young. Each insect looks out for the supply
of its own needs. Each pair of birds, — sometimes the
hen bird alone, — build their own nest and rear their
own young, and have no regard to or interest in others.
But, when we come to look at bees and some other
insects, we find a different state of things altogether.
We find that everj'thing, even their very lives, depend
upon their living in a community or society, all
obeying, by instinct, common rules, each one doing
its own part in the common work.

' Alike ye labour, and alike repose ;
Free as the air, yet in strict order join'd,
Unnumber'd bodies with a single mind.'

Evans.

We see the same, in great measure, in wasps, which
live together during summer and autumn, all helping
together in the work of the common home. We see
the same in ants, which are insects in many respects
as wonderful in their habits and instincts as bees.

Here, to illustrate what I have said about insects
working together for a common purpose, I may relate
a stor\' told by Sir John Lubbock of some wonderful

COMMUNITY OF BEES IN A HIVE. 17

ants which actually make slaves of other ants, and, in
order to obtain and bring them into captivity, go out
on regular slave-making expeditions.

One day a whole body of these Amazon or slave-
making ants was seen making its way, like an army
of soldiers, all drawn up in battle array, and without
straggling, across some distance of ground, and
through a thick hedge, and straight on, until at
last they reached the nest which they were intent
on robbing. Then for a few minutes there was a
fierce battle, but the Amazons soon got the best of
it, and, forcing their way into the nest, were presently
seen marching home, but each ant now carrying in
triumph, as the spoils of victory, one of those little
white things, often called ants' eggs (which however
are really insects in a more advanced state), and
which in their captors' nest soon would become live
ants, and very useful slaves. And so you see instinct
taught them to go out with a common purpose, to
work together, and to assist one another.

I can tell }-ou, however, a much more pleasant
story given by the same author. I may say that in
order to observe their habits, he kept a considerable
number of nests of ants in his own house in little
cases or boxes, made partly of glass, so that he could
see all they did.

On one occasion, in one of his nests, there was
a poor ant which, on account of being deformed,
' never appeared able to leave the nest.' However,
one day, he says, ' I found her wandering about in an
aimless sort of manner, and apparently not knowing
her way at all. After a while she fell in with some

c

18 COMMUNITY OF BEES IN A HIVE.

specimens of the little yellow ant, who directly at-
tacked her. I at once set myself to separate them,
but, owing either to the wound she had received from
her enemies, or to my rough, though well-meant
handling, or to both, she was evidently much
wounded, and lay helpless on the ground. After
some time another ant, but from her own nest, came
by. She examined the poor sufferer carefully ; then
picked her up gently, and carried her away into the
nest. It would have been difficult for any one who
witnessed this scene to have denied to this ant the
possession of humane feelings.'

Again he says, ' At the present time I have two
ants perfectly crippled, so that they are quite unable
to move, but they have been tended and fed by their
companions, the one for five, and the other for four
months.'

See, then, how they not only live together, but are
kind to one another, and help one another.

Beavers, again, amongst animals, are striking ex-
amples, in some respects, of the same thing. Their
wonderful houses, built with rooms and passages,
and made strong and secure with wood, stones,
and mud, are made by them for the common pur-
poses of the whole colon}'. In it they live and work
together.

In the case of bees, this community or society is
absolutely necessary. A single bee cannot live by itself.
If you were to take a bee, or, we will say, half-a-dozen
bees, and put them by themselves into the most com-
fortable little hive possible, they would very soon die.
They would have no spirit to work. They would not

COMMUNITY OF BEES IN A HIVE. 19

even care to get food for themselves, although there
might be plenty near at hand.

But how different is it when the whole colony is
together ! Then, by common instinct the bees seem
as one united band of hearty, contented workers ;
working together for their common wants, helping
one another whenever and however they can, each
doing its own part, always happily at peace amongst
themselves. What a good example do they give us !

THE SONG OF THE BEES.

Flying out, flying in,

Circling the hive with ceaseless din.

Now abroad, now at home,

Busy through wood and field we roam.
Here in the lily cup, there in the clover,
Gather we sweets the meadow over.
Food to our young we carefully take ;
Pollen we bring, and wax we make ;
A band of us shapes each tiny cell,
Another follows, completing it well.

Working all, working ever,

Suffering idlers among us never,

Never pausing to take our ease :

Oh, busy are we, the honey-bees !

Flying out, flying in,

Circling the hive with ceaseless din.

Now abroad, now at home.

Cheery we stay, and gaily we roam.
Never too hurried to greet a brother.
With feelers crossed we talk to each other ;
Never too selfish to share our stores ;
Some seek them abroad, some use them indoors ;
Unitedly guard we our homes from harm,
Stationing scouts to give the alarm.

20 COMMUNITY OF BEES IN A HIVE.

' So, working all, and working with will,

Providing in summer for winter chill,
Whirring and buzzing, nor caring for ease,
Oh, cheery are we, the honey-bees !

Flying out, flying in.
Circling the hive with ceaseless din.
Whether abroad, or whether at home.
Loyal we stay, and loyal we roam.
In royal apartments our queen-bee is reigning:
We render our homage unmingled with feigning :
Lowly we bow as we pause by her side,
The choicest of food with her we divide.
Thus working all, and working with heart.
Each striving good to the whole to impart.
Busy and cheery, we think not of ease,
And loyal are we, the honey-bees !

Flying out, flying in.
Circling the hive with ceaseless din.
Whether abroad, or whether at home,
This lesson we teach wherever we roam :
Mortal, like uSj go labour unwearily.
Work with thy kind, and work with them cheerily ;
Duty fulfil, wheresoe'er thou may'st owe it ;
Where honour is fitting, fail not to bestow it ;
It matters not whether at home or abroad.
Be faithful to man and be loyal to God.
Thus work thou well and work thou ever ;
The lessons we teach thee thou may'st not dissever :
Be busy, be cheery, be loyal, for these
Aie the truths thou may'st learn from the honey-bees !

Child's Companion.

DIFFERENT KINDS OF BEES. SI

CHAPTER VI.

DIFFERENT KINDS OF BEES.— HUMBLE BEES AND
THEIR USE.

Hitherto we have only been speaking of bees in
very general terms — the common hive-bees that we
see working in our fields and gardens ; but there arc
many other kinds as well, and, if we only use our
eyes, we shall soon see some of them. To find
specimens of them all, however, would be impossible,
for there are more than two hundred and fifty dif-
ferent kinds in our country alone, and some of them
are very scarce, and many of them are only found
in particular places.

One kind of wild bees, however, you will cer-
tainly find without difficulty — at least, in summer-
time. I mean the large humble bees, which make
such loud noise as they fly amongst the flowers, or
when by chance they come into the house.

And then, besides these very large humble bees,
you will soon find many others of different shapes,
sizes, and colours — some of them very small. And
as you look along some dry, warm bank, you will
probably find the home of some one of these many
kinds. You will sec a very small hole, and some of
the humble bees going in and out. And, if you follow
this hole a short way, you will find the nest beauti-
fully made ; although not made to last through the
winter, but only for the time necessary for the young

22 DIFFERENT KINDS OF BEES.

bees to come to their full growth. Before the winter
comes, and the banks become sodden with wet and
snow, and the nests are thus destroyed, the young-
queens, or mother bees, leave their summer homes,
and hide up for the cold months in some dry nook,
or crevice of a tree, and only come out again, to begin
work and to make their nests, when another year has
come round, and the weather is fine and warm.

Now you have doubtless been taught that every-
thing that God has made is for some wise purpose,
and does some good, although in many cases we may
not know what it is. And the more we observe all
the habits of animals and insects, the more we shall
see evidence of this great truth, ' Nothing without
purpose.'

I mention this here because we see it remark-
ably the case with the humble bees. They have
always been favourites — considered pretty harmless
insects ; but it is only quite lately that, by close
observation, it has been discovered that they arc of
the greatest use, and do a most important work in
our fields. I cannot now fully explain it all ; but, to
give you some idea of this discovery and its value, I
may say that just because their tongue is a little
longer than the tongue of other bees, they are so very
useful amongst certain flowers (especially the red
clover) in our fields, that a great deal of trouble has
been taken, and a great deal of money spent, in order
to send some of them all the way across the sea to the
other side of the world — to Australia and New Zealand
where they were not found before. It is very difficult
and expensive to send them so far ; but they are so

Wild Bees and Flowers.

24 DIFFERENT KINDS OF BEES.

very useful to the farmers in those distant lands, that
it is quite worth while. Hundreds have been taken,
and let loose in the fields.

And then besides the humble bees there are, as I
have said, many other kinds, some of which are termed
' solitary bees ' — bees, that is, which live a solitary
life ; do not live in communities, but make nests by
themselves and for themselves alone. Amongst these
there is, for instance, the leaf-cutting solitary bee ;
which makes its little nest in the ground, or in clefts
of walls or trees, with small pieces of leaf cut and
fitted in with great care and trouble.

There is also the mason bee ; so called because it
builds its little house of small stones — or, rather,
grains of sand — and plasters all, like a mason, with a
kind of cement or mortar of its own manufacture.
You may sometimes find one of these little nests,
almost the size of a walnut, fastened on to an old
wall ; and so firmly made that a knife will hardly cut
it. Or sometimes you may find them in very odd
places indeed. I know of a case where the little bee
chose for its nest the lock of a table drawer in a
clergyman's study, and another the padlock of a
door. These locks were found full of sand and dirt,
and were at first supposed to have been injured in
mischief; but upon being opened, were found to
contain the nest of a mason bee with food for its
young.

Another kind of bee I saw lately making its nest
in an old nail-hole in the door of a shed. It was
filling it quite full with food ready for its j'oung.

VARIETIES OF THE HONEY-BEE. 25

CHAPTER VII.

VARIETIES OF THE HONEY-BEE.

Although we find the same animals in very dif-
ferent countries, yet, generally speaking, we find
them varying in many respects — in appearance and
habits — according to the country in which they live.
Thus there are Arab horses and English horses, and,
again, English dogs and French dogs. And in the
same way, there are English bees, and Italian,
Syrian, and Cyprian bees ; also Indian bees and a
race of stingless bees in Brazil, and very many more.

Again, just as some of the foreign animals are
more valuable than the English varieties — as, for
instance, the Syrian sheep, of which probably you
have seen pictures with its long tail of valuable wooJ
suppotted on a little carriage ; so some kinds of
foreign bees are better and more useful than the
English, although we must add that some of them
are bees of quick temper when carelessly treated, and
sting very sharp indeed. With some, however, it is
just Lhe reverse, and this is especially the case with
the Italian, or, as they are sometimes called, Ligurian
bees ; of which kind you will hear a great deal, as
numbers of them are now kept in all parts of the
country instead of the common English bees.

These Italian bees came at first from the north of
Italy, and are exceedingly beautiful bees, marked
with three bright golden bands or girdles ; and are

26 VARIETIES OF THE HONEY-BEE.

said to be the best-tempered and gentlest of all bees,
so long as they do not mix too much with their
English neighbours. But that which makes them
most valuable is not their good
looks, but their activity and in-
dustry. They are early risers, and
will be at work before the other
bees are out of their hives ; and
will continue to work in the fields
and gardens later in the evening.
They will also work longer into
^ ,. „ the cold weather of autumn, and

Italian Bee.

at other times when most bees
keep within doors. This is a very good character to
give them — is it not? — early risers, hard workers,
good-tempered. They are, I think, quite the sort
of friends we should try to make.

Then, again, amongst the other varieties of which
I spoke, there are some, of which probably many
more than at present will be kept in England before
long. The Syrian, for instance, is a very valuable
race of bees. They are smaller than the Italian, but
are marked in very much the same fashion. Unfor-
natcly, however, they are very bad-tempered. This
also is the character of the bees from the island of
Cyprus ; which, however, notwithstanding their angry
disposition, some say are the best of all bees.

A well-known bee-keeper went to Cyprus in 1882,
taking the long voyage for the purpose of bringing
home to England a great many of these bees. He
tells us how, after much trouble, he bought forty hives
in one place, and carried them a long way over rough

AMERICAN BEES. 27

mountain roads, on the back of mules, each mule
carrying two colonies in the earthen hive of the
country, slung, one on each side of the mule. On one
occasion, however, the bees quite lost their temper.
Perhaps he shook them, or disturbed their homes in
too rough a manner ; and then, to teach him to be
more gentle and careful, they punished him with a
hundred stings.

If we go to India, we find many other kinds. The
largest honey-bee yet discovered is a native of Hin-
dostan, Ceylon, and the Malay Peninsula. It collects
immense quantities of honey, which it stores in huge
combs suspended from the topmost boughs of the
tallest palm-trees, and also from rocks, in places often
far out of reach. Some people have tried to keep
them, but have not as yet succeeded, for the race is a
very wild and savage one, as much so, in their way, as
the terrible tigers of the country.

CHAPTER VIII.

AMERICAN BEES— THE BEE-LINE.

America, as well as other countries, has its own
bees. You will hear something later on of bee-
keeping in America, and the vast scale in which it is
carried on there ; but at present we are thinking only
of the wild bees, or native races. There are a great
number of these inhabiting the extensive forests of

28 AMERICAN BEES.

the country. And it is said that where monkeys
abound, the wonderful instinct of the bee teaches it
that the only safe place in which to build its nest, in
order to be out of the way of these active thieves, is
on the topmost and most slender boughs of the trees,
where even a monkey cannot climb.

In some parts of the country, where the nests are
in hollow trees, or any other accessible place, a bee hunt
often affords great amusement as well as profit. The
hunter goes out near the woods, and, after catching a
bee, gives it as much honey as it can eat and carry ;
and then, getting himself into a good position, so
that when the bee flies he can see its little form
against the light sky, he lets it go. The bee, after
making a circle or two, goes straight home, the man
watching it as far as he can, and taking particular
notice of the direction in which it goes. It soon
comes back again for some more honey, and the
hunter knows it to be the same bee, for he has marked
it with a little red paint.

Again he feeds the bee as before, and then, going
in the direction he saw it take the first time, he lets it
go again, and marks its flight. And so, by degrees,
he gets nearer and nearer to the nest.

Then he takes his bee, and goes to the right or
left of the line, and lets it go again. Straight it flies,
making thus, of course, a new ' bee-line,' as it is called,
at a certain angle to the first line. Observing this
carefully, the hunter knows that where these two
so-called lines meet one another is the exact spot
where he will find the nest. So it proves, and he
takes the honey. It requires, of course, much care

AMERICAN BEES. fid

and ingenuity, but in this way affords good sport as
well as profit.

You may try and find a wasp-nest some day
much in the same way, for wasps, as well as bees, fly
in a straight line when returning home. There is no
loitering idly, remember, on the way, as very often we
see in the case of boys and girls when sent on an
errand — stopping and playing by the roadside, and
forgetting for a time what they have been sent to do.
No ; the bees go straight, and go as fast as they can.
They have their work to do, and they do it.

How they are able to make this straight ' bee-
line ' home, even when they have never been the way
before, is a great mystery. It is, indeed, by what we
call their instinct, although we little know, perhaps,
what instinct is. We only know that it seems in
some way a marvellous power given them by the
Creator, which, in many respects, almost supplies the
place of the powers of reason given to man, and often
enables them to do what man with all his reason
never could.

It is the same instinct which is found even yet
more wonderfully in some animals, and especially in
dogs, who will find their way home for one or even
two hundred miles across a strange country, where
they have never been before.

A cat will sometimes do the same. The following
story was given me on good authority : — A cat was
taken by a lady from London to Lowestoft, on the
Suffolk coast, by railway, a distance of a hundred
and eighteen miles. There it escaped, and in a fort-
night's time appeared at its old home in London,

30 BEES IN THE OLDEN TIME.

having found its way by the teaching or leading of its
instinct. This is, indeed, far more wonderful than
what bees can do, but it is example of the same kind
of instinct.

CHAPTER IX.

BEES IN THE OLDEN TIME.

Before we think more especially of English bees
and bee-keeping, it will be interesting to look into
some of the records of the long-ago past, and to see
what was known of bees in the earlier ages of the
world, and how far they were valued.

With this object in view, we look first at the Bible,
and there again and again, in almost all parts, we find
some mention or allusion to bees, or honey, or honey-
comb. And we are led to think that, as in these
days, the Holy Land had a very valuable race of
bees, which greatly abounded, and gave honey held
in high estimation and largely used as food.

In the very early days of the Patriarchs we know
that the honey of the country was esteemed of
sufficient value to form part of the ' present ' which
Jacob sent down into Egypt by his sons to appease
the ruler of the land, his own son Joseph, that so he
might send away his other son and Benjamin. The
'present' was a 'a little balm and a little honey,
spices and myrrh, nuts and almonds.' Again, in
Ezek. xxvii. 17, we read of honey as a distinct article

BEES m THE OLDEN TIME. 31

of 'trade,' mention being made of Judah and the land
of Israel trading in honey with Tyre.

Again, we read in the Bible of bees, just as in
these days, building their nests in very various places
— rocks, trees, and so forth. The Psalmist speaks
(Psa. Ixxxi. 17) of 'honey out of the stony rock,'
And it was in ' the wood,' when ' honey dropped '
from some nest built on a tree, that Jonathan took a
little to satisfy the cravings of hunger, and without
knowing it, disobeyed his father's command. And
then we read of a colony of bees which actually made
its nest in the carcase of the lion which Samson had
killed some time before.

Whether the bees were, in any way, kept in hives,
or the honey simply taken from wild bees, we can
hardly say ; but, whatever the case in the Holy Land,
bees were certainly thus kept (and had been so for
long) in other countries in the time of our Lord.
John the Baptist in the wilderness ate 'wild honey,'
implying, perhaps, that some honey was to be had
from bees not in a ' wild ' state. At all events, in
Greece and Italy bees had both been ' kept ' and
observed long before this time.

Among the many who wrote of bees and honey in
those olden days, Virgil, the great poet of Italy, who
lived and died a few years before Christ, stands first
of all. He devoted the whole of one of his books to
the subject ; and although he made a great number
of strange mistakes, and took many of his ideas from
yet more ancient authors, and probably was not him-
self a bee-keeper, he must nevertheless have taken
considerable interest in the subject.

32 BEES IN THE OLDEN TIME.

As example of his errors, or of the common ideas of
those days with regard to bees, he supposes that when
bees are lost, a fresh colony can be obtained from the
carcass of a young ox ; and he gives many and exact
directions how to proceed in such a case.

He also speaks of bees carrying little stones to
serve as ballast to steady them in stormy weather : —

' And as when empty barks on billows float
With sandy ballast, sailors trim the boat ;
So bees bear gravel stones, whose poising weight
Steers thro' the whistling winds their steady flight.'

On the other hand, he gives some directions as to
bee-keeping which are excellent, especially as to the
situation for an apiary — with sun and yet shade, shel-
tered from winds, and with some water near at hand.

Less than a hundred years afterwards Columella
lived and wrote on the same subject, and others also,
but not with greatly increased knowledge.

We then hear but little of the subject until about
a hundred and fifty years ago, when the whole study
of natural history revived.

We must, however, pass over this period, for I
want to point you especially to one great observer
and writer about bees who lived about a hundred
years ago — Hubcr ; and I want to do this because,
when thus an observer and writer, he was totally
blind. Think of a man who was quite blind taking
an interest in bees, and knowing a great deal about
their habits, and finding out very much that had
never been known before ! Does it not seem very
strange and wonderful ?

BEES IN THE OLDEN TIME. 38

Huber was born at Geneva, in 1750. At an early
age, when little more than a boy, his eyesight greatly
failed, and he was told the sad truth that in a little
while he would for ever lose the precious gift. Like
a man of true courage, he did not, however, lose heart,
but determined with himself that, although in dark-
ness, he would try to live and act, as far as possible,
as if he could see. It was a noble resolve, and had its
reward.

In his early boyhood he was fond of natural history;
and having, after blindness came on, been led by the
writings and conversation of a friend to take an
interest in bees, he set himself with all the zeal and
energy of his nature to study them for himself, and,
from that time forward, devoted himself, almost en-
tirely, to examine into some of the most difficult ques-
tions connected with their habits and natural history.

The story of his observations, discoveries, and
various ingenious experiments, is most interesting,
and you will do well to obtain his biography, and
read it. Much, however, that he did would have
been impossible had it not been for an excellent and
devoted wife, who for forty years never ceased her
loving and attentive care, but in every way sought to
lighten his affliction, and to help him in his work,
reading to him, writing for him, and, as far as possible,
giving him the use of her own eyes. He used to say
of her ' that as long as she lived I was not sensible
of the misfortune of being blind.'

Huber had also a most useful and intelligent servant
whom he trained to be a very close and exact observer,
and whose eyes he thus used instead of his own.

D

34 INHABITANTS OF THE HIVE.

Their patience in observation and experiment
was most remarkable. On one occasion they looked
at and examined every single bee in a hive to find
out something they wanted to know. At another
time for days, and perhaps months, they would watch,
observe, and make experiments to discover, if pos-
sible, the truth respecting some one little thing which
they did not understand. At another time they
would invent some clever contrivance by which they
could see exactly what the bees were doing inside
the hive.

But I cannot now tell of all these things, I now
chiefly point you to Huber, not only as an observer
of bees, but that you may see in him an example of
courage under difficulties, and how patience per-
severance and ingenuity can accomplish great things ;
and how it is possible, even with such an affliction as
total blindness, not only to be resigned, content, and
happy, but also to live a life of usefulness.

CHAPTER X.

THE INHABITANTS OF THE HIVE. — INTRODUCTORY.

Since Huber's time great advances have been made
in the knowledge of bees, as of everything else. It
has been, as we know, an age of discoveries. Steam,
for instance, and its marvellous powers, applied to
railroads, machinery, and ships, has brought about a
change which to our forefathers would have seemed

INHABITANTS OF THE HIVE. 35

an impossible dream. The electric telegraph brings
people far away into instant communication with one
another. And every day fresh discoveries are made
by those who carefully study and observe.

And as with great things, such as steam and
electricity, so it has been wuth the little subject of
bees. Many things are known now which were not
known a few years ago, and fresh things are being-
found out ev^en now continually ; and everything that
is so discovered makes their history, habits, instincts,
and uses, appear more and more wonderful, giving
us more and more insight into the marvels of crea-
tion, and making us feel all the more the truth of
what the Psalmist says, ' How manifold are Thy
works ! in wisdom hast Thou made them all.*

In order to understand some of these discoveries
you will have to give much attention ; for the lessons
about them will not be altogether easy; but at present
we will only think of simple things.

And first of all, we will go to a hive, standing in
some garden near at hand, and ask the bees to tell
us a little of their history, taking care to go to them
quietly and to treat them with gentleness. And our
first inquiry must be this : 'Who is at home V and, in
the next place, 'What have you got inside your hive?'

To these questions what answer shall we get .?
Well, it will a good deal depend upon the time of
year, both as regards the number of inhabitants and
the description of bee, as well the contents of the
combs ; for, in the first place, whether the hive is one
of English bees, or one of Italian, Cyprian, or any
other race, we shall always in summer time — if it is a

36

INHABITANTS OF THE HIVE.

healthy hive — find three kinds of bees ; but at other
times only two.

Dealing, first, with the bees themselves, the two
kinds always present are, (i) the queen ; and (2) all
the common workers ; and then we have, thirdly, the
drones ; but these last are only found in summer, or
rather from about May to August.

Here is an illustration of each kind : —

Worker.

Queen.

Drone.

At a future time we will think of, and look closely at,
their wings, legs, and stings, and some of their other
parts, but at present let us only take notice of their
chief features.

I. The Worker Bee. — This is the common bee,
which most thoroughly deserves its name, and which
you know so well in appearance, although perhaps
you have never stopped to inquire how many legs or
how many wings it has.

You will notice that it is the smallest of the three
kinds. These * workers ' are all female bees, and are
sometimes called neuters, — a name given them be-

', cause, although females, they never, or only very rarely,
lay any eggs. And it is much better for the hive that

'they should not do so. Indeed if one of them does
lay eggs it generally quite spoils the whole hive.

INHABITANTS OF THE HIVE. 37

There are a vast number of these workers in a
hive, — as many as from 15,000 to 40,000, or even per-
haps 50,000 ; as many bees, that is, as there are people
in a very large town.

II. The next illustration is that of the Queen, or
Mother bee, who reigns by herself, the only one of her
kind in the hive, chief of all, and most important
of all.

' First of the throng and foremost of the whole,
One stands confest the Sovereign and the soul.'

Virgil.

Now observe her appearance carefully, for, when you
keep bees, you will have to be perfectly familiar with
the appearance of a queen, and to be so quick with
your eyes as to be able to find her out amidst the
thousands of others. You will learn to do this without
much difficulty after a time. I can fancy I now hear
you saying with delight, ' There she is ! there she is !' as
you point to her walking about amongst the crowds
of others on all sides, and surrounded by her attend-
ants, every one with its head towards her majesty,
stroking her, feeding her, and following her wherever
she goes.

And now, observing her closely, we notice, first
of all, that she is a much longer bee than the
others, and that her body is of an elegant shape,
and that, comparatively to her body, her wings
are much shorter. We notice also that her colour
is somewhat different to the others, rather darker
and brighter.

Observing her movements, we notice that she
walks about more slowly and sedately than the other

38

INHABITANTS OF THE HIVE.

bees, as well becomes her position of queen, or rather,
we might say, the mother bee of the hive.

The Queen and her attendants.

' Twelve chosen guards, with slow and solemn gait,
Bend at her nod, and round her person wait.'

Evans.

She is always called the queen, but this term of
' mother bee ' is perhaps the most correct ; for this is
what she really is, the mother of all the bees in the
hive, the honoured and respected head of the whole
family, both workers and drones. And it is most
interesting to see the care the workers take of her,
and how they treat her, as a mother ought always to
be treated by her children ; how they wait upon her,
and provide for all her wants, and mourn for her if
she dies ; and indeed soon themselves pine away and
die, unless they can get another to take her place.

In olden days it was not by any means universally

INHABITANTS OF THE HIVE. b9

known that the queen is thus the one mother bee of
the hive. Virgil, amongst his many strange mistakes,
speaks of her, not as a female at all, but as a king ;
and, when he describes the battle of the bees, speaks
of two kings leading forth their hosts to war, and
themselves joining in the fight.

