48 A PHILOSOPHER WITH NATURE 



which they repaired the breach in the usual way. 

 Several times I tried, but with no better success. 

 Unlike the ants, who will rear the young of other 

 species, these bees would not allow the strange children 

 of their betters to be fathered on them, and the 

 helpless little aristocrats were always detected and 

 dragged ignominiously out. As some species of 

 the humble bee tolerate a kind of cuckoo bee (apathus), 

 which lays its eggs in their nests to be hatched out 

 with the offspring of the legitimate proprietors, 

 whom they much resemble in appearance, I was 

 not altogether prepared for this intelligent opposition 

 to my ideas. Thinking that I might have better 

 success with the eggs, I took some fresh from the 

 hive and placed them amongst a little group just 

 deposited by the humble bee queen. The bees at 

 first appeared to be rather puzzled at these eggs. 

 One or two of them took them up somewhat aim- 

 lessly, and again replaced them as if they hardly 

 liked to openly accuse their sovereign of misconduct, 

 which they seemed to suspect. After a little 

 hesitation a decision was arrived at. Natura non 

 facit saltum was surely as safe a motto for bees as 

 it is for philosophers, but instead of carrying the 

 eggs out of the nest as they did the larvae, the bees, 

 one after the other, proceeded, apparently with 

 considerable relish to nibble them a relapse into 

 barbarism which, after ages of aesthetic culture, was 

 quite startling and so appreciative did they become 

 of the flavour of these new-laid eggs that they would 

 soon accept them readily when I offered them at 

 the end of a needle. Once or twice I think I suc- 

 ceeded in smuggling some of the strange eggs in 

 with the others, but, whether it was that the bees 



