Royal-cells in different states of forwardness, common-cells, and drone-cells, are intended to be severally represented in this plate. The ranges forming the upper half, and marked—a. are intended to represent common brood-cells and honey-cells—most of them in an empty state. The lower ranges, marked—b. are drone-cells, and are represented as closed up, and as they appear when full of brood. Drone-cells, when filled with brood and sealed up, present a fuller and more convex surface than the cells containing common brood—these, that is—the cells containing the brood that becomes working Bees, are sometimes flat and even, and sometimes rather concave. The four large cells, attached perpendicularly to the edge of the comb, and marked—c. d. e. f. are royal-cells in different states of forwardness; that marked—c. is similar in size and shape to an acorn-cup, and is supposed to be quite empty; that marked—d. is in a more advanced state, and is supposed to contain a royal embryo, in its larva state: the royal-cell, marked—e. is considerably lengthened, narrowed, and nearly closed, because the larva it is supposed to contain is about to be transformed into a royal nymph, in which stage of its existence, as it does not require the assistance of nurses or common Bees, it is closed up entirely, as in the royal-cell, marked—f. In this closed cell it progresses from nymph to Bee, and in due time—that is, in about sixteen days from its being deposited as an egg, it emerges a virgin Queen. When the temperature of a hive, or pavilion of nature, is at a proper height—namely, between 70 and 80 degrees, sixteen days is the period nature requires for the production of a Queen-Bee,—twenty-one for the perfection of a working Bee,—and twenty-six for a drone Bee. But, as Dr. Bevan very justly remarks, "the development of each species proceeds more slowly when the colonies are weak, or the air cool,—and that when the weather is very cold it is entirely suspended."

But to return from this short, though it is hoped, not uninteresting digression, into which the explanation of the Queen-cells has led us.

"The combs of the Bee-hive comprise a congeries of hexagonal cells, formed by the Bees, as receptacles for honey or for embryo Bees. A honey-comb is allowed to be one of the most striking achievements of insect industry, and an admirable specimen of insect architecture. It has attracted the admiration of the contemplative philosopher in all ages, and awakened speculation, not only in the naturalist, but also in the mathematician: so regular, so perfect, is the structure of the cells, that it satisfies every condition of a refined problem in geometry. Still a review of their proceedings will lead to the conclusion, as Huber has observed, that, "the geometrical relations, which apparently embellish the productions of Bees, are rather the necessary result of their mode of proceeding, than the principle by which their labour is guided." "We must therefore conclude, that Bees, although they act geometrically, understand neither the rules nor the principles of the arts which they practise so skilfully, and that the geometry is not in the Bee, but in the great Geometrician who made the Bee, and made all things in number, weight, and measure.

"Before the time of Huber, no naturalist had seen the commencement of the comb, nor traced the several steps of its progress. After many attempts, he at length succeeded in attaining the desired object; by preventing the Bees from forming their usual impenetrable curtain by suspending themselves from the top of the hive; in short, he obliged them to build upwards, and was thereby enabled, by means of a glass window, to watch every variation and progressive step in the construction of a comb.

"Each comb in a hive is composed of two ranges of cells, backed against each other: these cells, looking at them as a whole, may be said to have one common base, though no one cell is opposed directly to another. This base or partition, between the double row of cells, is so disposed as to form a pyramidal cavity at the bottom of each, as will be explained presently. The mouths of the cells, thus ranged on each side of a comb, open into two parallel streets (there being a continued series of combs in every well filled hive). These streets are sufficiently contracted, to avoid waste of room, and to preserve a proper warmth, yet wide enough to allow the passage of two Bees abreast. Apertures through different parts of the combs are reserved to form near roads, for crossing from street to street, whereby much time is saved to the Bees.

"Bees, as has been already observed, build their cells of an hexangular form, having six equal sides, with the exception of the first or uppermost row, the shape of which is an irregular pentagon, the roof of the hive forming one of the members of the pentagon.

