Having suffered loss in our own apiary from the attacks of wasps, we feel it desirable to give a detailed account of our own troubles from that cause. One of our Ligurian stocks was besieged and worried by wasps to such an extent, that the bees deserted it on the 5th of September, (1864). Fortunately, the bees chose a time for their departure just as we visited the apiary. An unusual turmoil was heard in the hive, such as is experienced at the time of swarming, and on immediately examining the entrance, we observed that the bees were quitting in tumultuous haste. The usual methods that induce bees to settle were tried--amongst others, that of throwing sand up into the air, so as it should fall down amongst the bees on the wing; but they were dispersed in disorder, and their flight extended over three adjacent gardens. We only discovered the clustered bees by diligent search, as the sequel will show. Permission being asked of our next door neighbour, we searched his garden to see if our bees had alighted there; but found that they had passed over. Making a similar application to the owner of the garden adjoining, we entered, having a straw hive in hand, but no bees were there. After looking diligently all round, and climbing the wall, thereby gaining a view of the third garden, we perceived in it unmistakable signs of an unwonted commotion. The occupiers of the house were intently looking at a particular part of the garden, and there was a dustpan and a key, with which the master had been "tanging the bees" to induce them to settle. We quickly made for the proper entrance to the garden, and soon discovered our little wanderers clustered to a large flower vase. Our neighbours, however, were sadly disappointed of their prize, for the gardener had hastily been dispatched into the town to purchase a hive for the welcome colonists. In depriving our neighbours of so unexpected and cheaply acquired a treasure, we could sympathise with their regret, having been much disheartened half-an-hour before at our own loss; but, of course, we could do no other than claim our own bees. We gladly agreed to defray the expense of the straw hive that had been purchased for the sake of our truant swarm. After brushing the bees into the hive, and leaving it propped up with a stick, in order that the stray ones might join, we returned home for an hour or so, to give them time to settle. Judge of our vexation when on returning to fetch the hive home, we found that the refractory creatures had again taken flight, and that all the work was to do over again. The wasps were not to blame for this second flight of the Ligurians; we judged that the swarm had been disturbed by visits from a colony of bees that we discovered were living the life of outlaws under the roof of an adjoining house. Although much disheartened and perplexed, we at once renewed our search, and, upon enquiry, found that the missing bees had taken a southerly course across the turnpike road, and it was