ii8 THE LIFE OF THE BEE 



abounding, unceasing activity of the entire population, and 

 their pitiless, useless effort ; the ardent, feverish coming and 

 going of all ; the general absence of sleep save in the 

 cradles alone around which continuous labour kept watch ; 

 the denial of even the repose of death in a home which 

 permits no illness and accords no grave ; and my friend, his 

 astonishment over, soon turned his eyes away, and in them 

 I could read the signs of I know not what saddened fear. 



And truly, underlying the gladness that we note first 

 of all in the hive ; underlying the dazzling memories of 

 beautiful days that render it the store-house of summer's 

 most precious jewels ; underlying the blissful journeys that 

 knit it so close to the flowers and to running water, to 

 the sky, to the peaceful abundance of all that makes for 

 beauty and happiness — underlying all these exterior joys 

 there reposes a sadness as deep as the eye of man can 

 behold. And we, who dimly gaze on these things with our 

 own blind eyes, we know full well that it is not they 

 alone whom we are striving to see, not they alone whom 

 we cannot understand, but that before us there lies a pitiable 

 form of the great power that quickens us also. 



Sad let it be, as all things in nature are sad, when our 

 eyes rest too closely upon them. And thus it ever shall be 

 so long as we know not her secret, or even whether secret 

 truly there be. And should we discover some day that 

 there is no secret, or that the secret is monstrous, other 

 duties will then arise that as yet, perhaps, have no name. 

 Let our heart, if it will, in the meanwhile repeat " It is 

 sad ; " but let our reason be content to add, " Thus it is." 

 At the present hour the duty before us is to seek out 



