The Life of the Bee 



I have seen thousands strained out from 

 the syrups in which they had perished ; 

 thousands more alighting even on the 

 boihng sweets; the floors covered and win- 

 dows darkened with bees, some crawling, 

 others flying, and others still so completely 

 besmeared as to be able neither to crawl 

 nor to fly — not one in ten able to carry 

 home its ill-gotten spoils, and yet the 

 air filled with new hosts of thoughtless 

 comers." 



This, however, seems to me no more 

 conclusive than might be the spectacle of 

 a battlefield, or of the ravages of alcohol- 

 ism, to a superhuman observer bent on 

 establishing the limits of human under- 

 standing. Indeed, less so, perhaps ; for 

 the situation of the bee, when compared 

 with our own, is strange in this world. 

 It was intended to live in the midst of an 

 indiiFerent and unconscious nature, and 

 not by the side of an extraordinary being 

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