EARLY WORK IN THE BEE-CITY 85 



be in desperate case. The bees are tearing open 

 every store-cell, casting away the solidified honey 

 as refuse, to get at the moister portion below. If 

 the cold spell does not break, or the bee-master is 

 unready with his artificial supplies, the colony 

 must perish. So the water-bearers watch for the 

 sunshine, and its first warm glance brings them out 

 to rifle the nearest dewdrops, or track down by its 

 bubbling music the hidden woodland stream. 

 Many die at this work in the early months of the 

 year, chilled by their load on the homeward 

 journey, or snapped up by hungry birds. But at 

 every cost the future life of the colony must be 

 assured, though, of all the hive-people, none but 

 the queen-mother will be alive to see it in its 

 summer fulness. 



We are accustomed to think of a hive of bees 

 as a permanent institution. Death playing his old, 

 unceasing, busy part, but young Life more than 

 outplaying him, just as the way is in a city-hive 

 of men. The analogy holds good, but in bee- 

 life the changes are infinitely more rapid. The 

 life of the worker-bee extends, at most, to six 

 months or so ; and in the busy season she may 

 die, worn out by labour, in as many weeks. The 

 reapers of last year's honey -harvest were dead by 

 the autumn. The late-born bees, that went into 

 winter quarters with polished thorax and ragged 

 wings, survived only long enough to nurture their 

 immediate successors ; and these, again, will live 



