ALBERT R. MANN LIBRARY NEw YorK STATE COLLEGES OF AGRICULTURE AND HOME ECONOMICS AT CORNELL UNIVERSITY EVERETT FRANKLIN PHILLIPS BEEKEEPING LIBRARY Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924003691544 A BOOK ABOUT BEES. [From a Drawing by Charles Jenyns. The Cottage Bee-keeper’s Home. A BooK ABOUT BEES. Tuer History, Hazirs, AND Insrinets; | TOGETHER WITH THE First Principles oF MobERN 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. 1886. ESratefully Wedeated tO THE BARONESS BURDETT-COUTTS, President of the British Bee-keepers’ Association. WILOSE 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,— 18 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, INTRODUCTION. SLTRATION STREET, December 6th, 1885. DEAR Mk, JENYNs, I am much gratified by your kind wish to dedicate to me your valuable educational con- tribution on Bees and Bec-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 in 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 controll, 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 Bec-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. Knebworth Rectory, Dec. 1885. LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. THE COTTAGE BEE-KEEPERS’ HOME WILD BEES AND FLOWERS ITALIAN BEE. s . QUEEN, WORKER, AND DRONE BEES THE QUEEN AND HER ATTENDANTS QUEEN CELLS IN DIFFERENT STAGES THE COTTAGER AND HIS BEES HIVING ASWARM. 3 : i THE HEAD, THORAX, ABDOMEN, OF A BEE WING OF A BEE EGG AND LARV4 OF THE BEE . LEG AND POLLEN-BASKET. Zwo J/lustrations TONGUE. Zwo Lllustrations WING, SHOWING HOOKLETS BEE AND ITS STING STING HIGHLY MAGNIFIED HEAD AND ANTENNA ComMB, WORKER AND DRONE Come FOUNDATION . ; : ; a TAGE Tvons piece a 23 26 xvi LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE POSSIBLE FORMS oF CELLS — CIRCULAR, SQUARE, TRIANGULAR . a 3 : , ; ‘ 92, 93 ECONOMY OF THE HEXAGONAL FORM. i ‘ . 94 LEG WITH NOTCH, MAGNIFIED . : E ‘ ; . 108 THE COTTAGE HIVE OF HELPFUL CHILDREN . é . 113 OBSERVATORY HIVE . ‘ 7 é ‘ ‘ . . 120 STRAW HIVE AND SUPER . ‘ F : 5 ‘ . 120 FRAME . é > ‘ ‘ . : ‘ ‘ » 12 HIVE SHOWING FRAMES IN POSITION. i ‘ » 125 FRAME, EMPTY, AND WITH FOUNDATION Z ; . 156 FRAME FILLED WITHCOMB . weet CO‘ SECTION OF A HIVE WITH FRAMES . : é ‘ . 138 QUEEN CAGES . z A F . ‘ : 3 . 143 BEE VEIL . i i ‘ ‘ 3 : A : « 145 SMOKER IN USE - : ‘ : : 2 . . 145 SECTIONS WITH FOUNDATION . P i ‘ ‘ . 148 SECTIONS IN RACK . ‘ 4 : ‘ : é 148 HIVE WITH SECTIONS IN POSITION . é : j . 149 EXTRACTOR. Zwo Illustrations ; ‘ : ‘ . 151 DRIVING BEES FROM A SKEP . ‘ ‘i ‘ . 159 FLOWERS—CHERRY, BUTTERCUP, APPLE, MFADOW GERANIUM, WooD SAGE F z ; . 178—181 BEES AND ORCHIS . ‘ ; : ‘ : 5‘ . 183 BEE TENT . . ‘ . ‘ CONTENTS. ee cae CHAPTER I. HABITS OF OBSERVATION . ‘ , A Wonders of Nature around us Ramis Scotch Naturalist—Professor Henslow—The Microscope—‘ Eyes and no Eyes.’ CHAPTER II. BEES TO BE OBSERVED AND TREATED WITH GINTLENESS Bees: A Subject of Interest—When and Why they Sting— To be treated with Kindness—Coleridge. CHAPTER III. THE WORK OF THE BEE—INTRODUCTORY 3 ‘Mind your own Business ’—The Bee works itself to Death— Sir J. Lubbock’s Observations on the Work of a Bee, CHAPTER IV. THE BEr’s Busy LIFE—CONTINUED . The Bee does not ‘rust out :’ contented, patient, persevering —The Donkey at Carisbrooke Castle. CHAPTER V. COMMUNITY OF BEESINAHIVE . a Ue ‘ Rooks and other Birds congregate— Bees in the Hive as a Community — Ants — Sir J. Lubbock -- Beavers — The ‘ Song of the Bees,’ PAGE 10 13 15 xviii CONTENTS. CHAPTER VI. DIFFERENT KINDS OF BEES Vast Numbers of different kinds of Bees —Hutibte Bees: their great Use; taken to New Zealand—Solitary Bees: the Leaf-cutting—The Mason. CHAPTER VII. VARIETIES OF THE HONEY BEE : é . ‘i Some Honey Bees more valuable than Shemcenalia Bees — Cyprian and other Bees. CHAPTER VIII. AMERICAN BEES : : The Wild Bees of irate he and ipaeps— Hee ae in America—The Bee-line—Instinct—Story of a Cat. CHAPTER IX. BEES IN THE OLDEN TIME ; Bees and Honey, mention of, in the Bible — Virgil, a others—Huber, and his Life. CHAPTER X. THE INHABITANTS OF THE HIVE—INTRODUCTORY Modern Discoveries—The different Kinds of Bees ina 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 . The Brood Nest and its Contents—The Queen- call 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 . A Swarm issuing — The Swarm secured and hived — Its Work during the Summer — Its Condition in Autumn and Winter. PAGE 21 wo or 27 30 41 47 CONTENTS. CHAPTER XIII. A TALE OF DESTRUCTION ‘ : ri The Goose and its golden Eggs—The old Cites of de- stroying the Bees—An inhuman and foolish System— Thomson’s ‘ Seasons,’ CHAPTER XIV. THE NATURAL HISTORY OF THE BEE—INTRODUCTORY . Some Knowledge of the Bee’s Natural History necessary— 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 The Classification of Animals—The Bee’s Position in the Insect World —Recapitulation, and Diagram. CHAPTER XVI. THE TRANSFORMATION OF INSECTS The Egg, Larva, Pupa, Imago—The Provision of Nature for Food for the Larvze of different Insects—Examples. CHAPTER XVII. THE NATURAL HISTORY OF THE BEE—CONTINUED . 