The hive is now in the liveliest activity. The swarm which entered with the queen, and the large addition to the population which has already been produced from her incessant laying, are all at their several avocations. The whole hive, its entrance and the immediate vicinity, and far around is jocund with the bustle and the buzz of the busy little creatures going and coming; those returning are all laden, although some do not appear so, but these are conveying riches home within them, as they are returning from their excursions with their honey-bag well filled. There is welcoming recognition at the entrance to the hive, where, on its broad platform, they all alight, and there many are to be seen touching each other with their antennæ, or refreshing themselves by the vibrations of their wings, and in doing this they often raise themselves on the hind legs, or they are resting for a few seconds before they enter. Others are to be seen arriving unrecognizable from a coloured envelope of pollen which mantles them. The incessant hum that accompanies these proceedings is like the mildest tones of the surge of the distant sea, or the inarticulate buzz of the voice of large crowds. In this seeming confusion all obey the strictest order, for each attends to his own business only; there is no collision or loss of time or labour, each one fulfilling precisely its own mission. At this period the hive is a perfect model of order, neatness, and beauty. The combs we have seen so rapidly growing are to be filled, and fresh cells are being constantly constructed. The honey there stored from the gradual gatherings of these active harvesters is partly to be reserved for the winter’s needs, and is carefully husbanded, for each of these cells is, when filled, closed by a covercle of wax moulded as it is supplied to the operator in concentric circles, commencing at the edge, and each circle being completed before another is begun, and not in a spiral twist towards the centre. To prevent the trampling of the discharging bees from injuring the delicate structure of the walls of the cell, each edge is furnished with a strengthening rim of wax. The bulk of these stores is never broken, except in bad wet seasons, in times of great dearth, or upon any suspension of torpidity during their hibernation. For the ordinary and daily consumption of those of the community whose labours confine them to the hive, open stores are left. As of course it occupies the excursions of several bees for some time to fill one of these vases, and to prevent the liquid flowing out, as it might do from its exceeding tenuity through the influence of the summer heat, and the then increased temperature of the hive, as well as from its inclined horizontal position,—this is guarded against by the precautional sagacity of the little creatures placing upon it from the deposit of the very first supply a sort of operculum, as before described, of a thicker