12 LOCUSTS AND WILD HONEY 



The common bees will never use their sting upon 

 the queen; if she is to be disposed of, they starve 

 her to death ; and the queen herself will sting no- 

 thing but royalty, — nothing but a rival queen. 



The queen, I say, is the mother bee; it is un- 

 doubtedly complimenting her to call her a queen and 

 invest her with regal authority, yet she is a superb 

 creature, and looks every inch a queen. It is an 

 event to distinguish her amid the mass of bees Avhen 

 the swarm alights; it awakens a thrill. Before you 

 have seen a queen, you wonder if this or that bee, 

 which seems a little larger than its fellows, is not 

 she, but when you once really set eyes upon her you 

 do not doubt for a moment. You know that is the 

 queen. That long, elegant, shining, feminine-look- 

 ing creature can be none less than royalty. How 

 beautifully her body tapers, how distinguished she 

 looks, how deliberate her movements ! The bees do 

 not fall down before her, but caress her and touch 

 her person. The drones, or males, are large bees, 

 too, but coarse, blunt, broad-shouldered, masculine- 

 looking. There is but one fact or incident in the 

 life of the queen that looks imperial and authorita- 

 tive: Huber relates that when the old queen is re- 

 strained in her move tnents by the workers, and pre- 

 vented from destroying the young queens in their 

 cells, she assumes a peculiar attitude and utters a 

 note that strikes every bee motionless and makes 

 every head bow; while this sound lasts, not a bee 

 stirs, but all look abashed and humbled : yet whether 

 the emotion is one of fear, or reverence, or of sym- 