' With mighty souls in narrow bodies prest,
They challenge and encounter breast to breast.
So fixed on fame, unknowing how to fly.
And ultimately bent to win or die ;
That long the dreadful combat they maintain
'Till one prevails, for one alone can reign.'

And, more or less, this mistake as to the queen's
sex continued to the time of Shakspeare, who, about
three hundred years ago, wrote of bees, —
* They have a king, and officers of state.'

This error is the more strange, because long before
Virgil's time, the truth was known to some. Aristotle,
who lived even three hundred years before Virgil,
writing of bees, tells us : * Some say that the rulers
produce the young of the bees.' And again : ' There
are two kinds of rulers ; the best of them is red, the
other black ; their size is double that of the working
bees. By some they are called the " mother bees," as
if they were the parents of the rest,'

And in the time of Shakspeare, Dr. Butler, one of
the first English writers on the subject, had some
knowledge of the truth, although his idea was that
the queen only laid eggs producing queens, and that
the workers — known to him as females — laid all the
other eggs. The full truth, indeed, was hardly known
until the time of Huber.

40 INHABITANTS OF THE HIVE.

III. But besides the one queen and the many
workers, there are the drones, which — as was men-
tioned— are only to be found in the hive in the summer
months ; and of these there are, perhaps, 500, or
sometimes as many as 2000 or 3000.

Look at the illustration of the drone — page 36 —
and you will notice that it is altogether a larger bee
than the workers, and of different shape — very stout,
broad, and bulky, and that its wings are large. These
drones are the male bees of the hives and a very idle
set they are, not at all deserving the name of ' busy
bees.' To hear their loud hum, and the noise they
make as they fly out on some sunny day, one might
think they were doing a great deal ; but if we go to
the flowers we shall not find them there. In fact,
they never do any real work, and are such helpless
bees that they do not even get food for themselves,
but live upon what the workers bring home. Shaks-
peare rightly calls them

' The lazy, yawning drone,'

They arc, I think, very like many people who make a
great fuss and loud boasting, and try to attract atten-
tion, and yet do not really do half so much work as
those who make no pretence but go about their work,
whatever it is, quietly and steadily, without noise or

boasting.

' Buzzing loud,
Before the hive, in threat'ning circles, crowd
The unwieldy drones. Their short proboscis sips
No luscious nectar from the wild thyme's lips ;
On others' toils, in paniper'd leisure thrive
The lazy father'- )f th' industrious hive.'

Evans.

HOME OF THE HONEY BEE. 41

CHAPTER XI.

THE HOME OF THE HONEY BEE. — INTRODUCTORY.

In the last chapter we considered a few simple things,
in a general way, about the inhabitants of the hive, —
the queen, the workers, and the drones. Leaving for
the present the consideration of what is more difficult
to understand about them, we will now, in the same
way, try and get a general idea of the wonders of the
hive itself — the home of the bees.

And looking into a hive, the first thing we notice
is, of course, a number of combs, of which you know
well the general appearance. If we are examining
a common straw hive, we shall see that these combs
are of different sizes and shapes, all made to hang
from the top of the hive, and so carefully arranged
side by side, that just sufficient space is always left,
between any two of them, to allow the bees, when
crawling about them, to pass one another easily, —

* Galleries of art, and schools of industry !'

And now — as what we find in the hive will depend
in some measure on the time of year — let us first of
all suppose that it is summer time. Let us say that it
is the month of June. And then, when we examine
the combs, we find in the centre of them all — in
the best and warmest part — the portion which is
called the ' brood-nest,' or, as we may term it, the
nursery of the hive, where there are in the cells great
numbers of young bees in all the different stages of

42 HOME OF THE HONEY BEE.

insect infancy, all being cared for with the greatest
attention until they are fit to provide for themselves.
We shall find this state of things more or less all
through the year, except in winter ; but at no time
more than in June.

This brood-nest will generally occupy the greater
part — at least all the middle part — of several of these
central combs. In the outer portions of these combs,
which are not suitable, being too chilly, for the young
bees, there will generally be honey safely stored away.

In the brood-nest itself we shall find some cells
closed and some open.* In the open cells we shall see
either a very small white speck, which is an &g^,
fastened to the bottom of the cell, or else what appears
like a little white maggot ; some of these latter will
be small, and some of good size, nearly filling the cell.

Of the closed-up cells some will appear with a
flat dark covering ; and out of these will soon come
the perfect, full-grown young worker bees. Others
will appear — but we shall not find them in every
comb of the brood-nest — with a much higher and
rounder top. Out of these will come, in due course of
time, some of the big, idle, noisy drones.

And then, finally, on this comb from the brood-
nest that we are examining, w^e may or may not find
(when present, we shall find it generally on the edge
of the comb) a large, dark-coloured cell, in appearance
like an acorn, hanging by itself; and if so, then inside
it there is a young queen. It is a queen-cell.

You must remember, however, that this state of
things in the brood-nest is the condition of summer-
time. If our visit to the hive is in winter, we shall
* See illustration on page 137.

HOME OF THE HONE V BEE.

43

not find eggs or young bees, but we shall see in the
brood-nest and the adjacent parts, all the bees, as far as
possible, huddled together to keep themselves warm.

Queen-cells in different stages.

All the combs, not required for the brood-nest,
may be considered the great store-room of the hive
in which the bees keep all the food they are likely to
need at a future time. A great portion of the brood-
nest itself they also use for the same purpose, after
the breeding season is over, and the cells are no
longer needed for }'oung bees.

And now, what are these stores ? First of all, of
course, there is the honey, — not much in the early
spring, but more and more as the year gets on, until
at last almost every cell is full, and ample provision
has been made for the winter supply of the hive.

44 HOME OF THE HO^E V BEE.

It is not, however, honey alone that the bees store
away. In many cells we shall find the substance
called ' pollen,' which is the food of the infant bees,
and without which they cannot thrive. We find it,
especially, in the early part of the year when many
young bees are daily coming into the world, but,
more or less, at all times.

It is sometimes called ' bee-bread,' and appears in
the cells as a sticky, and rather hard, substance, and is
made, — as you will hear in a future chapter, — from the
little yellow pellets which you must often have noticed
sticking to the hind-legs of bees, and which, when they
bring home, they mix with a little honey, and, if not
wanted at once, put away into the cells for future use.

Lastly, in the hive we shall find what is called
'propolis,' — a very thick sticky substance, which, after
a while, gets hard like cement. We shall not, however,
find much of this ; and we shall not find it stored
away in any of the cells, but only put into cracks and
crevices in order to make all tight and secure, and to
shut out cold and draughts.

Thus in the hive we find a palace for the queen,
a nursery for the young ones, a store-room for food,
and a comfortable home for all.

As we take such a general view of the interior and
its contents, one of the many things which will strike
us very much, will be the wonderful way in which
the combs are all made to fit into the space which the
bees have at their disposal, and how they are con-
trived so that no room is lost. If one comb is a little
twisted, the next one to it is made with just the same
twist ; and if there is a little vacant corner anywhere,

HOME OF THE HONEY BEE. 45

a little bit of comb is made exactly to fit it, and very
often in the most curious and ingenious way possible.

There is no waste of room or material, or care-
lessness as to little things. If we could hear them
talk we should never hear them saying, ' Oh ! never
mind that little bit of wax, or that little corner of the
hive. It will not much matter if we do waste it. It
won't make much difference. It's only a trifle.'
And if they meet with difficulties, and get into awk-
ward places, as they often do in badly made hives, or
in trees or buildings, they will always, in a most
wonderful way, make the best of the situation, and
adapt themselves to circumstances. We cannot do
better, I think, than try and follow their example.

Another thing that will certainly strike us will be
the tidiness of everything, — the whole house kept in
good order. We shall see an excellent example of the
old saying, 'A place for everything, and everything in
its place.' We shall not find dirt, dust, and refuse
left about, if only the weather is such that they can
get rid of it. If there is a piece of dirt, or a dead bee,
we shall see them pulling at it with all their strength ;
and if it is too much for one to manage, we shall see
two or more joining in the work, until they get it out
of the hive and throw it on the ground.

It is quite the tidy house one likes to see, — every-
thing clean, even if old ; everything in its place, and
very thing well ordered, and done at the right time.
It is not the home one often sees, — without order or
arrangement, dirty and uncomfortable, and everything
in confusion from morning to night.

'"1 A>?. t f

Kj ^,

\ yi r^) '

o

HISTORY OF THE HIVE. 47

CHAPTER XII.

THE HISTORY OF THE HIVE.

The colony of bees, described in the previous chapter
is one that is in a prosperous condition. There are
plenty of bees, and the hive is full of comb; and there
is abundance of brood and plenty of honey, and pollen
stores, and all things in order. In the next place let
us see how all this has come about. What has been
the history of the hive ? This, to some extent, de-
pends on its age ; but as, after a colony is well
established in the hive, its history is much the same
every year, we will think of it especially in its early
days — the first year of its history.

And very possibly, although we see it now so full
and prosperous, it is not more than a few months old.
It is now, let us say, the month of August, and very
possibly it was only last May that the bees first took
possession of the hive.

To trace its history let us go back in thought to
that merry month of May, and I will suppose that
you and I are together, amongst the hives, on some
bright morning of that beautiful month, when all
nature seems to be putting forth its freshest vigour ;
and we stand and admire the lovely sight of the
orchard trees, — the apple, pear, cherry, and others, —
full of blossom ; while the bees from all the hives
fill the air with their pleasant hum.

48 HISTORY OF THE HIVE.

And now I call your attention to what appears
as an unusual state of things at the entrance of one of
the hives, and we notice that the bees are evidently
not working as usual. They seem restless and ex-
cited, flying round and round, and not going far from
home. The entrance is especially crowded. Pos-
sibly there are numbers of bees hanging together
there in a great cluster. The great drones also
partake in the general excitement in their own noisy
way, rushing in and out, and circling round, as if
determined to be seen and heard.

The fact is, the bees are preparing to swarm. Let
us observe them closely. And we have not watched
them long before we notice hundreds of bees, perhaps
very suddenly, pouring out of the hive, and hundreds
more pressing after them as fast as they can get out
of the entrance, tumbling over one another in their
haste, and then flying round and round ; and more
pressing out, until the whole air seems filled with
bees in the most excited state.

' Upward they rise, a dark continuous cloud
Of congregated myriads numberless,
The rushing of whose wings is as the sound
Of a broad river headlong in its course.'

SOUTHEY

But before they do all this I say to you, * Let us
venture near the hive; and you need not be afraid to
do so, for bees, when they are swarming, are generally
in the best of tempers. Let us watch the entrance,
and, perhaps, we shall see the queen herself come out.
Yes, look ! there she is ! Do you not see her ? She

HISTORY OF THE HIVE. 49

joins the throng, looking quite the queen, the ac-
knowledged ruler amongst her many faithful subjects.
And now, as we watch the crowd in the air, we notice
that many of them seem to be gathering round, and
settling on one of the boughs of a neighbouring tree.
It evidently is so; and then others follow to the same
place, and more and more collect, clinging to one
another, until at last they hang down from the bough
in a bunch larger than a man's head, and even bend
down the bough with their weight.

* Round the fine twig, like cluster'd grapes, they close
In thickening wreaths, and court a short repose.
While the keen scouts with curious eye explore
The rifted roof, or widely gaping floor
Of some time-shatter'd pile or hollow'd oak,
Proud in decay, or cavern of the rock.'

Evans.

And now, as you look at this swarm, you would
doubtless like to know how many bees there are in it.
How many do you suppose .-* Well, if we were to
weigh the whole lot we could almost tell the number ;
for 30,000 bees, generally speaking, weigh rather more
than 6 lbs. (6 lbs. 5 oz.), and it is possible there may
be this number in the swarm we are looking at ;
but, if so, it is a very large one. An average swarm
contains about 15,000 or 20,000 workers, besides
several hundred drones, and, of course, the one queen.
I am speaking, however, now of what is called a first
swarm, for it is rather different in a second, or what is
usually termed a ' cast.'

But we must not stand watching the swarm too
long, for, unless we take measures to secure the bees,

£

50 HISTORY OF THE HIVE.

they will fly again, and take possession of the ' rifted
roof or the 'hollow'd oak,' and we shall lose them
altofrether.

In order to secure them, I get an empty hive ;
and I take this, and, placing it under the hanging
cluster, shake the bough, when all the bees drop into
the hive, which I then immediately turn over, and
place upon a board on the ground, leaving a crack for
the bees to come out and go in.

A vast number of bees at once rush out, but very
soon, if the queen is in the hive, and the bees like its
appearance, they settle down, and take possession of
it as their new home, instead of the place they had
found and intended to occupy. Thus the swarm is
secured, and we carry it gently to its stand. Some-
times the swarm settles in a very awkward place, —
very high up in a tree, where it can only be reached
by means of a ladder ; or sometimes the bees will
settle round about the body of the tree itself, from
which they can only be swept with a light brush, or
gently persuaded to move by a little smoke, or the
smell of carbolic acid. A little ingenuity, however,
will generally very soon get over such difficulties.

Our hive being now in position, the bees at once
begin, with the greatest energy, to make some comb
in their empty, unfurnished house. They do not lose
a minute, and they are able thus at once to begin
comb-building, because they have been very provi-
dent, and have brought with them from the old hive
as much honey and material as they could possibly
carr)'.

Thus even in an hour's time they will have made a

Hiving a Swarm.

52 HISTORY OF THE HIVE.

little bit of comb, and, in a very short time, will have
made a sufficient number of cells for the queen to lay
a few eggs. And then, if the weather is fine, so fast
is the building proceeded with, and such numbers of
eggs are laid by the queen, that in about three weeks'
time many young bees are hatching out, and, soon
after, hundreds more, and then day by day get greater
numbers.

And all this goes on more and more rapidly as
the young bees themselves join in the work of the hive,
so that now, in August, — the time I named, — ev^ery
corner of our hive is as full as possible of both bees
and honey, and everything is prepared, and the whole
colony is in a prosperous condition for the winter
months. And, if we only keep it 'dry, it will be
well able to stand the frost and snow, — the bees all
huddled together, and keeping themselves warm, how-
ever severe the cold, until at last the spring-time
comes again, and out-of-door work once more
commences.

' Rous'd by the gleamy warmth from long repose,
Th' awaken'd hive with cheerful murmur glows :
To hail returning spring the myriads run,
Poise the light wing, and sparkle in the sun.
Yet half afraid to trust th' uncertain sky.
At first in short and eddying rings they fly,
Till, bolder grown, through fields of air they roam,
And bear, with fearless hum, their burdens home.'

Evans.

A TALE OF DESTRUCTION. 53

CHAPTER XIII.

A TALE OF DESTRUCTION.

Having described in the previous chapter the pro-
bable early history of the hive, which we saw so
prosperous in August, I have now to relate a sad
story of death — the end of many such hives. It is a
tale of cruelty and improvidence.

You know the fable of the foolish man who pos-
sessed the wonderful goose which day by day laid
golden eggs, and which would have enriched the
man if only he had been content to wait for all the
many eggs the bird would have given him. Im-
patient, however, to be rich, he killed the bird so that
he might get at once all her golden eggs, but found, of
course, that in doing so he lost everything, his bird
and its eggs, and was left himself a poor man after all.

Well, in very much the same cruel, foolish way, it
used to be the common practice everj'where in this
country to kill the bees in order to get their honey,
instead of preserving them to work again at a future
time. And, I am sorry to say, this bad old custom
still prevails in many places.

On some August evening, when the hives are full
of bees and stores, and all are at home, ready for
work again on the morrow, the bee-keeper (although
bee-murderer would be a better namej comes in the
dark to do his deed of cruelty, and digs a small round
hole, at the bottom of which he places burning sulphur.

Then, taking the hives one by one from their

54 A TALE OF DESTRUCTION.

stands, he places them over the burning pit ; where
the horrible sulphur-fumes, rising up into the hive,
soon destroy all life within ; but not before you may
hear a loud humming noise, the dying cries, as it
were, of the thousands of bees as they fall from the
combs into the pit below, — cries that seem loudly to
reproach the cruel owner for his ingratitude to his
faithful servants, rewarding them with death after
they have worked hard, and done all they could for
him, and were ready to do a great deal more.

*Ah ! see where robb'd and murder'd in that pit
Lies the still heaving hive ! at evening snatch'd,
Beneath the cloud of guilt-concealing night,
And fixed o'er sulphur; while, not dreaming ill,
The happy people, in their waxen cells,
Sat tending public cares, and planning schemes
Of temperance for winter poor ; rejoiced
To mark, full flowing round, their copious stores.
Sudden the dark oppressive steam ascends;
And, used to milder scents, the tender race,
By thousands, tumble from their honey'd domes,
Convuls'd and agonising in the dust.
And was it then for this you roam'd the spring,
Intent from flower to flower ? for this you toil'd
Ceaseless the burning summer heats away.'*
For this in autumn searched the blooming waste,
Nor lost one sunny gleam .'' for this sad fate .''
O man ! tyrannic lord ! how long, how long
Shall prostrate nature groan beneath your rage,
Awaiting renovation ? When obliged.
Must you destroy .'' Of their ambrosial food
Can you not borrow ; and, in just return,
Afibrd them shelter from the wintiy winds ?
Or, as the sharp year pinches, with their own
Again regale them on some smiling day ?'

Thomson.

A TALE OF DESTRUCTION. 65

But it is not only a cruel system, and a foolish
one, because like killing the goose that laid the
golden eggs ; but it is also quite unnecessary, for, by
proper management, all the honey can be obtained
without killing a bee.

It is also a very profitless system as regards the
honey itself, making it of a very inferior quality.
Ajid we can easily understand this when we re-
member that the hive not only contains much old
comb, blackened by age and the impurities left by
young bees, but also that in many of the cells there
will be a quantity of pollen, or bee-bread, and even
young brood in various stages, — in appearance like so
many little maggots. All this comb is cut out of the
hive,and broken up, and then smashed, and pressed, and
mixed with the honey, before this latter is strained off.
The honey thus obtained, and which many people eat,
must indeed be very impure and inferior, and not for
a moment to be compared with that which the bees
will give us, clear, and bright, and clean, just as they
themselves store it, if only we treat them properly.

How to obtain this pure honey, stored in per-
fectly fresh, clean combs, and in abundant quantity,
and with considerable profit, you will learn at a future
time.

Well, then, let this be your first great lesson in
practical bee-keeping, — a lesson of what you are not
to do : ' Never kill your bees.' Always look upon the
sulphur-pit system as a most cruel and wasteful one, —
the system by which you get the smallest and worst
return possible for your money, time, and labour.

66 OBSER VA TION NECESSAR Y.

CHAPTER XIV.

INTELLIGENCE AND OBSERVATION NECESSARY.

I MIGHT now tell you of the new and better way of bee-
keeping, and show you how even boys and girls may
so keep bees as to find, in the occupation, both interest
and amusement, and also earn something to put into
a savings bank, — as bees put honey into their cells, —
ready for a future time. But before I tell you of bee-
keeping I want you to understand bees, and so must
tell you something more than I have done yet, of their
natural history, their habits and instincts ; also of the
structure of the several parts of their bodies, as, for
instance, the head, the mouth, the wings, the legs, the
sting ; and how each is wonderfully made and fitted
for the work it has to do. I must also tell you how
bees differ from other insects, having certain habits,
and certain parts of their structure, peculiar to them-
selves.

You must take trouble to understand something
of all this, for the more you understand it, the more, I
know, you will take interest in the subject, and love
your bees. You will be able also to keep them better
and with more profit, because you will manage them
intelligently ; you will know why you are to do this,
and why you are to do that, and why you are not to
do something else. You will see a reason for every-
thing, and have a reason for all you do.

It is the same with bee-keeping as with every other
occupation of life, you must understand first principles

OBSBR VA TION NECESSAR Y. 67

in order to do it thoroughly well ; you must work with
your head as well as with your hands. The gardener
to be a good gardener, must be able not only to dig
and root out weeds, but must understand something
of the habits and growth of flowers, fruits, and vege-
tables ; the farmer must know about the different
qualities of land, and how to cultivate the soil ac-
cording to its nature. Or, if a man is an engineer, he
must learn by close study the nature of the materials,
and the power of the forces with which he has to
deal, such as the strength of iron and steel, and the
true reason of why this or that is to be done.

This was how Huber made his great discoveries.
He took the greatest trouble to understand even the
most trifling things ; nothing was overlooked. And
it is the same with the study of eveiy department of
natural history. Observe everything. This is the foun-
dation of success. A well-known naturalist has said,
' It is impossible to say at the moment of what use the
most trifling facts may be. It is impossible to deter-
mine the exact importance of any circumstance in the
history of an animal until we know its whole history.'
And this is most true of bee-keeping. We shall
succeed all the better by taking trouble to under-
stand the bee, and by close observation of little things
in its natural history.

In order to impress this truth, and to illustrate
how great results may come from the exercise of such
a habit, a few examples may be given from the lives
of distinguished men.

It is said* that ' when Franklin made his discovery

* Smiles.

58 OBSER VA TION NECESSAR Y.

of the identity of lightning and electricity it was
sneered at, and people asked, ' Of what use is it ?'
to which his apt reply was ' What is the use of a
child? It may become a man!' Again, many
before Galileo had seen a suspended weight swing
before their eyes with a measured beat, but he was
the first to detect the value of the fact. One of the
vergers in the cathedral of Pisa, after replenishing
with oil a lamp which hung from the roof, left it
swinging to and fro, and Galileo, then a youth of only
eighteen, noting it attentively, conceived the idea of
applying it to the measurement of time. Fifty years
of study and labour, however, elapsed before he com-
pleted the invention of his pendulum, an invention the
importance of which can hardly be overvalued.

'Again, while Captain (afterwards Sir Samuel)
Brown was occupied in studying the construction of
bridges, with the view of contriving one of a cheap
description to be thrown across the Tweed, near
which he lived, he was walking in his garden one
dewy autumn morning, when he saw a tiny spider's-
net suspended across his path. The idea imme-
diately occurred to him that a bridge of iron ropes or
chains might be constructed in like manner, and the
result was the invention of his suspension bridge.'

I can give you also another story, teaching us
not to be satisfied until we know, if possible, the
object and the use of even the smallest thing in any
department of natural history, which we may be
studying. It is the story of another discovery, as
wonderful as any ever made, and which has brought
the greatest blessings to the world, and has been the

NATURAL HISTORY OF THE BEE. 59

means by which, through the knowledge it gives of
the secrets of Hfe, innumerable precious lives have
been preserved. I mean the discovery by the great
Hervey of the circulation of the blood, or the way in
which the blood is constantly, and every moment,
flowing onward from the heart, through the arteries,
to every portion of the body, returning by the veins
to be first purified by the lungs, and then returned to
the heart, ready to start afresh on its course, never
ceasing till the moment of death.

This discovery is said by Hervey himself to have
sprung from his seeking to know the use of some
little valves which are found in the veins. They are,
apparently, so insignificant that no one, before,
thought much about them. Hervey knew they must
have some use, and so set himself, with much study
and by endless experiments, to find out the why and
the wherefore. At last, after eight years, he was led
gradually, step by step, to make his great discovery,
which, although treated with scorn and all kinds of
opposition at first, for ever marks him out as one of
the greatest benefactors of the world.

CHAPTER XV.

THE NATURAL HISTORY OF THE BEE.

The first thing, in the natural history of the bee,
which you must, in some measure, understand, is the
bee's position in the great insect world, or something
of what is called the classification of insects.

60 NA TURAL HISTORY OF THE BEE.

As everything in a school would be in confusion
without arrangement of the children into divisions,
classes, and standards ; so, to prevent confusion in
the study of natural history ; all animals are, as far
as possible, arranged according to certain rules, each
animal in its own proper place.

For this purpose animals are, in the first place,
grouped together into certain great ' Classes,' such as
the Class of Mammalia (animals that suckle their
young), or the Class of Birds, or the Class of Reptiles.

These great classes are, in the next place, sub-
divided into large groups called ' Orders,' according
to certain points of resemblance between the animals
contained in any particular Order. For instance,
amongst Mammalia there is the Order of flesh-
eating animals, and the Order of animals like the
ox, and the Order of monkeys, and so on.

Then, in the next place, these ' Orders ' are
divided into large ' Families,' according to yet further
points of resemblance, such as the Family of all
animals like the Cat, or the Family of all animals
like the Dog.

In the same way these families are again divided
into smaller groups called ' Genera,' and the genera
into ' Species.' And of species there are Varieties.

And what has been done with animals has also
been done with insects.

They are, in the first place, put in a Class ; and
are called Insects, because the whole body is, to
a certain extent, divided, and consists of three seg-
ments, some being larger or more distinct than others.

You will see these parts very plainly in a bee.

NATURAL HISTORY OF THE BEE.

61

There is first the Head. Then, very distinct from it,
is the next portion, called the Thorax, — to which are
attached the legs and wings. And then, thirdly.

.Antenn

The Mead, Thorax, Abdomen, of a Bee.

and very distinctly divided from the Thorax, there is
what is called the Abdomen.

Some other points in which all true Insects are alike
are the following : In the perfect state they all have
six legs. They all have two antenna;, the peculiar
thin long feelers which stand out from the head near
the eyes. They also all breathe, not as animals with
lungs, but through very small tubes, which run into
all parts of the body, and have a multitude of very

62 NATURAL HISTORY OF THE BEE.

small openings through the side of the insect, but so
very small that they can only be seen with a power-
ful microscope.

But then there are many thousands of different
kinds of little creatures which have these points of
resemblance, and which therefore belong to the great
class of Insects. Consequently the next thing which
has been done in the way of arrangement has been to
divide this great class into smaller, but yet very large,
divisions, or ' Orders,' as they are called.

This has been done by arranging them, chiefly,
according to the number and character of their wings.
I will not give you the names of all these orders of
insects ; it would only confuse you. But, as ex-
amples, all kinds of Beetles are put into one order,
called Coleoptera, because the wings of all beetles
have a hard peculiar sheath.

All kinds of Butterflies and Moths are put into
another order, and are called Lepidoptera, because
their wings are covered with a beautiful kind of scale-
like dust, the scales being laid one over another like
the tiles of a house.

And then we have the order of insects called
Diptera, so called because they have only two wings,
instead of four, — an order including the common fly,
gnats, and many other such-like insects.

