56 THE LORE OF THE HONEY-BEE 



freshet of strength that is finally to bring them 

 into the security of the populous haven. Scores 

 of them do not try for harbour at first tack, but, 

 coming safely into the calm waters of the garden, 

 rest awhile on the nearest leaf or blossom, panting 

 and tremulous, until they are able to wear sail for 

 the last reach home. 



There is infinite diversity in the loads of these 

 pollen-carrying bees. Hardly a colour, or shade 

 of colour, in the rainbow fails to pass during every 

 moment across the thronging way. Every bee 

 carries a half-globe of this substance, beautifully 

 rounded and shaped, on each of her two hind-legs. 

 It is possible, by marking the colour of her 

 burden, to tell with certainty what flower she has 

 been plundering on each of her trips. This bright 

 orange, which makes always the largest and 

 heaviest bales in the stream of merchandise, is 

 from the dandelions. From the gorse-flowers 

 come loads of deep rich brown almost as weighty. 

 The charlock, that mingles its useless, wanton 

 beauty with every farm -crop, yields the bee 

 interminable gold. White clover, red clover, 

 sainfoin, all load up the little hive coolies with 

 different shades of russet. From the apple- 

 orchards come bursting panniers of pale yellow ; 

 the blackberry-blossom yields pollen of a delicate 

 greenish-white. When summer comes, and the 

 poppies make scarlet undertones amidst the wheat 

 and barley, these winged merchant-women stream 



