WINTERING BEES. 
333 
dead brood, in a putrid state ; and this summer you 
have used the old hive for a new swarm.” 
“You are right, sir, in every particular. Now, I 
would like to know what gave you the idea of my 
losing the bees in that hive? lean see nothing pe- 
culiar about that old hive, more than this one,” point- 
ing to another that also contained a new swarm. 
“You will greatly oblige me if you will point out the 
signs particularly.” 
“I will do so with pleasure” (feeling quite willing 
to give him the impression that I was “posted up” on 
this subject, notwithstanding it savored strongly of 
boasting). 
I then directed his attention to the entrance in the 
side of the hive, where the bees had discharged their 
fasces, on the moment they issued, until it was near 
the eighth of an inch thick, and two or three inches 
broad; that yet remained, and just began to cleave 
off. “You see this brown substance around this hole 
in the hive ?” 
“Yes, it is bee-glue (propolis); it is very common 
on old hives.” 
“I think not; if you will examine it closely, you 
will perceive it is not so hard and bright; it already 
begins to crumble; bee-glue is not affected by the 
weather for years.” 
“Just so, but what is it, and what has that to do 
with your guess-work ?" 
“ It is the excrement of the bees. In consequence 
of a great many cells containing dead brood, which 
the bees could not enter, they were unable to pack 