"There are only three possible figures of the cells," says Dr. Reid, "which can make them all equal and similar, without any useless interstices. These are—the equilateral triangle, the square and the regular hexagon. It is well-known to mathematicians, that there is not a fourth way possible, in which a plane may be cut into little spaces, that shall be equal, similar, and regular, without having any interstices." Of these three geometrical figures, the hexagon most completely unites the prime requisites for insect architecture. The truth of this proposition was perceived by Pappus, an eminent Greek philosopher and mathematician, who lived at Alexandria, in the reign of Theodosius the Great, and its adoption by Bees, in the construction of honey-comb, was noticed by that ancient geometrician. These requisites are:—

"First, Œconomy of materials. There are no useless partitions in a honey-comb, each of the six lateral panels of one cell forms also one of the panels of an adjoining cell; and of the three rhombs which form the pyramidal base of a cell, each contributes one third towards the formation of the bases of three opposing cells, the bottom or centre of every cell resting against the point of union of the panels that are at the back of it.

"Secondly, Œconomy of room; no interstices being left between adjoining cells.

"Thirdly, the greatest possible capacity or internal space, consistent with the two former desiderata.

"Fourthly, Œconomy of materials and economy of room produce economy of labour. And in addition to these advantages, the cells are constructed in the strongest manner possible, considering the quantity of materials employed. Both the sides and bases are so exquisitely thin, that three or four placed on each other are not thicker than a leaf of common writing paper; each cell, separately weak, is strengthened by its coincidence with other cells, and the entrance is fortified with an additional ledge or border of wax, to prevent its bursting from the struggles of the Bee-nymph, or from the ingress and egress of the labourers. This entrance border is at least three times as thick as the sides of the cell, and thicker at the angles than elsewhere, which prevents the mouth of the cell from being regularly hexagonal, though the interior is perfectly so.

"Having just adverted to the ingenuity of Bees in thickening, and thereby strengthening the mouths of the cells, it may here be observed—that additional strength is also derived from the Bees covering the whole surface of the combs, but more particularly the edge of the cells, with a peculiar kind of varnish, which they collect for the purpose. At first the combs are delicately white, semi-transparent, and exceedingly fragile, smooth but unpolished: in a short time their surfaces become stronger, and assume more or less of a yellow tint. The deepening of the colour of honey-combs has been supposed, by some, to be the effect of age; and in part it may be: but it is principally owing to the coat of varnish, with which the Bees cover them. This varnish strongly resembles propolis, appearing to differ from it only in containing the colouring material which imparts to wax its yellow hue. The source of this colouring matter has not been discovered: it is insoluble in alcohol, but the manufacture of white-wax shows that it is destructible by light. But to return to the construction of the cell-work.

"The pyramidal basis of a cell is formed by the junction of three rhomboidal or lozenge-shaped portions of wax: the apex of the pyramid being situated where the three obtuse angles of the lozenges meet. To the exterior edges and angles are attached the six panels or sides of each cell. The apex of each pyramidal bottom, on one side of a comb, forms the angles of the bases of three cells on the opposite side, the three lozenges respectively concurring in the formation of the bases of the same cells. This will, I hope, explain what is meant by "each cell separately weak, being strengthened by coincidence with others." The bottom of each cell rests upon three partitions of opposite cells, from which it receives a great accession of strength.

"As it is desirable that the reader should thoroughly comprehend this subject, I will re-state it in other words. The partition which separates the two opposing rows of cells, and which occupies, of course, the middle distance between their two surfaces, is not a plane but a collection of rhombs, there being three at the bottom of each cell: the three together form in shape, a flattened pyramid, the basis of which is turned towards the mouth of the cell; each cell is in form, therefore, a hexagonal prism, terminated by a flattened trihedral pyramid, the three sides of which pyramid are rhombs, that meet at the apex by their obtuse angles.

"The union of the lozenges in one point, in addition to the support which it is the means of affording to the three partitions between opposing cells, is also admirably adapted to receive the little egg and to concentrate the heat necessary for its incubation.