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 OE THE BEE ADAPTED TO ITS WANTS . Examples of the same Adaptation to be found in Animals, Birds, Fishes, and Man himself—The Leg of the Bee— The Tongue— The Wings. xix PAGE 63 59 66 69 XX CONTENTS. CHAPTER XIX. THE SAME SUBJECT—CONTINUED The Sting of the Bee—The Sting under the tiiceacoess The Antenne—The Antennz a means of Communication, CHAPTER XxX. THE SAME SUBJECT—CONTINUED . : ‘ The Differences in Formation of Queen, Worker, and theare A Worker sometimes lays Eggs, CHAPTER XXI. Comps, AND THE FORM OF CELLS Examples of Engineering Skill—The Perfection of ti Hee agonal Shape of Cell—Mathematics of the Hive—Combs must have great Strength—How this Strength is obtained with the least material possitle—How Worker and Drone Cells are joined together. CHAPTER XXII. MORE ABOUT WHAT THE BEES DO The Queen, her Work, and Instincts—The Minbar of aes she lays—The Drones and their Use—Drones destroyed. CHAPTER XXIII. THE SAME SUBJECT—CONTINUED 5 The Worker’s Work—Shakspeare on the Hy 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 IIoney derived from the Nectar of Pies Fae the Bee removes Pollen from its Tongue — Propolis, whence gathered—Curious Instances of its Use—A Snail de-. stroyed—A Slug buried. PAGE 81 86 88 102 106 CONTENTS, CHAPTER NXY. WAX, AND HOW THE DEES MAKE IT. ‘ ; ; Wax produced from Honey—The Time and Labour necessary for the Provess—All Workers, except the young Bees, are Wax-makers—The Work of young Bees—The Children of the Hive most Useful. CHAPTER NAVI, NIGHT-WORK AND VENTILATION — . : : . Bees never sleep—The Necessity of Ventilation, and how the Bees provide for it—The Guard at the Gate. CHAPTER NXVIL. Tite DiViIstON OF LABOUR IN THE HIVE : Every Bee has its Work—Their Attention to little ichteeiees The Importance of litthe Things—Other Examples of tlic Wonders done by little Creatures—The Hive a Savings bank, CHAPTER XXVIIL MORE ABOUT THE OBSERVATION OF BEES : : : 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 . . ' Boys and Girls may keep Bees—Best to begin in a small Way —The Necessity of Common Sense and Perseverance— Whatever you do, do it thoroughly—Good Management always pays—Virgil’s Story of the old Gardener, CHAPTER XXX. First PRINCIPLES OF BEE-KEEPING , . . . 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. xxi PAGE ilu 114 116 120 xxii CONTENTS. CHAPTER XXXI. THE FRAME-HIVE AND THE PRINCIPLES OF ITS CON- STRUCTION . ‘i ; ‘ - - , : 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 : : : _ Interchange of Frames—Introduction of young Queens—Ex- traction of Honey—Increase of Colonies—Enemies de- stroyel—Something about Bee-veils and Smokers. CHAPTER XXXIII. SUPER HONEY AND THE EXTRACTOR ‘i ‘ 3 : 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 . : ‘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: -3 -@ SP oo wk ke ce The Bee-keeper in Summer—The Quantity of loney 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 Bee-keeper at rest in Winter. PAGE 183 141] 146 CONTENTS, CHAPTER XXXVI. THE CONNEXION BETWEEN FOOD AND WARMTH 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 . : ; . 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 ‘ 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 . : : Toney 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. i ; F 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 Planis die out or degenerate— wee xxl PAGE 162 165 169 176 xxiv CONTENTS. FLOWERS IN RELATION TO BEES—Continucd. 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. ‘ ' ’ ‘ 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—Hloney 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 XLII. SUPERSTITIONS WITH REGARD TO BEES . . . ‘ 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 Rey, G. Raynor, CHAPTER XLII. BEE-KEEPERS’ ASSOCIATIONS AND SHOWS , ‘ ‘ Bee-keeping Literature—Associations: their Object and Work —A County Show— The Gathering of Exhibitors — Success or Failure—The Bee-tent —Conclusion. PAGE 186 191 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.’ 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 made. By 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. 3 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 alittle 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 probably you 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 isits 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. AABITS OF OBSERVATION. 5 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 itso? 