_Uncle Philip tells the Children a Story about Tom Smith; and
of Bees with Brushes and Baskets, and of a Bird with a Chisel, and
a Gnat with a Lancet._
"Uncle Philip, as the day is fine, instead of sitting here, will you
walk with us, this morning?"
"Yes, boys; let me get my cane and hat, and we will take a ramble;
perhaps we may see something, if we will use our eyes. Where do you wish
to go?"
"Oh, we do not care much, if you are with us, which way we walk; any
course will be pleasant."
"Come on, then; we will cross the river, and go down on the other side
beyond the old mill, where you found the wasp's paper. And now, such of
you as will, may keep a look-out for curious things, while the rest of
us will talk together.--Boys, do any of you know Tom Smith?"
"Know him! Why, Uncle Philip, everybody in this part of the country
knows him; he is such a shocking drunkard, and swears so horribly, that
nobody can forget him; and what makes it worse, he is an old man, too.
His hair is almost as white as yours, Uncle Philip."
"Yes; he is just about my age. We were both born here, and I have known
him ever since we were boys; and when we played together as children,
over this very field which we are now crossing, or caught fish in
the river down yonder by the rocks, there was not a more decent,
well-behaved, handsome boy among us than was Tom Smith. Poor Tom lost
his father when he was about twelve years old, and his mother, having
no other child, indulged him, until he was sent to the city to go into
a store. But Tom then, boys, had good principles; he neither swore nor
got drunk. In a little time he fell into bad company, and they led him
astray by degrees. He was so good-natured (as they call it), boys,
that he had never the firmness to say _no_ to the proposals of his
companions. He went with them to places of amusement; and instead of
spending his evenings in his own room, reading, he was at the theatre,
or dancing in some place, or at a supper with his young companions;
and finally he began to play cards and billiards with them; while the
inside of the church was a place which he never saw. He was cheated by
his companions; and too honest he was then not to pay what he lost by
gaming: he wrote to his poor mother, and told her the truth, as to his
losses, and she sent him money to pay his debts, and told him to come
home. He did come home; and even after all that had happened, poor Tom
might have been respectable and happy; for his friends were all willing
to forget the past, and encourage him for the future. For a time he went
on pretty well, and married an affectionate and good young woman, and
his prospects were bright enough: but one thing, boys--one single thing,
ruined his comfort for ever. In the city he had learned _to drink strong
liquors_.
"I remember, too, soon after he came home and married, that a man was
hung not far from here for murdering his wife. The man was a drunkard,
though he was quite sober when he killed the poor woman; and drunkenness
had hardened his heart. I have no doubt, as it will the heart of any
man. Tom was talking to me about that man, and I remember he said then
that when a man _began_ to drink, he could never say where it would end,
nor what he would do: 'therefore,' said Tom, 'beware of the _first_
drink.' But Tom, though he talked like a Christian and a man about it,
did not act like one: for it was not long before he began to follow his
bad habit, and he soon killed his poor mother; for she died of grief
and sorrow, I think. His excellent wife speedily followed her to the
grave; and Tom Smith left the village, a perfect vagabond, whom no one
cared for. Where he went, or what he did for a long time, no person
here knows. I went to other countries, and neither heard of nor saw Tom
Smith until my return home, when I found him wandering about here, a
gray-headed swearer and drunkard. He did not know me, and I never should
have known him, had not some one told me who he was. And last night I
received a letter from one of my nephews in the city, which informed
me that Tom Smith had been tried in the court, and found guilty of
stealing, and was sent to the state prison for ten years to hard work.
There I suppose he will die for he is now old; and it is awful to think
of what is then to become of his soul. Ah, my dear boys! I could not
help thinking, when I read my letter, of what that man said to me years
ago--and I have told you his story, hoping that you will remember his
words, 'Beware of the _first_ drink.' The man who does that will never
be a drunkard. And when old Uncle Philip is laid in the grave, boys,
which must be before many years, remember, as you look upon the place,
that he told you the story of Tom Smith, and charged you to 'beware of
the _first_ drink.'
"But here come some of the boys, running towards us; I suppose they have
found something."
"Oh, Uncle Philip! Uncle Philip! Do come with the boys this way. Under
that fence yonder there are a great many beautiful wild flowers, and a
number of bees are as busy as they can be about them; pray come and see
them."
"Well, I will; but not so fast, boys; you forget that I am an old
man, and cannot run as you do.--So, here are, indeed, a great many
industrious little workmen."
"What are they doing, Uncle Philip?"
"These are _workers_ among the bees, and they are gathering the dust out
of the flowers, to work it up into what is commonly called bee-bread.
More tools here, boys!"
"Tools, Uncle Philip! Ah, we like that: pray let us hear of them; what
are they?"
"Why, there is a brush and a basket in the legs of these little fellows;
but they are so small that you cannot see them without a microscope."
"What is a microscope?"
"It is an instrument, made by fixing glasses in such a way to look
through, that small things will seem to be very large. Do you not see
how some of these little fellows are rolling themselves over in the
inside of the flowers, so that the yellow dust is sticking to them?
Now their breasts, and legs, and many other parts of their bodies are
covered with very short hairs, which catch the dust. The last joint but
one of each leg is made exactly like a brush, the hairs being longer
there than on any other part; and with these they brush off the dust,
and get it into two little heaps. The bags into which they put it, or
rather the baskets, are in the thighs of the last pair of legs. These
are hollow, so as to form a three-sided basket. The bottom of it is
smooth and shining, and appears like horn, and all around the edges are
placed very strong, thick-set hairs, like bristles."
"What are these for?"
"To keep things from falling out of the basket; and these bristles are
so strong that even if they heap up more than the basket will hold, the
bristles will keep it from falling. Here is a drawing of these legs.
[Illustration: Structure of the legs of the Bee for carrying propolis
and pollen, magnified.]