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The difference between the dogs is in shape more than in anything else. They have mouth, and jaws, and teeth, in all points the same except shape. And it is the same with every part of their legs and bodies ; they have the same bones and muscles, and internal organs, however greatly they vary in size and appearance.

But in the case of the queen-bee, she not only hasa body differently shaped to that of the worker, but one that, in many respects, is actually different, wanting some things which the worker has, and having others which the worker has not.

Moreover, she is so made that her habits and instincts are quite different. And, more wonderful still, she will probably live two, three, or even four years or more, instead of only so many months ; and be able, during her life to lay, an enormous number of eggs,--a million, or even more.

How marvellous is the change thus produced, so far as we know, by the wonderful food given to the larva! You see it is something far more wonderful than would be the feeding of the young puppy of a pug with some particular food, and by such a process of feeding, turning it into a greyhound.

## Chapter XVIII.

The structure of the bee adapted to its wants and work.

In a previous chapter something was said of the wonderful way in which bees are formed to accomplish the work they have to do. We will now pursue this subject a little further, and take one of the ordinary worker bees, which we have traced from the egg and its infancy to the perfect insect, and examine more closely some of its parts ; and we shall see in it, I think, one example amongst countless others, how God, in His power,wisdom, and goodness, marvellously provides for all His creatures, and their wants.

To see this clearer, let me remind you, first of all, of one or two familiar examples. Such examples are on all sides. The very colour of animals is full of meaning. What, for instance, is more suitable than the brown colour of the partridge to hide it from view as it sits on the open field? On the other hand, what could give greater concealment than the white winter plumage of the ptarmigan on the snowy hills? The stoat, again, like the ptarmigan, is dark in summer-time, but often, in hard snowy winter, changes to white. Or, amongst fishes, what better to hide it from its enemies than the colour of the sole? Its under side is white, for this is not much seen, but its upper side is almost the exact colour of the sand on which it lies.

But, after all, nothing can better illustrate the great truth than the human body, and no part of it more so, perhaps, than your arm with its hand, fingers, and thumb, which is ever ready to obey your wishes, and with which you can'd so such different things as strike a heavy blow with a blacksmith's hammer, or pick up a little pin. Nothing can be more perfect than the arrangement of bone and joints and muscles and nerves. By no other possible arrangement could every part be so exactly fitted for its purpose.

We see it still more if we look at what answers to the arm and hand in many animals. They have bones, in some respects, similar to ours of the arm and hand, but then, in each case, they are just so alteredas to make them exactly the best for the purpose of the animal.

Thus, these bones'are recognised in the fin of the whale, in the paddle of the turtle and in the wing of the bird. We see the corresponding bones, perfectly suited to their purpose, in the paw of the lion or the bear.'

The claws of the lion and the dog are other striking examples of the same thing. It is necessary for the dog to have claws rather to help it in running long distances, and to protect the foot, than to seize an enemy. And so this is just what it has. But the lion must not only have strong claws, but they must be kept sharp to seize and hold the prey. It would never do for its claws to be exposed like the dog's. They would soon get blunted and useless. And so by a beautiful contrivance the lion's claws are withdrawn into a sheath, and kept there till he springs on his prey, when at once they are brought into use, and strike deep into the flesh of the victim.

We are now prepared, I think, to find wonders of construction in the bee ; and we shall not be disappointed. I will mention a few, but only the simplest. Some of the most striking, relating to the internal parts, you would not understand.

We will take, in the first place, and examine, one of the hind legs, of which here are illustrations when greatly magnified.

Now you will notice that it is divided into several portions, of which two are larger than the others, and of a peculiar flat shape, and if you look closely you will see that one is hollowed out, and that the hollow is made deeper by a fringe of hairs.

Nothing can be more perfectly constructed for what is required.

It forms what is called the'pollen-walket.' In this cavity, or pollen-basket, the bee places the fine pollen dust, which it gathers from the flowers, working it into position by help of its other legs, and making it quite secure by the hairs which surround the little basket, some of which will be found buried in the pollen, and holding it very firm. It is wonderful how large pellets of this pollen the bee will in this way carry safely home, where it is removed, pushed off

Figure 1: Leg.

Figure 2: Pollen-basket (reverse side of fig. **i**).

from the leg without difficulty, as the hairs point downwards.

At the end of the leg, or rather foot, there are two very small claws or hooks, which are most useful, and are adapted for many purposes. The bees, for instance, with their help will hang on to one another, until they make quite a rope of their bodies hanging, as they sometimes require, in the form of a festoon, from one part of the hive to another.

