80(i 



GLEAJSiJ^GS 1^ BEi: OULTUilE. 



Nov 



page, I gazed only at your " vacant chair." Why 

 didn't that photographer " boss " you a little too, 

 and make you sit in that chair long enough to get 

 your physiognomy? Now, don't you think 'twas a 

 little unfair to give us a picture of your solar sys- 

 tem and omit the sun':- And as in all probability 1 

 am not the only one of your readers who is disap- 

 pointed, couldn't you squeeze out time enough to 

 give that artist one sitting and let us have the ben- 

 efit of if? But please don't follow the example of the 

 editor of the Farm Jouniiil when his subscribers re- 

 quested his portrait. He found an old daguerreo- 

 type of himself taken in his teens, and the next is- 

 sue of his paper was adorned ('/) Avith a picture of a 

 smooth-faced callow jouth who looked so embar- 

 rassed at having his "picture took" that one 

 couldn't help feeling how much more comfortable 

 he would have been if dike "Mattie " in your il- 

 lustration) he had been taken back to. What we 

 want is a picture of " Uncle Amos " just as he looks 

 to-day, whose fatherly counsel, large-hearted phi- 

 lanthropy, and cheerful, sunny siMrit are helping to 

 make the world better, even way off here in Massa- 

 chusetts. Mas. A 13. .Toi.ii. 

 Taunton, Mass., Oct. 1."), 188T. 



Well, now look here, my good friend. If 

 my name ought to be Sassafras, I wonder 

 what your name ought to be. I appreciate 

 the ttiie compliment you pay me ; in fact. 

 Mother, Connie, Caddie. Ernest, and Iluber 

 —yes, Maud too ~i you left out Maud i. will 

 appreciate, and I am sure they will thank 

 you from the bottom of their hearts, and 

 will remember you a good long whih'. l>ut 

 you are making a sad mistake. I wish that I 

 irn-e such a man as Mr. Robinson ; but 1 

 am neither tall nor portly ; and if my eyes 

 twinkle with good nature once in a while, 

 it is a sad fact that they do not all the time. 

 May be I shall be a better man, though, after 

 liaving read your kind letter. 1 liope so. 

 Well , as a good many otliers have been pe- 

 titioning for a picture of your liumble ser- 

 vant just as he is, I suppose we shall have 

 to give way and have one made ; and to con- 

 fess the truth, I don't know but you have 

 shaken me out of the notion I had got into. 

 In the back part of the A B C book there is 

 a picture of myself and lilue Eyes ; and, by 

 the way. I thiiik I will send you the book, 

 to see if that won't answer. But a good 

 many of the friends have been calling for a 

 picture of myself " just as I am," and Er- 

 nest is one of the loudest in his demands. 

 He says lie does not want the engraver to 

 go to work on a new picture from a photo- 

 graph that was taken a good while ago. Well, 

 the idea that you have shaken me out of 

 is this : That we may improve in our looks, as 

 well as in experience and wisdom, by age ; 

 and that people see something in us after 

 we are forty years old that was not to be seen 

 at any earlier stage. I>y the way, my good 

 friend Mrs. J., I wonder if 1 shall betrans- 

 gressing if I say right here that I am jitst 

 now a little curious to know how old you 

 are. I know it is a delicate stibject to 

 touch upon, especially when talking with a 

 lady; but yoti see you have been so very 

 friendly that 1 can not help but feel ac- 

 quainted already. It is so common to re- 

 gard advancing age as a mislortune, and to 

 be in haste to think it is time, for us to step 



down and out, and let the younger ones take 

 the floor, that perhaps I had fallen in with 

 the idea just a little. Then there is anoth- 

 er good coming out of it : If I have got to 

 sit for my picture again, I had better be get- 

 ting ready for it ; and as the spirit that is 

 out of sight stamps its itnpress on the face 

 that /.s in sight, I think I had better com- 

 mence right to-day in cultivating a better 

 spirit, so that, when the time comes to sit 

 for my picture, that pleasant look we all 

 want to see won't be forced and unnatural. 

 And may be, when I get into the way of it I 

 may keep on in that line until God calls. 

 Now, my good friend, I have placed your 

 communication the very first one in" the 

 journal, just because of the thought that 

 you give us— that we may not only grow 

 wiser and better as we advance in years, but 

 that our faces may become year by vear 

 more pleasant and "attractive to our friends 

 than they have ever been ; and as the task 

 that devolves upon my poor self in just this 

 line comes up before me, may I be permit- 

 ted to breathe again that oft-repeated little 

 prayer of mine, " Lord, help ! " 



THE ANATOMY OF THE HONEY-BEE. 



PKOK. f'OOK GIVES US A TALK ON BEES' T.EOS. 



N the following articles, giving with accurate il- 

 I'^l lustrations the anatomy of the honey-bee, 1 

 shall spare no pains to secure accuracy, both in 

 description and illustrations. I will first give 

 attention to the legd of bees; and in the pres- 

 ent article, to the posterior legs, prefacing my arti- 

 cle with the remark that no author or writer, so far 

 as 1 know, has done the subject complete justice, 

 either with pen or pencil. 



All students of natural history now believe that 

 organs of animals have been modified to adapt 

 them to the uses to which they arc put. Thus in all 

 animals, organs most used are most modified, and 

 so most useful in describing and classifying the ani- 

 mals. Hence the bee-keeper, knowing how impor- 

 tant the hind-legs of the worker-bees are in the bee- 

 economy, would expect them to l)e greatly modified ; 

 while the scientist, noting the extreme modification, 

 would feel as certain that they had importaiU and 

 varied uses in the life-work of the bee. 



The leg of the worker-bee, like that of many oth- 

 er insects, consists of nine joints. The first joint 

 next to the body (Kig. 1*) is triangular, or, rather, 

 subcouical, in form; short, and covered with com- 

 pound or pollen-gathering hairs, and is called the 

 coxa. This fits into a similarly shaped cavity on the 

 under side of the bee's thorax— the coxal cavity— 

 and thus forms the articulation of the leg with the 

 body. The second joint is in the form of a truncat- 

 ed cone; is about as long as the coxa, but smaller, 

 and is also covered with compound hairs. This is 

 the trochanter. The third joint is known as the fe- 

 mur, is much the same in form as the trochanter, 

 but is nearly three times as long, and is also beset 

 with the pollen-gathering hairs. The fourth joint, 

 known as the tibia, is fiat, and triangular in outline, 

 broadening greatly as it extends from the body. On 



* The (liawingrs were made under my close scrutiny by one of 

 my students in entomology, Mr. Fred H. Hillman. 



