HARDWICKE'S SCIENCE-GOSSIP. 



33 



mingled with slips of wood and cork tossing upon a 

 troubled living sea. Thrust, without injury to the 

 bees, a hand into their midst, and though ten thousand 

 should be present, not a sting will be received ; 

 sharply tap the pan and a thick cloud will arise ; 

 carry it away but a few feet, the insects will follow, 

 and so eagerly intent are they upon gaining the 

 treasure that, regardless of all else, they immediately 

 again settle. When holding the pan in my hand, so 

 thickly have I sometimes been enveloped by the 

 cloud of eager honey-seekers, that timid onlookers 

 have often declared that I have been almost obscured 

 by them. Realising at last that the supply has 

 stopped, the army gradually disperses, the loud hum 

 ceases, and the business of the apiary proceeds as 

 usual. Not a few patient gatherers most persistently 

 hover about the spot until darkness falls ; many will 

 most certainly return to-morrow, and each succeeding 

 day, and, should the syrup have been often ad- 

 ministered in the same place, all through the summer 

 my pets will be ever seeking for a fresh supply, and 

 when seated on my lawn I am usually attended by a 

 goodly company of my satellites. If I were, however, 

 to bestow my sweet gifts with too bountiful a hand, 

 my whole apiary would soon be in a fierce commotion, 

 and my pets would become so demoralised that 

 serious mischief might result. As it is, I carefully 

 watch, to discover if robbing is likely to take place. 

 Should I find that robbers are striving to effect an 

 ■entrance into any particular hive, I immediately 

 narrow the entrance, and a liberal administration of 

 carbolic acid and water puts an effectual stopper 

 upon their plundering proclivities. 



I never indulge in the amusement, except in suitable 

 weather, and would here warn bee-keepers who may 

 be tempted to try the experiment, not to entice the 

 little fellows from their snug homes when — although 

 the sun may be shining — the wind may be cold, or 

 the result will assuredly be the opposite to that de- 

 sired. There are few living creatures so susceptible 

 to changes in temperature as the great family of the 

 Hymenoptera. The amount of labour performed by 

 them is, to a considerable extent, determined by the 

 degree of heat, and the hygrometric condition of the 

 atmosphere. It appears, however, to be not so much 

 the prevailing temperature as the fluctuation which 

 most affects them — sudden falls being particularly 

 obnoxious to them. For example at, say, 50 , my 

 pets are quiescent — but let a sudden rise to 70 take 

 place, and all is life and activity. The delighted in- 

 sects issue from the hives in their thousands to gyrate 

 and rise and fall in the welcome sunshine, repeating 

 on the following day their merry dance ; finally, if 

 the weather remain propitious, scattering to every 

 point of the compass in search of provender. Should 

 the temperature continue to rise, as it almost invari- 

 ably does, for about a fortnight, in March, each 

 returning day brings with it renewed activity, till the 

 air becomes resonant with their cheerful hum. 



But suddenly all is changed — dense clouds obscure 

 the sun — the wind is chill, for as quickly as the tem- 

 perature rose from 50 to 70 , and thence up to 90 

 or ioo°, it once more falls to 70 — the heat which so 

 delighted them but perhaps one short week before — 

 yet now all is still, not a bee ventures beyond the 

 door of his home, and the merry active little rascals 

 of yesterday are to-day sluggish and inactive. 'Tis 

 the suddenness of the alternation that has wrought 

 this change, and when the sensitive little fellow 

 gets accustomed to the lower temperature, he will 

 once more set to work. 



(7o be continued.) 



THE ANEMONES OF THE ALPS. 

 By C. Parkinson, F.G.S. 



VERY soon after the snows and frosts have dis- 

 appeared from the lower valleys of the Alps, 

 and the sun gains power in the lengthening days of 

 early spring, the brilliant anemones of the Alps burst 

 into flower, throwing such colour into the woodland 

 and hillside scenery, as only Swiss flowers can do. In 

 February, we may commence to search in sheltered 

 copses for the delicate hepatica (which Swiss 

 botanists include in the genus Anemone). From a 

 warm layer of moist, leafy mould, the strong shoots 

 of the Hepatica put forth, surrounded by the dull, 

 brownish-green, trilobed leaves of the previous year, 

 which remain hardy throughout winter. The tiny 

 shoot is protected by a silvery white covering, from 

 which the blue, pink, or white sepals are quickly 

 drawn out on a slender stem by a few days of sun- 

 shine. Later on, a profusion of fresh green leaves 

 are produced, and the woods are brilliant with 

 colour. 



It is worthy of notice that the common hyacinth 

 of English woods is not known in the Swiss flora, 

 and the hepatica (Anemone triloba) certainly takes its 

 place. Very early in March, and abounding in 

 woods with the hepatica, the graceful little wood 

 anemone (A. nemorosa), is as plentiful as in English 

 I woods. A fortnight later, or perhaps early in April, 

 the Anemone ranunculoides covers the moist 

 meadows with golden flowers. The roots of this 

 species spread in light, damp soils in a wonderful 

 manner ; creeping around, and putting up fresh 

 shoots in all directions. The sepals are usually five, 

 and less pointed than the yellow anemone. We 

 recollect, as figured in Sowerby's " English Botany," 

 the flowers are mostly solitary, but sometimes two or 

 three on a single stem, the deeply cut leaves branch- 

 ing from the same stem. 



In March also we may look on grassy ledges, 

 higher up among the mountain paths, for the deep 

 violet-coloured Anemone montana, which braves the 

 early winds of spring. It is essentially a robust 



