The Life of the Bee 



I have seen thousands strained out from 

 the syrups in which they had perished ; 

 thousands more ahghting even on the 

 boiling sweets; the floors covered and win- 

 dows darkened with bees, some crawling, 

 others flying, and others still so completely 

 besmeared as to be able neither to crawl 

 nor to fly — not one in ten able to carry 

 home its ill-gotten spoils, and yet the 

 air filled with new hosts of thoughtless 

 comers." 



This, however, seems to me no more 

 conclusive than might be the spectacle of 

 a battlefield, or of the ravages of alcohol- 

 ism, to a superhuman observer bent on 

 establishing the limits of human under- 

 standing. Indeed, less so, perhaps ; for 

 the situation of the bee, when compared 

 with our own, is strange in this world. 

 It was intended to live in the midst of an 

 indiff^erent and unconscious nature, and 

 not by the side of an extraordinary being 



