1 
FEBRUARY AMONGST THE HIVES 25 
January was not out before the first few eggs were 
laid right in the centre of the brood-combs. And 
from now on, if only we manage properly, each bee- 
colony will go on increasing until, in the height of 
the season, every queen will be laying from two 
thousand to three thousand eggs a day.” 
He stopped and set down his box and his pitcher. 
“Tf we managé properly. But there’s the rub. 
Success in bee-keeping is all a question of numbers. 
The more worker-bees there are when the honey- 
flow begins, the greater will be the honey-harvest. 
The whole art of the bee-keeper consists in main- 
taining a steady increase in population from the 
first moment the queens begin to lay in January, 
until the end of May brings on the rush of the white 
clover, and every bee goes mad with work from 
morning to night. Of course, in countries where 
the climate is reasonable, and the year may be 
counted on to warm up steadily month by month, 
all this is fairly easy; but with topsy-turvy weather, 
such as we get in England, it is a vastly different 
matter. Just listen to the bees now! And this 
is only February!” 
A deep vibrating murmur was upon the air. It 
came from all sides of us; it rose from under foot, 
where the crocuses were blooming; it seemed to 
fill the blue sky above with an ocean of sweet 
sound. The sunlight was alive with scintillating 
points of light, like cast handfuls of diamonds, as 
the bees darted hither and thither, or hovered in 
little joyous companies round every hive. They 
swept to and fro between us; gambolled about our 
heads; came with a sudden shrill menacing note and 
scrutinised our mouths, our ears, our eyes, or 
