AN IDYL OF THE HONEY-BEE. 57 
In the afternoon we go nearly half a mile farther 
along the ridge to a corn-field that lies immediately 
in front of the highest point of the mountain. The 
view is superb; the ripe autumn landscape rolls away 
to the east, cut through by the great placid river; in 
the extreme north the wall of the Catskills stands out 
clear and strong, while in the south the mountains 
of the Highlands bound the view. The day is warm 
and the bees are very busy there in that neglected 
corner of the field, rich in asters, flea-bane, and 
golden-rod. The corn has been cut, and upon a stout, 
but a few rods from the woods, which here drop 
quickly down from the precipitous heights, we set up 
our bee-box, touched again with the pungent oil. In 
a few moments a bee has found it; she comes up to 
leeward, following the scent. On leaving the box she 
goes straight toward the woods. More bees quickly 
come, and it is not long before the line is well estab- 
lished. Now we have recourse to the same tactics 
we employed before, and move along the ridge to 
another field to get our cross line., But the bees still 
go in almost the same direction they did from the 
corn stout. The tree is then either on the top of the 
mountain, or on the other or west side of it. We 
hesitate to make the plunge into the woods and seek 
to seale those precipices, for the eye can plainly see 
)what is before us. As the afternoon sun gets lower, 
the bees are seen with wonderful distinctness. They 
fly toward and under the sun and are in a strong 
light, while the near woods which form the back- 
ground are in deep shadow. They look like large 
luminous motes. Their swiftly vibrating, transparent 
Wings surround their bodies with a shining nimbus 
that makes them visible for a long distance. They 
