THE BIOLOGY OF THE SEASONS 



confessing phrase be admissible. The animals are, so to 

 speak, constitutionally wound up to do what they do when 

 suitable stimuli occur. In many of their activities they 

 seem to be conscious automata, if we may infer consciousness 

 from the way in which intelligence often takes the reins 

 when something unusual disturbs the routine. But the 

 beauty of it is that the results of the conscious automatism 

 are often as perfect as the outcome of prolonged and 

 profound deliberation. As we look at the bee's honeycomb, 

 the wasp's nest, the spider's web, it seems as if art, in 

 the broad sense of skill, is perfected in becoming most 

 instinctive ; and surely the rationality of our world is as 

 plain in the web or the termitary, as it is in the Forth 

 Bridge or the Eiffel Tower. 



Animal industry in its instinctive form gives one an 

 impression of ease and spontaneity ; they do not sweat 

 or whine, or hesitate or look worried. They remind 

 us of very perfect mechanisms which perform their task 

 without noise or jar, with a fine " smoothness." But 

 just as the machine has certainly its wear and tear, however 

 well concealed that may be, so is it with the instinctively 

 industrious animals. Recent researches prove that the 

 nerve-cells of a bee's brain are, at the end of a hard 

 day's work, unmistakably fatigued ; and, more than this, 

 a certain number seem quickly to go out of gear as the 

 Summer's work continues ; they die off until no more 

 are left than are sufficient for the necessary vital functions ; 

 and finally these also give way. There are hints of the 

 same sad fact even in man ; and although our knowledge of 

 the matter is very slight, we may dimly see why it is that 

 we are doomed, not only to become " old fogies," but to die 

 of " old foginess " should we escape a more merciful ending. 

 Along the same line of thought we may perhaps advance 

 to a better understanding of the saving reactions of daily 



