FALL FLOWERS. 115 



came a sudden change. A north wind set in about 

 four o'clock. The bees rapidly sought the hives. 

 The sky was cloudless. By six o'clock the ther- 

 mometor was down to 37 F. It was now quite cer- 

 tain that we should have frost before morning. 

 The clear September night was most inviting. 

 The stars shone out with a pure lustre. The wind 

 had gone down and the trees were silent. I put on 

 a thick coat and strolled out into my city of hives, 

 whose millions of lilliputian workers had given me 

 so many happy hours as the spring and summer and 

 fall had gone by. They had richly repaid all my 

 care. I had studied all their instincts, and had so 

 managed as to adapt every circumstance to their 

 needs. Faithful to those instincts, they had availed 

 themselves of every effort on my part to facilitate 

 their work. Now, on this calm night, had come the 

 end of their gathering from field, and swamp, and 

 forest. I looked at the thermometer which had 

 been hung among the hives. At ten o'clock it 

 stood at 33 F. In that still clear air it would con- 

 tinue falling, and before morning the delicate cryst- 

 als of the merciless frost would blight the bloom far 

 and near. When the morrow's sun should send 

 down its genial rays, the millions of flowers would 

 hang with faded beauty on lifeless stems, no longer 

 the fairy laboratories for perfecting the nectar^ 

 which my faithful bees should gladly bring to the 



