THE LONG NIGHT IN THE HIVE 183 
winged myriads—were in golden flower once more; 
and there was nothing to do but rouse, and take 
their fill. It would revolutionise the whole aspect 
of bee-life, and, to all appearances, vastly for the 
better. There would be no more need to labour 
through the summer days, laying up winter stores. 
Life could become for the honey-bee what it is to 
most other insects—merry and leisurely. There 
would be time for dancing in the sunbeams, and 
long siestas under rose-leaves; and it would be 
enough if each little worker took home an 
occasional full honey-sac or two for the babies, 
instead of wearing out nerve and body in all that 
desperate toiling to and fro. 
Yet, for some inscrutable reason, the honey-bee 
elects to keep awake—uselessly awake, it seems— 
throughout the four months or so during which out- 
door work is impossible; and to this apparently 
undesirable, unprofitable end, she sacrifices all that 
makes such a life as hers worth the living from a 
human point of view. 
Restlessness, and the Reason for It 
You can, however, seldom look at wild Nature’s 
ways from the human standpoint without danger of 
pestulating too much, or, worse still, leaving some 
vital, though invisible thing out of the argument. 
And this latter, on a little farther consideration, 
proves to be what we are now doing. Prolonged 
study of hive-life in winter will reveal one hitherto 
unsuspected fact. At this time, far from settling 
down into a life of sleepy inactivity, the queen-bee 
seems to develop a restlessness and impatience not 