And then we have another great and important
order, in which come Bees, Wasps, Ants, and many
other insects, which go through a complete trans-
formation. And as this order includes our bees,
you must try and remember the long hard name by
which it is called — Hymcnoptera — so called because

NA TURAL HISTOR V OF THE BEE.

63

the wings (generally four in number) of all insects,
belonging to the order, are of a thin kind of
membrane.

Notice the wing of a bee, and
you will see of what a thin and de-
licate, and yet strong, membrane it
is composed.

But then, as this order of
Hymenoptera is very large, and
includes very different insects, al-
though they all have the same
membranous wings ; the whole
order (and it is the same with the
other orders) is subdivided again
into families, — each family being
distinguished by its own peculiar
character.

Thus we have the family of
wasps, including all kinds of wasps ; and the family
of ants, including all the many kinds of ants ; and
then, amongst the others, the great Bee Family,
called Apidae, including all kinds of bees.

But then, again, this great family of bees — and now
we must think only of this one family — includes so very
many different kinds, — there are such numbers of bees,
as was mentioned in a previous chapter, — that these
again, according to certain points of resemblance, are
put into divisions of their own, and are called genera.

Thus we have the genus Apis (a bee), and the
genus Bombus (humble-bee), and many more.

And then of each of these genera there are many
species. Thus of the genus Apis, with which we are

\Ying of a Bee.

64 NATURAL HISTORY OF THE BEE.

specially concerned, our honey-bee is one species
called the species ' Mellifica/ because of the honey
that it gathers.

And then of this species of honey-bee there are
many, so-called, varieties, such, for instance, as our
English bees, and the Italian bees, and the Cyprian
bees, and many more. These are varieties of the one
species of honey-bee IMellifica, — a species which belongs
more especially to Europe and the adjacent countries.

I think we had better now go over this rather
hard lesson again. And if, for example's sake, Ave
take a specimen of the Italian bees, of which there
are so many in this country, we may think of it
thus : —

First, it belongs to the insect ' class,' having, with
other characters of a true insect, the three distinct
parts — head, thorax, and abdomen.

Secondly, it belongs to the ' order ' of insects
called Hymenoptera, because of its four membranous
wings.

Thirdly, it belongs to that ' family ' of the Hy-
menoptera which is called Apidae, or the Bee
Family.

Fourthly, it belongs to the ' genus ' Apis, as dis-
tinguished from the genus of humble-bees and others.

Fifthly, it belongs to that ' species ' of the genus
Apis, which is called Mellifica, or Honey-bee.

Sixth, and lastly, it belongs to that ' variety ' of
Mellifica, which is called ' Italian,' because of its
Italian origin.

The following diagram will perhaps make it
clearer : —

NATURAL HISTORY OF THE BEE.

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66 TRANSFORMATION OF INSECTS.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE TRANSFORMATION OF INSECTS.

The next thing to think of is the way in which the
bee is produced — born into the world ready for its
busy, active life.

The bee — and it is the same with all insects —
comes from a tiny egg laid by the mother insect. It
is, however, an o.^^ which greatly differs in many
respects, besides its size, from the &^^ of a bird.
Both eggs — the o.g'g of the bird and the &g^ of the
insect — contain that which, after a time, will become,
as the case may be, the young bird or the young
insect ; but the process by which this end is reached
is very different in the two cases.

You all know the process with the egg of the
bird. Nurtured by the parents' warmth and care,
the Q^^ hatches, and produces the young bird ;
which, in most cases, is as helpless as any infant,
although in some instances, as with the common
chicken, it is able to run, and feed itself at once. In
every case, however, the young one, immediately it is
hatched, is without doubt a bird. It may be a poor,
wretched-looking, unfledged little thing ; but all the
same, it is plainly a bird, and it goes through no
further change. It only grows gradually to its
perfect condition.

But with the &%g of the insect the process is very
different. It hatches, and produces, not an insect,

TRANSFORMATION OF INSECTS. 67

but a grub or caterpillar, — a little creature as unlike
as possible to the insect to which it will grow. In
this condition it is called a larva — a name you must
remember as we shall often use it. It does not, how-
ever, long remain a larva ; for it has to go through
two more changes before it becomes the perfect
insect.

When first hatched the larva is very small, but it
grows most rapidly, eating enormous quantities of
food ; so much so that the larvae of some butterflies
will consume in twenty-four hours double their own
weight of food. Nourished by this abundant food,
and grown to its full size, the next great change
takes place, and the larva becomes what is called a
Nymph or Pupa.

The process is very curious. The larva, in the
first place, spins around itself a beautiful silken kind
of web, called a cocoon. Within this covering the
little creature — now called by its new name, pupa —
begins to have, or rather to develope, its wings, legs,
and other parts, gradually more and more becoming
the perfect insect.

The time taken in this process varies greatly,
according to the kind of insect. In some cases a
very short, and in others a very long time is neces-
sar}^ At last, however, the pupa state is over, and
the day comes for the insect to issue forth into the
world ; and it breaks through its covering, and ap-
pears, to our astonishment, the perfect insect, now
called the Imago — perhaps a butterfly, or beetle, or
ant, or bee — but in all cases, with all its parts fully
formed and full-grown, and itself able at the proper

68 TRANSFORM A TION OF INSECTS.

time to do its part towards bringing into the world
other young ones like itself.

The process of these changes is called the Meta-
morphosis or Transformation of Insects. It is a most
interesting subject, and full of wonders, of which I
can now only just mention one, as a striking instance
of the Divine Wisdom seen in nature, — namely, the
way in which the food is provided for the grub in its
larval state.

In some cases — as with bees, wasps, and ants —
the food is provided not by the mother, but by other
insects of the colony — in some instances by the
mother herself. The little grub is thus fed and
nursed, and taken infinite care of.

But in many cases, as with butterflies and moths,
the eggs are simply left in some spot by the mother,
who takes no more notice or care of them, but most
probably herself dies very shortly afterwards. Now
we might think that these eggs are left, without care,
to chance, but it is not so ; for the mother insect has
selected just that place where, when the eggs are
hatched, the young larvae will find the kind of food
they want. See how remarkably this is the case with
the common white butterfly. You see it flying round
some cabbage plants rather than the gay flowers.
And why ? It does not want the cabbage for itself ;
but it knows, taught by the marvellous instinct given
to it, that the cabbage will aflbrd the best possible
kind of food for its young when hatched. Thus it
goes to the cabbage, and there lays its eggs, covering
them over with a thin case to keep them from the
weather ; and thus, when hatched, the young larvae

NA TURAL HISTOR Y OF THE BEE.

69

can immediately begin to eat, for their food is ready
at hand.

As another instance of the same provision of
nature, it may be mentioned that, in the case of a
certain insect, it is necessary that its eggs should be
carried by some means into the stomach of a horse.
The insect itself cannot get there to lay its eggs, but
it is managed in this way. The insect selects a spot
for its eggs which it is likely the horse will lick, — it
may be the horse's leg ; and the horse thus unknow-
ingly takes the eggs into its mouth, whence they
pass to the stomach ; and the object of the insect is
accomplished.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE NATURAL HISTORY OF THE BEE — CONTINUED.

In the case of the bee the process of transformation
is as follows, and may be seen and traced in the
following illustration.

Egg and larvce of the bee.

70 NATURAL HISTORY OF THE BEE.

The mother or queen bee lays its small ^^^ at
the bottom of a cell. This is the young bee's cradle.
There, the other bees (for the queen takes no further
notice of it) surround it with a food, made of pollen
and honey mixed into a sort of jelly. In three days
the egg hatches, and there comes forth the tiny larva,
which at once finds ready for it that kind of food
which it needs.

Nourished with this food it grows rapidly, and, in
the course of six days from the time of hatching, —
or nine days from the time the &^'g was laid, — is
full grown, and almost fills the cell, and is ready to
begin the next, or pupa stage of insect life by spinning
around itself the silken web of the cocoon. And, as
it will now want no more food, but only to be left in
perfect quiet, the bees who take care of it put a kind
of cap or lid on the cell, and thus shut it in. They
make this covering of very fine threads of wax and
pollen beautifully woven together, but so contrived
that the necessary air is admitted to the young one
within.

In its sealed-up cell the pupa, following the rule
of insect life, as before described, gradually developes
into the likeness of a bee. Its legs and wings are
formed. Its antennae grow. Its mouth and other
parts take their proper shape, and in twelve days
more — or twenty-one from the time the z^^ was
laid, — it is ready to come out of its prison-house
a perfect, full -formed bee : and so cuts away the
cover of its cell, and creeps forth, to be received with
gladness by its companions who have taken such care
of it in its helpless state.

NA TURAL HISTOR V OF THE BEE. 71

The full-form'd nymph clings to her close-seal'd tomb,
Spins her own silky shroud, and courts the gloom.
But, while within a seeming grave she lies,
What wondrous changes in succession rise !
Those tiny folds, which cas'd the slimy worm.
Now thrown aside uncoils her length'ning form :
Six radiant rings her shining shape invest.
The hoary corslet glitters on her breast :
With fearful joy she tries each salient wing,
Shoots her slim trunk, and points her pigmy sting.'

Evans.

Such is the process with a worker bee, but with
drones it is different. To obtain drones, some of the
cells in the hive are made larger than the others, as
explained before. In these the queen lays, — as she
is able to do when necessary, — a different kind of egg.
You would not, however, know it from the others. It
looks just the same minute thing fastened to the
bottom of the cell. But, when it hatches, it takes
longer to become the full-grown larva ; and then,
when it is sealed up and spins its cocoon, the lid that
covers the cell is made of that different shape, of
which I spoke before, much higher and rounder, so
that it is easily distinguished.

Out of this cell, and its pupa state, it does not
come until some four days later than a worker, that
is to say, on about the twenty-fifth day from the time
the Qg'g was laid. Then it comes forth, the great,
sturdy bee, which makes so much noise and does so
little work.

The way in which the queen is produced is one of
the great marvels of the hive. In due course she
passes through all the usual stages. First there is

72 NATURAL HISTORY OF THE BEE,

^" egg, then a latva, then a pupa, and then, in due
time, she becomes the perfect queen : but the remark-
able thing is that the ^%% which produces this queen
is not, so to speak, a queen &g%, but an ordinary
worker-egg which, under usual circumstances, would
produce a worker-bee, but which, through the par-
ticular manner in which it is treated, and especially
by the way the bees feed the young larva, becomes,
not a worker but a queen.

What takes place is this : For some reason or
another a new queen is required. Perhaps the old
queen dies, or is too old to lay a sufficient number of
eggs for the wants of the colony ; or, perhaps, she is
about to leave the hive with a swarm to find a fresh
home. To provide for this want, the workers select
one of the little eggs, lying at the bottom of a cell,
or, possibly, a young larva, so long as it is not more
than three days old. Then they enlarge the cell in
which it is— very often treating several in the same
way at the same time — by cutting away the cells
around it ; and then, with other contrivances, build it
out into that peculiar long shape, like an acorn as
before described, (See illustration, p. 43.)

Into this large odd-shaped cell, containing the ^^'g
or very young larva, they put a quantity of jelly food,
not of the ordinary kind, but jelly made in some
peculiar way (it is called ' royal jelly '), the result of
which is that the larva, when fed upon it, grows faster
than it would if fed on ordinary jelly food, and, when
five days old, is fit to be sealed up, and to go into its
cocoon.

And now takes place the most marvellous change,

Natural history of the bee. 73

for in eight days more, — or about the sixteenth day-
after the egg was laid (instead of twenty-one in tlie
case of a worker, and twenty-five in the case of a
drone), it is ready to cut its way out, and to come
forth, a beautiful young princess ; soon to become a
perfect queen, and to begin to lay eggs.

What this food, or royal jelly, is, or whether there
is anything else done or given, which turns the
worker-egg into a queen-bee we do not know, but
the fact is most extraordinary^, for this queen-bee is,
in many ways, a very different insect from the
worker, which the very same ^g^ would have pro-
duced, if it had not been treated to the large cell and
the royal jelly.

As an illustration of this difference we may take
the case of two dogs — the one a greyhound and the
other a pug. If we put them side by side, the
contrast is most striking. What can be more unlike, —
the one with its slender legs, lithe body, beautiful
pointed head, and quick, graceful movements, and the
other with its short legs, square body, blunt nose and
head, and ungainly movements? And yet there is
not really so much difference between them, as
between a queen and a worker-bee.

The difference between the dogs is in shape more
than in anything else. They have mouth, and jaws,
and teeth, in all points the same except shape. And
it is the same with every part of their legs and bodies ;
they have the same bones and muscles, and internal
organs, however greatly they vary in size and ap-
pearance.

But in the case of the queen-bee, she not only has

74 STRUCTURE ADAPTED TO WANTS.

a body differently shaped to that of the worker, but
one that, in many respects, is actually different,
wanting some things which the worker has, and
having others which the worker has not.

Moreover, she is so made that her habits and
instincts at;e quite different. And, more wonderful
still, she will probably live two, three, or even four
years or more, instead of only so many months ; and
be able, during her life to lay, an enormous number
of eggs, — a million, or even more.

How marvellous is the change thus produced, so
far as we know, by the wonderful food given to the
larva ! You see it is something far more wonderful
than would be the feeding of the young puppy of a
pug with some particular food, and by such a process
of feeding, turning it into a greyhound.

CHAPTER XVni.

THE STRUCTURE OF THE BEE ADAPTED TO ITS WANTS
AND WORK.

In a previous chapter something was said of the won-
derful way in which bees are formed to accomplish
the work they have to do. We will now pursue this
subject a little further, and take one of the ordinary
worker bees, which we have traced from the &^g and
its infancy to the ^perfect insect, and examine more
closely some of its parts ; and we shall see in it, I

STRUCTURE ADAPTED TO WANTS. 75

think, one example amongst countless others, how
God, in His power, wisdom, and goodness, marvellously
provides for all His creatures, and their wants.

To see this clearer, let me remind you, first of all,
of one or two familiar examples. Such examples are
on all sides. The very colour of animals is full of
meaning. What, for instance, is more suitable than
the brown colour of the partridge to hide it from
view as it sits on the open field ? On the other hand,
what could give greater concealment than the white
winter plumage of the ptarmigan on the snowy
hills ? The stoat, again, like the ptarmigan, is dark in
summer-time, but often, in hard snowy winter, changes
to white. Or, amongst fishes, what better to hide it
from its enemies than the colour of the sole? Its
under side is white, for this is not much seen, but its
upper side is almost the exact colour of the sand on
which it lies.

But, after all, nothing can better illustrate the
great truth than the human body, and no part of it
more so, perhaps, than your arm with its hand, fingers,
and thumb, which is ever ready to obey your wishes,
and with which you can do such different things as
strike a heavy blow with a blacksmith's hammer, or
pick up a little pin. Nothing can be more perfect
than the arrangement of bone and joints and muscles
and nerves. By no other possible arrangement could
every part be so exactly fitted for its purpose.

We see it still more if we look at what answers to
the arm and hand in many animals. They have
bones, in some respects, similar to ours of the arm and
hand, but then, in each case, they are just so altered

70 STRUCTURE ADAPTED TO WANTS.

as to make them exactly the best for the purpose of
the animal.

Thus, these bones * are recognised in the fin of the
whale, in the paddle of the turtle and in the wing of
the bird. Wc see the corresponding bones, perfectly
suited to their purpose, in the paw of the lion or
the bear.' *

The claws of the lion and the dog are other striking
examples of the same thing. It is necessary for the
dog to have claws rather to help it in running long
distances, and to protect the foot, than to seize an
enemy. And so this is just what it has. But the lion
must not only have strong claws, but they must be
kept sharp to seize and hold the prey. It would
never do for its claws to be exposed like the dog's.
They would soon get blunted and useless. And
so by a beautiful contrivance the lion's claws are
withdrawn into a sheath, and kept there till he
springs on his prey, when at once they are brought
into use, and strike deep into the flesh of the victim.

We are now prepared, I think, to find wonders of
construction in the bee ; and we shall not be dis-
appointed. I will mention a few, but only the
simplest. Some of the most striking, relating to the
internal parts, you would not understand.

We will take, in the first place, and examine, one
of the hind legs, of which here are illustrations when
greatly magnified.

Now you will notice that it is divided into several
portions, of which two are larger than the others, and
of a peculiar flat shape, and if you look closely you
*Bell on the Hand.

STRUCTURE ADAPTED TO WANTS.

77

will see that one is hollowed out, and that the hollow
is made deeper by a fringe of hairs.

Nothing can be more perfectly constructed for
what is required. It forms what is called the ' pollen-

Fig. I. Leg.

basket.* In this cavity, or pollen-basket, the bee places
the fine pollen dust, which it gathers from the flowers,

Fig. 2. Pollen-basket (reverse side of fig. i).

working it into position by help of its other legs, and
making it quite secure by the hairs which surround the
little basket, some of which will be found buried in
the pollen, and holding it very firm. It is wonderful
how large pellets of this pollen the bee will in this way
carry safely home, where it is removed, pushed off

78

STRUCTURE ADAPTED TO WANTS.

from the leg without difficulty, as the hairs point
downwards.

At the end of the leg, or rather foot, there are two
very small claws or hooks, which are most useful,
and are adapted for many purposes. The bees, for
instance, with their help will hang on to one another,
until they make quite a rope of their bodies hanging,

Bee, showing Tongue.

Tongue, highly magnified.

as they sometimes require, in the form of a festoon,
from one part of the hive to another.

The legs are also covered more oj less with hairs,
which, like everything else, have purpose and are of
great use. The bees use them as brushes to remove
from their bodies the fine dust with which they are
often quite covered, after visiting a flower.

In the next place, let us look at the tongue. Here
are drawings of it.

STRUCTURE ADAPTED TO WANTS. 79

You will wonder, I am sure, at its great length.
It is almost as long as the whole body of the bee,
but nevertheless is just the tongue the bee requires,
for, when it goes to a flower, the honey is often very
deep down, and otherwise would be quite out of
reach.

The construction of the tongue itself is also very
wonderful. It is made with a great number of joints,
so that the bee can twist it about, like an elephant
does its trunk ; and, when it reaches the place of the
honey in the flowers, can move it here and there and
all round. And as it is covered with very small hairs,
and the end of it is quite like a little brush, it sweeps
up all the honey, which readily sticks to it, and which
thus in a moment is drawn up into the mouth, from
whence it passes into the honey-bag or stomach. And
here it may be mentioned that this honey-bag is quite
distinct from the true stomach, and simply a convenient
place where honey can be stored till it is carried home.

In the next place let us look at the wings. I
have said before that there are four, two on each
side, one much larger than the other.

These wings, when not in use, are folded one over
the other by the side of the bee, the larger wing on
the top.

And now what could be more perfectly fitted for
the purpose than the material of which the wing is
made .-' You will notice, if you take a bee's wing and
magnify it slightly, that it is so made as to be very
thin and light, and yet very strong and tough. It is
also, as you will see, strengthened with little ribs of
stronger material.

80

STRUCTURE ADAPTED TO WANTS.

I want, however, more especially to point out a
most beautiful contrivance by which the wings are
made, as it were, of double use. Of course, to fly
fast, it is of great importance for an insect to have a
large wing ; but then a large wing, in the bee's case,
would be very much in the way in the crowded hive,

Wing — magnified — showing booklets.

and when not in use. This difficulty is, however,
partly got over by the bee having a second wing on
each side, for, when both are spread together, there is
a larger extent to resist the air, and so give power of
progress.

But then, if this were all, as both wings beat the
air together, the air, as we can easily understand
would pass between them, and so half the power
would be lost ; just as it would be with the sail of a

STRUCTURE ADAPTED TO WANTS. 81

ship if it were torn down the middle. In such a con-
dition it would indeed be of little use. Or again, if a
lady's fan were divided into two portions it would
take double the exertion, to get as much air from it,
as if it were whole and in one piece.

Well, and so what do you think is done to help
the bee in its flight ? It is this. On the upper edge
of the smaller wing there is contrived a row of very
small hooks, and on the lower edge of the larger
/v'ing, just opposite these hooks, there is a sort of bar
to which the hooks can fasten.

And then what happens is this. Directly the bee
opens its wings to fly, the little hooks on the one wing
catch hold of the little bar on the other, and in a
moment the two wings are fastened together, and
become almost like one large wing ; but as soon as
the bee stops the hooks are at once unfastened again,
and the wings fold one over another, quite con-
veniently, out of the way.

Can anything be more strikingly beautiful than
such a device ? You will see the little hooks greatly
magnified in the illustration.

CHAPTER XIX.

THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED. — THE STING.

The next thing we will notice is the sting. Possibly
you have already felt what a sting is like, and I hope
you do not think it anything very dreadful. At all
events it is a curious fact that we can get so ac-

G

82

STRUCTURE ADAPTED TO WANTS.

customed to stings that, although they may hurt
us when we first begin to keep bees, they will
hurt less and less, until at last they hurt so little
that many bee-keepers care nothing at all about
them.

But I want to speak of the sting itself, which is a
very beautiful little instrument. You have of course
seen a sting — the very fine little pointed dart which
the bee shoots out and which pierces the flesh. This
is usually called the sting, but it is not really so, for

the sting itself is another still
finer-pointed dart, which lies
hidden in what you see al-
most as in a sheath. And
this very fine inner dart, —
which really consists of two,
working side by side, — is
barbed with sharp points,
which prevent its being easily
drawn back out of the wound.
Connected with it is a very
fine tube, which conveys a
very minute drop of strong poison into the wound
when the whole sting pierces the flesh.

On account of the barbs, and the bee being unable
to withdraw its sting from the wound, the whole
sting, with its adjacent parts, is generally torn from
the bee's body, and causes its death.

' With bite envenom'd they assail the foe,
Fastening on his veins they shoot their darts
Invisible, and in the wound expire.'

Virgil.

Bee and its Stinr

STRUCTURE ADAPTED TO WANTS.

83

When we consider the quantities of tempting
food stored within the hive and the smallness of the
httle insect which has to defend the precious sweets
against the covetousness of many enemies, we are
surely led to marvel at the wisdom which has pro-
vided the insect with such a formidable weapon, and
made it thus a match for even the larger animals.

Sting highly magnified.

And here may be mentioned, as showing the ex-
quisite perfection of the works of nature, that, as re-
lated by Bevan in his work on the Honey-bee : —

' Upon examining the edge of a very keen razor by the mi-
croscope it appears as broad as the back of a pretty thick knife,
rough, uneven, and full of notches and furrows. And an ex-
ceedingly small needle being also examined, the point thereof
appeared above a quarter of an inch in breadth, not round nor
flat, but irregular and unequal, and the surface, though ex-
tremely smooth and bright to the naked eye, seemed full of
ruggedness, holes, and scratches ; in short, it resembled an
iron bar out of a smith's forge. But the sting of a bee, viewed
through the same instrument, showed everywhere a polish amaz-
ingly beautiful, without the least flaw, blemish, or inequality,
and ended in a point too fine to be discovered, yet this is only
the case or sheath of an instrument still more exquisite.'

And now, passing by many wonderful things
in the structure of the bee, such as the system by

84

STRUCTURE ADAPTED TO WANTS.

Head and Antennoe.

which it breathes, and the formation of the eye, and
the internal organs, I will only say something of the
antennae.

All the uses of these most important organs we
probably do not know, but, amongst other uses, they
are certainly means by which
the bees communicate one
with another, and for this pur-
pose are most exquisitely and
delicately formed. When bees
meet and, as their custom is,
cross their antennae, they un-
doubtedly speak to one an-
other, whatever their language
is.
It is also evidently by the touch of the antennae
that they distinguish friends from enemies, and also
by their use that they appear able to move, and
work in the darkness of the hive just as easily as if
they could see everything plainly.

A queen-bee that had lost its antennae was ob-
served by Huber to be itself as one that was lost in
the hive — not to know its way about its own home,
and only anxious, as soon as possible — quite contrary
to the queen's usual instinct — to get out of the hive
into the daylight.

One story will perhaps be sufficient to show their
importance as means of communicating news, and
that without them the bees cannot, as it were, talk to
one another.

Into a hive full of bees a division was one day in-
serted, separating the whole colony into two portions

STRUCTURE ADAPTED TO WANTS. 85

one to the right and the other to the left. This
division consisted, not of a solid board, but of two
pieces of zinc side by side, and full of very small
holes, too small for the bees to get through, but just
sufficiently large for the bees to push their antennae
through. These two divisions, at first put in side by
side and close together, were then separated an inch
or two one from the other. The consequence was
that, while the bees in the one half, where the queen
happened to be at the time, were as quiet as usual,
and went on working, the bees in the other half
became in a very agitated state, as always is the case
when their queen is removed.

Rut then, as the divisions were full of little holes,
and not like thick board, why could not those
bees, which had the queen on their side, tell the
others that she was not really lost, but as well as
ever? If they could have done this, all would have
been well, and the agitation would have ceased,
but this they could not do, and so the disturbance
went on.

But now the tuo divisions were brought, gradually
and slowly, nearer and nearer together, until at last
they were so near that the bees could almost touch
one another, but still the state of excitement on the
one side continued. The bees on that side could not
be satisfied as to the presence and welfare of their
queen, but when the divisions were brought just a
little nearer, — near enough for the bees on one side
to touch with their antennae the antennae of the bees
on the other side, then immediately all agitation
ceased. The bees evidently at once knew their queen

86 VARIATION OF STRUCTURE.

was safe, and this was quite sufficient, and so went to
work again as usual and quite contentedly. It was a
proof that it is mainly, if not entirely, by the antennae
that bees can communicate with one another.

CHAPTER XX.

STRUCTURE VARYING IN QUEEN, WORKER, AND DRONE.

While reading the previous chapters respecting the
construction of the bee, every part so exquisitely
made for its purpose, you must not forget that what
has been said applies mainly to worker bees. I
mentioned this before, but call your attention to it
again, because, when we look at queens and drones,
we find many of those parts of which I spoke, such as
the tongue, sting, and legs, strikingly altered, in their
respective cases, to meet their special wants and
work.

The queen, for instance, never leaves the hive to
gather honey. It is not her work. Her duties are
entirely at home, and so when we look at her tongue
we find it unlike that of the workers, not so long, and
not made to brush up the sweets from the flowers, but
only fit to lap up honey already brought home, or to
receive it from the other bees, who feed her when
required.