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 No 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. 7 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 we 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 wish you could come with 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 will 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 a 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 ona 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. V THE WORK OF THE BEEINTRODUCTORY. 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, ‘Iam 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 off 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 idie 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 BEE’S BUSY LIFE. not be lives of idleness, We shall not get rusty for want of work. ‘IT 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 isso dull to do it again and again!’ The cheerful hum we hear, as the bee flies past us, does 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 1N 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 everything, 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 story 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 you, 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 Cc 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 colony. 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 us, 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 Are the truths thou may’st learn from the honey-bees ! Childs Companion, DIFFERENT KINDS OF BEES. 21 CHAPTER VI. y 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 are 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 see 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 crévice 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 sec 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 are 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 ,jthem 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 young. 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 wool supported 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 the 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 j 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 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- nately, 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 Italian Bee. 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. 29 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. af 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 IN 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 nals study of natural history revived. We must, however, pass over this opted for I want to point you especially to one great observer and writer about bees. who lived about a hundred years ago—Huber; 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 71ME. 33 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 OL THE HIVE, BS 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 with 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 even 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?’ 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, (1) 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. 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 thcir chief features. J. 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 arc 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. 387 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 88 INHABITANTS OF THE HIVE. bees, as well becomes her position of queen, or rather, we might say, the mother bee of the hive. M2 if 4 2 Ate ph i 4 es aK SF mr i The bea 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 ot 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. 89 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 Jeading 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 knowntosome. 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. 0 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 are, 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 pamper’d leisure thrive The lazy fathers of 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 egg, 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, we 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 HONEY BEE, 48 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 young 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.HONEY 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 hearin 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 everything 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. The Cottager and his Bees. HISTORY OF THE HIVE. AT 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 FIVE, 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-shatterd 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 Ibs. (6 Ibs. § 02.), 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, E 60 AISTORY OF THE HIVE. they will fly again, and take possession of the ‘rifted roof’ or the ‘hollow’d oak,’ and we shall lose them altogether. 