II 



THE BEE'S TONGUE 



Both ends of the honey-bee have always been of singular 

 interest to us, and this for exactly opposite reasons. It is 

 the " tongue " that supplies the combs with honey, and 

 the sting that never fails to admonish us when we become 

 obtrusive in the affairs of the hive. 



Pater Abraham a Santa Clara feelingly describes the bee 

 as " honey before, a lance behind," and this has been ex- 

 pressed in later times by one who epigrammatically de- 

 nominates the bee " a double-ender ; one end the friend, 

 the other end the enemy, of man." 



To the humorist the sting is the chief end of the bee. 

 So it is to the popular apprehension. It is the first thing 

 a boy learns about a bee, and the only one he cares for, 

 unless it comes to be a question of mingled fear and hope 

 in robbing the store of the worker. 



But we must not accept the opinion of either the humor- 

 ist or the boy, for the tongue is mightier than the sting, just 

 as in modern life the pen is mightier than the sword. 



" Through the soft air the busy nations fly, 

 Cling to the bud, and with inserted tube 

 Suck its pure essence, its ethereal soul," 



sings Thomson in his "Spring," recognizing that mysteri- 

 ous organ, the bee's tongue, which next to the sting has 

 from all time engaged man's interest. 



A bee's tongue is very wonderful, and is not at all what 

 it appears to be. 