So, again, the queen has no honey-bag in which to
bring home honey from the flowers, and no little
hollows or baskets on her hind-legs in which to carry
the pollen, and no brush-like hairs on her other legs

VARIATION OF STRUCTURE. 87

with which to remove the pollen dust from her body.
All these are invaluable to the workers, but would be
of no use to her, staying always in the hive.

Her sting also is different, for she has no occasion
to use it against the common enemies of the hive.
The workers are alone the fighting population.

And when we look at the drones we find the same
adaptation of structure to the wants of the insect.
We Lhink of them as the idle ones, never going out
to get honey, and doing no work at home ; but in-
deed they could not gather the honey, or bring it
home, or collect the pollen, even if they tried, for, like
the queen, they do not possess a honey-gathering
tongue. Neither have they honey-bag nor pollen-
baskets. To collect food is not their work. And
they could not fight, for they have no sting. Never-
theless you must not think they are useless. Indeed
they are very necessary to the hive. They must be
there if the hive is to prosper.

We can thus trace the workings of Divine Wisdom
not only in the actual construction of every part of
each kind of bee, but also in the way in which each is
fitted for, and made to fill, its own little place in the
community. One is queen, another worker, another
drone, and to each one is given the means by which
it can best fulfil its own duties, and be the most
useful to the community at large.

And if so, we may be quite sure that the same
wise and over-ruling Providence places each one of us
in that position where, if we do our duties faithfully,
we can be most useful ; and that, instead of sometimes
complaining of our lot in life, we shall do far better to

88 COMBS, AND THE FORM OF CELLS.

try and make the best use of all the opportunities of
work and usefulness that are given to us.

' How oft, when wandering far and erring long,
Man might learn truth and virtue from the bee ! '

Occasionally, as before mentioned, under certain
circumstances we find a worker bee which, in the ab-
sence of a queen, tries to act the queen's part and to
lay some eggs. But the consequences are most disas-
trous. The whole colony gets out of order : workers
die, and only drones are born to take their place, and
the colony soon altogether perishes. True example
how each one should be content with the work of his
own proper place, and not try to act the part of those
in a different station of life ; not to be the jackdaw
assuming the peacock's feathers. It seems to tell us
that we only do more harm than good if we tiy
to do so.

CHAPTER XXI.

COMBS, AND THE FORM OF CELLS.

Having considered the bee itself — although there is a
great deal more of the same subject which I hope
you will learn some day — we will now look somewhat
more closely at the house it builds for itself — how 'the
singing masons ' build their ' roofs of gold.'

I have spoken of this before, but only in general
terms, describing how the combs are built of wax,
with cells on each side, and so arranged that there is
just space enough between the combs for the bees to

COMBS, AND THE FORM OF CELLS 89

work in. Now, I want to point out some more of the
wonders of its construction, how the bees

* . . . In firm phalanx ply their twinkling feet.
Stretch out the ductile mass, and form the street,
With many a crossway path and postern gate.
That shorten to their range the spreading state.'

Evans.

And as we do this, I think we shall see it affording
another instance of that marvellous instinct which
guides the bee in all it does, and makes it the cleverest
of architects and the best of builders.

We often talk of the wonders of engineering skill
and man's ingenuity seen in countless inventions. We
look, for instance, with wonder at our railroads and
viaducts, and great bridges, and call them monuments
of engineering skill.

There is, for instance, the marvellous great iron
bridge across the Menai Straits, which hangs as a
great iron tunnel suspended high up from rock to
rock over the waters far below, and yet is so safe and
strong that the heaviest railway trains are continually
and with safety passing over it. No one can see it with-
out admiration of the great skill with which it has been
planned, and of the perfect workmanship shown in its
construction. Everything is provided by countless and
exact calculations to make it strong and secure. And
it was just for the want of some of these calculations,
and some consequent fault of construction, that
on the night of December 28th, 1879, another great
railway bridge, that over the Firth of Tay, in Scot-
land, failed to withstand the force of a great gale of
wind, and in the darkness of the night, and when a

90 COMBS, AND THE FORM OF CELLS.

train with a hundred passengers was passing over it,
fell down, carrying with it into the deep waters below
the whole train, not one passenger in which survived
to tell the tale of the most frightful railway accident
that ever happened.

Or look, again, at some of our great buildings,
wonderfully contrived, skilfully constructed. If you
go to Cambridge ; there, in the magnificent chapel of
King's College, you will see the whole wide space
spanned by a roof of stone of enormous weight,
which from below looks too flat to form an arch, and
yet is so cunningly contrived and built with such skill
that it stands perfectly secure.

But, after all, nothing equals the beauty and per-
fection of Nature's works seen all around us; and there
is hardly a more striking instance of this than in the
cell of the bee. It is absolutely perfection in every
way, in plan and architecture, in material and
strength, and in fitness for its purpose.

Take a piece of comb like that illustrated on the
next page, and the first thing which we notice is the
shape of the cells, that they are six-sided, or hex-
agons, all fitting in close together. And then, if it is
a nice thin piece of clean comb, and we hold it up to
the light, we shall see very plainly that the cells on
one side do not correspond with the cells on the
other, but just the reverse — the centre of any cell on
one side corresponding with the spot where the sides
o<" three cells on the other side meet together.

Then, if we cut away all the cells carefully and
gradually, we shall find that we have, left in our hand,
not a smooth piece of wax, such as would make the

COMBS, AND THE FORM OF CELLS.

91

bottom of each cell quite flat, but a piece of thin wax,
beautifully impressed with little diamond -shaped
pieces put together, the bottom of each cell being

'^TX%

Comb — Worker and Drone.

formed of three such diamond-shaped pieces meeting
in a point, as }'ou see in the drawing below.

/'^ili -^''iljL3

53[i3L5t K

L^WJ^L

Ni^-i'M ^-'llij .•HiiiT ■^J'li ilil

A3b

<^%?3^%?1C^^

X3B

Comb Foundation.

And now, let us try and see how nothing can
be more perfect than all this for the object in view.

92

COMBS, AND THE FORM OF CELLS.

First, then, we can easily understand that that form
and make of cell will be best which economises to
the greatest degree space, material, time and labour
— all of which are very valuable to the bees — and also
provides for the combs being the strongest possible,
consistent with other requirements. They must also,
at the same time, hold as much honey as possible, and
be fitted, when required, for the rearing of the young
bees. Here are a number of conditions to be fulfilled;
and it is most interesting to see how marvellously the
bees are led by their instinct to accomplish the task,
and to get over the difficulties of the problem.

And first we will notice the hexagonal shape of
the cell. Why is this the
best ? Why should it not
be round ? why not a
square } why not an equi-
lateral triangle ?

Well, if the cells were
round it would be better
in one way, and, if the bees
made single cells, standing
out by themselves, I have
no doubt they would make
them round (some wild bees
do so), for a round vessel can contain a greater quantity
of fluid, in proportion to the extent of wall and material,
than any other shape. If you were to take, for in-
stance, the material of which a circular pint measure
is made, you could not make it up into any other
shape, having sides of the same thickness as before,
so as to hold the pint as at first.

Circles.

COMBS, AND THE FORM OF CELLS.

93

But then it would never do for the cells to be
round, because what we gained in one way we should
more than lose in another, for, if round, they would
never fit together, and a great deal of space would be
lost, and, not fitting, they would be very liable to
break. I\Iuch heat also would be lost, a most impor-
tant consideration to the bees. This you can see by
the illustration.

Squares.

Equilateral Triangles.

But, if not round, would not a square shape do ?
Certainly not, for although square cells would very
well fit side by side, all the corners (and it would be
still more so with equilateral triangles) would be very
awkward for the young bees, and, in making these
corners and angles, a great deal of material would be
wasted.

Well then, if the round shape would not do, but
only because circular cells would not fit well side by
side ; and the square shape would not do, because of
all the corners and waste of material ; it follows (try
and understand this) that the best shape for cells is
that which is nearest the shape of the circle, and yet
will allow the cells to lie close together. This shape
is the hexagon, for although an octagon is more like
a circle than a hexagon, a set of octagons would not fit

94 COMBS, AND THE FORM OF CELLS.

together, only indeed a little better than a set of
circles, but hexagons fit together perfectly.

Economy of the Hexagonal P'orm.

Thus, in choosing the hexagon, the bees select
the very best shape possible, that which enables
the cells to hold the greatest quantity of honey
with the least expense of material and waste of
space.

Again, the bees want the combs to have great
strength, and yet to have the walls of the cells very
thin ; the stronger the better and the thinner the
better. But these two things seem contrary. If you
want anything to be strong you generally make it thick.
13ut the bees know better than you, and get over the
difficulty wonderfully. While they make the walls of
the cells as thin as the thinnest paper, yet by making
them, in a most ingenious way, of two layers of wax
joined together, they get a great deal of extra

CGMBS, AND THE FORM OF CELLS. 95

strength. Every cell has, as it were, double walls.
And then again, by the way the cells fit together, and
by the way in which they are arranged on each side
of the comb, so as not to correspond, they get yet
further strength without adding material.

Again, as the bees build a cell, gradually making it
deeper and deeper, they always contrive to leave the
edge, for a time, much thicker than the rest. The cell,
in fact, has always a strong rim, which makes it firm
to resist pressure and weight.

Then again, the arrangement of the little diamond-
shaped pieces of wax at the bottom of the cells, of
which I spoke before, is the most perfect possible.
It is just that one plan which, more than any other,
gives the greatest strength to the whole structure of
both sides of the comb, and also good accommodation
to the young bees. If there were the very slightest
alteration of angle, so as to make the bottom of the
cell either flatter or more pointed, the form of cell
would not be so good for its purpose. This has
been proved by mathematicians as plainly as that
two and two make four. No architect or engineer,
indeed, could possibly have planned all this better.
But without any plan or calculation the bees know it
all by instinct, and follow out this best way with the
most astonishing exactness ; and the result of their
work is thus, as I have described, absolute per-
fection.

' These, with sharp sickle, or with sharper tooth,
Pare each excrescence, and each angle smooth.
Till now, in finished pride, two radiant rows
Of snow-white cells one mutual base disclose,

96 COMBS, AND THE FORM OF CELLS.

Six shining panels gird each polish'd round,
The door's fine rim, with waxen fillet bound,
While walls so thin, with sister walls combined,
Weak in themselves, a sure dependence find.'

Evans.

There is also another difficulty which the bees get
over wonderfully. If the cells were made horizontal,
or at right angles to the middle partition, the honey
would run out, almost as fast as put in, and so what
the bees do is to make every cell slope a little in-
wards, and then, when the honey is put in, it is kept
there, partly by what is called capillary attraction,
and partly because, as they put in more and more, so
much the more do they build up the entrance, until
at last the cell is quite full.

Once more, there is another, and apparently
serious difficulty which they meet with in comb-
building, — but which they soon surmount most in-
geniously,— arising from the drone-cells being larger
than the worker. The width of four drone cells put
together is one inch, which is the same as the width
of five worker cells, measured in the same way. Con-
sequently when drone-cells are built on by the side of
worker cells, there is a difficulty in making them all
fit together. Indeed it is impossible without contri-
vance and some alteration of shape.

How the bees manage you will best understand
from the illustration of a piece of comb in a previous
chapter, at page 91. There you see the two kinds of
cells, the larger and smaller ; and then how the bees
make a few odd-shaped cells, which, being put in
between the large and small cells, soon brings all

MORE ABOUT WHAT THE BEES DO. 97

back into proper shape and order. And the bees do
all this in the dark !

' Is it credible,' says Langstroth, ' that these httle
insects can unite so many requisites in the construction
of their cells, either by chance, or because they arc
profoundly versed in the most intricate mathematics ?
Are we not compelled to acknowledge that the
mathematics by which they construct a shape so
complicated, and yet the only one which can unite so
many desirable requirements, must be referred to the
Creator, and not to His puny creature? To an
intelligent and candid mind, the smallest piece of
honey-comb is a perfect demonstration that there is a
great First Cause.'

' On books deep poring, ye pale sons of toil.
Who waste in studious trance the midnight oil,
Say, can ye emulate, with all your rules.
Drawn or from Grecian or from Gothic schools,
This artless frame ? Instinct her simple guide,
A heaven-taught insect baffles all your pride.
Not all yon marshall'd orbs that ride so high.
Proclaim more loud a present Deity
Than the nice symmetry of these small cells.
Where on each angle genuine science dwells.'

Evans.

CHAPTER XXn.

MORE ABOUT WHAT THE BEES DO.

We pass on now to consider more fully than we have
done before, some particulars of the zvork of the bee
both at home and abroad. I have already said that

H

98 MORE ABOUT WHAT THE BEES DO.

every bee has its work, and works hard — works itself
to death in a short time, but I want to point out a
h'ttle more of the manner in which it works, and how
it uses, and makes the most of, the various materials
. it gathers from the fields.

Of the queen I need not say much more. Her
work is simply, as the honoured mother of the whole
family, to lay the eggs which shall hatch into young
bees to take the place of those lost by death, and
thus keep up the full necessary strength of the colony,
and furnish swarms for emigration. For this purpose
she is made, and, beyond laying eggs, she does
nothing, — never in any way taking care of her eggs
after they are in the cells, but leaving all this to the
workers.

But truly astonishing is the number of eggs the
queen will lay, — as many as even 2000 or 3000 in the
course of a day during the height of the honey season, —
a very good day's work indeed ! A queen has been
seen to lay at the rate of six, or even eight eggs in a
minute, putting each ^gg into its own cell; so that it is
no exaggeration to say, as I mentioned before, that a
queen, in the course of her life of three, four, or even
five years, will lay more than a million of eggs.

The number of eggs, however, that she lays always
greatly varies, not only with her age, but also ac-
cording to the time of year and the weather. An
old queen, as a rule, never lays so many eggs as a
young one. She is generally at her best when from
one to two years old. She will usually begin egg-
laying in February, but instinct guides her not to begin
before there is good promise of sufficient food to be

MORE ABOUT WHAT THE BEES DO. 99

had for the young larvae when the eggs are hatched.
She will, therefore, begin about the time when the
early crocuses appear, as from these and some other
early flowers the bees get a good supply of the food
necessary for the infants. But if the weather is un-
favourable, or the supply of food runs short, egg-
laying is delayed ; and, if already begun, at once, in a
great measure ceases. And at such times, even if the
queen wishes to lay, the workers will prevent her ;
they know the danger of having more young mouths
than they can feed.

* The prescient female rears her tender brood
In strict proportion to the hoarded food.'

Evans.

Aware of this instinct. Bee-keepers take advantage
of it ; and, when they want their queens to begin
laying eggs rather earlier than they otherwise would,
give them a little food — but only a little — day by
day, which satisfies them that their little ones, if
born, will not starve, and therefore that they need not
fear to begin the great work of the year.

It is in May and June that the greatest number of
eggs are laid. In September the queen generally,
more or less, ceases to lay ; although this mainly de-
pends upon the weather, and the honey-giving plants
of the locality, for she will sometimes lay eggs as late as
November. Where there is heather, the breeding season
is continued much longer than in other places. You
see, thus, how in this as in other things, instinct guides
the bee to do just the right thing at the right time.

But after all, perhaps, the most extraordinary fact
about the queen is her power— as mentioned before —

100 MORE ABOUT WHAT THE DEES DO.

of laying such eggs as will produce either drones or
workers, just as required. When in the course of her
egg-laying she comes to a drone-cell, she lays an c^^
which will produce a drone ; and when she lays an
egg in one of the smaller cells, it is one that will
produce a worker.

Of drones, also, we have not much more to say.
You must remember, however, that they are the male
bees of the hive, and that the queen finds a husband
amongst them, but generally from amongst those of
some other hive than her own. Beyond being neces-
sary in this way, it is sometimes thought that the poor
drone is quite useless in the hive. I feel sure that this
is not the case, because, when we really and fully un-
derstand any production of Nature — even the smallest
insect, or even the most minute part of any insect — we
find some good reason for it ; and I am quite certain
the drone in the hive is no exception to the rule.
And although we do not, as yet, fully know all the
good the drone does, or the use of the number of
drones that we often find in a hive; I have no doubt
that they serve one great purpose, and that is, to keep
the interior of the hive nice and warm at a time when
most of the other bees arc out at work. The hive
must be kept to a certain temperature, and always
is so ; and if the drone can do nothing else, at all
c\cnts its big, burly body gives out a great deal of
heat.

When August arrives, however, the drones are no
longer wanted for warmth or any other purpose, as
the other bees stay much more at home. They are
therefore in the way, and a very useless burden in the

MORE ABOUT WHAT THE BEES DO. 101

hive, eating a great deal of the food .which is wanted
for winter supply. The workers, therefore, now get
rid of them, — drive them out of the hive, and leave

them to starve.

' With terror wild.
The father flies his unrelenting child.
Far from the shelter of their native comb,
From flow'r to flow'r the trembling outcasts roam,
To wasps and feather'd foes an easy prey.
Or pine, 'mid useless sweets, the ling'ring hours away.'

EV.ANS.

If the drones resist, the workers may be seen to
seize them in the most determined manner, and with-
out scruple to bite and gnaw their wings at the root,
or wound them elsewhere ; so that, when cast out,
they cannot return, but are left helpless on the ground
and soon perish from cold or wet. Resistance is
useless for —

' All, with united force, combine to drive
The lazy drones from the laborious hive.'

Virgil.

And is there cruelty in all this ? Shall we blame
the bees who thus destroy their companions whom
they have reared with tender care } These are ques-
tions which we can hardly help asking ; but, when we
consider what striking proofs of wisdom we have on
all sides, and how every creature of God is marvel-
lously made and wonderfully provided for, and that
nothing is done without good and sufficient reason,
we cannot doubt but that there is good cause for the
manner of death of the poor drone, as there is also for
his apparent idleness.

102 MORE ABOUT WHAT THE BEES DO.

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE SAME SUBJECT— CONTINUED.

Having considered the queen and the drone, we
proceed now to think more particularly of the
workers. I have spoken of their work before, in a
general way ; and, to make it all clear, I think it is
well I should just remind you of what I have said
on this subject in previous chapters.

Well, we thought a good deal of their industry,
energy, patience, and cheerful work. I also described
how they work early and late, out of doors, making
even a hundred journeys in the day, if only the
weather is fine, and the supply of food plentiful, and
near at hand.

I also spoke of the way in which the bees, living
together in a community, help one another, and work
together, and thus, by united effort, produce the comb,
the brood-nest, and the abundant stores of honey and
pollen, and keep everything neat and in good order.

We saw how much of truth — even if somewhat of
error — there is in Shakespeare's description of —

* The honey bees,
Creatures, that by a rule in nature, teach
The act of order to a peopled kingdom.
They have a king and officers of sorts :
Where some, like magistrates, correct at home ;
Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad ;
Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings,
Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds ;

MORE ABOUT WHAT THE BEES DO. 103

Which pillage they with merry march bring home

To the tent royal of their emperor :

Who, buried in his majesty, surveys

The singing masons building roofs of gold,

The civil citizens kneading up the honey,

The poor mechanic porters crowding in

Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate,

The sad-eyed justice, with his surly hum,

Delivering o'er to executors pale

The lazy yawning drone.'

Kmg Henry V., Act i., Sc. 2.

I also, in a previous chapter, endeavoured to
explain some of the reasons of the form in which
they build the comb — how marvellously they make
it just in that shape, and in that way, which gives the
greatest strength and capacity, with the least material
£.nd space.

What more is there to say of their work ? Well,
a great deal more might be said, and I must pass over
many things. I will, however, mention a few facts of
interest — first of all, respecting their work in the fields
and gardens, and then of their work in the hive.

First, then, of their work abroad.

' The winter banish'd and the heavens reveal'd.
In summer light, they range the woods, the lawns,
They sip the purple flowers, they skim the streams ;
Soon urged by strange emotions of delight
To cherish nest and young.'

Virgil (by Kennedy).

It is a question often asked, ' How far will bees go
from their hives in order to find, and bring home, the
honey.-*' I dare say you will like to know, and I am
sure that what I have to say will surprise you, and

101 MOKE ABOUT WHAT THE BEES DO.

make you feci, more than ever, what wonderful little
insects our friends are.

Generally speaking, animals, birds, and insects do
not go very far in order to obtain food for theii
young. In order to supply their own wants, and
when they have no home with young, they will, as
we all know, go far and wide; and many birds will
migrate from one country to another ; but when they
have young — as the bees have in their hives — their
journeys are limited. Rooks and pigeons will go
some distance ; so will foxes, amongst animals ; but
I imagine there is hardly any animal, bird, or insect
that will go so far as the little bee.

The way in which this has been found out has
been by marking bees in a particular way, and then
going to some distant favourite place, and there
finding the marked bees.

'A gentleman, wishing to test this fact, dusted
with fine flour his bees as they emerged from a hive.
Then, driving to a heath five miles distant, which he
knew to be much frequented by the insects, he soon
found many of those which he had sprinkled at
home.'*

But even more wonderful than this, cases have
been known of bees actually going seven miles from
home on the same errand. At the same time, how-
ever, we may say that two or three miles is, perhaps,
quite the limit within which the bees can collect honey
with much profit. The stores collected from a greater
distance cannot repay the extra labour and time
expended.

* Harris.

MORE ABOUT WHAT THE BEES DO. 105

But, on the other hand, the actual time occupied
in any journey is not long. It is only, when many
journeys have to be taken, that it is of much moment,
for the swiftness with which bees fly is very astonish-
ing. They very soon cover a mile of ground. We
see them dart from their hives, and in a moment they
are out of sight ; but, great as this pace is, I have no
doubt, when out of sight, and * the steam is up,' they
go faster still. We gather some idea of this from
what we have seen when travelling in a fast train
with the carriage windows open. A wasp, or bee,
attracted by some sweets within, will fly in and out
of the windows, apparently as easily as if the train
were at rest. On the other hand, a partridge, fright-
ened by the passing train, and flying along the line,
will hardly keep pace with the carriage in which you
are seated.

Another remarkable fact connected with the bees'
work is, that when in search of honey and pollen,
they do not go from one kind of flower to another,
but always keep to the same kind during any one
journey. Whatever the kind of flower they begin
with, they go on with, until ready to return home.
They do not, for instance, go from mignonette to
sweet-pea, although both may be growing in the
same border ; but if they begin with mignonette,
they go on with it, and so with the sweet-pea.

One would have thought that they would go to
the flower which came most conveniently in their way,
without making any selection ; but such a mixture
would never do. So, if you examine a little pellet
of pollen when brought home, you may find it deep

106 HONEY, POLLEN, AND PROPOLIS.

yellow or light, or it may be red or brown ; but you
will not find these colours mixed. It will be all of
one colour, coming from one kind of flower. You
will hear, later on, why this is, and that it is one
of those wise provisions of the Ruler of all, which
gives us what is beautiful and profitable in our
fields and gardens. At present, however, I only
wan*", you to remember the fact.

CHAPTER XXIV.

MORE ABOUT HONEY, POLLEN, AND PROPOLIS.

And now, what is honey ? Is it something made, or
only gathered ? You know that it comes from the
sweet liquid sometimes called ' nectar,' which is pro-
duced, or, as it is termed, secreted, with considerable
rapidity by the flowers, especially when the weather
is warm and sunny — so much so, that a bee may in
such weather go very frequently in a day to the same
flower, and take all away, and yet, when it comes
back, find more ready for it.

If, however, it v/ere possible, and we ourseh'es
were to collect all this same sweet liquid, it would
hardly be what we call honey, and it would soon
become acid. But when collected by the bee, it
undergoes some slight change in the honey-bag,
and then, when it is put into the cells, the bees are
very careful not to seal it up at once. They leave

HONEY, POLLEN, AND PROPOLIS. 107

it for a time so that all the watery liquid in the honey
may pass away or evaporate. It then becomes thick,
and will keep good for a great length of time. And
thus, although, as I have said, the bees do not make it,
they do something more than merely collect it.

In flavour, it varies very much according to the
source from whence it comes. The very best honey
is gathered from the white clover, although some
people think that no honey is to be compared with
that which is gathered from the heaths.

When the bee goes from home, to gather pollen,
it often undesignedly collects it over its whole body ;
for in many flowers the pollen is like the finest dust,
which is shaken off in clouds as soon as the flower is
touched. The bee then has to get it off its body, and
on to its pollen legs. This it does by means, as
before described, of its other brush-like legs ; but it is
sometimes so covered that you will see it return to its
hive like a little miller, when the other bees come to
its help and remove it all.

When, however, in the process of honey-gathering,
the pollen sticks to its tongue, we may well ask how
it gets it off, and on to its pollen legs ? This might
well seem difficult, but, like every difficulty, it is pro-
vided for. On the fore-legs of the bees there is a
very curious little notch. You will see it in the
illustration, which is that of a portion of the leg
magnified. It is thus described by Root : —

' There is a little blade, as it were, at B, that
opens and shuts ; and the bee, when its tongue is
well loaded, just puts it into the grooved or fluted
cavity, then shuts down B, and gives its tongue a

108 HONEY, POLLEN, AND PROPOLIS.

wipe so quickly that it leaves conjurors all far in the
shade.' This little notch is also used in the same
way for cleaning the antennse. How marvellous this
contrivance ! You see again how everything has an
object and use.

Leg with notch, magnified.

But then it has to get this sticky pollen from its
fore-legs into the pollen - baskets. How does it
manage this ? Well, between the pollen-gathering
legs and the pollen-basket legs are another pair, and
these play a very important part in the operation.
With the tongue, fore-leg, and middle leg, the bee
pads up the pollen and honey until there is quite a
wad of it, and then, with a very quick motion, almost
too quick to be seen, carries this little cake, scarcely
so large as the head of a small pin, between the
middle and fore-leg, back to the pollen-basket. When
in place, it is firmly pressed, and then neatly patted
down with the middle leg, and so is ready to be
carried home.*

The propolis is carried home by the bees in the
same way as pollen. The bees gather it chiefly from
the sticky buds of certain trees, such as the chestnut,

* From Root.

HONEY, POLLEN, AND PROPOLIS. 109

fir, and poplar; and also from the gum which oozes
out through the bark of these and other trees.

' With merry hum the willow's copse they scale,
The fir's dark pyramid, or poplar pale,
Scoop from the alder's leaf its oozy flood,
Or strip the chestnut's resin-coated bud.'

Evans.

The bees use it, as you have been told before, for
se\eral purposes, but chiefly for filling up all cracks
and chinks, which otherwise would let in cold air
But, at the same time, they are quite ready to put it
to other uses as occasion offers.

