_Bees._
The next morning, on the little boys getting up, they were surprised at
hearing a tinkling sound just under their windows. They were induced, as
soon as they were ready, to run down into the garden, to see what was
going forward.
Mrs. Mansfield was the person who occasioned the noise, by striking the
lid of a tin saucepan with a large key.
“Oh, grandmamma, what are you about?” exclaimed Arthur, laughing. “I
should have taken you for my little sister Kate, amusing herself by
making, what she would call, a _pretty noise_.”
“I do it, my dear, to prevent the bees from going away,” replied Mrs.
Mansfield. “Don’t you see what swarms are flying about?”
“Yes,” returned Arthur. “But what have they to do with the key and the
saucepan lid?”
[Illustration: _Page 142._
_Chap. XIV._
_The Bees._
_London. Published by W. Darton Junʳ. Oct. 1ˢᵗ. 1815._]
“All these,” said Mrs. Mansfield, “are young bees, that have been hatched
this summer; and now that they are grown up, the hive is too small to
contain them. They therefore have left it; and are going to seek another
place for themselves; and it is generally supposed that a tinkling noise
will keep them from going to a distance; though, whether it has any
effect or not, I cannot pretend to determine.”
By this time the bees had settled in a cluster on the branch of a tree,
where they all hung together in one great mass. Old Ralph then took an
empty hive, and shook them into it, having previously covered his hands
and face, that he might not be stung.
“How do bees make honey, grandmamma?” inquired Charles.
_Mrs. Mansfield._ By means of their long trunks they suck up the
sweetness that is in the cups of flowers.
_Charles._ And is that honey?
_Mrs. Mansfield._ Not until it has been further prepared by the bees,
who swallow it, and then throw it up again, after having digested it in
their stomachs.
_Charles._ Bees make wax too, do not they?
_Mrs. Mansfield._ Yes: come to this bed of flowers, and you will see them
at work.
“I observe,” said Arthur, after having watched them attentively for some
time, “that they every moment stroke their legs over one another; is that
of any use?”
_Mrs. Mansfield._ It is in order to put the yellow dust, which they
collect from the flowers, and of which the wax is made, upon their hinder
thighs: a few short hairs on them form a kind of basket, on purpose to
receive it. When they have collected as much as they can carry, they fly
back to the hive to deposit it there.
_Arthur._ And what use do they make of it, grandmamma?
_Mrs. Mansfield._ After having kneaded and properly prepared it, they
make it into the honey-comb, or little cells which contain the honey; and
when the cells are full, the bees stop them up with a little more wax, to
preserve it as food for the winter.
_Arthur._ Then how do we get it?
_Mrs. Mansfield._ The hive is held over brimstone, which kills the bees,
and then we take out the honey-combs. Some people adopt a method of
taking the honey without destroying the bees; but I do not know whether
that is less cruel in the end; for the poor things are then frequently
starved in the winter, for want of their proper food.
_Arthur._ Have not I heard something about a queen-bee?
_Mrs. Mansfield._ Very probably you have. There is a queen to every
hive; and she is larger than the rest. She very seldom comes abroad, and
whenever she does, she is attended by a number of her subjects. They are
so much attached to her, that, if she dies, they make a mournful humming,
and unless another queen be given to them, will at last pine away, and
die too.
“How very surprising!” said Charles. “Who would have thought that such
little insects could show so much attachment to each other?”
_Mrs. Mansfield._ The natural history of the bee is full of wonders, my
dear. Besides the queen, there are two different sorts, the drones and
the working bees.
The drones seldom leave the hive, and never assist to procure honey. When
the time comes for making up their winter stores, they are, therefore,
all killed by the working bees as useless members of society. As they are
without stings, they are unable to defend themselves. The working bees
compose the most numerous body of the state. They have the care of the
hive, collect wax and honey from the flowers, make the wax into combs,
feed the young, keep the hive clean, turn out all strangers, and employ
themselves in promoting the general good.
_Arthur._ They are very industrious, indeed, Charles! Do you recollect
Dr. Watts’s little hymn about the Busy Bee?
_Charles._ Yes, brother; I was just thinking of it.
_Mrs. Mansfield._ Repeat it then will you, my love? After the account I
have been giving you, we shall attend to it with particular pleasure.
_Charles._ How doth the little busy bee
Improve each shining hour!
And gather honey all the day
From every opening flower!
How skilfully she builds her cell!
How neat she spreads the wax!
And labours hard to store it well
With the sweet food she makes!
In work of labour, or of skill,
I would be busy too;
For Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do.
In books, or work, or healthful play,
Let my first years be past;
That I may give, for every day,
A good account at last.