138 A PHILOSOPHER WITH NATURE 



practice in her case, and I fed her instead through 

 an air-hole in the lid of her box. I, however, con- 

 tinued to take out her box with the others, and after 

 a short time I was much amused to find her generally 

 thrusting her long flexible tongue through the hole 

 in the lid as soon as she knew that feeding operations 

 were going on, as if she would by this means remind 

 me that I must not overlook her. This bee I used 

 to believe had a brilliant future before her, and it 

 was a matter of great regret to me when I was one 

 day the unintentional agent of her destruction. In 

 mild weather she used to be always on the watch for 

 an opportunity to get out of her box, and one fine 

 December morning when I lifted the lid she took a 

 short flight across the room. In searching for her 

 I accidentally crushed her on the carpet beneath my 

 slipper, and so ended her brief career. 



Sir J. Lubbock, after many experiments on the 

 power of hearing in bees and ants, states that he 

 never could satisfy himself that these insects heard 

 any sounds which he could produce. In the case 

 of bees it would be a great surprise to many to hear 

 that they are absolutely incapable of hearing, and 

 it must not be assumed that they are so because 

 experiments have as yet yielded no satisfactory 

 result. From time immemorial it has been the habit 

 with rustic bee-keepers at the time of swarming to 

 invoke the aid of noise to hasten the alighting of the 

 bees. With some, it takes the form of drumming 

 on a tin kettle, others beat candlesticks together, or 

 even put their faith in the strains of a concertina 

 or violin. Everyone has his own theory as to the 

 object of this performance. One does it to over- 

 power the hum of the swarm so that the individual 



