84 BEES. 
wander aimlessly, alighting here and there, and per- 
haps in the end uniting with some other colony. In 
case of such union, it would be curious to know if 
negotiations were first opened between the parties, and 
if the houseless bees are admitted at once to all the 
rights and franchises of their benefactors. It would 
be very like the bees to have some preliminary plan 
and understanding about the matter on both sides. 
Bees will accommodate themselves to almost any 
quarters, yet no hive seems to please them so well 
as a section of a hollow tree—‘“gums” as they 
are called in the South and West where the sweet 
gum grows. In some European countries the hive 
is always made from the trunk of a tree, a suitable 
cavity being formed by boring. The old-fashioned 
straw hive is picturesque, and a great favorite with 
the bees also. 
The life of a swarm of bees is like an active and 
hazardous campaign of an army; the ranks are be- 
ing continually depleted, and continually recruited. 
What adventures they have by flood and field, and 
what hair-breadth escapes! A strong swarm during 
the honey season loses, on an average, about four 
or five thousand per month, or one hundred and 
fifty per day. They are overwhelmed by wind and 
rain, caught by spiders, benumbed by cold, crushed 
by cattle, drowned in rivers and ponds, and in 
many nameless ways cut off or disabled. In the 
spring the principal mortality is from the cold. As 
the sun declines they get chilled before they can. 
reach home. Many fall down outside the hive, 
unable to get in with their burden. One may see 
them come utterly spent and drop hopelessly inte 
the grass in front of their very doors. Before they 
