INSTINCT OF INSECTS. 



407 



but this is no solid ground for regarding all instincts as modi- 

 fications of some one principle. It is often equally difficult 

 to fix the limits between instinct and reason ; but we are not 

 on this account justified in deeming them the same. 



This multitude of instincts in the same individual becomes 

 more wonderful when considered in another point of view. 

 Were they constantly to follow each other in regular sequence, 

 so that each bee necessarily first began to build cells, then to 

 collect honey, next pollen, and so on, we might plausibly 

 enough refer them to some change in the sensations of the ani- 

 mal, caused by alterations in the structure and gradual deve- 

 lopment of its organs, in the same way as on similar principles 

 we explain the sexual instincts of the superior tribes. But it 

 is certain that no such consecutive series prevails. The 

 different instincts of the bee are called into action in an order 

 regulated solely by the needs of the society. If combs be 

 wanted, no bee collects honey for storing until they are pro- 

 vided 1 ; and if, when constructed, any accident injure or 

 destroy them, every labour is suspended until the mischief is 

 repaired or new ones substituted. 2 When the crevices round 

 the hive are effectually secured with propolis, the instinct 

 directing the collection of this substance lies dormant; but 

 transfer the bees to a new hive which shall require a new luting, 

 and it is instantly re-excited. But these instances are super- 

 fluous. Every one knows that at the same moment of time the 

 citizens of a hive are employed in the most varied and opposite 

 operations. Some are collecting pollen ; others are in search 

 of honey ; some busied at home in the first construction of the 

 cells ; others in giving them their last polish ; others in venti- 

 lating the hive ; others again in feeding the young brood and 

 the like. 



Now, how are we to account for this regularity of proce- 

 dure — this undeviating accuracy with which the precise in- 

 stinct wanted is excited — this total absence of all confusion 

 in the employment, by each inhabitant of the hive, of that 

 particular instinct out of so many which th e good of the 

 community requires ? No thinking man ever witnesses the 



1 Huber, ii. 64. 



D D 4 



2 Ibid. ii. 138. 



