THE MIND IN THE HIVE 141 
stant flow of worker-bees through the ranks in both 
directions; yet the fanning goes on uninterruptedly, 
and, under certain conditions, the current of air 
thus set up may be strong enough to blow out the 
flame of a candle held at the edge of the flight- 
board. 
In all study of the ways of the honey-bee, the 
safer plan is to begin with the assumption that a 
reasoning creature is under observation, and then 
to work back to the surer, well-beaten tracks of 
thought concerning the lower creation—that is, if 
the observed facts warrant it. But this question of 
the ventilation of the modern beehive—only one of 
many other problems equally astounding—helps 
the orthodox naturalist of the old school very little 
on his comfortable way. We know that the wild 
bee generally chooses a situation for her nest which 
is neither cramped nor confined, but has in most 
cases ample space available for the future growth of 
the colony. Security from storm or flood seems to 
be the first consideration. The fact that the interior 
of a bee-nest is more or less in darkness appears to 
be mainly accidental. Bees have no particular lik- 
ing for absolute darkness, nor, in fact, is any hive 
perfectly free from light. Experiment will prove 
that a very small aperture is sufficient to admit a 
considerable amount of reflected and diffused light, 
quite enough for the needs of the hive. It may be 
supposed, therefore, that the bees would have no 
objection to building in broad daylight, or even 
sunlight, if, in conjunction with the first necessities 
of shelter, security, and equable temperature, such 
a location were easily obtainable under natural 
conditions. It would only be another instance of 
