AN IDYL OF THE HONEY-BEE 



is on the upper side near the ground not two feet 

 from the hole I peer into, and yet so quiet and secret 

 is their going and coming that I fail to discover 

 them and pass on up the hill. Failing in this direc- 

 tion, I return to the oak again, and then perceive 

 the bees going out in a small crack in the tree. The 

 bees do not know they are found out and that the 

 game is in our hands, and are as oblivious of our 

 presence as if we were ants or crickets. The indi- 

 cations are that the swarm is a small one, and the 

 store of honey trifling. In "taking up" a bee-tree 

 it is usual first to kill or stupefy the bees with the 

 fumes of burning sulphur or with tobacco smoke. 

 But this course is impracticable on the present occa- 

 sion, so we boldly and ruthlessly assault the tree 

 with an axe we have procured. At the first blow 

 the bees set up a loud buzzing, but we have no 

 mercy, and the side of the cavity is soon cut away 

 and the interior with its white-yellow mass of comb 

 honey is exposed, and not a bee strikes a blow in 

 defense of its all. This may seem singular, but it 

 has nearly always been my experience. When a 

 swarm of bees are thus rudely assaulted with an axe, 

 they evidently think the end of the world has come, 

 and, like true misers as they are, each one seizes as 

 much of the treasure as it can hold ; in other words, 

 they all fall to and gorge themselves with honey, 

 and calmly await the issue. While in this condi- 

 tion they make no defense, and will not sting unless 



