. AT THE CITY GATES 6i 



safely at home. Each hive is packed from floor 

 to roof with tens of thousands of breathing, heat- 

 producing creatures : the necessity for ventilation 

 is quadrupled, and, far and wide in the bee- 

 garden, the fanning armies are setting to their 

 work with a will. 



The freshman at this fascinating branch of 

 nature-study, brought out into the quiet night to 

 hear such gargantuan music, is always strangely 

 affected by it, some natures incredibly so. In all 

 the great placid void of darkened hill and dale 

 around him, in the whole blue arch overhead, alive 

 with the flinching silver of the stars, there is no 

 sound but a chance trill of a nightingale, the bark 

 of a shepherd's dog on the distant upland, or, now 

 and then, the droning song of a beetle passing 

 invisibly by. All the world seems at rest, save 

 these mysterious people in the hives ; and with 

 them the sound of labour is only redoubled. 

 Bending down to the nearest hive in the darkness, 

 the note comes up to one like the angry roar of 

 the sea. A light brought cautiously to bear upon 

 it, discloses the alighting-board covered with rows 

 of bees, working, as it were, for their lives ; while 

 other bees continually wander in and out of the 

 entrance^ — the sentries that guard it night and day, 

 just as soldiers guarded the gates of human cities 

 in olden times. The novice at bee-craft, even 

 the most staid and matter-of-fact, is invariably 

 plunged into marvelling silence at the sight. But 



