In working the Bees are said by some, whose sayings are perhaps more fanciful than correct, in the following instance at least;--it has, however, been _said_--that in working the Bees form themselves into four companies, one of which roves the fields in search of materials for the hive, another is employed in laying out the bottoms and partitions of the cells, the third in smoothing the inside from the corners and angles, and the fourth in bringing food for the rest. According to this account some are labourers, others are builders, others finishers, and others purveyors. As there is no difference in the formation of the workers, I see no reason for assigning them any particular task or sort of work, nor do I think the allotment of labour just mentioned rests upon any other foundation than that of vague conjecture. Their diligence, however, and activity, are so great, that in a favourable day they will make cells which lie on each other, sufficient to contain some thousands of Bees. To keep their habitations--their hives, close and tight, they make use of a resinous gum, which the ancients called, and which is still called--_propolis_. This substance is at first soft and pliable, but becomes firmer every day; when it has acquired its proper consistency, it is harder than wax and is an excellent cement. They guard against the entrance of ants and other inimical insects into their hive, by gluing or filling up with this propolis the smallest inlets; and with it they fasten the edge of their hive to its floor in a very secure manner. Some Bees stand as sentinels, and mount guard, as it were, to prevent the intrusion of strangers and enemies. But if a snail, or other reptile, or any large insect, forces its way into the hive, they first kill it, and then coat it over with propolis, to prevent being annoyed by the noisome smell, or by the maggots which might proceed from its putrefaction, if left to putrefy. Bees can perceive the approach of bad weather; for when black clouds are in the sky indicating rain, they immediately hurry home with the greatest speed; and when to the eye of man there is no visible token of a sudden shower or other immediate change from fine weather to foul, Bees are aware of it, and by their sudden, hurried return to their hives, are the first to prognosticate a change as near; nor, often as I have observed them, have I ever found them wrong in this respect. The manner in which Bees rest when they settle, after having swarmed, and frequently in the hive also, is by collecting themselves into a cluster and hanging to each other by the hooks of their feet. When the weather has been warm I have frequently seen them, presently after being admitted into an end-box, hang in catkins or ropes: this they no doubt do to cool themselves the more. To view the Bees suspended from one another in these single ropes is a natural curiosity well worth attention. The flight of Bees when swarming is singularly rapid and most