"Each obtuse angle of the lozenges or rhombs forms an angle of about 110 degrees, and each acute one, an angle of about 70 degrees. Mr. Maraldi found by mensuration that the angles of these rhombs, which compose the base of a cell, amounted to 109 degrees and 28 seconds, and 70 degrees and 32 seconds: and the famous mathematician Koenig, pupil of the celebrated Bernoulli, having been employed for that purpose by M. Reaumur, has clearly shown, by the method of infinitesimals, that the quantity of these angles, using the least possible wax, in the cell of the same capacity, should contain 109 degrees and 26 seconds, and 70 degrees and 34 seconds. This was confirmed by the celebrated Mr. Mac Laurin, who very justly observes, that Bees do truly construct their cells of the best figure, and with the utmost mathematical exactness.

"The construction of several combs is generally going on at the same time. No sooner is the foundation of one laid, with a few rows of cells attached to it, than a second and a third are founded on each side, parallel to the first, and so on, (if the season give encouragement to the operations of the Bees,) till the hive is filled with their works; the first constructed comb or combs being always in the most advanced state, and therefore the first to be completed.

"The design of every comb is sketched out, and the first rudiments are laid by one single Bee. This founder-Bee forms a block, out of a rough mass of wax, drawn partly from its own resources, but principally from those of other Bees, which furnish materials, in quick succession, from the receptacles under their bellies, taking out the plates of wax with their hind feet, and carrying them to their mouths with their fore feet, where the wax is moistened and masticated, till it becomes soft and ductile.

"The architect-in-chief, who lays, as it were, the first stone of this and each successive edifice, determines the relative position of the combs, and their distances from each other: these foundations serve as guides for the ulterior labours of the wax-working Bees, and of those which sculpture the cells, giving them the advantage of the margin and angles already formed.

"The expedients resorted to by that ingenious naturalist, Huber, unfolded the whole process. He saw each Bee extract with its hind feet one of the plates of wax from under the scales where they were lodged, and carrying it to the mouth in a vertical position, turn it round, so that every part of its border was made to pass in succession, under the cutting edge of the jaws; it was thus soon divided into very small fragments; and a frothy liquor was poured upon it from the tongue, so as to form a perfectly plastic mass. This liquor gave the wax a whiteness and opacity which it did not possess originally, and at the same time renders it tenacious and ductile. The issuing of this masticated mass from the mouth was, no doubt, what misled Reaumur, and caused him to regard wax as nothing more than digested pollen.

"The mass of wax, prepared by the assistants, is applied by the architect-Bee to the roof or bottom of the hive, as the case may be; and thus a block is raised of a semi-lenticular shape, thick at top and tapering towards the edges. When of a sufficient size, a cell is sculptured on one side of it, by the wax-working Bees, who relieve one another in succession, sometimes to the number of twenty, before the cell is completely fashioned. At the back and on each side of this first cell, two others are sketched out and excavated. By this proceeding the foundations of two cells are laid, the line betwixt them corresponding with the centre of the opposite cell. As the combs extend, the first excavations are rendered deeper and broader; and when a pyramidal base is finished, the Bees build up walls from its edges, so as to complete what may be called the prismatic part of the cell. Every succeeding row of cells is formed by precisely similar steps, until there is a sufficient scope for the simultaneous employment of many workers.

"The pyramidal bases and lateral plates are successively formed, with surprising rapidity; the latter are lengthened as the comb proceeds, for the original semi-lenticular form is preserved till towards the last, when, if the hive or box be filled, the sides of all the cells receive such additions as give them equal depth.

