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NATURE-STUDY REVIEW 



the evening concert which I like so to hear. All at once, from 

 the hive beside me, it began, that soft, rushing sound like the 

 rythm of a distant sea, — that rapid fanning of a host of wings in 

 perfect unison. When the work of the day is over the bees do 



not rest as we do for the nectar 

 they have gathered must be rip- 

 ened into thick golden honey, and 

 with their tireless wings they fan 

 the water from it at night. The 

 music of their wings this evening 

 was wonderful to hear, indeed. It 

 cannot be imagined by those who 

 have never heard it; for in our world 

 of ceaseless discontent, of longing 

 for something beyond, which we 

 have not or . do not know, there 

 never is expressed such perfect, un- 

 clouded contentment as this music 

 of the bees when the evening comes 

 and finds them with combs all but 

 overflowing with the fragrance they 

 have been gathering under the sun. 

 It recalls to me a certain philoso- 

 pher's distinction between instinct 

 and intellect which says that in- 

 stinct is that which finds but which 

 can never seek whereas intellect is 

 always seeking but it can never find. If this is so, although the 

 search is glorious, we must wonder in the presence of such mu- 

 sic whether it is worth while. 



This thirteen of July was the beginning of a continual search on 

 my part to see what my children were up to. I soon learned to 

 know whether a good honey flow was on or not, for when with the 

 first warmth of the sun as it rose a bee would appear at her door- 

 way, stand on tiptoe and then dart off in a straight line followed 

 by a second, a third, a forth, I knew there was work for them to do. 

 As their wings whirred past me they seemed to call back "follow, 

 follow, follow!" and I did follow, and through their guidance I 

 found and shared in their merry making. Often when I stopped 

 at a hive in the heat of mid-day to watch the line of heavily 



White s^^^et clover. 



