Up mounts the chief, and, to the cheated eye, Ten thousand shuttles dart along the sky; As swift through æther rise the rushing swarms, Gay dancing to the beam their sunbright forms; And each thin form, still lingering on the sight. Trails as it shoots, a line of silver light. High poised on buoyant wing, the thoughtful queen, In gaze attentive, views the varied scene, And soon her far-fetched ken discerns below; The light laburuam lift her polished brow. Wave her green leafy ringlets o'er the glade. Swift as the falcon's sweep, the monarch bends Her flight abrupt; the following host descends Round the fine twig, like clustered grapes they close In thickening wreaths, and court a short repose. In many country districts it is a time-honoured custom for the good folks of the village to commence on such occasions a terrible noise of tanging and ringing with frying pan and key. This is done with the absurd notion that the bees are charmed with the clangorous din, and may by it be induced to settle as near as possible to the source of such sweet sounds. This is, however, quite a mistake; there are other and better means for the purpose. The practice of ringing was originally adopted for a different and far more sensible object, viz., for the purpose of giving notice that a swarm had issued forth, and that the owner was anxious to claim the right of following, even though it should alight on a neighbour's premises. It would DC curious to trace how this ancient ceremony has thus got corrupted from the original design. In case the bees do not speedily after swarming manifest signs of settling, a few handfuls of sand or loose mould may be thrown up in the air so as to fall among the winged throng; they mistake this for rain, and then very quickly determine upon settling. Some persons squirt a little water from a garden engine in order to produce the same effect. There are, indeed, many ingenious devices used by apiarians for decoying the swarms. Mr. Langstroth mentions a plan of stringing dead bees together, and tying a bunch of them on any shrub or low tree upon which it is desirable that they should alight; another plan is, to hang some black woven material near the hives, so that the swarming bees may be led to suppose they see another colony, to which they will hasten to attach themselves. Swarms have a great affinity for each other when they are adrift in the air; but, of course, when the union has been effected, the rival queens have to do battle for supremacy. A more ingenious device than any of the above, is by means of a mirror to flash a reflection of the sun's rays amongst a swarm, which bewilders the bees, and checks their flight. It is manifestly often desirable to use some of these endeavours to induce early settlement, and to prevent, if possible, the bees from clustering in high trees or under the eaves of houses, where it may be difficult to hive them.