The legs are also covered more or less with hairs, which, like everything else, have purpose and are of great use. The bees use them as brushes to remove from their bodies the fine dust with which they are often quite covered, after visiting a flower.

In the next place, let us look at the tongue. Here are drawings of it.

You will wonder, I am sure, at its great length. It is almost as long as the whole body of the bee, but nevertheless is just the tongue the bee requires, for, when it goes to a flower, the honey is often very deep down, and otherwise would be quite out of reach.

The construction of the tongue itself is also very wonderful. It is made with a great number of joints, so that the bee can twist it about, like an elephant does its trunk ; and, when it reaches the place of the honey in the flowers, can move it here and there and all round. And as it is covered with very small hairs, and the end of it is quite like a little brush, it sweeps up all the honey, which readily sticks to it, and which thus in a moment is drawn up into the mouth, from whence it passes into the honey-bag or stomach. And here it may be mentioned that this honey-bag is quite distinct from the true stomach, and simply a convenient place where honey can be stored till it is carried home.

In the next place let us look at the wings. I have said before that there are four, two on each side, one much larger than the other.

These wings, when not in use, are folded one over the other by the side of the bee, the larger wing on the top.

And now what could be more perfectly fitted for the purpose than the material of which the wing is made? You will notice, if you take a bee's wing and magnify it slightly, that it is so made as to be very thin and light, and yet very strong and tough. It is also, as you will see, strengthened with little ribs of stronger material.

I want, however, more especially to point out a most beautiful contrivance by which the wings are made, as it were, of double use. Of course, to fly fast, it is of great importance for an insect to have a large wing ; but then a large wing, in the bee's case, would be very much in the way in the crowded live, and when not in use. This difficulty is, however, partly got over by the bee having a second wing on each side, for, when both are spread together, there is a larger extent to resist the air, and so give power of progress.

But then, if this were all, as both wings beat the air together, the air, as we can easily understand would pass between them, and so half the power would be lost ; just as it would be with the sail of a ship if it were torn down the middle. In such a condition it would indeed be of little use. Or again, if a lady's fan were divided into two portions it would take double the exertion, to get as much air from it, as if it were whole and in one piece.

Well, and so what do you think is done to help the bee in its flight? It is this. On the upper edge of the smaller wing there is contrived a row of very small hooks, and on the lower edge of the larger wing, just opposite these hooks, there is a sort of bar to which the hooks can fasten.

And then what happens is this. Directly the bee opens its wings to fly,'the little hooks on the one wing catch hold of the little bar on the other, and in a moment the two wings are fastened together, and become almost like one large wing ; but as soon as the bee stops the hooks are at once unfastened again, and the wings fold one over another, quite conveniently, out of the way.

Can anything be more strikingly beautiful than such a device? You will see the little hooks greatly magnified in the illustration.

THE next thing we will notice is the sting. Possibly you have already felt what a sting is like, and I hope you do not think it anything very dreadful. At all events, it is a curious fact that we can get so accustomed to stings that, although they may hurt us when we first begin to keep bees, they will hurt less and less, until at last they hurt so little that many bee-keepers care nothing at all about them.

But I want to speak of the sting itself, which is a very beautiful little instrument. You have of course seen a sting--the very fine little pointed dart which the bee shoots out and which pierces the flesh. This is usually called the sting, but it is not really so, for the sting itself is another still finer-pointed dart, which lies hidden in what you see almost as in a sheath. And this very fine inner dart,--which really consists of two, working side by side,--is barbed with sharp points, which prevent its being easily drawn back out of the wound. Connected with it is a very fine tube, which conveys a very minute drop of strong poison into the wound when the whole sting pierces the flesh.

On account of the barbs, and the bee being unable to withdraw its sting from the wound, the whole sting, with its adjacent parts, is generally torn from the bee's body, and causes its death.

When we consider the quantities of tempting food stored within the hive and the smallness of the little insect which has to defend the precious sweets against the covetousness of many enemies, we are surely led to marvel at the wisdom which has provided the insect with such a formidable weapon, and made it thus a match for even the larger animals.

\(\&\)and here may be mentioned, as showing the exquisite perfection of the works of nature, that, as related by Bevan in his work on the Honey-bee :--

'Upon examining the edge of a very keen razor by the microscope it appears as broad as the back of a pretty thick knife, rough, uneven, and full of notches and furrows. And an exceedingly small needle being also examined, the point thereof appeared above a quarter of an inch in breadth, not round nor flat, but irregular and unequal, and the surface, though extremely smooth and bright to the naked eye, seemed full of ruggedness, holes, and scratches ; in short, it resembled an iron bar out of a smith's forge. But the sting of a bee, viewed through the same instrument, showed everywhere a polish amazingly beautiful, without the least flaw, blemish, or inequality and ended in a point too fine to be discovered, yet this is only the case or sheath of an instrument still more exquisite.'