Here are two curious instances, showing how
cunningly and ingeniously they contrive to meet
difficulties. A snail once crept into a hive. What
could the bees do with it ? They could not sting it
through its shell. They could not drag or drive it
out. What they did was to surround the edge of the
shell with propolis, and so to fasten it down tight to
the floor of the hive. A little was sufficient, and all
air was excluded, and the snail was, as it were, buried
in its own shell.

On another occasion a slug entered a hive. This
the bees soon stung to death. But then, how were
they to remove it ? And, if left, the smell of its
decay would be unbearable. This apparent puzzle
the bees soon solved, for they at once covered the
whole body with a coating of propolis, which made it
quite as harmless as if it had been buried.

' For soon in fearless ire, their wonder lost,
Spring fiercely from the comb th' indignant host,

110 HOW WAX IS MADE.

Lay the pierced monster breathless on the ground,
And dap in joy, their victor pinions round.
While all in vain concurrent numbers strive.
To heave the slime-girt giant from the hive, —
Sure not alone by force instinctive sway'd,
But blest with reason's soul-directing aid,
Alike in man or bee, they haste to pour.
Thick-hardening as it falls, the flaky shower ;
Embalm'd in shroud of glue the mummy lies,
No worms invade, no foul miasmas rise.'

Evans.

Who of us, indeed, with all our reasoning powers,
could have thought of a better plan ?

CHAPTER XXV.

WAX, AND HOW THE BEES MAKE IT.

Our next chapter must be about another, and very
important material of the hive, of which at present
we have said but little. We have thought of the
comb and its form, now w^e must consider the wax
of which it is made. The questions which suggest
themselves are these : What is wax ? How is wax
made ? At one time it was commonly supposed that
wax was made of the little pellets of pollen which the
bees were seen to take into the hive. Now, however,
we know better, and that, although pollen may have
something to do with it indirectly, wax is really made
of honey, and honey alone, by a most curious and
elaborate process. I must not try to explain it all

JIOIF IVAX IS MADE. Ill

to you, but in order to understand a little of the
process you must first look at the under side of the
abdomen of a bee, and there, if the bee is occupied in
comb-building, you will see some very small flakes or
scales of wax sticking to it in several places, which
places are often called ' wax-pockets.' These little
flakes of wax are produced from the honey in the
honey -bag, which undergoes a certain course of
preparation within the bee, and then is secreted, and
appears, not as honey, but as wax. Generally speak-
ing, these little bits of wax can only be produced
when the bees are in a great heat; and thus, when
they require to make wax, they first of all have their
honey-bags full, and then have a way of hanging
together in what looks like a solid cluster, but which
really consists, so to speak, of a great many ropes of
bees clinging to one another. In this curious posi-
tion they remain perfectly quiet, and great heat is
produced.

Then, after a time, the little wax -scales make
their appearance, and these, when duly formed, the
bee carries away to the place where it is wanted, and
where other bees fashion it into the required shape.
It is not, however, quite fit for use as it comes from
the wax-pockets, and, before using it, the bees mix it
with a kind of saliva, and knead it up with their
jaws.

It thus takes a great deal of time and trouble,
and a great many bees, to make a little wax ; so
much so that it is a fact that the bees consume as
much as twenty pounds of honey to make one pound
of wax, so that it is in every way a very expensive

112 HOIV WAX IS MADE.

material, and it is of great importance to the bees that
they should make as little of it as possible.

It used to be thought that the wax-makers were a
special set of bees by themselves, but this is not the
case. All the workers, more or less, take their turn,
except the very young bees.

And now of these young bees, these children of
the hive, I must say something that you must try and
remember. It is this — that these young ones do not
leave the hive for two or three weeks after they are
born, except at times for short flights to play and
take exercise like children. All this time they re-
main at home to get strength, and (shall we say ?) be
taught their duties. But, although they stay at home,
they are by no means idle. Do not think this for a
moment. Indeed, they have most important work to
do, and they do it like useful children.

First of all, the task is given to them of looking
after and nursing the young grubs in the brood nest.
For these they prepare the food, and put it in the cells;
and then when the proper time comes, seal the cells
over, doing everything that is necessary. These young
bees are often called the nurses, and very good nurses
they are.

They are also in great measure, although not al-
ways, the comb-builders, taking the wax from the
wax-makers, and fashioning it into the proper shape.
They also do much other work, storing away into the
cells the honey and pollen brought in by the other bees.

They are, indeed, very useful young bees, very
helpful to the mother in the care of her little ones,
and although not old enough to go out into the fields

114 NIGHT WORK AND VENTILATION.

— the wide world — yet quite ready to do anything at
home which is within their power; and in this set an
example to children who, even when quite young,
should be cheerfully ready, as far as possible, to assist
their mother, always seeking to be helpful children.

CHAPTER XXVI.

NIGHT-WORK AND VENTILATION.

And now is it not wonderful to think that a great
deal of all this work goes on at night, — more indeed
at night, when all the bees arc at home, than in the
day, when many are absent ? Except during winter
the bees are always hard at work ; they improve not
only the ' shining hour,' but the darkest hour. They
never leave for another day, or even hour, what can
be done at once. If any repairs are needed they
well know by their wonderful instinct how true it is
that ' a stitch in time saves nine.'

Virgil makes the mistake of saying that they
sleep at night :

' . . . . When eve at length
Admonishes to quit the bahny field,
Home to refresh their weariness they come ;
Awhile about the doors and avenues
Thronging with drowsy hum, till in their beds
Couch'd for the night, a silence o'er them creeps,
And all their busy life is lull'd to rest.'

Virgil (by Kennedy).

Very much more might be said on all this subject

NIGHT WORK AND VENTILATION. 115

of the bees' work, what they do and what they
make, but I will only mention one other thing.
It is another kind of work, and very hard work,
although it is all done while the bees stand still
in one place !

Go to a hive in summer time, and you will see, at
the entrance, several bees (and there are many more
inside doing the same thing) standing with their
heads toward the hive's entrance, and keeping up
the most rapid movement with their wings ; and so
intent are they on their work that they give no heed
to anything else, although many bees, going into the
hive, may knock against them, and almost go over
them. On they go with their work until quite tired
out, when others take their place. What is it all for ?

Well, it is for what is called ventilation, in order to
blow, as with a fan, a quantity of fresh pure air,
from the outside, into the hive to take the place of
that which has become bad and unwholesome, owing
to the number of bees and the confined space.
As the good air is forced in, the bad air is forced
out. It is the same with the hive as with our
own rooms. These, as you know, — or ought to know,
— must have their windows regularly opened, or, at
all events, fresh air let in by some means, for, if not,
they become most unwholesome, particularly if many
people are in them. Nothing is of more importance.
It is absolutely necessary to health, and you must
always remember it. And so it is with the bees, and
they know it ; and, as they cannot open windows, they
adopt this ingenious plan of blowing in the fresh air
by their wings; and so thoroughly well does it answer

116 DIVISION OF LABOUR,

the purpose that, however hot the weather, they al-
ways manage, unless there is disease in the hive, to
keep the air in a pure state.

Besides the bees who thus ventilate the hive you
will see others also at the entrance, acting as guards,
watching for any enemy or strange bee, but in a
moment recognising their friends by a touch of their
antennae, and letting them pass. See, however, a fly
or a wasp come near, and out they rush at once,
ready to fight boldly, if necessary, even to the death.

* . . . . Some are bid
To keep strict sentry at the outer gate,
And take their turns of watching cloud and rain.'

Virgil.

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE DIVISION OF LABOUR IN THE HIVE.

In the next place, we see in all this varied work
a striking example of the importance and results
of division of labour. You have all read stories
about this, how not even a little pin is made without
a great number of people — men, women, boys, and
girls having had part in it. Or you have read how,
when a house is built, although only a few hands are
seen to work upon it, thousands have really done
something towards it, in preparation of materials, in
bringing them by rail and ship to the spot, in making
the tools, and so on.

' So works the honey-bee.'

DIVISION OF LABOUR. 117

As each day comes round each bee has its special
work. Some gather honey, some pollen, some pro-
polis, and, of those at home, some are ventilating,
some guarding the entrance, and others are attending
the queen, or are wax-making, or storing the honey
and pollen, or nursing and feeding the young, and
so on :

' Some o'er the public magazine preside
And some are sent new forage to provide ;
These drudge the fields abroad, and those at home
Lay deep foundation for the labour'd comb,
With dew, Narcissus leaves, and clammy gum,
To pitch the waxen flooring some contrive,
Some nurse the future nation of the hive ;
Sweet honey some condense, some purge the grout,
The rest in cells apart the liquid nectar shut.'

Virgil (by Dryden).
Thus :

* Each morning sees some work begun,
Each evening sees its close.'

And by division of labour, as well as by hard work,
they bring about their great results.

And then another thing in all this work of the
bee, which we cannot fail to notice with admiration,
is the great importance which they attach to little
things, teaching us that it is by sticking to our work
and attending to little things that we shall best suc-
ceed in anything that we have to do. Just look
at the bee's care and attention to the smallest things
— to do the smallest things in the best way. And
observe again — as mentioned before — how they are
never wasteful. It is indeed but very little that any

118 DIVISION OF LABOUR.

one single bee can do. According to careful calcula-
tion, any one bee does not collect more than a tea-
spoonful of honey in a season. And yet see what
is brought about by all thus working together, and
all doing their little, and putting their little stores
together. See the full hive as the result. And even
the full hive is not all, for they will sometimes make
lOO lbs., or even more, of honey — over and above
all they store in the body of the hive — which the
bee-keeper may take as the reward of his care and
trouble.

But after all, if we only take notice, all nature
around us is full of the same great lesson — how much
can be done by little workers and care of little things.

One of the most curious and wonderful examples
has been pointed out and explained by Mr. Darwin, —
the great naturalist, and perhaps the closest and most
ingenious observer of nature who ever lived. We
think the little worms the most insignificant of crea-
tures ; but he has shown that what the little worms
have done, and now are doing, is most astonishing.
The worm throws up its tiny 'worm-cast,' and we think
nothing of it. It is the most trifling thing possible ;
but in the course of ages these little morsels heaped
together have been the means of changing in appear-
ance large tracts of land.

It is, perhaps, more wonderful still to look at the
lofty chalk cliffs of our sea-shore, and to know that
they were formed in the course of countless ages by
the work of some of the smallest of insects — insects
so minute as only to be seen by a microscope.

And, yet again, we see the same in the mighty

DIVISION OF LABOUR.

119

work of the little coral insects, which, in countless
numbers through countless ages, raise from the depths
of the sea in tropical climates, islands and reefs of
coral rock ; which in many places form harbours of
shelter for great ships, and, in others, most dangerous
hidden rocks, upon which many a good ship has been
wrecked.

Well, with these examples before you — and es-
pecially that of our friends, the bees — learn the value,
and learn to make the most of, little things. Let
me remind you of some good old sayings: 'Waste not,
want not;' 'A pin a-day is a groat a-year;' 'Take care
of the pence, the pounds will take care of themselves.'
Yes, ' take care of the pence.' Put your pence into a
Savings' Bank. There is a Savings' Bank at nearly
every post-ofifice, where you may do this. Or perhaps
you have a Penny Bank in your parish. I could tell
you many stories of such a bank in a country village,
where many a child by taking care of pence soon
became possessed of pounds ; but now I can only
say that you may look at the hive as a great savings'
bank. The bees, with care and labour, put in their
little gatherings ; and the result is plenty for them-
selves, and plenty for us as well.

' Little drops of water,
Little grains of sand,
]Make the mighty ocean,
And the beauteous land.

' Little deeds of kindness,
Little words of love,
Make our earth an Eden
Like the heaven above.'

120

OBSERVATION OF BEES.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

MORE ABOUT THE OBSERVATION OF BEES.

IM a former chapter I spoke of the importance of
keeping our eyes open, and that, if we do so, we shall
see wonders all around us ; and I spoke of Huber, the
great observer of bees, and how he discovered many

things although blind.
But I suppose we should
never have known many
of the facts of which I
have told you,withoutthe
help of what are called
* Observatory Hives.'
Such a hive is made, as
you see in the illustra-
tion, with glass slides or
hirgc windows, and of
such little depth between
back and front that it
will not hold two combs
side by side. There is,
however, just room for
one comb between the
two glass sides or windows ; and the consequence
is that every bee in the hive can be seen, either on
one side or the other. The glass sides have wooden
shutters ; but the bees soon get accustomed to having
them open, and go on working away as usual while
you are looking at them closely.

Observatory I live.

OBSER VA TION OF BEES. l2l

Thus through the glass you will easily and plainly
see the queen, as she walks over the combs laying her
eggs, and surrounded by her attendants ; and you
will see all the care of the nurse-bees — how they feed
the larvae, and how the comb is made, and the cells
filled with honey and pollen. And as these observatory
hives are generally kept in a room, and have a way
for the bees to go out and come in through a little
hole in the wall, there is no difficulty about obser\'ing
everything without danger of being stung.

How to manage one of these hives you will
perhaps learn at a future day from other books.
These hives are a comparatively modern invention,
but even Huber had something of the kind, which he
called a ' leaf-hive.' It was made like a book with
three or four leaves, each so-called leaf containing
one little comb, the bees getting into the leaves by a
common entrance at, what we may call, the back of
the book. Although far inferior to the modern ob-
servatory hives it was another proof of his great skill
and ingenuity.

We will now conclude this part of our book with
one more example of what can be done by observation.

Sir John Lubbock, who, as I described before,
made such interesting experiments as to the daily
work of bees, and who has made many others re-
specting their hearing, smelling, and affection for one
another, was anxious to determine how far bees, as
they fly from flower to flower, can distinguish one
colour from another ; and he contrived to discover it
in the following ingenious manner.

First of all, he got a bee from one of his hives to

122 OBSER VA TION OF BEES.

come to some honey, which he put upon a small
piece of glass, placed upon some coloured paper.
After the bee, which he marked with paint, had be-
come well accustomed to go backwards and for-
wards, carrying some of the honey to its hive — and
while it was away — he arranged near the glass first
one and then several other pieces of glass, each with
honey, but each with a different-coloured piece of
paper underneath. Thus, when the bee came back
from time to time, there were pieces of glass with
honey looking different to its first original piece —
perhaps blue, or red, or yellow. But, although all
might be tempting, the bee knew its own colour, and
went to its old place.

But novv further to test it, — while it was away — the
paper under its own piece of glass was removed, and
made to exchange place with another bit of paper ;
so that in the old place, although glass and honey
were the same, they appeared of a different colour.
And now what did the bee do ? Soon it came back,
and was going straight to its old place, but saw at
once that things were altered ; and so stopped and
hovered for a moment, but soon caught sight of its
own colour, and went straight to it. In other words,
colour was, to a certain extent, its guide to the food.
This experiment, after it had been tried again and
again, and in various ways, was conclusive that bees
do know something of colour ; and therefore can
distinguish one flower from another by colour.

By a scries of further experiments he found out
that if bees have any preference to one colour more
than another, it is to blue.

INTRODUCTION TO BEE-KEEPING. 123

CHAPTER XXIX.

INTRODUCTION TO BEE-KEEPING.

If you have read the former part of this book with
attention, you now feel, I hope, some interest in
the subject of bees, and see that they are indeed
marvellous little insects, deserving of all care and
attention. As a consequence, I hope you feel that
you would like to keep bees, and see for yourself
some of the wonderful things of which I have been
speaking. And I am quite sure that, if you only
have a suitable place in which to keep them, and,
chief of all, if you have got, as it is termed, ' a head
on your shoulders,' and a kind heart to love all God's
creatures— ' all things both great and small' — and to
treat them well, you may thus keep them, and find
enjoyment in the pursuit, and also get some profit in
the shape of money for the savings' bank. Boys and
girls of thirteen or fourteen years old may very well
keep and manage one or two hives.

But how can you make even such a start as this ?
Well, I will tell you. You must begin bee-keeping by
keeping together your pence and sixpences— by
saving up with care— until you have got together
perhaps ten shillings, or a little more, with which to
buy a stock or swarm of bees in a straw hive. This
will be a small beginning, but it is best to begin in a
little way. There is a proverb which says, 'Who
goes slowly goes long, and goes far.' And again it

124 INTRODUCTION TO BEE-KEEPING.

has been wisely said, ' To know how to wait is the
great secret of success.' A great many people fail in
bee-keeping because they try to begin with every-
thing at once ; and do things on a large scale with
modern inventions, before they have had any expe-
rience of practical management, or have tried their
hands at some of the very simplest things.

It is with bee-keeping as with every other pursuit,
you cannot get up the ladder of success all at once.
You must begin with the first round, and get higher
step by step, using, first of all, simple means, with care
and industry. ' Fortune favours industry.' Smiles, in
Self Help, has well said, ' The greatest results in life
are usually attained by simple means and the exercise
of ordinary qualities. The great highroad of human
welfare lies along the old highway of steadfast well-
doing, and they who are the most persistent, and
work in the truest spirit, will invariably be the most
successful. Fortune has often been blamed for her
blindness, but Fortune is not so blind as men are.
Those who look into practical life will find that
Fortune is usually on the side of the industrious.
Success treads on the heels of every right effort.
Nor are the qualities necessary to ensure success at
all extraordinary. They may, for the most part, be
summed up in these two — common sense and per-
severance.'

Very thoroughly docs this apply to bee-keeping.
You will succeed if you exercise * common sense ' and
' perseverance.' First of all, then, make up your mind
to take trouble in the matter. Remember, that if
there is anything you can do fairly well without

^INTRODUCTION TO BEE-KEEPING. 125

trouble or difficulty ,you will generally be able to do
it much better by giving it some thought. Determine
then that you will succeed with bee-keeping, and that,
at all events, you will not fail through negligence.

It is very sad to see the poor bees in some
gardens, uncared for and neglected, put away in
some damp, dismal corner. They are thus often
left to themselves, to live or die ; and yet people
wonder why others get honey and profit, and they
get none, I remember once being asked by the lady
of a large country-house to examine some hives in
the garden. They were not successful. They made
no honey. It must be a bad country, or a bad year.
Such things were said. But what did I find ? I
remember well one miserable straw skep, rotten and
broken down, with a large hole rotted through the
top, through which one could see the combs and the
poor bees at work — a hole letting out all heat, and
letting in the rain. It was a melancholy sight !
Think whether you could live in such a house,
almost tumbling down, \vith the windows gone, and
the roof partly off, and all damp and cold ! Poor
bees ! What could they do in such circumstances ?
It was a satisfaction to be able to save their lives.

It is a good old saying that, ' if a thing is worth
doing at all, it is worth doing well.' And I am sure
it is so with bee-keeping ; so that I hope, before you get
even a single hive, you will resolve to manage your
bees in the very best way you can. Try to excel in
the management. It was said of the great Lord
Brougham that ' such was his love of excellence, that
if his station in life had been only that of a shoe-

126 IXTRODUCTION TO BEE-KEEPING,

black, he would never have rested satisfied until he
had become the best shoeblack in England.' And
such efforts to excel will not only give the satisfac-
tion of success, but, in the case of bee-keeping, will
best bring actual profit.

Good management always pays. We see example
of this every day in every condition of life. Some
people, by management, seem to make a shilling go
as far as two shillings in the hands of others. Some
people, for want of management, are always behind-
hand in everything, and always in trouble in con-
sequence. For a garden, for instance, good manage-
ment, as well as good labour, is necessary. A great
deal of work may be done, but unless it is well-
directed work, or, in other words, unless there is
management, much of it will be thrown away. It
is the same with a farm. If it is worth while to farm
at all, it is worth while to farm well ; and the better
the land is farmed, the better will it pay. In short,
management and labour must go together in order to
bring success.

Virgil gives us a good example of all this, de-
scribing his visit to an old gardener of his day, who,
in all he did, fully carried out the great principle, and
by labour and management took first place both with
his garden and his bees : —

' For once do I remember to have seen

An old Corycian gardener, who possest
A few scant acres of forsaken ground.
For pasture or for ploughing all too poor,
Ungenial for the vine ; yet here he rais'd
His vegetable fare, verbenas, lilies.

FIRST PRINCIPLES OF BEE-KEEPING. 127

Esculent poppies in the brake he sowed,
Rich as a king in happiness ; and home
Returning late at eve, his frugal board
With unbought dainties coverd : first was he
To cull the vernal rose, the autumn fruit ;
And when a wintery frost was even yet
Splitting the rock and fettering the stream,
That old man shore the soft acanthine leaf,
Chiding the zephyr and the spring's delay.
Therefore his hives the first with offspring teem'd
And swarms abundant ; soonest would the combs
Their foaming juices to his pressure yield :
The pine, the linden flourish'd best with him ;
And every blossom that with beauty clothed
His orchards to autumnal ripeness grew.'

Virgil (by Kennedy).

Of course in bee-keeping-, as in other things, there
may be unavoidable failures. There are often bad
seasons for bees, and there are summers cold and wet,
when but little honey can be gathered, but perse-
verance, as I have said, will win the day at last. It
is said that George Stephenson, the great engineer,
when addressing young men, was accustomed to sum
up his best advice to them in these words, 'Do as
I have done — persevere.'

CHAPTER XXX.

FIRST PRINCIPLES OF BEE-KEEPING.

I will now tell you a little about bee-keeping, but you
must quite understand that this book is not intended
as a guide-book. Such a book, you will have to get ;

128 FIRST PRINCiri.ES OF BEE-KEEPING.

and I especially recommend one called TJie Britisli
Bee-keepers Guide-book, by T. W. Cowan, or another
called Modern Bee-keeping, published at ^d., by the
British Bee-Keepers' Association.

All that I can now tell you about bee-keeping
will be the chief principles on which you must act.
I want you so to understand these first principles
that you never do anything simply because a book
tells you, but rather because from what it tells you —
you understand why you are to do it, and why it is
the best way.

And now talking of first principles, the first great
rule to be observed is, of course, Never to kill the bees
for the sake of the honey. The old-fashioned way of
murder in the sulphur-pit must entirely be done away
with ; you know, from what has been said before, what
a cruel, foolish, and improvident way it is, and I need
say no more on the subject.

But the next great principle I must explain more
fully. It is. Always to take care to have a great^
number of bees in every hive — to keep the colonies
strong. This is called 'the golden rule' of bee-keeping.
You will learn that this can be done, and how best to
do it, at a future time from guide-books. Now I
only ask you to remember it as a great principle of
successful bee-keeping, that the greater number of
bees there are in the hive, the better the work goes
on. And this is the case, not only because there
are more workers to bring in honey, and ' many hands
make light work,' but because a better heat is kept
up, and the bees work with greater spirit. It is
also a curious fact, as I will explain at a future

F//iST PRINCIPLES OF BEE-KEEPING. 129

time, tliat in winter a great number of bees in a hive
will eat less food than a smaller number.

I can also explain the advantage of a number of
bees in another way. Suppose I have a hive that
contains 40,000 bees; and of these, we will say, 30,000
go out to gather honey, and 10,000 stay at home to
keep it warm. And then — to compare with this strong
hive — I have two others, each containing just half the
number of bees, namely, 20,000. In each of these
two hives the same heat must be kept up, as in the
first hive, and, to effect this, the same number of bees —
namely, 10,000 — must remain at home, and so only
10,000 can go out from each hive to gather honey ; that
is to say, — adding these gatherers together, — we have
only 20,000 gatherers from both hives, whereas we
had 30,000 from the one hive at first ; so that we
have actually 10,000 more gatherers from the one
strong hive than we have from the two weak ones put
together. Always remember, then, ' the golden rule.'

And now if you are going to 'keep bees' you very
hkely ask. What kind of bees shall I keep .'' Are
they to be Italians, or the common bees .'' And, what
kind of hive am I to get ? If you ask my advice, I
would say that you had better not trouble yourself
with such questions at first. You will learn, after
a time, that Italians are the best and most profit-
able, and you will learn a great deal about hives, but
never mind all this at present. Probably you want to
begin without spending much money, and if so, your
best plan will be, as I have said, to buy a stock of
common bees in a straw skep, and wait a year, and
see what you can do with it.

K

130

FIRST PRINCIPLES OF BEE-KEEPING.

If you can get the constant advice of some near
neighbour who understands the modern hive, you may
begin with one ; but, generally speaking, it will be
better for the first }-ear to stick to the straw skep ;
and if you manage well, you will by that time

have gained valuable ex-
perience, and also a little
money with which to buy
a better hive, and to be-
gin more thoroughly.
Only take care, when
you buy the stock, that
you get a good, strong,
and healthy one ; and
one that is not more
than a year or two old,
and one that has a young
queen. Ask some bee-
keeper of experience to
help you in your pur-
chase. You will also
do well to get it early
in the year, even if you
give a little more for it ;
for then you will soon
get a swarm from it, and
so almost begin with two
hives instead of one.
In the next place, be a little particular about the
shape of the straw skcp. It ought generally to be
one of medium size — although this may vary ac-
cording to locality ; and have a good hole at the top,

Straw Hive and Super.

FINST PRIXCIPLES OF BEE-KEEPING. 131

closed with a cap or cork. And, above all, let it have
a flat top, as in the illustration, because you will
want to place upon it, what is called a super, in which
the bees will make honey for you to take, and this
super will not stand well if the top is round. And
then by some means you must manage to keep the
hive dry ; placing over it some kind of covering, so
that no rain can reach it to make it damp. And,
when you choose a place for it to stand, see that it is
well sheltered from cold winds, and in a situation
where, as far as possible, the early sun v.-ill shine upon
it. A guide-book will give you other directions, but
these are the chief things to remember.

Formerl}' the straw skep was nearly the only kind
of hive used, and many bee-keepers even now, prefer
them to others. And certainly such hives have their
advantages. They do not require so much care or
trouble as other hives ; and bees thrive very well in
them for a time, for the straw is a very good material
to keep the bees warm in winter, and at the right tem-
perature in summer. And although they are called old-
fashioned, they may easily be kept without there being
any necessity to kill the bees in the old-fashioned, cruel
way. And very good honey may be obtained from
them, although not nearly the quantity which we
get from the more modern hives.

But at the same time they have their disadvan-
tages, and I am only advising you to get such a hive
just to begin with, and that you may get accustomed
to the bees; and also that }'ou may, when you want
it, get a swarm to put into a better hive. The dis-
advantages, indeed, are so many and so serious that

132 FIRST PKINCIPT.es OF BEE-KEEPING.

I hope you will not be content without soon having
something better.