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 carry. Thus even in an hour's time they will have made a iving a Swarm. H 52 AISTORY 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,—every 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, 4A TALE OF DESTRUCTION. 53 CHAPTER NIII. 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 everywhere 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 name) 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, Afford them shelter from the wintry winds ? Or, as the sharp year pinches, with their own Again regale them on some smiling day ?’ THOMSON. a TALE OF DESTRUCTION. 55 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. And 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. 56 OBSERVATION NECESSARY. 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 futuxe 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 OBSERVATION NECESSARY. 57 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 every 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 Gbsenvation 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 OBSERVATION NECESSARY. 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.’ IT 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 life, 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 NATURAL 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 sameway 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, The Head, 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 antenne, 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—Hymenoptera—so called because NATURAL HISTORY 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 I into families, each family being distinguished by its own peculiar character. Wing of a Bee. 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 Apidz, 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 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 Mellifica—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, we 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 Apide, 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 :— 65 NATURAL HISTORY OF THE BEF. ‘aog ystsuqe''''' SHILAIUVA ‘Oy sueiks suelidds5 ‘UBT[VI] | | | | | (‘sa1azyUN0d (‘e1pu]) yaaoefpe pue adoinq) Ox “Oy “Oy ‘eyesiog sidy BOUTIPTAL sidy srateesenssease Coad S | ‘a2p ‘soog uosRyY *(29q-aTquIN Jy) snqwog | *(sa0q) Sidyy erensses* VENA) *(sdsemy) wpidsa,~, | *‘(Qqiy 99g) epidyr ts SAITO *(‘029 ‘saoq) oy varajdouawiA YH | | “(029 ‘sarpazayng) via}dopiday *(:229 ‘sapjaaq) eiajdosjog tt SuaaUO “eyOISUT Gilt oP A SSSR HOSS AI Hera NER EN SER AR SWART SNES ts SESE UN a 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 egg which greatly differs in many respects, besides its size, from the egg of a bird, Both eggs—the egg of the bird and the egg 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 egg 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 egg 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 larve 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- sary. 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 TRANSFORMATION 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 isa 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 larve 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 afford 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 larve NATURAL HISTORY 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 LEE—CONLINUED. 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 larvee of the lee. 70 NATURAL HISTORY OF THE BEE. The mother or queen bee lays its small egg 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 egg 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 antenne grow. Its mouth and other parts take their proper shape, and in twelve days more—or twenty-one from the time the egg 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. NATURAL HISTORY 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 dces not come until some four days later than a worker, that is to say, on about the twenty-fifth day from the time the egg 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 HtS10KY OF 7HE BEE. an egg, then a larva, then a pupa, and then, in due time, she becomes the perfect queen: but the remark- able thing is that the egg which produces this queen is not, so to speak, a queen egg, 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 egg 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 1HE LEE, 73 for in eight days more,—or about the sixteenth day after the egg was laid (instead of twenty-one in the case of a worker, and twenty-five in the case of a drone), it is ready to cut its way otit, 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 egg 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 are 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 Jarva! 