_Phys._ * * * Let me now call your attention to that Michaelmas daisy. A
few minutes ago, before the sun sunk behind the hill, its flowers were
covered with varieties of bees, and some wasps, all busy in feeding on
its sweets. I never saw a more animated scene of insect enjoyment. The
bees were most of them humble-bees, but many of them new varieties to
me, and the wasps appeared different from any I have seen before.
_Hal._ I believe this is one of the last autumnal flowers that insects
of this kind haunt. In sunny days it is their constant point of resort,
and it would afford a good opportunity to the entomologist to make a
collection of British bees.
_Poict._ I neither hear the hum of the bee, nor can I see any on its
flowers. They are now deserted.
_Phys._ Since the sun has disappeared, the cool of the evening has, I
suppose, driven the little winged plunderers to their homes; but see!
there are two or three humble-bees which seem languid with the cold, and
yet they have their tongues still in the fountain of honey. I believe
one of them is actually dead, yet his mouth is still attached to the
flower. He has fallen asleep, and probably died while making his last
meal of ambrosia.