And now, passing by many wonderful things in the structure.of the bee, such as the system by which it breathes, and the formation of the eye, and the internal organs, I will only say something of the antennae.

All the uses of these most important organs we probably do not know, but, amongst other uses, they are certainly means by which the bees communicate one with another, and for this purpose are most exquisitely and delicately formed. When bees meet and, as their custom is, cross their antennae, they undoubtedly speak to one another, whatever their language is.

It is also evidently by the touch of the antennae that they distinguish friends from enemies, and also by their use that they appear able to move, and work in the darkness of the hive just as easily as if they could see everything plainly.

A queen-bee that had lost its antennae was observed by Huber to be itself as one that was lost in the hive--not to know its way about its own home, and only anxious, as soon as possible--quite contrary to the queen's usual instinct--to get out of the hive into the daylight.

One story will perhaps be sufficient to show their importance as means of communicating news, and that without them the bees cannot, as it were, talk to one another.

Into a hive full of bees a division was one day inserted, separating the whole colony into two portions_STRUCTURE ADAPTED TO IVANTS._

one to the right and the other to the left. This division consisted, not of a solid board, but of two pieces of zinc side by side, and full of very small holes, too small for the bees to get through, but just sufficiently large for the bees to push their antennae through. These two divisions, at first put in side by side and close together, were then separated an inch or two one from the other. The consequence was that, while the bees in the one half, where the queen happened to be at the time, were as quiet as usual, and went on working, the bees in the other half became in a very agitated state, as always is the case when their queen is removed.

But then, as the divisions were full of little holes, and not like thick board, why could not those bees, which had the queen on their side, tell the others that she was not really lost, but as well as ever? If they could have done this, all would have been well, and the agitation would have ceased, but this they could not do, and so the disturbance went on.

But now the two divisions were brought, gradually and slowly, nearer and nearer together, until at last they were so near that the bees could almost touch one another, but still the state of excitement on the one side continued. The bees on that side could not be satisfied as to the presence and welfare of their queen, but when the divisions were brought just a little nearer,--near enough for the bees on one side to touch with their antennae the antennae of the bees on the other side, then immediately all agitation ceased. The bees evidently at once knew their queen was safe, and this was quite sufficient, and so went to work again as usual and quite contentedly. It was a proof that it is mainly, if not entirely, by the antennae that bees can communicate with one another.

## Chapter Xx.

structure varying in queen, worker, and drone.

While reading the previous chapters respecting the construction of the bee, every part so exquisitely made for its purpose, you must not forget that what has been said applies mainly to worker bees. I mentioned this before, but call your attention to it again, because, when we look at queens and drones, we find many of those parts of which I spoke, such as the tongue, sting, and legs, strikingly altered, in their respective cases, to meet their special wants and work.

The queen, for instance, never leaves the hive to gather honey. It is not her work. Her duties are entirely at home, and so when we look at her tongue we find it unlike that of the workers, not so long, and not made to brush up the sweets from the flowers, but only fit to lap up honey already brought home, or to receive it from the other bees, who feed her when required.

So, again, the queen has no honey-bag in which to bring home honey from the flowers, and no little hollows or baskets on her hind-legs in which to carry the pollen, and no brush-like hairs on her other legswith which to remove the pollen dust from her body. All these are invaluable to the workers, but would be of no use to her, staying always in the hive.

Her sting also is different, for she has no occasion to use it against the common enemies of the hive. The workers are alone the fighting population:

And when we look at the drones we find the same adaptation of structure to the wants of the insect. We think of them as the idle ones, never going out to get honey, and doing no work at home ; but indeed they could not gather the honey, or bring it home, or collect the pollen, even if they tried, for, like the queen, they do not possess a honey-gathering tongue. Neither have they honey-bag nor pollen-baskets. To collect food is not their work. And they could not fight, for they have no sting. Nevertheless you must not think they are useless. Indeed they are very necessary to the hive. They must be there if the hive is to prosper.

We can thus trace the workings of Divine Wisdom not only in the actual construction of every part of each kind of bee, but also in the way in which each is fitted for, and made to fill, its own little place in the community. One is queen, another worker, another drone, and to each one is given the means by which it can best fulfil its own duties, and be the most useful to the community at large.

And if so, we may be quite sure that the same wise and over-ruling Providence places each one of us in that position where, if we do our duties faithfully, we can be most useful ; and that, instead of sometimes complaining of our lot in life, we shall do far better to try and make the best use of all the opportunities of work and usefulness that are given to us.

