66 The Honey-Makers 



" Ilark ! the bee winds her small, but mellow horn, 

 Blithe to salute the sunny smile of morn ; " 



and Hogg, in his " Pilgrims of the Sun," sings, — 



"As they pass'd by. 

 The angels paused, and saints that lay reposed 

 In bowers of Paradise upraised their heads 

 To list the passing music, for it went 

 Swift as the wild bee's note, that on the wing 

 Booms like unbodied voice along the gale." 



" Hark I along the humming air 

 Home the laden bees repair," 



says Milman in his " Martyr of Antioch," while the Bard 

 of Avon, in " Troilus and Cressida," informs us, — 



" Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing, 

 Till she hath lost her honey and her sting." 



The bee's wings, although so tiny, are yet larger than 

 actually necessary to the performance of very creditable 

 flight, as is often shown by old bees with worn and ragged 

 wings. They oftentimes continue their nectar-seeking 

 excursions in a state of wings that is truly deplorable. 



They keep going as long as the wings on both sides are 

 equally worn, and are apparently unconscious that they 

 are sadly in need of repairs, flying long distances and 

 bringing home heavy loads. But if one wing gets torn 

 much more than the other, the case is hopeless, and they 

 can no longer maintain their balance. 



When a bee flies, it appears to give itself up to that 

 glorious occupation as though wings were all there is to 

 life. The heavy body droops a little downward, and the 

 legs drop to their length, reminding one of the long legs 

 that trail behind a flying heron. 



A "bee-line," popularly supposed to be the most direct 