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 XVIII. 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 egg and its infancy to the perfect insect, and examine more closely some of its parts; and we shall see in it, I STRUCTURE ADAPTED 70 IVANTS. 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 colous 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 76 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. We 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, 1, 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. 1). 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 73 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, cd wm ‘ef ag fi 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 or 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 hooklets, 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 T0 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 wing, 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 sce the little hooks greatly magnified in the illustration. CHAPTER XIX. THE SAME SUBJECT CON'TINUED.—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 IVANTS. 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 sce 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. Bee and its Sting. 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 wholc 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 STRUCTORE ADAPTED TO IANTS. 83 When we consider the quantitics of tempting food stored within the hive and the smallness of the little 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. c\nd 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. which it breathes, and the formation of the eye, and the internal organs, I will only say something of the antenne. All the uses of these most important organs we probably do not know, but, amongst other uses, they are certainly means by which A A 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 antennz, they un- doubtedly speak to one an- Head and Antenne. other, whatever their language is. It is also-evidently by the touch of the antenne 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 antenne 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 =, Fare S # 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 antennze 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. But 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 two 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 antenne the antenne 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. Itwasa proof that it is mainly, if not entirely, by the antenne that bees can communicate with one another. CHAPTER XxX, 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 TARTATION 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 think 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 try 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.’ T 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 strongand 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 of 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 91 aw: shaped pieces meeting COMBS, AND TRE FORM OF CELLS. 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 orker and Drone. Comb—W. formed of three such diamond in a point as you see in the drawing below. > 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 Circles. 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. 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. Much heat also would be lost, a most impor- tant consideration to the bees. This you can see by the illustration. mmm AVAVAVA WAVAVAN 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 OL COMBS, AND THE FORM OF CELLS. together, only indeed a little better than a sct of circles, but hexagons fit together perfectly. Economy of the Hexagonal Form. 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. But 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 COMBS, 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 little insects can unite so many requisites in the construction of their cells, either by chance, or because they are 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 XXII. MORE ABOUT WHAT THE BEES DO. WE pass on now to consider more fully than we have done before, some particulars of the work 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 little 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 egg 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 larva 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 littlk—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 BEES 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 egg 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 are 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 events 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.’ EVANS. 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.’ King Henry V., Acti. Se. 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 and 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 104 MORE ABOUT WHAT THE BEES DO. make you feel, 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 their 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 want 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 were possible, and we ourselves 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 antennz. 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 firs 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 several 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 clap 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 hee, 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 we 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 HOI WAX IS MADE. 111 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 HOW 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 The Cottage Hive of Helpful Children. From a drawing by Charles Jenyns, 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 are 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 balmy 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 antennz, 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 XXVIL. 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 100 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-office, 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 deeds of kindness, Little grains of sand, Little words of love, Make the mighty ocean, Make our earth an Eden And the beauteous land. Like the heaven above.’ 120 OBSERVATION OF BEES. CHAPTER XXVIII MORE ABOUT THE OBSERVATION OF BEES. IN ‘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 large windows, and of such little depth between back and front that it will not hold two.combs side by side. There is, Observatory Hive. 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. OBSERVATION OF BEES, 121 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 larve, and how the comb is made, and the cells filled with honeyand 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 observing 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 fromm 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 OBSERVATION 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 now 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 series 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 wich 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 does 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 T0 BEE-KEEIMING. 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, with 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 INTRODUCTION 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. «32 earty Services Confession: ASermon . ‘ . +» 32 Helen Morton’s Trial, and Timid Lucy Confirmation, Office of 32 | Help at Hand ’ . . CONTENTS. 85 v4 Page Page Her Great Ambition a . e + 12 Month by Month . 20 High Wages. : 1 a2 | Mopsathe Fairy : : 2 7] 2 46 Hindrances an Help: a iB : 32 More Outlines . : ; ; : aa to Spiritual Life as Hints to Church Workers = Moris ce as foe. eas Holiness to the Lord e a 's . 13 Mother’s Union” : : : eee Holy eilenete Officeol . « + 30 ” Warm Shawl: i not at »» Communion Stee og M . P eommnunion (Sikes) : . ; z y Private Prayer-book . . a * 3t »» Marriage, Two Addresses on . 16 » Matrimony, Office for Solemni- N.orM. . 20 zation of . 30 Necessity of Personal Testimony . 31 Holy Senptiiee: Temperance ‘and ‘Total ead meee, Hs s+ 5 tinence , k, s @ otes on the urch Serv: . . . Holy Week and Easter | a 2 Number Eleven . i . ss 23 and Easter (Bourdaloue) re} Home Reunion, Church in Relationto . 13 | OfftoCalifornia . Si OG ” »” eee + + 33 Cae for New-Year’s Eve; a. Ye 9 : + 13 ces for Parochial Use, Five . ro) Home Retinion Society's Publications * 33 5, of Holy Baptism, Confirmation, 3 ene os : . . . 14 Solemnization of Mecanente and Horie Meier fe ai a 30 Burial of the Dead . nae 30 ents : . 32 | Old, Old Story . By Sis We y> to Deal with Temptation : : 32 | Old’Andrew the Peacemaker ee ee 6 », toPraythe Lord’s Prayer . . 16 » Paths. . . a oe . 3 Ship . . ‘ a -F Index Canonum 4 - ‘ . mt Oliver Dale’ 's Decision e a ‘ at Inheritance of our Fathers x 2 One of a Covey . . . « 2I Institution and Induction, Form of . 27 Only a Girl . . . . . + 16 Instruction for Junior Classes . a a I Ordination, Eve of . . . : . 4 Isit Peace? . ‘ ‘i 5 aR ae Ee ae Girls . . : ; - 22 ur Class Meeting . . . . 9 ack Stedman . 