'How oft, when wandering far and erring long,

Man might learn truth and virtue from the bee!'

Occasionally, as before mentioned, under certain circumstances we find a worker bee which, in the absence of a queen, tries to act the queen's part and to lay some eggs. But the consequences are most disastrous. The whole colony gets out of order : workers die, and only drones are born to take their place, and the colony soon altogether perishes. True example how each one should be content with the work of his own proper place, and not try to act the part of those in a different station of life ; not to be the jackdaw assuming the peacock's feathers. It seems to tell us that we only do more harm than good if we try to do so.

## Chapter XXI.

combs, and the form of cells.

Having considered the bee itself--although there is a great deal more of the same subject which I hope you will learn some day--we will now look somewhat more closely at the house it builds for itself--how 'the singing masons' build their 'roofs of gold.'

I have spoken of this before, but only in general terms, describing how the combs are built of wax, with cells on each side, and so arranged that there is just space enough between the combs for the bees to work in. Now, I want to point out some more of the wonders of its construction, how the bees

In firm phalanx ply their twinkling feet,

Stretch out the ductile mass, and form the street,

With many a crossway path and postern gate,

That shorten to their range the spreading state.'

Evans.

And as we do this, I think we shall see it affording another instance of that marvellous instinct which guides the bee in all it does, and makes it the cleverest of architects and the best of builders.

We often talk of the wonders of engineering skill and man's ingenuity seen in countless inventions. We look, for instance, with wonder at our railroads and viaducts, and great bridges, and call them monuments of engineering skill.

There is, for instance, the marvellous great iron bridge across the Menai Straits, which hangs as a great iron tunnel suspended high up from rock to rock over the waters far below, and yet is so safe and strong that the heaviest railway trains are continually and with safety passing over it. No one can see it without admiration of the great skill with which it has been planned, and of the perfect workmanship shown in its construction. Everything is provided by countless and exact calculations to make it strong and secure. And it was just for the want of some of these calculations, and some consequent fault of construction, that on the night of December 28th, 1879, another great railway bridge, that over the Firth of Tay, in Scotland, failed to withstand the force of a great gale of wind, and in the darkness of the night, and when a train with a hundred passengers was passing over it, fell down, carrying with it into the deep waters below the whole train, not one passenger in which survived to tell the tale of the most frightful railway accident that ever happened.

Or look, again, at some of our great buildings, wonderfully contrived, skillfully constructed. If you go to Cambridge ; there, in the magnificent chapel of King's College, you will see the whole wide space spanned by a roof of stone of enormous weight, which from below looks too flat to form an arch, and yet is so cunningly contrived and built with such skill that it stands perfectly secure.

But, after all, nothing equals the beauty and perfection of Nature's works seen all around us; and there is hardly a more striking instance of this than in the cell of the bee. It is absolutely perfection in every way, in plan and architecture, in material and strength, and in fitness for its purpose.

Take a piece of comb like that illustrated on the next page, and the first thing which we notice is the shape of the cells, that they are six-sided, or hexagons, all fitting in close together. And then, if it is a nice thin piece of clean comb, and we hold it up to the light, we shall see very plainly that the cells on one side do not correspond with the cells on the other, but just the reverse--the centre of any cell on one side corresponding with the spot where the sides of three cells on the other side meet together.

Then, if we cut away all the cells carefully and gradually, we shall find that we have, left in our hand, not a smooth piece of wax, such as would make the bottom of each cell quite flat, but a piece of thin wax, beautifully impressed with little diamond - shaped pieces put together, the bottom of each cell being formed of three such diamond-shaped pieces meeting in a point, as you see in the drawing below.

And now, let us try and see how nothing can be more perfect than all this for the object in view.

First, then, we can easily understand that that form and make of cell will be best which economises to the greatest degree space, material, time and labour --all of which are very valuable to the bees--and also provides for the combs being the strongest possible, consistent with other requirements. They must also, at the same time, hold as much honey as possible, and be fitted, when required, for the rearing of the young bees. Here are a number of conditions to be fulfilled; and it is most interesting to see how marvellously the bees are led by their instinct to accomplish the task, and to get over the difficulties of the problem.

And first we will notice the hexagonal shape of the cell. Why is this the best? Why should it not be round? why not a square? why not an equilateral triangle?

Well, if the cells were round it would be better in one way, and, if the bees made single cells, standing out by themselves, I have no doubt they would make them round (some wild bees do so), for a round vessel can contain a greater quantity of fluid,in proportion to the extent of wall and material, than any other shape. If you were to take, for instance, the material of which a circular pint measure is made, you could not make it up into any other shape, having sides of the same thickness as before, so as to hold the pint as at first.

