"I had a strong stock in a straw Hive; on the top of this I put a large glass, which they soon filled with comb, as I kept the light quite out. This glass had a flat wooden top, with holes to put bell glasses on; these, of course, I could take off whenever I pleased, and so drop anything into the Hive. I one day took a single flower of stock, which, I should think, weighs as much as twenty Bees; this I popped through the hole into a party of them who were hard at work. They were, of course, rather surprised to see this large flower tumbling in upon their heads; they seemed to say to themselves, "Hilloa (Buzz), where does this come from? It has no business here; but as it is very certain that it has not grown larger whilst it has been in our Hive, we can turn it out of the hole through which some spiteful fellow has dropped it in upon us." Hilloa, translated into the Bee tongue, is, I am sure, Buzz-buzz; but I am sorry I am not sufficiently versed in Bee speech to set down therein the rest of what they said. I must, therefore, be content with plain English. But I am sure, from what they did, that I understand them, nevertheless. "Spiteful fellow," said the Bees. (Now I was not really spiteful, I only wanted to show how clever my Bees were). "We will not take the trouble to carry it all through the Hive to our proper door-way, and so disturb all the Bees who are hard at work, but we will carry it again to the upper chamber, from whence we all saw it drop, and there turn it out, as it has no business here." No sooner said than done. They seized it with their strong jaws, carried it up into the bell glass, and worked it round and round, trying to find the hole through which it had come. But I had been before them there, as I had put the bell glass back into its place. They could not find the way out, and after a time the flower dropped down again into the Hive; they would not be so beat, and pulled it up again at least a dozen times, till I, like Huber, pitying their hard case, took the bell glass off again, and merrily did they fly away with the hated flower; they then went round to the front entrance, and, I have no doubt, told the Queen all they had done, but, I am sure, did not boast what great Bees they were.
"I saw, whilst all this was going on, what gave me a great idea of the strength of the Bee,—one alone, who had a strong gripe of the flower, dragged it up the side of the glass, whilst six others were hanging on to it."—p. 263.Mr. Cotton appears to be one of those men who make the happiness of their poorer neighbours a leading object of their lives; and it matters not whether the happiness is to be induced by the cultivation of their gardens, the rearing of silkworms, the fattening of their hogs, the management of their bees, or the thousand other pursuits that may innocently if not beneficially employ their minds, while it brings food and clothing to their homes. Blessed is the man who by his own intelligence, and by the influence of his own bright example and his own kind spirit, can improve the condition and add to the happiness of those around him.
The enthusiastic author of 'My Bee-Book' may be said by some to ride his favourite hobby rather too hard; but those who think thus are wrong: it is the want of enthusiasm—the listless indifference of a writer that spoils his book; a man cannot be too full of his subject.
