The Life of the Bee 
somewhat resembling roasted coffee-ber- 
ries, or bunches of raisins piled against 
the glass. They look more dead than 
alive; their movements are slow, inco- 
herent, and incomprehensible: Can these 
be the wonderful drops of light he had 
seen but a moment ago, unceasingly flash- 
ing and sparkling, as they darted among 
the pearls and the gold of a thousand 
wide-open calyces ? 
They appear to be shivering in the 
darkness, to be numbed, suffocated, so 
closely are they huddled together; one 
might fancy they were ailing captives, or 
queens dethroned, who have had their 
one moment of glory in the midst of 
their radiant garden, and are now com- 
pelled to return to the shameful squalor 
of their poor overcrowded home. 
It is with them as with all that is 
deeply real; they must be studied, and 
one must learn how to study them. The 
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