PERFECT SOCIETIES OF INSECTS. 391 



what is stagnant and putrescent to that of a running stream. 1 I have 

 frequently observed them busy in corners moist with urine ; perhaps this 

 is for the sake of the saline particles to be there collected. 



A new-born bee, as soon as it is able to use its wings, seems perfectly 

 aware, without any previous instruction, what are to be its duties and 

 employments for the rest of its life. It appears to know that it is born 

 for society, and not for selfish pursuits ; and therefore it invariably devotes 

 itself and its labours to the benefit of the community to which it belongs. 

 Walking upon the combs, it seeks for the door of the hive, that it may 

 sally forth and be useful. Full of life and activity, it then takes its first 

 flight ; and, unconducted but by its instinct, visits like the rest the subjects 

 of Flora, absorbs their nectar, covers itself with their ambrosial dust, 

 which it kneads into a mass and packs upon its hind legs, and, if need 

 be, gathers propolis, and returns unembarrassed to its own hive. 2 



Instances of the expedition with which our little favourites accomplish 

 their various objects you have had several ; but this is never more re- 

 markable than when they settle in a new hive. At this time, in twenty- 

 four hours they will sometimes construct a comb twenty inches long by 

 seven or eight wide; and the hive will be half filled in five or six days ; 

 so that in the first fifteen days as much wax is made as in the whole year 

 besides. 3 



In treating of the various employments of the bees, I must not omit 

 one of the greatest importance to them the ventilation of their abode. 

 When you consider the numbers contained in so confined a space, the 

 high temperature to which its atmosphere is raised, and the small aperture 

 at which the air principally enters, you will readily conceive how soon 

 it must be rendered unfit for respiration, and be convinced that there 

 must be some means of constantly renewing it. If you feel disposed to 

 think that the ventilation takes place, as in our apartments, by natural 

 means, resulting from the rarefaction of the air by the heat of the hive, 

 and the consequent establishment of an interior and exterior current, a 

 simple experiment will satisfy you that this cannot be. Take a vessel of 

 the size of a bee-hive, with a similar or even somewhat larger aperture ; 

 introduce a lighted taper; and if the temperature be raised to more than 

 140, it will go out in a short time. We must therefore admit, as Huber 

 observes 4 , that the bees possess the astonishing faculty of attracting the 

 external air, and at the same time of expelling that which has become 

 corrupted by their respiration. 



What would you say, should I tell you that the bees upon this occasion 

 have recourse to the same instrument which ladies use to cool themselves 

 when an apartment is overheated ? Yet it is strictly the case. By means 

 of their marginal hooks, they unite each pair of wings into one plane 

 slightly concave, thus acting upon the air by a surface nearly as large as 

 possible, and forming for them a pair of very ample fans, which in their 

 vibrations describe an arch of 90. These vibrations are so rapid as to 

 render the wings almost invisible. W r hen they are engaged in ventilation, 

 the bees by means of their feet and claws fix themselves as firmly as pos- 

 sible to the place they stand upon. The first pair of legs is stretched out 

 before ; the second extended to the right and left ; whilst the third, 



i Reaum. Phil Trans. 1792, 697. . 2 Reaum. v. 602. 



3 Ibid. 656. * ii. 339. 



c c 4 