To give you some idea of these disadvantages
suppose something goes wrong with the bees — some
of their enemies get inside, or the bees are ill, as
sometimes is the case ; — you know that it is so, that
things are wrong ; but what can you do ? There the
bees are, safely shut up in a hive, where you cannot
either see or help them. There are things you could
do, and remedies you could apply, which would soon
put all straight again, but you are helpless to do
anything.

Think how it would be if you yourself were in
similar circumstances. We will suppose that you are
ill, and the doctor sent for. He comes, and feels your
pulse, and asks you many questions, and so prescribes
his medicine. But what could the doctor do if, when
he came, he had to stand outside the house, and not
even see you through a window ? And of what use
would be all his medicine if, when brought, it had to
be set down outside the house, and there was no
one to bring it in ? You see, of course, the absurdity
of the whole thing. And yet this is much the case
with the bees in a straw hive when things go wrong.
We cannot get at them, either to see what is amiss, or
to give them any remedy.

And then there are frequently other occasions
when many things can be done to assist the bees, and
to make them into thriving colonies, if only we are
able to see into the hive? "^nd to handle the separate
combs.

And now, keeping all this in '"^w we see not only

THE FRAME HIVE. 133

the objections to straw skeps, but also what are the
chief points to be observed in the construction of any
good hive. It must, we see, be so constructed that
we can easily and thoroughly examine it in every
part, and, if necessary, see every bee and all that is
going on within — what is right and what is wrong.

CHAPTER XXXI.

THE FRAME-HIVE AND THE PRINCIPLES OF ITS
CONSTRUCTION.

In the modern hive, all that I have spoken of in
the last chapter, as most necessary, can be done
perfectly and with ease. This is the Moveable
Comb or Frame-Hive. It is constructed in a
hundred different ways, but in all there is the great
principle of the moveable frame. In a general way-
it may be said that the principal part of the interior
of the hive is simply a warm, dry box, of a certain
size, and made very exactly to that size. It may
or may not stand upon legs ; and, instead of an
ordinary flat top, it has a roof, like a house, so made
that it can be lifted off without difficulty.

But we are now chiefly concerned with the frames,
which are shaped as shown in the illustration, and of
which there are a number — at least ten — with which
the body of the hive is filled. All these frames can
easily be taken out of the hive. They have, you

134

THE FRAME HIVE.

see, shoulders (these shoulders are made of various
patterns) which rest on ledges running along the sides
of the hive. They are made, also,
just a little smaller than the inside
of the hive, so that when they are
in their places they hang quite loose
and free, as seen in the illustration
on the next page. You will thus
easily understand that if we can
only get the bees to make their
combs in these frames, and exactly
Frame. straight and true, we shall have

obtained what we wanted, and be able to lift them
out, one by one, just as we require, and see every part
of the hive and every bee.

If, however, the bees do not build their combs
straight and true in every frame, but crossways or
crooked, we are no better off than without them. So
that this is the first essential thing with a frame-hive
— to get the frames filled properly with comb. The
hive may be very beautifully made, but all is useless
unless the bees build their combs exactly straight
and true in all the frames.

To get the bees to do this might seem very
difficult. Formerly it would have been thought out
of the question. It is, however, really the easiest
thing possible, by means of sheets of wax, called
Comb Foundation, ingeniously made of the required
size, and in a manner most helpful to the bees.

This comb foundation is made by dipping a flat,
smooth piece of wood, which has first been wetted,
into melted wax one or more times (like a tallow

THE FRAME HIVE. 135

dip), according to the thickness required. The wax
which adheres to each side of the wood is then
easily peeled off in sheets. Afterwards, these sheets

Hive showing Frames in position.

of wax are pressed by a machine, and run through
rollers, which have, cut upon them and all over them,
the exact resemblances of the beginning of comb-
cells. And so, when the sheet is passed between the

136

THE FRAME HIVE.

rollers and is finished, it has received on all parts, and
on both sides, impressions just like the commence-
ment of cells.

These sheets — at least, if for use within the hive —
are also made of just that thickness of wax which
gives the bees sufficient material with which to
lengthen out, and to finish off, the cells thus begun for
them, so saving them the time and trouble of making
any more wax. For use in supers a very much

^^

Frame Empty.

Frame with Foundation.

thinner kind is made, for this is used more as a guide
for the bees, to show them which way we wish them
to build their combs, rather than as a help to them in
wax-making.

These sheets of comb-foundation are fixed without
much difficulty, perfectly straight within the frames.
When all are thus filled they arc put into their places
within the hive, and well covered over with proper
material — generally layers of flannel or carpet. And
then, when the bees of a swarm are put into the hive,
they are so delighted to find such good provision for
them, and almost half their work of comb-building
already done, that they at once and without hesita-
tion set to work to make and finish their combs out
of these sheets in the frames. And the result is that

JHE FRAME HIVE.

137

every comb, when made, is in a frame by itself, and
true and straight as we wanted. And thus, without
difficulty, the first great and essential thing is ob-
tained. Each frame is independent of the others, and
can be lifted out with comb and bees upon it when-
ever wanted.

Frame filled with Comb,
(a.) Sealed honey stores. I {c.) Sealed drone comb.

((!'.) Sealed worker-brood comb. | (d-^. ) Unsealed drone comb.
{d.y ) Unsealed worker comb.

All frames — whatever the sort of hive — are now
made of the same size, namely, 14 inches long by 8^
inches deep. This is called the standard size. They
are also made just of the proper width to hold a
comb ; and so contrived at the shoulder that, when in
the hive, they are exactly at equal distances from one
another, and just at that distance which the bees
choose when making comb for themselves.

And now going back to the hive itself, I will
point out a few more of the principal conditions to be
fulfilled before it can be called a good hive. You will

138

THE FRAME HIVE.

find full particulars and many such conditions in the
best guide-books ; but the mention of three or
four will be sufficient for our present purpose. Of
these the first is that the hive must be well and
strongly made of good-seasoned wood. It may be
very rough, but it must be strong, and must not warp
or crack. In the next place, the inside of the hive,
where the frames hang suspended, must be exactly of
the right depth and width. It should hold ten
frames at least, and it would be well if there is room
for several more ; for, if not filled up with frames, the
vacant space is cut off from the bees by a stout
division-board, and is always useful when examining
the hive.

But whatever the number of frames, the width and
depth of the hive inside must be true to measure ; so

Wf-^^j^^^^^^^.miii^>^^0>^^^^^

U\

m

Section of a Hive with Frames.

made that when a frame is suspended within, there is a
si)ace of half an inch between the bottom of the frame
and the floor of the hive, and a quarter of an inch be-
tween the sides of the frame and the sides of the hive.
And there is great reason for this exactness. If the
space at the sides is greater than a quarter of an inch

THE FRAME HIVE. 139

the bees will build comb in it, and so fix the frames ;
and, if less than a quarter of an inch, they are unable
themselves to get round the frames as they require,
and so they fill up the space with propolis, and fix
everything tight, which is worse still. The space
below the frames the bees require as they come rush-
ing in with their loads, to carry them to all parts of
the hive.

In the next place, whatever the description of
hive, it must be warm in winter, and not too hot in
summer.

This is best provided for by its having double
walls with, if possible, a space between. Good hives,
however, may be made with single walls if only the
wood is of sufficient thickness. But, whatever the
walls, you must always remember that it cannot be a
good hive unless, as I say, it is warm in cold weather,
and the bees inside are protected in summer from the
scorching heat of the sun.

Again, our hive must be very dry. This is quite
essential for the bees. They cannot live in a damp
house. If therefore the hive stands out in the open,
it must be well painted, and must have a good roof,
well made, to throw off the rain. And then this roof
— which must either be hinged to the hive, or made
separately, so that it can be taken off — must have
plenty of room inside. You will hear the reason of
this presently, but remember it as a necessity — a
good high roof with plenty of room inside.

And now I have really told you the chief points
of a good hive. There are other things of importance,
such as the size and construction of the entrance, and

140 THE FRAME HIVE.

how it should be sheltered ; and, within the hive, how
the frames should be kept true in their proper posi-
tion, and how thick should be the flannel covering
over them ; but of all these things I shall leave a
guide-book, or some bee-keeping friend, to tell you.

With these few simple rules to be observed, I
think it very possible that at some future time, if you
have intelligence, and a ready hand to use a few
simple tools, you may wish to make a hive for your-
self Only if so, it will be best for you, in the first
instance, to purchase or to obtain the loan of one as
a model. You will hardly succeed without this,
although there will be no occasion for your hive
to have the polish and finish of first-rate workman-
ship. Your home-made hive, indeed, may be a very
rough one, but all the same very serviceable, if only
you copy your model and abide by the first principles
I have mentioned, and do not substitute fancies of
your own. In any case, however, you will do well
to buy the frames, which can only properly be cut by
machinery, and cost a mere trifle.

If in the construction of your hive you can plan
and contrive with old material, and manage to use
odds and ends of wood, without the expense of
buying new from the carpenter, your interest in your
hive, when completed, will, I think, be all the greater.
And it is always wonderful how the exercise of in-
genuity will get over many difficulties in such things,
and find some way of adapting to the end in view the
most trivial things possible.

Here is an account how some of the greatest men,
distinguished in after life in science and art, began in

ADVAXTAGES OF THE FRAME HIVE. 141

the most humble way as boys, contriving to work out
their schemes, and to practise their art with the most
odd things possible : —

'A burnt stick and a barn-door served W'ilkie
(the great painter) in lieu of pencil and canvas ;
Bewick (artist and engraver) first practised drawing
on the cottage walls of his native village, which he
covered with his sketches in chalk ; and Benjamin
West (afterwards President of the Royal Academy)
made his first brushes out of the cat's tail. Ferguson
laid himself down in the fields at night in a blanket,
and made a map of the heavenly bodies by means of
a thread with small beads on it, stretched between
his eye and the stars. Franklin first robbed the
thunder-cloud of its lightning by means of a kite
made with two cross sticks and a silk handkerchief
Watt made his first model of the condensing steam-
engine out of an old syringe. Gifford worked his
first problem in mathematics, when a cobbler's
apprentice, upon small scraps of leather which he
beat smooth for the purpose ; whilst Rittenhouse, the
astronomer, first calculated eclipses on his plough-
handle !' *

CHAPTER XXXII.

SOME ADVANTAGES OF THE FRAME-HIVE.

We proceed now to think of some of the advantages
of the frame-hive. Some of these are plain enough.
For instance, you are able, as I have said before, at

* .Smiles.

142 ADVANTAGES OF THE FRAME HIVE.

any time thoroughl}' to examine such a hive by taking
out the frames one by one, and thus see all that is
going on within. Again, if you ha\'e more than one
such hive, it is always possible and generally easy,
to make one hive help another, as occasion requires.
If one hive is weak and another strong, the bee-
keeper will take from the strong hive some of the
frames containing brood or honey, as may be needed,
and give them to the weak one.

Then, when winter comes, the bee-keeper will take
some of the frames away, and confine the bees to a
smaller space, and thus make the most of that heat
which is so necessary to the welfare of the hive.
These frames he can return to them in the early
spring when food is needed.

Again, a very important part of bee-keeping is to
take care that the queen in every hive is young and
healthy. In a straw skep the bee-keeper cannot find
or see the queen, but with a frame-hive he can easily
do so ; and when she is too old to be useful, she can
be remo\ed, and another queen given in her place.
There are many ways of doing this, as also of
obtaining young queens, but I cannot now explain
the process. Here, again, a guide-book will help you.

I may, however, just mention how a new queen is
generally given to a hive. It is an operation very
interesting, but requiring care. If the new queen
were merely put into the hive instead of the old one,
there would be little chance of her life. The bees,
faithful and loyal to their old sovereign, would kill
the intruder. They sometimes do this by stinging
her, but more generally by encasing her, as it is

ADVANTAGES OF THE FRAME HIVE.

143

termed, — clinging round her, making her the centre of
a ball of bees, and so suffocating or squeezing her to
death.

Consequently when the bee-keeper wishes to give
a new queen to a hive, he first remo\'es the old one,
and gives the bees a little time to mourn her loss.
Then, when they are beginning to prepare to make a
fresh one for themselves, he puts his new queen into
a little wire cage, like one of these here illustrated,

^*-^"^iil>llliililllHi:^i4liilll:IJ^

Queen Cages.

and then puts cage and queen carefully into the hive.
The bees at first may wish to destroy her, but are
prevented by the wire covering of the cage. After
a while they get used to her, talking to her through
the wires, and are ready to adopt her as their own
queen. As soon as this is the case, the bee-keeper
lets her out, and she is welcomed, and the hive
once again prospers with a young and active queen
and mother at its head. But one of the greatest
advantages of the frame-hive is that the frames,
when the combs are full of honey, can be taken out,
and by means of a machine called an Extractor,

144 ADVANTAGES OF THE FRAME HIVE.

which will be presently described, be emptied of their
sweets without destroying the combs, and then put
back again for the bees to refill. This cannot, of
course, be done with the combs in a skep. A very
great quantity of honey can be taken in this way, for
the bees, being spared all the trouble of making fresh
comb, very soon fill the empty cells, and the bee-
keeper can again and again, during the season, take
away a good supply of honey out of the same combs.

Another great advantage of the frame-hive is that
the bee-keeper can, without much difficulty, at the
proper time of year make an increase of his colonies,
just as he thinks fit. He can, as a good guide-book
will explain, make one hive into two ; or, which is an
excellent plan, he can make three out of two, or four
out of three. He is indeed the bee-master as well as
the bee-keeper, and the bees are his most willing and
industrious little servants.

Then, again, with the frame-hive, many enemies
can be destroyed, diseases cured, new frames given
when required, the number of drones regulated, and
many other things done, most helpful to the bees ; so
that, as I have said, you must not always be content
with the straw skep, although, to begin with, it is a
good hive.

But now, doubtless, the question has been sug-
gested to your mind. Yes, but when you talk of
lifting out frames, and finding the queen, and doing
all that has been described, will the bees permit you ?
Will they not so attack and sting you as to compel
you to give in .? No, not so ; for they patiently
submit. Some people think there is a great mystery

ADVANTAGES OF A FRAME-HIVE.

145

in this, and that bee-keepers have some secret charm.

There is, however, nothing of the sort, unless it is the

charm of gentleness, kindness, and a knowledge of

the bees' habits ; and nothing

can compensate for this. But

then to avoid being stung, you

can wear a veil ; and, if necessary,

gloves, although these latter are

but seldom needed, and indeed

do much to aggravate the bees.

The greatest help, however,
is obtained from smoke, a very
little of which, puffed into the
hive, will generally very soon
quiet the bees, and make them
almost as harmless as flies. The
effect of the smoke upon the bees
is very curious. In the first place, it frightens them,

Bee-veil.

Smoker in Use.

146 HONE V AND EXTRACTOR.

and the result of their alarm is that they instantly
run to the honey-cells, and fill themselves with the
sweets. It is supposed that instinct teaches them
thus to prepare, if necessary, to leave their home,
carrying with them as much store as possible. But
having thus filled themselves with honey, they gene-
rally become in the best possible temper, and seem to
put away their stings ; just like a bad-tempered man,
who is always in better humour after a good dinner
than when hungry.

Some bee-keepers, however, hardly use any smoke,
and some use a preparation of carbolic acid, a very
little of which applied with a feather to the tops of
the frames answers almost as well. A spray diffuser
with sweetened water is also very useful at times.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

SUPER HONEY AND THE EXTRACTOR.

I MUST now describe a very important part of bee-
keeping, namely, how to obtain the honey, which the
bees are read}', if managed well, to store away for us,
cMther in large boxes or glasses, or, far better still, in
those beautiful little cases which are called sections.
But before I describe the process, let us think of the
state of things within the hive which leads the bees
thus to prepare and fill them.

As summer advances the hive becomes more and
more populous. Young bees are hatching out daily,
and all the frames, not wanted for the brood-nest, are

HONEY AND EXTRACTOR. 147

more or less filled with honey, so that there is really
neither room nor work in the hive for all the bees,
The consequence is that an emigration on a large
scale must take place.

The same thing happens in our own land. England
becomes over-populated, and so thousands leave the
old country, and go across the seas to find new homes,
and fresh land to cultivate, in countries where there is
abundant room for all. We hear thus of thousands
going to America, New Zealand, and Australia.

In the case of the bees, when this kind of emigra-
tion must take place, and they feel the time coming
near, they begin to make preparation by, first of all,
taking steps to provide a new queen as formerly
described. When she is nearly ready to come out of
her royal cell, scouts go out to find a favourable home
for the emigrants. It may be in an old tree, or in the
roof of a house. I have often known bees at such
times come down a chimney, black as sweeps, into a
room. These were the scouts looking for a new
home, and examining the chimney-pot ; and, being
unable to return, on account of getting covered with
soot, they fell down into the room. All things being
now ready, the bees on some fine morning, if left to
themselves, would issue forth as a natural swarm.

But it often happens that the bee-keeper does not
want any increase in the number of his stocks. And
so, before this swarming takes place, indeed as soon
as the hives become full of bees, he says, ' No, I do
not intend you to make a swarm. You must all
remain at home, and make honey for my use.' And
when the bees reply, 'We cannot do so, for we have

118

IIONE\ AND EXTRAC7VK.

no room in which to store it,' the bee-keeper still says,

' No ; I cannot let you go, but I will give you room.

I will give you a large super, or a glass, or more

probably a number of the little sections ; and, as soon

as you have filled these, I will give you more. You

shall never stand still for want of

room ; you shall always have

plenty.'

To carry out this purpose, the

bee-keeper first of all prepares his

super or his sections by fixing in

them small pieces of comb foun- %. _

dation, made very thin for this

. , ,-f^, . Section Willi Foundation-

special purpose. 1 his secures

that the bees build the comb, true and straight, in the

proper shape. Then, in the case of sections, he puts

a number of them into a wooden frame called a rack,

which holds them all together.

Sections in Rack;

Tn the next place he takes off from the frames in
the hive the quilts and covering, and puts on the
whole case of sections instead, covering all over with
plenty of flannel. And then, lastly, he puts on the roof,
which, as I have said before, must have plent)- of room

HONE\ AND EXTRACTOR. 149

inside. You sec this done in the following illustra-
tion.

The bees now, of course, have easy admission into
all these sections, and generally will begin work in
them without delay if only the sections are kept

Hive with Sections in Position.

perfectly warm, and the weather is favourable. And
very soon some will be finished, filled with the purest
comb and the best of honey.

As soon as some are filled, and the cells sealed
over, the bee-keeper takes them away, substituting at
the same time an equal number of empty sections.
Doubtless the bees are extremely astonished to find
empty sections instead of full ones. They must
think, that it seems like an endless task to try and
get them full. It must seem to them like the task of
Sisyphus in the old story, who had to roll to the top
of a hill a large stone, which had no sooner reached
the summit than it fell back, and the labour had to
be recommenced. But like good bees — giving us an
excellent example — they make the best of it, and go

150 HONEY AND EXTRACTOR.

on honey gathering, humming their pleasant song,
content to work not only for themselves but for others.

' The more their strength calamity hath drained,
The more will they exert them to repair
The nation's falling state, their garners fill,
And re-construct their masonry of flowers.'

Virgil (by Kennedy).

But when the bee-keeper wishes to obtain the
greatest possible quantity of honey, he does not de-
pend entirely on supers, whether sectional or of any
other kind, but uses to a great extent the machine
called an extractor, to which allusion has been already
made. More can be obtained by its use than in any
other way ; but then it is not honey in the comb, and
has not that beautiful and inviting appearance which
belongs to well-filled sections.

The extractor — which is also very useful for other
purposes — is a very ingenious machine. There are
several forms of it, all more or less made after the
pattern of those perfected by Mr. Cowan, and in all
there is the same principle. The frames, when taken
from the hive, have, first of all, the caps of the cells
removed with a sharp knife. They are then put into
a kind of wire cage (fig. 2), which, being placed in the
machine are made to whirl round and round with
great rapidity. The effect of this is, that the honey
is thrown out of the cells against the sides of the
extractor, and running down, can then be drawn away
from a tap at the bottom.

The force which brings this about, and throws out

HONEY AND EXTRACTOR.

151

the honey, is called * centrifugal force.' I may illus-
trate its action in this way. If you tie a piece of

Fig. 2.

string to a stone, and then, while holding the end of
the string in your hand, swing the stone round and
round, the stone is always, by action of this same
force, trying to fly off. And the faster you swing it
round the more the stone makes effort to get free ;
and if you let it go, it flies a long way. It is much
the same with the honey, as the comb which contains
it is swung round in the extractor. The difference is
that, as the capping is off the cells, the honey can get
free — instead of being confined, like the stone by the
strincj — and so is thrown out.

152 MORE ABOUT SWARMS.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

MORE ABOUT SWARMS.

I HAVE previously described the issue of a swarm,
and the state of things within the hive which leads
to it — that it is a forced emigration on a large scale.
I have also told you how the bee-keeper often obtains
artificial instead of natural swarms when, and as he
thinks fit. And I need not add much on this subject,
except that it must always be remembered that a good
swarm, whether natural or artificial, must be an early
one, according to the old saying : —

' A swarm in May is worth a load of hay,
A swarm in June is worth a silver spoon ;
A swarm in July is not worth a fly.'

It is not true, howev^er, that a July swarm is so worth-
less, for bees are always useful, and such a late swarm,
if not returned to its own hive, can be given to some
weak hive in want of bees.

Of second swarms, or 'casts,' as they are called, I
must say something. When a first swarm departs it
leaves behind it a comparatively empty hive, but one
that soon will be full again. It also leaves behind it
a queen-cell, out of which in a day or two will issue a
new sovereign to take the place of the old one who
left with the swarm. There is always one such queen-
cell — and generally several — at such swarming-time,
each containing a young queen. As soon as the first of
these young queens comes into the world, her natural
instinct is to destroy at once every royal cell and its

MORE ABOUT SWARMS. 153

inhabitant, and thus to have no rival to herself.
Moved by her jealousy, she tries very hard to do this.
And if there are not sufficient bees hatched out to
furnish another swarm, or if the weather is unpro-
pitious, the worker-bees allow her to carry out her
murderous intention, and, indeed, assist her in the
work of destruction. Thus she is left supreme. But,
on the other hand, if there are plenty of bees, and the
hive is again sufficiently strong to spare another
swarm, the young queen, first hatched out, is not
allowed to carry out her wish. When she tries to
get near a queen-cell the workers prevent and drive
her away. At this she becomes excessively angry,
and makes a peculiar noise, which may distinctly be
heard outside the hive. It sounds like ' Peep,' ' Peep,'
uttered harsh and shrill. This is heard by some other
young queen yet in her cell, and she also joins in
with the same sound, so that it becomes like a chal-
lenge to battle given from one to another — the other
bees preventing the queen at liberty from taking any
unfair advantage over her royal sister in the cell.

When this sound is heard it may be taken as a
sure sign of a second swarm in a day or two, for the
young queen at liberty, not being allowed to destroy
her coming rival, makes resolve herself to leave the
hive with as many bees as will accompany her. When
this takes place it is said to be a ' Cast.'

Sometimes a third or even a fourth swarm will in
succession issue from the same hive.* But these latter

* ' Not unfrequently third, fourth, fifth, and sixth swarms
issue from Italian and Syrian colonies, taking the young
queens with them. I have taken twenty-seven young queens

154 AfORE ABOUT SWARMS.

should always be prevented if possible, because too
weakening to the parent stock. If honey is required,
even a second swarm must not be allowed. A great
harvest of honey can only be had when the bees do
not swarm at all.

With skeps the bee-keeper is to a great extent at
the mercy of his bees, and cannot well control these
second swarms, but with frame-hives they can always
be prevented ; for after the first swarm has left, he can
take care that no queen-cells remain in the hive,
except just that one which is needed to supply a new
queen for the hive itself, and without another queen
the bees, of course, cannot leave the hive in a second
swarm.

Virgil describes another way of preventing a
swarm, namely, by clipping the wings of the queen —
sometimes practised even now,

' The task is easy : but to clip the wings
Of their high-flying arbitrary kings :
At their command, the people swarm away :
Confine the tyrant, and the slaves will stay.'

Virgil (by Dryden).

After the first or second swarm has left, if two
young queens happen to issue from their cells, as

from a third swarm of Syrian bees. The young queens of these
races rarely fight, but live amicably together. I have counted
fourteen on a single comb, and the worker bees destroy the
supernumeraries after the swarm has issued, sometimes taking a
week to complete the slaughter. I am not sure that the workers
do not delay the destruction until one of the young queens is
ready to become a mother — a further proof of their wonderful
instinct.'— Rev. G. Raynor.

MORE ABOUT SWARMS. 155

frequently occurs, at the same time, and there are not
sufficient bees for another swarm, nothing remains
but one of these two rivals must die. They cannot
reign together for any length of time. Which is to
live, and which is to die ? This important question
the worker-bees sometimes decide by encasing, and
destroying one, and allowing the other to live. But
sometimes the queens themselves fight out the matter
to the bitter end.

A royal fight has been thus described by Hunter :
— ' When two queens meet a duel is certain. Like
two gladiators, each first takes a good look at her
antagonist. Then they rush to the fight. They seize
each other by the legs, making with curved abdomen
every effort to insert the sting between the rings of
the other's body. They wrestle thus, rolling over and
over until one succeeds in giving the deadly stroke.
It has been stated that if they get in such a position
that both are likely to be stung together, they will
separate, and commence the fight anew.'

' But when two twin-born monarchs burst to day,
Claiming with equal rights a sovereign's sway,
Fiercely they rush, unknowing how to yield,
Where crowds receding clear the listed field.
Mark how with sharp-edg'd tooth they seize the wing.
Curl the firm fold, and point the venom'd sting !
Now, as they view the death-fraught danger nigh,
With quick recoil, and mutual dread they fly.
Now, scorn'd all female fears, each hardened foe
Turns to the fight, and dares the coming blow.'

Evans.

156 THE BEE-KEEPER IN SUMMER.

CHAPTER XXXV.

THE BUSY BEE-KEEPER.

The swarming season over the bees settle down to
summer work, and right merrily does it go on when
the weather is favourable, when the warm wind.*'
blow, and the sun shines, and the flowers are full
of honey.

