The Life of the Bee 
is one masterpiece, the hexagonal cell, that 
touches absolute perfection; a perfection 
that all the geniuses in the world, were they 
to meet in conclave, could in no way en- 
hance. No living creature, not even man, 
has achieved, in the centre of his sphere, 
what the bee has achieved in her own; and 
were some one from another world to descend 
and ask of the earth the most perfect crea- 
tion of the logic of life, we should needs 
have to offer the humble comb of honey. 
But the level of this perfection is not 
maintained throughout. We have already 
dealt with a few faults and shortcomings, 
evident sometimes and sometimes mysterious, 
such as the ruinous superabundance and 
idleness of the males, parthenogenesis, the 
perils of the nuptial flight, excessive swarm- 
ing, the absence of pity, and the almost 
monstrous sacrifice of the individual to 
society. To these must be added a strange 
inclination to store enormous masses of 
pollen, far in excess of their needs; for the 
pollen, soon turning rancid, and harden- 
ing, encumbers the surface of the comb; 
and further, the long sterile interregnum 
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