CHAPTER OF VARIETIES. 



125 



proportionally more intense. If (as is almost always the case) the 

 flash be zigzag, and composed of broken rectilinear and curvilinear 

 portions, some concave, some convex to the ear, and if, especially, 

 the principal trunk separates into many branches, each breaking its 

 own way through the air, and each becoming a separate source of 

 thunder, all the varieties of that awful sound are easily accounted 

 for. — Sir John Herschell, 



Enemies of the hive bee. — Being an enthusiastic lover of 

 Natural History, I gladly take up my pen to communicate a few of 

 the main facts which have fallen under my observation. Living in a 

 retired village, and delighting in field amusements, I have had many 

 opportunities of studying the habits both of animals, birds, and in- 

 sects ; and as I am always intent on making discoveries, I have 

 managed to pick up a little useful, and I trust, correct informa- 

 tion. In my little garden I have a few hives, which are to me a 

 source of much pleasure. Often do I stand observing them, and I 

 know nothing so interesting as the habits of these extraordinary 

 insects, and the wonderful policy of their little kingdom. I was 

 always watchful lest any enemies should worry my little favourites, 

 and often, during the summer, I paid them a visit very late at night, 

 and examined the hives by candle light. When the evening had been 

 raining, I frequently found a huge, gray snail, at the mouth of tjie 

 hive, busily employed in rasping off that varnished coating of farina, 

 or propolis, which the feet of the bees leave upon the board at the 

 entrance. I had often noticed that the board had the appearance of 

 having been rasped with a file, but I never knew the cause till I 

 caught the snail at work. The sentinel bees often came in contact 

 with the intruder, but they never expressed anger ; only shrinking 

 back in disgust the moment their antennae touched its cold slimy 

 skin. I confined one of the snails till morning, and then caused a bee 

 to sting it in order to observe its effects. The instant the sting 

 entered, there issued from the wounded part so great a quantity of 

 viscid humour as completely entangled the bee before it could 

 extract its sting ; I thought it therefore probable that the bees were 

 aware of this, and abstained from all needless hostility. Sparrows, 

 and the ox-eye, (Parus major,) I frequently saw early in the 

 morning, but their visit to the hives was for the purpose of picking 

 up the maggots and dead bees which had been cast out. One day, 

 however, at the latter end of July, I observed an unusual number of 

 swallows in my garden, and watching narrowly, I saw them, as they 



