FEBRUARY AMONGST THE HIVES 29 
plate of blue china. The water was oozing out 
round the edges of the jars, and scores of the 
bees were drinking at it side by side, like cattle at 
a trough. 
““We give it them Iukewarm,”’ said the old bee- 
man, ‘‘ and always mix salt with it. If we had 
sea-water here, nothing would be better; seaside 
bees often go down to the shore to drink, as you 
may prove for yourself on any fine day in summer. 
Why are all the plates blue? Bees are as fanciful 
in their ways as our own women-folk, and in 
nothing more than on the question of colour. Just 
this particular shade of light blue seems to attract 
them more than any other. Next to that, pure 
white is a favourite with them; but they have a 
pronounced dislike to anything brilliantly red, as 
all the old writers about bees noticed hundreds of 
years ago. If I were to put some of the drinking- 
jars on bright red saucers now, you would not see 
half as many bees on them as on the pale blue.”’ 
We moved on to the extracting-house, whence 
the master now fetched his smoker, and a curious 
knife, with a broad and very keen-looking blade. 
He packed the tin nozzle of the smoker with 
rolled brown paper, lighted it, and, by means of 
the little bellows underneath, soon blew it up into 
full strength. Then he went to one of the 
quietest hives, where only a few bees were wander- 
ing aimlessly about, and sent a dense stream of 
smoke into the entrance. A moment later he had 
taken the roof and coverings off, and was lifting 
out the central comb-frames one by one, with the 
bees clinging in thousands all about them. 
“Now,” he said, “ we have come to what is 
