If the story of the honey-bee’s anatomy has everywhere some of the
elements of romance about it—in its unexpected incidents, its adventurous
colour, its shadow of a great design—this spirit suffers no abatement
when we come, in a last view of it, to consider her as one carrying arms,
one bearing such a weapon of offence as never came into human mind to
fashion. The long curved scimitar of the queen, which she cherishes so
carefully that nothing will induce her to strike with it except when it
is to be turned against a royal foe, is otherwise little else than a
harmless piece of domestic furniture. But the sting of the valorous
worker-bee, seen under a microscope, is a positively terrifying engine of
destruction. Popular science generally describes it as a sheath
containing a barbed and poisonous dart; and the trite comparison is
always made of the bee’s sting with the finest sewing-needle, the latter
being likened to a rough bar of iron. The idea of a sheath is pure
fiction, as a little painstaking examination will soon reveal.
The bee’s sting is made up of three separate lances, each with a barbed
edge, and each capable of being thrust forward independently of the
others. The central and broader lance has a hollow face, furnished at
each side with a rail, or beading, which runs its whole length. On the
back of each of the other two lances there is a longitudinal groove, and
into these grooves fit the raised beadings of the central lancet. Thus
the sting is like a sword with three blades—united, but sliding upon one
another—the barbed points of which continue to advance alternately into
the wound, going ever deeper and deeper of their own malice aforethought
after the initial thrust is made. It is a device of war, compared to
which the explosive bullet is but a clumsy brutality. Yet this is not
all. To make its death-dealing powers doubly sure, this thorough-minded
amazon must fill the haft of her triple blade with a subtle poison, and
so contrive its sliding mechanism that the same impulse, which drives the
points successively forward, drenches the whole weapon with a fatal
juice.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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