102 Instincts and Habits of Bees. 



strange confusions of fact and fiction do we discover, and how 

 easily do we trace where the thread of original observation 

 was snapped asunder, and the poet was governed by hearsay 

 in matters that might have been determined with less difficulty 

 than the learning of a tradition. Virgil's ridiculous recipe for 

 the production of a swarm of bees from a car cass has a 

 parallel in Varro, and both are paralleled again in the story 

 of Samson. A man who has hived bees into buckets and 

 flour tubs, and seen them hive themselves in a hole in the wall, 

 and, in fact, show a readiness to enter any dry dark place at 

 swarming-time, sees no difficulty in adding to, or subtracting 

 from, these narratives, in order to restore to them their 

 original complexion of sober truths. VirgiFs case is, no 

 doubt, a sheer confounding of bees and blow-flies, an unpar- 

 donable error in so observant and picturesque a poet. Sam- 

 son's adventure simply requires us to supply a few imaginary 

 particulars. Samson slew a lion on his way to Timnath. He 

 left the carcass on the ground, the vultures and hawks soon 

 stripped it of flesh, the heat of the sun, the myriads of insects, 

 and other causes, soon rendered it a bleached skeleton, such 

 as the traveller in the East is familiar with, especially in camel 

 tracks. Into this clean skeleton a swarm of bees hived them- 

 selves, and a very excellent place of refuge it would be for 

 them in such a climate as Timnath. After a time Samson 

 returned, " and behold there was a swarm of bees and honey 

 in the carcass of the lion " (Judges xiv. 8) . My bees are now 

 building fine combs in the open air under the front edge of the 

 hive-board, and if I cut those combs away they will begin 

 again to build more. They must have room ; they must have 

 air ; if their hives do not afford them all they want, they are 

 not slow in devising schemes of their own to meet any 

 emergency. 



It is well known that bees are irritable at the latter end 

 of the summer, when they have a large store of honey, and 

 that then is a dangerous time to meddle with them. Yet, 

 even then, the same caution and presence of mind needful at 

 other seasons suffice to protect the apiarian better than any 

 bee-harness. To show how simple and safe a matter bee-keeping 

 is, when all foolish fears are banished from the mind, and the 

 apiarian exercises a firm hand and a cool judgment in all his 

 transactions with them, I will tell you how I obtain my annual 

 honey harvests, and I shall, perhaps, add thereby something 

 to the stores of apiarian literature. From the beginning of 

 my bee career, I invariably followed the plan of smoking the 

 bees out of the honey-box by means of tobacco, a long and 

 tedious and unpleasant operation. At last it struck me, that 

 as I could handle bees at any time with impunity, why should 



