May not those who complain of the disparity
between the births of females and males still listen to hope's
"flattering tale"? Such is one of the homilies of the hive.
Interest in bee-culture grows; and some of the habits of the insect came
to be understood and, inevitably, admired, the while all convenient
vessels available, even to the never-to-be-despised kerosene tins, were
utilised to store the nectar garnered from myriads of blossoms. But as
time passed the fair prospects faded. Less and less quantities of honey
were stored. The separator seldom buzzed with soothing melody as the
honey, whirled from the dripping frames of combs, pattered against its
resonant sides. Bees seemed less and less numerous. An air of idleness,
almost dissoluteness and despair, brooded over some of the hives. The
strong robbed the weak; and the weak contented themselves with gathering
in listless groups, murmuring plaintively. If the hives were inquiringly
tapped, instead of a furious and instant alarm and angry outpouring of
excited and wrathful citizens, eager to sacrifice themselves in the
defence of the rights of the commonwealth, there was merely a buzzing
remonstrance, indicative of decreased population, weakness and
disconsolation.
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