1 68 BEES AND BEE-KEEPING. 



the bat of the tyro, the spray from the maiden's mop, 

 the tiny soap-bubbles of the laundress's lather, as 

 much conform to perfect mathematical solution as 

 the path of a comet or the form of a star. One 

 November morning, about twenty years since, in my 

 early bee-keeping days, I found a skep turned over 

 on the ground, whither it had been knocked by the 

 scamper of a would-be burglar, who had to make his 

 escape before a vigilant representative of the law. 

 The bees, half benumbed, were crawling over their 

 combs, which showed but too plainly that they were 

 broken from their attachments. The difficulty was 

 beyond my powers. Now I should run a skewer 

 through the skep, and thread the combs upon it with- 

 out removing them, but then I judged it best to lift 

 the combs as nearly as possible to the perpendicular, 

 put little wooden props between, place the floor- 

 board over all, and turn to the erect position, 

 hoping for the best ; but, alas ! the latter operation 

 was followed by a sound which filled me with dismav 

 — the combs had fallen ! I studiously fed, the bees 

 lived on, and, in the end, did well. But, by early 

 spring, their combs were a study. One was flat on 

 the bottom board, and was channelled beneath, 

 until it gave passage way in every direction. The 

 others, half down, were propped, and gnawed, and 

 repaired in such a way that their utility was not 

 much lessened ; while, from the roof, new combs 

 were made to descend and join in sweeps into 

 their obliquity. I repeat, the mythic measurements 

 of Maraldi would degrade bee architecture. The very 

 atoms with which life deals yield mathematical results 



