62 BEES. 
The other bee-tree in the vicinity, to which I have 
referred, we found one warm November day in less 
than half an hour after entering the woods. It also 
was a hemlock, that stood in a niche in a wail of 
hoary, moss-covered rocks thirty feet high. The tree 
hardly reached to the top of the precipice. The bees 
entered a small hole at the root, which was seven or 
eight feet from the ground. The position was a strik- 
ing one. Never did apiary have a finer outlook or 
more rugged surroundings. A black, wood-embraced 
lake lay at our feet; the long panorama of the Cats- 
kills filled the far distance, and the more broken out- 
lines of the Shawangunk range filled the rear. On 
every hand were precipices and a wild confusion of 
rocks and trees. 
The cavity occupied by the bees was about three 
feet and a half long and eight or ten inches in diam- 
eter. With an ax we cut away one side of the tree 
and laid bare its curiously wrought heart of honey. It 
was a most pleasing sight. What winding and devi- 
ous ways the bees had through their palace! What 
great masses and blocks of snow-white comb there 
were! Where it was sealed up, presenting that 
slightly dented, uneven surface, it looked like some 
precious ore. When we carried a large pail full of it 
out of the woods, it seemed still more like ore. 
Your native bee-hunter predicates the distance of 
the tree by the time the bee occupies in making its 
first trip. But this is no certain guide. You are 
always safe in calculating that the tree is inside of a 
mile, and you need not as arule look for your bee’s 
return under ten minutes. One day I picked up a 
bee in an opening in the woods and gave it honey, 
and it made three trips to my box with an interval 
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