' Here their delicious task the fervent bees
In swarming millions tend ; around, athwart,
Through the soft air the busy nations fly,
Cling to the bud, and, with inserted tube,
Suck its pure essence, its ethereal soul,
And oft, with bold wing, they soaring dare
The purple heath, or where the wild thyme grows,
And yellow load them with the luscious spoil.'

Thomson's Seasms.

And now there is plenty of work for the bee-
keeper as well as the bees. Now is his harvest time,
and he must not neglect his busy workers. Now,
more than ever, he must do what is wanted without a
day's delay. Success v^ery greatly depends upon
everything being done at the proper time. The
bee-keeper must ' make hay while the sun shines ;'
and if he is wise he has prepared things before-
hand, and now is ready, as fast as supers are filled,
to remove them and to supply others in their place.
He will not let his bees remain idle for want of
room.

THE BEE-KEEPER IN SUMMER. 157

And if he is thus active and careful, and manages
well, the quantity of honey he will get, in favourable
seasons, is quite astonishing. It is a very common
thing to get fifty or sixty pounds of pure good
honey in the comb, not only from a single hive,
but as an average from all the frame-hives in the
apiary. Some experienced bee - keepers take a
great deal more than this, even an average of lOO
pounds of comb honey, and more of extracted, per
hive.*

And all this harvest of honey is of value. If sold
it will realise a fair profitable price ; but then it must
be carefully taken, and neatly put up for sale. Very
much of its value depends upon the clean, attractive
form in which it is offered, but of this you will learn
elsewhere.

But now once more autumn comes, and it is no
longer the time of abundant flowers, and the few flowers
there are give but little, if any, honey, except in the
heather districts. It is the time when people have their
holidays, and the bees think they also may have theirs.
But they never take holiday, remember, while they
have any work to do. As long as there is honey to
be had, and room in which to store it, they will work.
And thus it is that many bee-keepers find it most
profitable, when ordinary country flowers are over, to
take their hives to the heaths, if such are near at
hand, for the heather gives beautiful honey, and

• ' 1 have had an average of loo pounds per hive for many years
past, and others, I beheve, have had as much. I consider that
nearly double this quantity can be had by the extractor.' — T. W.
COWAN.

158 THE BEE-KEEPER IN A UTUMN.

flowers much later than other honey-giving plants or
trees.

At last, however, even the heather is over, and the
bees must rest ; and having left nothing to be done at
the last moment — as many people do — but having
looked forward, and made every preparation, they
have both well earned their rest, and can enjoy it.

' Oh, Nature kind ! oh, labourer wise !
That roam'st along the summer's ray,
Glean'st ev'ry bliss thy life supplies,
And meet'st prepared thy wintry day.

' Go, envied, go, to crowded gates,

Bear home thy store in triumph gay ;
The hive thy rich return awaits,
To shame each idler of the day.'

Smyth.

The bee-keeper, however, must not quite rest at
present, for there is oftentimes much of importance to
be done in autumn, especially to those hives v/hich
are weak, and short of bees and food, but of all I his a
guide-book will give information.

There is, however, one operation of which I must
here say something, as probably you will frequently
hear of it at this autumn season, when it is chiefly
practised. It is the operation of * Driving,' by which
the bees in a skep are compelled to come out of their
hive, and, leaving all their comb and store behind, to
go whither the bee-keeper directs. He knocks at
their door. They listen, and with humble submission
obey. This sounds marvellous, and indeed appears
so to those who for the first time see it done. It calls
forth many an exclamation of surprise at the bee-

THE BEE-KEEPER IN A UTUMN.

159

keeper's power, and of this it is a good exhibition ;
but, at the same time, there can be a great deal of

Driving Bees from a Skep.

good bee-keeping without any driving ; and with frame-
hives it is never practised. The process is as fol-
lows : — A few puffs of smoke are given to the bees in
a skep. It is then turned upside down, and placed in
some position (very often in a pail if the skep has a

.fiO THE BEE-KEEPER IN A UTUMN.

round top) where it is firmly secured. An empty
skep is then fastened to it, as you see in the illustra-
tion, and the operator, with both his hands, or two
short thick pieces of wood, begins to rap upon the
outside of the hive, giving steady blows, sufficient to
jar the combs without any danger of breaking them.

This goes on for a few minutes, when the bees
become in a state of great agitation, and are seen
crowding up to the place where the two hives are
joined together. Then in a few moments more they
begin to run up into the empty hive, and very soon
are rushing up in hundreds with the greatest haste.
And now the sharp-sighted operator will see, and, if
wanted, be able to capture the queen herself, as, amidst
her subjects, she joins in the general rush.

Well, but what is the use of driving ? As I have
said, it is of no use with frame-hives, but with skeps
it is often very useful. In the first place, it is a
means by which the honey can be obtained from a
skep without killing the bees. And then, amongst
other uses, it is the means by which in spring-time
skeps can be made to give swarms when and how the
bee-keeper wishes ; and in autumn it is invaluable in
the saving of much precious bee life, for if the bee-
keeper has any neighbours who still cling to the old-
fashioned plan of destroying their bees for the sake of
the honey, he will persuade them, instead of using
the sulphur- pit, to allow him to drive the bees,
and to take them home, to join with the bees in
his own apiary. He will sometimes even preserve these
rescued bees in hivesof their own, givingthcm comb and
food, in place of what they had gathered for themselves

THE BEE-KEEPER IN WINTER. 161

During winter there will be little for the bee-
keeper to do, and he may ' leave well alone.' But
then he must have made due preparation for winter,
and, if he has done this, he has taken care to put extra
coverings of flannel, with, perhaps, cushions of chaff,
on the top of the frames. He has also well packed
with chaff or cork-dust the spaces between the two
walls of his hives. He will also have taken away
some of the frames, and contracted the space in each
hive according to the strength of the colony and the
number of bees, taking care that the bees fill all the
space left them. By all these and such-like means he
makes the most of that heat w^hich is necessary to the
well-being of the hive.

' Thy bee-hives, whether hollowing out of cork
Thou join'st them, or with rods of osier weavest,
Construct with narrow orifice ; for cold
Contracts the honey.'

Virgil (by Kennedy).

The bees have wonderful power to produce and
sustain warmth, and to keep the temperature of the
hive uniform, but, of course, if there are large vacant
spaces containing cold air, and these have to be
warmed, as well as the other portions of the interior,
there must be great and unnecessary expenditure of
heat-producing power, and this means, in other words,
a great and unnecessary consumption of food, for with
bees, as with ourselves, food is the great means by
which the heat of the body is sustained. But as this
is a very important subject it will be well to devote a
separate chapter to its consideration.

162 FOOD AND WARMTH.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

THE CONNEXION BETWEEN FOOD AND WARMTH.

The food we eat partly gives us flesh, and partly
gives us warmth. It is within us as fuel for what
may be called a fire, which, when supplied with fresh
air, gives heat to every part of our bodies ; and
then, if this is so, we can understand that the greater
the exertion we make, or the work we do, the more
food will be necessary — just as when a train has to
go express pace it must have the fire of its engine
heaped up with more and more coal. If the fire gets
low, and the boiler cold, the train stops. So, when we
walk fast and work hard, unless our bodies are
properly supplied with the food which replenishes
what is lost of both flesh and heat, we become ex-
hausted and waste away, and, if it went on, there
would at last be the coldness of death.

Thus the Greenlander, in his very cold climate,
and with his very hard work, has need of a vast
amount of food, and will eat a quantity of flesh, fat,
and oil, which we should think enormous. On the
other hand, the natives of the hot climate of India
will be satisfied with very much less food — a simple
diet of rice, which we should think quite insufficient.

Again, following out the same great law of life,
some animals, which are not able to obtain supplies
of their proper food in winter, creep into the
warmest spot they can find, and there, as it is termed,

FOOD AND WARMTH. 1G3

' hibernate,' — curl up and go to sleep, and remain per-
fectly quiet until spring-time comes again. Remain-
ing thus at rest, there is no waste of heat, and all the
heat which is needed is obtained from the flesh and
fat of the body itself, which becomes during the time
more and more exhausted. The bear, which thus
hibernates, is at the beginning of the time fat and in
good condition, but at the end poor and thin. By
keeping perfectly still it has not wasted heat, and it
has given up its own fat as fuel for the so-called fire, —
its thick fur coat keeping the heat in.

And all this is true of the bee. The bee, however,
does not truly hibernate, although, all through winter,
it keeps close within, and remains as quiet as possible.
Its condition is that of semi-hibernation. And this
quietness, coupled with the number of bees crowded
together, means plenty of heat. And the greater the
number of bees, and the less the space in which they
are, means more heat, and this greater heat, thus pro-
duced, and thus sustained, causes less food to be
consumed.

When there are but few bees, and much empty
space with cold air, the poor bees in severe weather,
instead of keeping quiet, have to exert themselves, by
motion of their wings, in order to give out sufficient
heat for the hive, and this, of course, as I have ex-
plained, requires the consumption of great quantities
of food. Thus when there are few bees, and consider-
able empty space in the hive, the honey supplies are
consumed faster than when there are more bees and
less space.

You see thus the reason of what I have described

164 FOOD AND WARMTH.

as the proper management of bees in winter, or rather
the preparation to be made for winter — plenty of
bees, plenty of food, and warm covering, and no more
space than is necessary. Attend to these great
principles, and then leave the bees in winter to them-
selves.

But if it is necessary thus to keep in all the heat
possible, perhaps you will ask, ' Shall we close up the
entrance, and thus shut out all cold air.?' Oh, no !
most certainly not. By doing that you would most
assuredly kill all the bees ; you may contract the
size of the entrance, but some amount of fresh
air is absolutely necessary. It is indeed by help
of fresh air, or the oxygen, as it is termed, in the
air, that the animal heat is sustained. The flame of
a candle put under a glass case very soon goes out
for want of fresh air. Shut off all air from the largest
fire, and it will soon cease to burn. And it is the
same with ourselves : we cannot live if shut up in
a small space without any fresh air. And even in a
large room, if it is crowded with people, the windows
must be open, or there must be ventilation in some
way ; and, to a great extent, it is the same with the
bees. They must have some ventilation even in
winter.

In crowded rooms it is best, because all heated air
rises, to open windows high up in the walls rather
than those low down ; and in some circumstances
hives require the same principle carried out. But,
generally speaking, the woollen coverings put over
the frames will answer every i)urpose.

THE BEE-KEEPER IN SPRING. 165

CHAPTER XXXVII.

THE BEE-KEEPER IN SPRING.

Winter well past with the bees, spring comes hope-
fully. We all feel cheered with its warmer days and
its brighter sun, and all nature beginning to burst
once more into new life — when ' the flowers appear on
the earth, and the time of the singing of the birds is
come.' But no one is more cheered in spring-time
than the careful bee-keeper. He knows that his bees
are ready to take all advantage of spring weather,
still strong, and still with plenty of food.

SONG OF THE BEES.

We watch for the light of the morning to break,

And colour the eastern sky
With its blended hues of saffron and lake :
Then say to each other, 'Awake ! Awake !'
For our winter's honey is all to make,

And our bread for a long supply.

And off we fly to the hill and dell,

To the field, to the meadow and bower;
To dip in the lily with snow-white bell,
To search for the balm in the fragrant cell
Of the mint and rosemary flower.

While each, on the good of her sister bent,

Is busy, and cares for all.
We hope for an evening of heart's content
In the winter of life, without lament
That summer is gone, or its hours misspent,

And the harvest is past recall.

Bee Journal, iZji.

166 THE BEE-KEEPER IN SPRING.

But however well the bees have wintered, there will
always be plenty for the bee-keeper to do in spring ;
only he must not be — as many bee-keepers are —
in too great a hurry to do it. Of course with weak
hives, and when stores of food are exhausted, he must
not delay. Such a state of things — the very sight of
empty combs and hungry bees, tells him what to do —
that he must at once give them food.

But, with strong hives as well as weak, you must
remember that the bees having lived all through
the winter will now be comparatively old bees, and
will not live much longer ; and you must remem-
ber what has been said of the great importance
of strong hives. And thus we see at once the point
of greatest importance to be attended to, namely^
that the queen should — as soon as the weather is
suitable — begin to lay the eggs, which, producing
young bees, shall replace the old ones, whose time
for work is nearly over.

And the careful bee-keeper can do something to
this end — to hasten the time. It is an important
part of his spring work. There is a way of giving
liquid syrup which seems to make the bees think
that the necessary continuous supply of food for
young bees is to be had, and therefore leads the
queen to commence egg-laying sooner than she
otherwise would. This is called 'stimulative feeding,'
but such stimulation should never be practised before
there is a good prospect of warm weather. If the
bee-keeper is in too great a hurry — many are so — he
will do a great deal more harm than good. He must
not be beguiled by a few warm sunny days in

THE BEE-KEEPER IN SPRING. 167

February. He must remember that ' one swallow
does not make a summer.'

But another thing is to be thought of, because it is
not only syrup or even pure honey that by itself is suffi-
cient for the young larvce. They must have pollen. This
is their special flesh-forming food, and, although the
bees will have some of it stored up from the previous
year, the queen seldom begins to lay many eggs
before the workers can find it in tolerable abundance.
And so what the bee-keeper does is to give the bees
artificial pollen, or something that will answer the
purpose of pollen.

This is generally 'pea-flour,' which contains the
same flesh-forming substance that pollen does. He
places it in shallow boxes near the hives, and it is
quite a curious sight to see the bees revel in it,
tumbling into it, and getting completely covered with
the flour — as white as millers, and carrying it home
with the greatest delight.

But nevertheless, although it does well thus as a
substitute, the bees, as soon as ever natural pollen is
to be had in anything like plenty (very probably from
the willows, which flower early), cease to take the
artificial food. They greatly prefer nature's supply to
anything we can give them. The object, however, has
been attained, and the queen has been stimulated to
activity, and there will be — earlier than otherwise —
plenty of eggs and larvee in all stages, and many young
bees ready to hatch out and strengthen the working
power of the hive.

But all this requires care on the part of the bee-
keeper, for, as with other things, there is a right and a

168 THE BEE-KEEPER IN-SPRING.

wrong time to do it. If he does it too soon, and cold
weather sets in, the larvae and young bees will cer-
tainly be chilled and die.

And then in spring-time there is another operation,
called 'spreading the brood' — gradually enlarging the
space of the brood-nest — which is sometimes, when
done by experienced bee-keepers, of very great use,
and is the means of strengthening the hive with great
rapidity ; but it is an operation of such difficulty, and
requiring such knowledge and care, that I only just
mention it. You must not attempt it before you have
had long experience.

And now might be mentioned many other things
which belong to the spring work of the bee-keeper,
but I must leave you to learn of them elsewhere. You
will see, however, from what I have said, that it is an
interesting and busy season. It is, indeed, quite a
time when you must use your head as well as your
hands.

A great painter was once asked by a student, who
wanted to be saved all trouble in learning his art,
' Pray, sir, with what do you mix your colours, to get
these beautiful tints ?' To which question there came
the gruff answer from the painter, ' Brains, sir. This
is what I mix with my colours: brains, sir!' And it
was a good answer, full of meaning and good advice.
And it is quite one that will do for the bee-keeper.
You must help >-our bees with your brains.

DISEASES AND ENEMIES. 169

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

DISEASES AND ENEMIES OF BEES.

A WORD now about the diseases and enemies of
bees— an important subject, for much will go wrong
if we are not careful to watch, and to be ready
with remedies and means of protection. And here
may be given a very old piece of advice, but none the
less useful because it is old,— that 'prevention is better
than cure.' And the best ' prevention ' possible is, in
the first place, not only care and watchfulness, but in
an especial manner, cleanliness.

It is the same with the bees as with our own
houses and our own persons. To keep free from
disease, there must be cleanliness. It is well known
that some of the most frequent and fatal diseases,
which break out as epidemics, and carry off thousands
every year, come entirely from want of this care and
cleanliness, especially the want of pure water and
good drainage. Many diseases will, of course, come,
notwithstanding all care, but very often they are thus
preventive diseases, and may be kept at a distance
by the exercise of forethought and care.

So wkh the bees. Due care and attention to
cleanliness, and watchfulness against all causes of
disease, and being ready, when disease first begins, to
' nip it in the bud,' will do very much to keep our bees
healthy.

I cannot now name all the diseases, but I may say

170 DISEASES AND ENEMIES.

that the most fatal of all is one called * foul brood,' —
when the young brood die and rot in the cells, and
which is not only a fatal but also a most infectious
disease.

It has often ruined whole apiaries, causing most
serious loss. Many remedies have from time to time
been tried, but only with partial success. Now, at
last, what appears to be a sure remedy, an old remedy
in a new form, has been discovered, so that, we hope,
it will no longer be the dreaded pest it has been.

And what I have said of care and watchfulness
in the matter of disease, will equally apply as useful
advice with regard to many of the enemies of bees.

One of the most serious of these enemies is the
wax-moth, which is particularly fond of laying its
eggs in any crevice in the hive, and the grubs from
which are most obnoxious and destructive. But these
eggs may be looked for and destroyed — at least with
frame-hives, although with skeps this is impossible.

' Their chambers oft

Are choked with skulking beetles

Or moths, an execrable race, intrude,
Or savage hornet, with unequal arms,
Or spider, hateful to Minerva, hangs
Her straggling network at the vestibule.'

Virgil.

Other enemies are mice, slugs, and snails, but very
ordinary care will prevent much danger from these.

Some birds are also enemies. The blue tomtit, —
pretty little bird as it is, — is especially so in winter and
early spring ; for, when once it has had a taste of bee-
flesh, it will again and again come to the hive for

DISEASES AND ENEMIES. 171

fresh supplies, and, tapping at the door to draw the
bees out, will seize them as they make their appearance,
and carry them off to some neighbouring tree, there
to eat them at leisure.

' These rob the trading citizens, and bear
The trembhng captives through the liquid air.'

Virgil.

Far worse enemies, however, are the wasps, for
when once they have obtained a taste of the good
honey within, they will, with great perseverance, force
their way into the hive, and being active, strong, and
resolute, will cause a great deal of mischief.

But here, again, much can be done in the way of
prevention by carefully destroying queen wasps in the
spring, and wasp-nests later on ; and also by lessening
the entrance to the hive attacked, and so giving the
bees more opportunity to defend it. Wasps, however,
but seldom attack a strong hive, and thus here, again,
we see the importance of the golden rule, * Keep your
hives strong.'

But even yet worse than wasps are robber bees.
The bees of any neighbouring hive, when once they
begin a thieving life, are the most desperate thieves
known.

' They muster all in haste, their pinions flash,
Their stings they sharpen, and adjust their claws.'

Virgil.

They will without pity attack a weak hive, and when
once they begin their depredations are most difficult
to subdue or stop. Virgil says —

' All this commotion, all this deadly fray,
The scattering of a little dust shall quell.'

172 USES OF HONEY AND WAX.

But I am afraid this will not always be quite effective.
And what is worse, this ill conduct, as usually the
case with bad examples, is most infectious, so that
very often the whole apiary joins in the raid, and is,
for a time, thoroughly demoralised. But here, again,
carelessness is often the cause. A little honey, left
exposed near the hives, will often raise the storm.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

THE USES OF HONEY AND WAX.

I MUST now tell you something of the great useful-
ness of bees. Possibly you think that their only use
is to collect honey and to make wax. But this,
indeed, is very far from the case ; it is not one half
the truth. We will try and see how this is ; but it is
a very large subject, and I can only give you the
most general outline, but sufficient, I hope, to make
you wish to know more, and to see more clearly how
marvellous and wise are all the ways of that Providence
which rules in nature.

But, first of all, I must say a word of the honey
itself This, of course, is useful, and we keep bees, in
a great measure, for its sake. You like it ; it is
pleasant to the taste. In olden days, and, indeed,
until something like four hundred years ago, it was
invaluable as the great substitute for sugar. Virgil
speaks of its use : —

' T' allay the strength and hardness of the wine.'

USES OF HONEY AND WAX. 173

And then, in those days gone by, several beverages,
and some fermented drinks, were largely made of it.
Mead is often made with it now. In Russia a drink is
made of it of about the same strength as beer, and is
an article of regular consumption. It is called 'Mjod.'

But it is as actual food that it is also very useful ;
I mean by this that it can not only be used largely in
many articles of food, but that it has in itself some of
those properties which supply the wants of our bodies.

There is with our bodies a daily wear and tear
going on, which soon causes exhaustion, unless they
are continually replenished with proper food. And
the food we take for this purpose must be of varied
kind ; for one description of food, or some portion of
that food, supplies a certain class of wants ; and
another food, or a part of such food, some of the
other wants. No one food by itself, except, perhaps,
milk, supplies all the wants of our bodies. Roast
beef is good, but no one could live upon it without
something else. The body would soon starve, for,
although the beef contains some things good for the
body, it is wanting in others which are essential.
Thus, as I have said, there must be variety in our
food.

One of the most important varieties which is
necessary to us is sugar. I do not mean only the
sugar as you generally eat it, but the sugar which,
although you do not know it, is contained in many
things which you eat, A great deal of this important
sugar is contained in honey, and is there present in
a form which makes it especially useful to the body,
giving it heat and energy, and acting as a most useful

174 USES OF HONEY AND IVAX.

Stimulant. It supplies, in short, some fuel to that fire
of which I spoke in a previous chapter. We could, of
course, no more live upon honey than we could upon
beef, but, as a variety of food, it is thus most useful ;
and may be made to enter most advantageously, as
well as agreeably, into the manufacture of a great
number of articles of food.

Then, again, speaking of the usefulness of bees,
they are very useful because of the wax which they
make. Wax is a most important product, and is put
to many uses.

Formerly many hundreds of tons of it were used
to make candles, and some is even now thus used.
In Spain bees are kept in some parts almost entirely
to provide wax for tapers used in the Roman Catholic
churches. In Russia,also, onlysuch candles as are made
of pure bees-wax are used in the churches. But since
so many kinds of cheap oil have been discovered, and
gas has come so extensively into use, bees-wax has
been in most countries, in great measure, superseded.

It is still, however, much used for other purposes,
such as polishing and cleaning, and as an ingredient
in some articles of manufacture. A vast quantity is
also now used in making that comb-foundation which
is so invaluable in modern bee-keeping. The wax is
thus given back to the bees, and is used over and
over again for the purpose of fresh comb.

And not only honey and wax, but even propolis
has some use as a product of the bees. It is ex-
tensively used in Russia for lacquer-work. It is also
said to make an excellent glue for some fabrics for
which ordinary glue does not answer.

USES OF HONEY AND WAX. 175

And here, while dwelling on the uses of bees and
their products, I may tell an amusing story of a very
unusual, but ingenious, use to which some bees were
put on one occasion many years ago in Austria.

For some reason there was a great uproar in a
certain town, and a very angry mob collected, sur-
rounding the house of the chief inhabitant. They
threatened violence. They would not listen to reason.
They were about to attack the house. No time was
to be lost, but no help was at hand. What could be
done ? Both house and owner were in danger. But
a happy thought, and just in time, occurred to the
latter. He called his servants, and told them to run
and bring him his hives of bees as quick as possible.
And these at once, with all his force, he threw amongst
the crowd. You may imagine how the bees rushed
out, and began to attack everyone near. At all
events, it fully answered the purpose, and far better,
and quicker, than any good advice. It was more than
the crowd could stand, and in a few minutes they fled,
scattering here and there, to escape, if possible, the
stings of the countless and enraged insects.

But leaving all such uses of bees, we must pass
now to the consideration of that part of the subject of
which I wish to speak more particularly, and which,
when understood, shows that the bees are not only
the most wonderful, but the most useful, of insects.

176 FLOWERS IN RELATION 10 BEES.

CHAPTER XL.

FLOWERS IN RELATION TO BEES AND OTHER INSECTS.

Of course you know that bees could not exist without
flowers ; but do you know that many flowers could not
exist without bees ?

Now it is this that I want to show you. I want
you to have some idea of the great truth, that bees are
quite as useful to the flowers as the flowers are to the
bees, and that, if it were not for the bees, a great many
flowers would altogether die away, and a great deal
of what is beautiful around us would be quite changed
in appearance. And further than this, many of our
valuable fruit-bearing trees would, without bees, almost
cease to give us any crop at all. They might flower,
but they would not bear fruit. This seems a great
deal to say, but it is quite true. In order in any way
to understand it, you must, however, first know a little
of the construction of a flower, and what a flower
requires.

What, then, is a flower made of t What are its
parts } There are, of course, numberless forms of
construction. Nothing varies more than the form,
colour, and appearance of flowers ; but if we take
them to pieces, we shall find in all, to some extent,
the same parts, each designed for its own proper
purpose.

Suppose, for instance, we take the flower of a
cherry-tree. Pick it carefully to pieces, and you will
find that you can separate it into many parts, all of

FLOWERS IN RELATION TO BEES. 177

which have names. I will not, however, now trouble
you with all these names, but some of them you must
remember in order to understand what I am going to
say about bees and flowers.

Well, first of all, take away the white outer leaves
of the flower, which are called petals. When they
are removed, you have in your hand a small, solid-
looking centre, from the middle of which springs up
a thread-like little stalk, which, remember, is called
the pistil.

Take notice of this pistil, and examine into its
origin, and you will find that it leads down to a re-
ceptacle called the seed-vessel, in which is situated
the very tiny thing which, when the time comes, will
grow into a seed, and ripen ready for another year.
At the upper end of the pistil there is a sticky sub-
stance called the stigma.

But now look again at the flower, and around the
pistil you will see several other fine, thin stalks called
stamens, having at their upper ends not a sticky sub-
stance like the stigma, but a very small, oval-shaped
head, which, when the time comes, and it is ripe, will
develope into a small packet of the finest possible
dust, which is the pollen of which you have heard
so much.

This is the simplest arrangement. You will under-
stand it by looking at the first of the following illus-
trations, which is that of a cherry blossom cut in half.
You will see the same in rather a different form in
the apple blossom, and the same in another simple
form in the buttercup.

And now, whatever the plant, or the construction

N

178

FLOWERS IN RELATION TO BEES.

