The Life of the Bee 



somewhat resembling roasted coffee-ber- 

 ries, or bunches of raisins piled against 

 the glass. They look more dead than 

 alive ; their movements are slow, inco- 

 herent, and incomprehensible. Can these 

 be the wonderful drops of light he had 

 seen but a moment ago, unceasingly flash- 

 ing and sparkling, as they darted among 

 the pearls and the gold of a thousand 

 wide-open calyces ?■ 



They appear to be shivering in the 

 darkness, to be numbed, suffocated, so 

 closely are they huddled together; one 

 might fancy they were ailing captives, or 

 queens dethroned, who have had their 

 one moment of glory in the midst of 

 their radiant garden, and are now com- 

 pelled to return to the shameful squalor 

 of their poor overcrowded home. 



It is with them as with all that is 

 deeply real ; they must be studied, and 

 one must learn how to study them. The 



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