5 Our Church and Our Country | a . » 30 em Morrison, and the Village Artist 3 | Our Waifs and Strays | a 328 pune Lessons f for can Sunday | BA 4 utline Illustrations for Little Ones to pealendar Mates & So 3° Colour. First and Second Series . 23 gin His Beauty. . . . I | Outline Pictures for Little Painters .- 19 Pendens eee Hands . e é - 33 and of Light . . iz . . 17 ut of the Way . . . . - 28 Laws of Marriage. - Il Lay Missioners, Hints to. ‘ . 12 Papal Claims . 22 Readers, Hintsto_ . . . 2 Tecnures on the Lord's Prayer. to es Parables e Our Lord practically set set forth = eft till called for’ Pog RO ee YY ‘ LefttoOur Father. . . . . ie Parish Me pags Bs ee ae ae ‘ i a ay Lent Lectures . + ay Ga! ae . Priest, Private Life, &c. % . 35 Lenten and other Sermons «+ «© 4 | Pastor in Parochia . x »» Sermons, Seven se 16 Pastoral Work . ee aoe a Letter of Commendation . . . » 8 Peace in the Sacraments » 7 - 13 Little Fables for Little Folks . . - 18 Peas-Blossom 22 3» Helps for Daily Toiles. . ~. 18 | Penitentiary Weill. — tn, ooo th en 32 12 for bie Lips . - 18 | Pictures from the Poets a! i To ie of Ge a MER is * = 18 | Plain Forms of Household Prayer ‘ 30 tics e h 01 ee Oe Rk ORE » Textsfor DailyUse . .« « 22 tn Helmore . . . g : B a 3, Words, 1, 2 3, 4, Series . 5 » 15 - . . = Za as‘lracts . a . » I5 to Children . . a a Per Mackenzie, Life of the Rev. W. B.. 4 Position and Duty of Non-Abstainers . 14 eae ae ss 5 4 ‘ » 29 Power of uftering a < S a 32 anual for Lent . e % c oe) of Weakness . . . a 32 » for Advent . Gs 2 33 Practical Sermons. . a. . 16 Margaret and Her F; riends . ew BE Prayer forthe Parish. z - 14 Mor ae Seae : : : 4 ‘ : cadena. e Moeey ‘Language, and = in . . . . € Martin Gay the Singer . . : 5 Contents. , 8 Minister of Christ in ve these. Latter Days. 28 Prayers and Meditations for each Day of Missionary Conference Reports. . » 19 the We tig ‘ 9 Prayers . s . 2 . 20 | Prayers for Children. . s < 32 Mission Field . A 5 fi . - 19 a » onCard . o - 32 ife . ss . « 49 1. for Schools. . ef oe 3I5 Missions, Speeches on. . « 3t | Preaching, Lectureson . . + + 3 CONTENTS. 36 Present Christ . < - . Primitive Episcopacy, Paper on. “ Prize Bible . 5 . . 3s for Boys and Girls | ei é . Psalter and Canticles, pointed i 3 hepa Shilling . i ‘ 7 . uiet Helper . . zi , ‘ Fi Rainhill Funeral. . Readings and Devotions for Mothers Relations of Church and State » _ of the English Ghuteh to Non- conformity . . @ : . Religions of the Africans - . Resolutions for those recovering "from Sickness. ei . ci Revision of the Rubrics - . . . Rhoda’s Secret . 7 é . . A Robin and Linnet . . wy . Rochester Diocesan Directory. is ‘a = Rope-Sight . . i . 7 Rough Diamond : ieee Rubrics, Report on . . . . . Ruth Halliday F . : f : ‘ Sacra Privata . 5 Sacrifice in the Eucharist’ e Sale of Advowsons . si . St. Austin’s Court . . . Scripture Readings . . Self-Examination Questions « Selwyn, Life of Bishop . Sermons, Doctrinal and Practical » _ of the City F Service for the "Admission of a Chorister . Seven Prayers on the Seven Words é Shadows of Truth . * : . = Silvermere Annals. - és . Simple Guide to Church Doctrine : »» _Prayers for Noung Persons . Sister Louise . ‘ 5s ° Sister’s Bye-Hours . .. . Sixty Sermons . . Zs 5 i of Noncomformity a f ‘ Snow Queen <¢ . ‘< Songs and Lyrics for Little Lips = 4 Special Services (Holy Communion) 1, (Intercession for those at Sea) Spiritual Life in its Earlier Stages . . Standard Methods in Change-Ringing . Stories and Episodes e 8 q x » theytell Me. » z 5 z Students’ Gospel Harmony ‘ Studies for Stories from Girls’ Lives » inthe Church Succession of Episcopal ‘Jurisdiction in England. . . c Sufferer s Guide . . é . . Sunday . Sunday-school Teachers, Hintsto +. Tale of the Crusades . Teaching of Jesus Christ upon many Sub: jects of the Christian Verity % fs Temperance Hymns and Songs . A Thoughts on Calvary . . a * qures Cups . . " . . a) ‘opsey Turvy . : . Treble: Bob PA Treatise on: ‘ Trials of Rachel Charlcote a . True Penitent 7 . . x under Trial. . Turning-Point of Life. ° Twenty Years in Central ‘Africa 5 Tyrrell, Life of Bishop. . 4 Under Mother's Wing . . . - », the King’s Banner . é . Venables, Life of Bisho . A Vestry Prayers with a Choir. Visiting the Poor and Sick, Hits on Voice of God . ¢ . . Voicesof Nature . .« .». «© Waifs and Strays. ~ Si Watchers on the Longships . Watching by the Cross . Way of Salvation, Instructions in the Ways of overcoming ae eae . Weare Seven . Week-day Services i in Country “Parishes Week Spent in a Glass Pond C Whittingham, Life of Bishop . . Who is Right? . . 3 B . Words of Counsel . 7 Worthies of the Church of England Worship in Heaven and on Earth . Young Men's Bible Classes. c r ») Standard-Bearer . ‘ . ‘ WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & Co., Paternoster Buildings, E.C.