^

Section of Cherry Blosoms.

of its flower, you must always remember this most
important fact — the great law of life in all flowering
plants — that before that tiny
little beginning of a seed, of
which I spoke, can come to
perfection, and be a ripe seed,
some small portion of the fine
pollen -dust from the end of a
stamen mnst fall, or be placed,
upon the stigma of the pistil.
Unless this happens, the flower
fades and falls, and no fruit or
seed follows. When it does take place, then the great
object of the flower is attained. The flower is ' fer-
tilised,' as it is termed, and, in the case of the cherry,
just for one instance,
the flower gives
place, after a time,
to the luscious fruit,
which encases the
stone, which, in its
turn, is the hard, pro-
tecting case of the
kernel or true seed.
In the first condition
of the flower this
kernel, or true seed, was the tiny thing of which I
spoke, situated at the lower end of the pistil.

We must now, however, proceed a step further,
and take notice of this, that before any such result
can come from the pollen being placed upon the
pistil, it is necessary that both the pollen and the

Section of Buttercup.

FLOWERS IN RELATION TO BEES. 179

pistil should be ripe at the same time. There is, in
fact, just one right time, and no other, when that
which is necessaiy can take place.

Section of Apple Blossom.

If it happens in a flower that both the pollen-
bearing stamens and the stigma-bearing pistil are
ripe at the same time, and there is no peculiarity
of construction in the flower to prevent it (although
there very often is), the process is easy. The wind,
perhaps, shakes the flower, and a little of the pollen-
dust is blown on to the pistil, and, since the stigma is
sticky, adheres to it, and nothing more is needed.
Nature does the rest.

But with a great many flowers the process is not
so easy. Nature, indeed, for a most wise purpose,
puts various difficulties in the way. For instance, the
fine pollen dust of some flowers is so constituted as to
be of no use to the pistil of its own flower, — although
both may be ripe together, and may come in contact,
— but can only fulfil its purpose when carried to an-

180

FLOWERS IN RELATION TO BEES.

Other flower, or, in some cases, to another plant of the
same species. It is so remarkably with the common
primrose. Again, in a great number of flowers, the
stamens are not ripe at the same time as the pistil. In
some the stamens are ripe first, and shed all their
pollen, and then afterwards the pistil appears, and
holds up its head ready for pollen, which now its own
flower cannot give it. In other cases the pistil is ripe
first, but cannot get pollen from its own flower, as the
stamens are not as yet in a sufficiently forward state.

Here is a meadow geranium. When, first of all,
the stamens are ripe the pistil is not ready. You see
this condition in Fig. i. After all the pollen has
been shed the stamens die away, and the pistil
appears as you see it in Fig. 2.

Meadow Geranium.

Fig. 2.

As another example, we have the wood sage. In
Fig. I you see the stamens standing for\\ard, and the
pistil behind, not yet ready for pollen. Afterwards,
when the pollen has been shed, the stamens bend

FLOWERS IN RELATION TO BEES.

181

Fig. 2.

Wood Sage.

down, of no more use, and the pistil stands erect,
ready for the pollen from some other flower, as you
see in Fig. 2. When the bee
visits the first flower, it does
not touch the pistil, but only
the stamens and pollen. In
the second stage it only
touches the ripe pistil.

Again, in other flowers,
although stamens and pistil
are mature together, the pistil
is so situated, at the time, that
it cannot get the pollen be-
longing to its own flower.

Again, some plants have two kinds of flowers, the
one kind with only the stamens, and the other with
only the pistil.

And, once more, of some kinds of flowers, one
whole plant will have only stamen-bearing flowers,
and another none but pistil-bearing flowers.

So that, as I said, there seems to be all kinds of
difficulties, — and there are many more than I have
mentioned, — in the way of getting pollen to its ap-
pointed place; and yet it must get there.

What is the way out of the difficulty ? Nature
has made the difficulty, how does nature provide for
it to be overcome .-*

Well, first of all, you must remember that, al-
though in any one flower the stamens and pistil may
not be mature at the same time, yet that there will
certainly be close at hand, perhaps on the same plant,
other flowers in which there will be the mature pollen

182 FLOWERS IN RELATION TO BEES.

or the mature pistil, as the case may be, or, in fact,
just the state of things required, if only the pollen can
be carried and placed where it is wanted. If, in any
flower we may be looking at, we see that the stamens
have died away, and the pistil is ready and ripe, we
may be almost sure that, somewhere near, there is a
flower which is not in such a forward state, but where
only the pollen is ready.

And now, I think the great truth, to which all this
leads will already have occurred to you, and when the
question is asked, ' How can the mature pistil get the
mature pollen which it requires ?' you are ready with
the answer that it is done, not only by the wind, but
by the work of bees and other insects, which when
they come searching for honey, get the pollen on to
their bodies, and so carry it from flower to flower.

Yes, this is the great truth ; and the honey, — which
is situated in Avhat is called the ' nectary ' of the
flower, — is by the wonderful care of Nature so situated
(its situation being varied according to the form and
situation of the stamens and pistil), that, when a bee
gets into the necessary position on, or in the flower,
in order to gather the honey, its hairy body must of
necessity touch, in the first place, the ripe pollen on
the stamens, which at once, like dust, sticks to its
hairs, and so is carried away, and then rubbed off again
by the ripe pistil of another flower, which, — on account
of the position of the nectar}', cunningly situated, —
cannot fail to touch the body of the bee as it makes
an effort to obtain the honey.

The bee thus does the very thing which is needed
to cause the seed of the flower to come to perfec-

FLOWERS IN RELATION TO BEES.

183

tion. It is Nature's handmaid and most invaluable
servant.

Just for one example of the marvellous way in
which provision is made for this law of plant-life to
be carried out, I may point you to the flower of the

Ijccs and Orchis.

orchis, where tne pistil is so situated that the only
way in which the pollen can get to it is by its being
carried on the bee's head.

The bee goes to the flower, and, while it is busy

184 FLOWERS IN RELATION TO BEES.

getting honey, it displaces by its head — the nectary
being situated so that this takes place — a little thing
which looks like a couple of horns coming out of a
little sticky crown, and so displaces it that the crown
actually sticks to its head, as you see in the drawing
on preceding page.

Crowned with this the bee flies away, looking like
a bee with horns, but by the time it has got to an-
other flower these little horns have so altered their
position that, when the bee inserts its head into a
fresh flower, these little horns, — which are really
stamens with pollen attached, — go exactly to the very
spot where the pistil is waiting for them ; and thus the
pollen is placed upon it, which could not be the case
in any other way.

This, however, is only one example, and the whole
subject is full of such marvels; but sufficient has been
said for our present purpose, sufficient to show the
usefulness of the bee, for, although the wind does
much, and a vast number of other insects — moths,
butterflies, and many more — ^join in the same work,
no one kind does so much as our friends the bees.

But perhaps you will say, * I wonder why it is that
all this trouble is necessary. I wonder why it is that
every flower is not complete in itself, and has not
stamens and pistil ripe at the same time.' And this
of course would seem the simplest plan ; but, although
I cannot explain it all, I may say that the arrange-
ment, as it is, is one of the most wonderful, and one
of the most striking displays possible of that wisdom
which is seen in all Nature.

When, under certain circumstances, flowers fertilise

FLOWERS IN RELATION TO BEES. 185

themselves, their colour and beauty become less and
less marked, the plants themselves degenerate, become
poor and weak, and the whole race is in danger of
extinction. And thus, even in those cases where the
whole of the flower is ripe together, it is of the
greatest importance that visits of bees and other in-
sects should take place, for the pollen is thus carried
about from flower to flower, and no one flower lives
and dies, as it were, by itself Every flower in some
way helps and benefits its neighbour.

And now, further, from what has been said, we
can see more clearly the important use, not only of
bees, but of honey. It is, we know, very useful to
ourselves, but we can understand now that it is much
more useful to the flowers, — their very existence de-
pending upon it, for, were it not for the honey, bees
and other insects would not visit the flower, and it
would remain unfertilised, and thus would never have
any ripe seed. The flower holds out the attraction of
its sweets ; it invites the bee : ' Come, and I will give
you my honey, and you, in return, shall bring me the
pollen I want ; and then shall take of mine, and carry
it to other flowers now in need of it.' And thus the
great purpose of Nature is fulfilled.

The colour of the flower also does its part in the
work, according to the law that everything in Nature
has some object and reason of existence. You re-
member that I explained how we know that bees have
some knowledge of colour, and so are attracted to the
flowers by the colour, as well as by the honey. And,
although many flowers, without any beauty of colour,
give abundance of honey, it is a remarkable fact, —

186 IMPORTANCE OF BEE-KEEPING,

whatever the explanation of it, — that in the case of all
those trees and plants which do not require the visit
of any insect, but only require the wind to scatter the
pollen, the flowers are without colour, without scent,
and without honey. They do not need the insect,
and so do not hold out any such attraction or give
any such invitation.

Some day you will be able to understand more of
this marvellous and interesting subject, and will learn
more and more the lesson of Divine truth which it
teaches, but, even now, reviewing the mere outline of
the subject which I have given, you cannot fail to be
astonished at the great work done by the bees, and to
see their vast usefulness, usefulness so great that it has
been well said by one of the greatest authorities on
the subject,* 'To them we owe the beauty of our gar-
dens and the sweetness of our fields.'

' There are in these examples who discern
Proof that in bees a power ethereal dwells.
An inspiration of the soul divine.'

Virgil (by Kennedy).

CHAPTER XLI.

THE IMPORTANCE OF BEE-KEEPING.

Bearing in mind what has been said in the last and
Other chapters of the great usefulness of bees, — the
honey they collect, the wax they make, and the flowers
they fertilise, — we can understand that it is of con-
siderable importance that as many as possible should
be kept everywhere.

* Sir John Lubbock.

IMPORTANCE OF BEE-KEEPING. 187

It ha-s been said by some that if a great number
of stocks are kept in any one place, the flowers in the
neighbourhood will not furnish sufficient honey. But
this is quite a mistake, except perhaps as regards a
few very barren localities. Some of the greatest
authorities assert that no district has ever yet been
overstocked. Langstroth says, * It is difficult to re-
press a smile when the owner of a few hives, in a
district where as many hundreds might be made to
prosper, gravely imputes his ill success to the fact
that too many bees are kept in his vicinity. If in
the spring a colony of bees is prosperous and healthy,
it will gather abundant stores in a favourable season,
even if hundreds, equally strong, are in its immediate
vicinity, while if it is feeble it will be of little or no
value, even if it is in " a land flowing with milk and
honey," and there is not another stock within a dozen
miles of it.'

In fact, almost any number of hives may be kept,
and will give good return if managed well. At all
events, in other countries, many more are kept than in
England. In some places there are apiaries containing
several hundred stocks, and even as many as two or
three thousand.

In Russia, Germany, Austria, Greece, Cyprus, and
many other countries, bee-keeping is practised most
extensively — far more so than in England — and for a
longtime has been a national industry — a position which
it has only very recently assumed with us. Langstroth
mentions that 'in the province of Attica, in Greece, con-
taining forty-five square miles and 20,000 inhabitants,
20,000 hives are kept, each yielding on an average

188 IMPORTANCE OF BEE-KEEPING.

thirty pounds of honey, and two pounds of wax.' And,
again, that 'in 1857 the yield of honey and wax in
the empire of Austria was estimated to be worth over
seven milHons of dollars.' And that ' a province of
Holland, containing 1200 square miles, maintains an
average of 2000 colonies per square mile.'

But it is in America that bee-keeping is now
carried on most extensively. In that great country,
where, owing to the difference of climate of the vast
tracts of land through which some great river passes,
the flowers of several districts bloom in succession,
the plan has been tried, although not with much success,
of placing many hives on a barge, which night by
night is towed to fresh pastures, where the bees roam
by day, and then, returning to the hives at evening,
are carried on to fresh fields before the next morning.
We read of even 400 or 500 hives, being so placed on
a couple of barges, and towed by a steamer up the
river from New Orleans. Not that this is altogether
a new plan, for it was practised to some extent even
in ancient Egypt ; and in France and elsewhere has
been an old custom, showing, if not an example for
ourselves in this country, yet, at all events, a proof of
the enterprise of foreign bee-keepers.

In America, again, bee-farms are established on the
largest scale, and are managed on the most scientific
principles. A large apiary in California is said to have
given sixty-seven tons of surplus honey in one year,
and an apiary of 500 stocks is by no means an unusual
thing.

And if such things are possible elsewhere, and
there is honey sufficient for such large numbers, we

IMPORTANCE OF BEE-KEEPING. 189

may safely say that oftentimes there are hundreds of
tons of honey in our fields and orchards that are
wasted. The apple and other fruit-trees in the spring,
the bean and clover fields in the summer, and the
lime-trees later on, to say nothing of hundreds of
other kinds of flowers, are all full to overflowing of
precious nectar, but there are not bees to gather it.
And it is not as if these flowers could give up their
supplyonlyonce, for nature is so bountiful that, as men-
tioned before, bees may come again and again, and find
the little storehouse replenished. It is the voice of the
flowers to the bee, ' Take away all my sweets, and yet
come again, for some more will very soon be ready for
you.'

What a pity it seems that there should be such
waste of Nature's good gifts ! It is waste also of that
which might bring many a comfort to those who need.
The cottager, who oftentimes has hard enough work to
make ends meet, and can only do so by great care,
might very well add something to his store by
keeping a few hives. It would cost him but little
time, or only such time as his wife or elder children
could give. We may almost say that the money for
his rent, or the money for his children's shoes, is lying
there in the fields, every flower containing its little mite
ready for him, if only he would keep the busy workers
who are ready most willingly to gather it for him.

And, besides all this, it is doubtless true that, if
more bees were kept, there would be yet greater crops
of good fruit in many an orchard and garden. We
see an orchard white with lovely blossoms, but a vast
number of these fall to the ground, and never develope

190 IMPORTANCE OF BEE-KEEPING

into fruit for want of the visit of a bee. The wind
does much, and many other insects help, but of all
workers amongst the flowers, the bee, we know, is first
and foremost and most useful. And so much is this
the case that when fruit-farming is undertaken and
large orchards are planted, some people very wisely
establish at the same time large apiaries, not so much
for the honey the bees produce, as for the good they
do amongst the fruit trees. On every ground then
we bid ' welcome to the bee.'

WELCOME TO THE BEE.

• Come, honey bee, with thy busy hum,
To the fragrant tufts of the wild thyme come,
And sip the sweet dew from the cowshp's head,
From the hly's bell and the violet's bed,

Come, honey bee,

There is spread for thee
A rich repast in wood and field :

And a thousand flowers,

Within our bowers,
To thee their sweetest essence yield.

Come, honey bee, to our woodlands come ;
There's a lesson for us in thy busy hum ;
Thou hast treasure in store in the hawthorn's wreath,
In the golden broom, and the purple heath ;

And flowers less fair

That scent the air
Like pleasant friends, drop balm for thee,

And thou winnest spoil

By thy daily toil
Thou patient and thrifty and diligent bee.

We may learn from the bee the wise man's lore,
" The hand of the diligent gathercth store :"
She plies in her calling from morn to night,

SUPERSTITIOXS WITH REGARD TO BEES. 191

Nor tires in her labour nor flags in her flight :
From numberless blossoms of t\try hue,
She gathers the nectar and sips the dew.

Then homeward she speeds

O'er the fragrant meads,
And she hums, as she goes, her thankful lay :

Let our thanks, too, rise.

For our daily supplies,
As homeward and heavenward we haste on our way.'

Be£ Journal^ 1877.

CHAPTER XLII.

SUPERSTITIONS WITH REGARD TO BEES.

Throughout this book I have endeavoured to point
out from time to time that for everything in the
natural history of bees, their structure and their
habits, there is good and sufficient cause. We
thought, for instance, of the tongue and the sting,
and of their legs and wings, of the young they rear,
and the combs they build, and each bee doing its
own appointed work; and we saw wise purpose in
everything.

In this chapter I will speak not of the bee's wisdom
but of man's foolishness. I will tell you of one or two
curious things, sometimes said to be true, by those
who are ignorant and superstitious, but for which
there is but little foundation of either truth or reason.

' Bad luck,' as it is called, in bee-keeping, is con-
nected by superstition with many things which can
by no possibility have anything to do with failure.
Very likely, in years gone by, people, as they do now,
lost their bees through bad management, and then

192 SUPERSTITIONS WITH REGARD TO BEES.

remembering something that had happened at the
same time, began to think, without any reason what-
ever, that the two things were connected together.
And when perhaps, by a curious coincidence, the
same two things happened again at the same time,
the idea began to take root, and so grew, as supersti-
tions will grow, until at last people became quite
persuaded that if such or such a thing happened it
Avould certainly bring misfortune to the bees.

With some foolish or ignorant people it is con-
sidered very unlucky to walk under a ladder. Of
course it may be dangerous, but ' unlucky ' has no
meaning. With others there is a superstitious belief
that if thirteen persons sit down to dinner together
one will die before the year is out. Many foolishly
think it is unlucky to spill salt at table ; others that
it is unlucky and portends a death if a dog howls at
night near a house. Sailors think it unlucky to set
sail on a Friday.

And then with bees. There is a common supersti-
tion that it is most unlucky to sell them except for
gold. Hence in many parts the usual price of a
swarm is half-a-sovereign, to be paid in gold. Again,
some people think it unlucky to begin bee-keeping by
buying the bees of their first stock. If they are
bought they will do no good ; the stock must be a
present, or a swarm must come of its own accord. I
remember that when I began bee-keeping many years
ago I was told that I should be lucky because my
first stock was a present from a friend.

Another curious idea prevalent in some parts of
the country, as told by Harris, is that if bees, when

SUPERSTITIONS WITH REGARD TO BEES. 193

they swarm, alight on dry or dead wood — a dead
bough or a post, they will never prosper. He also
quotes an old author, who says, ' The Cornish to this
day invoke the spirit " Browny " when their bees
swarm, and think their crying "Browny! Browny!"
will prevent their returning to their former hive, and
make them pitch, and form a new colony.'

Closely allied with these superstitions as to swarm-
ing, is the old and very prevalent custom of making a
clatter called 'tanging,' — if possible with a key upon a
tin pan, — while the swarm is in the air, for the pur-
pose, it is said, of causing it to alight near at hand,
and not to fly away.

This ' tanging ' is a very ancient custom. Even
Virgil, — and he takes the idea from earlier writers,
— mentions it as very advisable. Sweet -smelling
savours are to be scattered on the ground, and then,

' Make tinkling noise and beat the Phrygian drum ;
They of themselves, attracted by the scent,
Will settle, and in fashion of their own
Take full possession of their infant realm.'

Virgil (by Kennedy).

And it has probably been more or less a custom ever
since, and even now is practised in many parts of our
country, although for its professed object it is per-
fectly useless.

In this case, however, the old custom may have
survived owing to the noise being taken as loud
notice, given by the owner of the swarm to all his
neighbours that his bees had swarmed, and thus as a
claim of his right to follow them and to secure them
wherever they might settle. It is said that ' by one of

O

194 SUPERSTITIONS WITH REGARD TO BEES.

the laws of Alfred the Great all bee-keepers were
bound to ring a bell when their bees were swarming,
to give notice to their neighbours of the fact.'*

But by far the most curious superstition is that
which supposes some mysterious sympathy between
the bees and their owner when any death occurs in
the family, and which makes it necessary to inform
the bees of the event, and to make them share in the
mourning. A writer in the Bee Journal says, ' A
person told me a few days ago that her grandfather,
who lived in Oxfordshire, had seventeen bee-hives,
and when he died the bees were not informed of
it, and the consequence was every one of the bees
died.'

The usual practice is to ' tell ' the bees of the
death at midnight by tapping the hives and saying
' So-and-so is dead,' and afterwards to pin a piece of
crape on each hive.

And this old superstitious custom still lingers in
all parts of the country. Only the other day (18S5) I
saw hives in Norfolk thus in mourning; but it is of
course a custom that will gradually die out as people
more and more learn the true principles of bee-
keeping, and the true reasons of success or failure.
The Rev. George Raynor, the well-known bee-
keeper, has given me the following story: — 'An
old " lady " in this parish, whose husband died a short
time ago, was about " to put her bees into mourning,"
when I dissuaded her, showing her how foolish was
the idea that the bees could understand anything
about the death. During the following winter the
* Bee Journal^ vol. iv.

ASSOCIATIONS AND SHOIVS. 195

bees Jied. I was never forgiven, although I offered
more bees to the manes of the departed husband. I
was greeted with, " It's all very good o' you, sir, but
they ain't like t'other poor dears as is dead and
gone !" '

CHAPTER XLIII.

BEE-KEEPERS' ASSOCIATIONS AND SHOWS.

Following up what I said in the last chapter, we
may consider it as a general truth, that what is called
want of luck is really want of management, and
most certainly can have no connexion with any of
the several causes assigned by superstition. There
is an old saying that ' a bad workman complains of
his tools,' and it is often so with the bee-keeper. He
blames anything rather than himself. Bad weather
may, of course, bring unavoidable misfortune, but even
this can in great measure be averted by good
management.

And now in these days there is less excuse than
ever for any one to talk of ill-luck, for if a person
really wishes to succeed, and is willing to learn, and
ready to take trouble, there are abundant means at
his disposal for learning all that is necessary. There
are not only books and guides and periodicals in
abundance, but, most probably, there will be a bee-
keepers' association in his county or district; and, if he
joins it, he will by his membership obtain many
benefits and much information.

196 ASSOCIATIONS AND SHOWS.

These associations established in almost every
county in affiliation with the British Bee-keepers'
Association, do a great deal to advance intcUit^cnt
bee-keeping. They not only promote unity of purpose
and a kindly feeling amongst bee-keepers, but in
various ways give much instruction. They organize
shows, and give prizes for honey and hives. They
provide lecturers for meetings, and then, as their
principal and most useful work, employ men of ex-
perience called ' experts,' who go round the countr)-,
and visit members at their homes, examining their
hives and giving good practical advice.

When you are a bee-keeper you will doubtless join
such an association, and then, when your bees are
prospering, you will look forward to its annual show
with great interest. It may be you will be able to
send some honey for exhibition. Let us hope you
will.

The show of hives and honey will possibly be in
connexion with the flower show of the neighbourhood,
so that there will be a large gathering of people from
the county round — those interested in flowers as well
as those interested in bees.

The occasion of such a show is both an interesting
and pleasant holiday. It will be held, probably, near
the market town, and you will perhaps go by train ; and
as you draw near, at every station you will see signs of
holiday and preparation. Children with their exhibits
of wild or other flowers will join the train, dressed in
their best, and with anticipation of success beaming
in their faces. Gardeners, too, will be there with
their precious flowers, eagerly discussing their merits.

ASSOCIATIOXS AND SHOIVS. 197

And then others will enter the train, bringing their
exhibits of honey — the supers their bees have filled,
and which for long have been the objects of much
anxiety. Carefully and neatly packed they will be
eyed once more, and again, by the exhibitor, and the
story will be told to fellow-travellers of the wonders
the bees have performed, and how the honey they
have made can hardly fail to win a prize.

And thus at last the show-ground is reached — a
spacious field or the shaded recesses of a gentleman's
park, brightened with flags and banners. Here all is
bustle and preparation amidst the several tents, — one
for cut flowers and hardy plants ; one for ferns and
hothouse plants ; one, perhaps, for roses, the queen of
flowers ; one for cottagers' exhibits, and then, last, but
not least, one for the exhibits of hives and honey.
Carts and vans have brought heavy loads, which are
now being transferred to the appointed tents. And
here you give up to the Secretary or Manager your
own valued contribution, — well-filled sections, or large
supers, or bottles of clear run honey, to be arranged
in due course, each in its own class, there to be
inspected by the appointed judges.

And now you must wait ; and anxious the time
of this waiting, while the judges make their awards.
The time, however, comes at last, and the tent is
thrown open. Exhibitors and visitors press in. And
great your pleasure, as you enter with the throng, if
you find 'First Prize' or 'Second Prize' on your
exhibit ! It is reward for your care. But if no prize
is yours — and all cannot win — let us hope you will
bear the disappointment bravely, ready to approve the

i98 ASSOCIATIONS AND S HO J VS.

judges' decision, and making the determination that
you will not be beaten another year, but will yet
succeed by perseverance and greater care.

' 'Tis a lesson you should heed,

Try, try, try again.
If at first you don't succeed,

Try, try, try again.
Then your courage should appear ;
For if you will persevere.
You will conquer, never fear :

Try, try, try again.

Once or twice though you may fail,

Try, try, try again.
If at last you would prevail.

Try, try, try again.
If we strive 'tis no disgrace
Though we may not win the race ;
What should we do in that case ?

Try, try, try again.

If you find your task is hard,

Try, try, try again.
Time will bring you your reward ;

Try, try, try again.
All that other people do :
Why, with patience, should not you ?
Only keep this rule in view —

Try, try, try again.'

And now, as you walk around the show, keep
your eyes and ears open to gain all possible informa-
tion. You will meet with many of greater experience
than yourself — the best bee-keepers of the county, and
you will always find them ready to give you kind
words and advice. Bee-keepers, like their bees, try to
help one another, and to work for one common end.

200 ASSOCIATIONS AND SHOWS.

And then, having thoroughly examined all the
exhibition tent contains, you will visit the ' bee-tent,'
where, safe from attack behind the gauze net, many
will be gathered to witness some expert engaged in
driving bees, and transferring them from a skep. You
will hear him also explain some of the wonders of the
hive, and the best way of practical management.
Observe and listen carefully, and you will pick up
many a hint to be brought into practice afterwards.

And thus, amidst beautiful flowers making the air
sweet, and amidst bees, and honey, and pleasant
friends, and cheerful faces, and in listening to the
band, you will spend a happy day, and, when evening
comes, will return once more to your home and hives,
all the better for having mixed with others, and
gathered experience, and all the more, I think, loving
your bees because understanding them better.

And this interest will not flag in future years. On
the contrary, I think, as years pass away, you will be
all the more attached and devoted to bee-keeping.
There will be ever a growing interest, not simply for
profit sake, but because you will ever find more and
more to learn, fresh wonders from time to time,
wonders of bee life, wonders of bee instinct, wonders
amidst the honey-giving flowers, each one more clearly
unfolding the wisdom and goodness of the great
Creator, who desires that we should enjoy to the full
the rich and countless gifts of Nature so freely be-
stowed upon us all.

LONDON :
Printed by Strangeways & Sons, Tower Street, Upper St. Martin's Lane,