AN IDYL OF THE HONEY-BEE 71 



bee is an insect of which the bee-hunter sees much. 

 There are all sorts and sizes of them. They are 

 dull and clumsy compared with the honey-bee. 

 Attracted in the fields by the bee-hunter's box, 

 they will come up the wind on the scent and blun- 

 der into it in the most stupid, lubberly fashion. 



The honey-bees that licked up our leavings on 

 the old stub belonged to a swarm, as it proved, 

 about half a mile farther down the ridge, and a few 

 days afterward fate overtook them, and their stores 

 in turn became the prey of another swarm in the 

 vicinity, which also tempted Providence and were 

 overwhelmed. The first- mentioned swarm I had 

 lined from several points, and was following up the 

 clew over rocks and through gulleys, when I came 

 to where a large hemlock had been felled a few 

 years before, and a swarm taken from a cavity near 

 the top of it; fragments of the old comb were yet 

 to be seen. A few yards away stood another short, 

 squatty hemlock, and I said my bees ought to be 

 there. As I paused near it, I noticed where the 

 tree had been wounded with an axe a couple of feet 

 from the ground many years before. The wound 

 had partially grown over, but there was an opening 

 there that I did not see at the first glance. I was 

 about to pass on when a bee passed me making that 

 peculiar shrill, discordant hum that a bee makes 

 when besmeared with honey. I saw it alight in 

 the partially closed wound and crawl home; then 

 came others and others, little bands and squads of 

 them heavily freighted with honey from the box. 