But then it would never do for the cells to be round, because what we gained in one way we should more than lose in another, for, if round, they would never fit together, and a great deal of space would be lost, and, not fitting, they would be very liable to break. Much heat also would be lost, a most important consideration to the bees. This you can see by the illustration.

Squares. Equilateral Triangles.

But, if not round, would not a square shape do? Certainly not, for although square cells would very well fit side by side, all the corners (and it would be still more so with equilateral triangles) would be very awkward for the young bees, and, in making these corners and angles, a great deal of material would be wasted.

Well then, if the round shape would not do, but only because circular cells would not fit well side by side ; and the square shape would not do, because of all the corners and waste of material ; it follows (try and understand this) that the best shape for cells is that which is nearest the shape of the circle, and yet will allow the cells to lie close together. This shape is the hexagon, for although an octagon is more like a circle than a hexagon, a set of octagons would not fit together, only indeed a little better than a set of circles, but hexagons fit together perfectly.

Thus, in choosing the hexagon, the bees select the very best shape possible, that which enables the cells to hold the greatest quantity of honey with the least expense of material and waste of space.

Again, the bees want the combs to have great strength, and yet to have the walls of the cells very thin ; the stronger the better and the thinner the better. But these two things seem contrary. If you want anything to be strong you generally make it thick. But the bees know better than you, and get over the difficulty wonderfully. While they make the walls of the cells as thin as the thinnest paper, yet by making them, in a most ingenious way, of two layers of wax joined together, they get a great deal of extra strength. Every cell has, as it were, double walls. And then again, by the way the cells fit together, and by the way in which they are arranged on each side of the comb, so as not to correspond, they get yet further strength without adding material.

Again, as the bees build a cell, gradually making it deeper and deeper, they always contrive to leave the edge, for a time, much thicker than the rest. The cell, in fact, has always a strong rim, which makes it firm to resist pressure and weight.

Then again, the arrangement of the little diamond-shaped pieces of wax at the bottom of the cells, of which I spoke before, is the most perfect possible. It is just that one plan which, more than any other, gives the greatest strength to the whole structure of both sides of the comb, and also good accommodation to the young bees. If there were the very slightest alteration of angle, so as to make the bottom of the cell either flatter or more pointed, the form of cell would not be so good for its purpose. This has been proved by mathematicians as plainly as that two and two make four. No architect or engineer, indeed, could possibly have planned all this better. But without any plan or calculation the bees know it all by instinct, and follow out this best way with the most astonishing exactness ; and the result of their work is thus, as I have described, absolute perfection.

\({}^{\mbox{\sf\char 37}}\) These, with sharp sickle, or with sharper tooth,

Pare each excrescence, and each angle smooth,

Till now, in finished pride, two radiant rows

Of snow-white cells one mutual base disclose,Six shining panels gird each polish'd round,

The door's fine rim, with waxen fillet bound,

While walls so thin, with sister walls combined,

Weak in themselves, a sure dependence find.'

E Evans.

There is also another difficulty which the bees get over wonderfully. If the cells were made horizontal, or at right angles to the middle partition, the honey would run out, almost as fast as put in, and so what the bees do is to make every cell slope a little inwards, and then, when the honey is put in, it is kept there, partly by what is called capillary attraction, and partly because, as they put in more and more, so much the more do they build up the entrance, until at last the cell is quite full.

Once more, there is another, and apparently serious difficulty which they meet with in combbuilding,--but which they soon surmount most ingeniously,--arising from the drone-cells being larger than the worker. The width of four drone cells put together is one inch, which is the same as the width of five worker cells, measured in the same way. Consequently when drone-cells are built on by the side of worker cells, there is a difficulty in making them all fit together. Indeed it is impossible without contrivance and some alteration of shape.

How the bees manage you will best understand from the illustration of a piece of comb in a previous chapter, at page 91. There you see the two kinds of cells, the larger and smaller ; and then how the bees make a few odd-shaped cells, which, being put in between the large and small cells, soon brings all back into proper shape and order. And the bees do all this in the dark!

'Is it credible,' says Langstroth,' that these little insects can unite so many requisites in the construction of their cells, either by chance, or because they are profoundly versed in the most intricate mathematics? Are we not compelled to acknowledge that the mathematics by which they construct a shape so complicated, and yet the only one which can unite so many desirable requirements, must be referred to the Creator, and not to His puny creature? To an intelligent and candid mind, the smallest piece of honey-comb is a perfect demonstration that there is a great First Cause.'