"The cells intended for the drones are considerably larger, and more substantial, than those for the working Bees, and, being later formed, usually appear near the bottom of the combs. Last of all, are built the royal-cells, the cradles of the infant Queens: of these there are usually three or four, and sometimes ten or twelve, in a hive, attached commonly to the central part, but not unfrequently to the edge or side of the comb. Mr. Hunter says that he has seen as many as thirteen royal-cells in a hive, and that they have very little wax in their composition, not one third, the rest he conceives to be farina. Such is the genuine loyalty of Bees, that the wax which they employ with so much geometric economy, in the construction of hexagonal cells, is profusely expended on the mansion of the royal Bee-nymph, one of these exceeding in weight a hundred of the former. They are not interwoven with them, but suspended perpendicularly, their sides being nearly parallel to the mouths of the common-cells, several of which are sacrificed to support them.

"The form of these royal-cells is an oblong spheroid, tapering gradually downwards, and having the exterior full of holes, somewhat resembling the rustic work of stone buildings. The mouth of the cell, which is always at its bottom, remains open till the maggot is ready for transformation, and is then closed as the others are.

"Immediately on the emergence of a ripened Queen, the lodge which she inhabited is destroyed, and its place is supplied by a range of common cells. The site of this range may always be traced, by that part of the comb being thicker than the rest, and forming a kind of knot; sometimes the upper portion of the cell itself remains, like an inverted acorn-cup, suspended by its short peduncle.

"In this mutilated state only, and not in the breeding-season, could Mr. Hunter have seen this cradle of royalty; for he describes it as the half of an oval, too wide and shallow to receive its supposed tenant.

"I have spoken of the perfect regularity in the cell-work of a honey-comb;—particular circumstances, however, induce a departure from this exactness: for instance, where Bees have commenced a comb with small cell-work, and afterwards wish to attach to it a set of large cells, as in the case of drone-cells being required to be appended to workers'-cells. These deviations from the usual regularity renew our admiration of Bee-ingenuity, though Reaumur and Bonnet have regarded them as examples of imperfection. They effect their object by interposing three or four series of, what may be called, cells of transition, the bottom or bases of which are composed of two rhombs and two hexagons, instead of three rhombs; the rhombs and hexagons gradually varying in form and relative proportion, till the requisite size, namely, that of the cells which they are approaching, has been attained.

"The same gradation is observed when returning to smaller cells. Every apparent irregularity is therefore determined by a sufficient motive, and forms no impeachment of the sagacity of the Bee.

"The common breeding-cells of drones or workers are occasionally (after being cleaned) made the depositories of honey; but the cells are never made so clean, as to preserve the honey undeteriorated. The finest honey is stored in new cells, constructed for the purpose of receiving it, their configuration resembling precisely the common breeding-cells: these honey-cells vary in size, being made more or less capacious, according to the productiveness of the sources from which the Bees are collecting, and according to the season of the year: the cells formed in July and August vary in their dimensions from those that are formed earlier; being intended for honey only, they are larger and deeper, the texture of their walls is thinner, and they have more dip or inclination; this dip diminishes the risk of the honey's running out, which, from the heat of the weather, and the consequent thinness of the honey, at this season of the year, it might otherwise be liable to do. When the cells, intended for holding the winter's provision, are filled, they are always closed with waxen lids, and never re-opened till the whole of the honey in the unfilled cells has been expended. The waxen lids are thus formed;—the first Bees construct a ring of wax within the verge of the cell, to which other rings are successively added, till the aperture of the cell is finally closed with a lid composed of concentric circles.

"The brood-cells, when their tenants have attained a certain age, are also covered with waxen lids, like the honey-cells; the lids differ a little, the latter being somewhat concave, the former convex. The depth of the brood-cells of drones and working Bees is about half an inch; their diameter is more exact, that of the drone-cells being three lines[J] and one third, that of the workers two lines and three fifths. These, says Reaumur, are the invariable dimensions of all the cells, that ever were, or ever will be made.

"From this uniform, unvarying diameter of the brood-cells, when completed, their use has been suggested, as an universal standard of measure, which would be understood, in all countries, to the end of time."

BEES' WAX.

BEES' WAX, in its strictest sense, is a secretion from the body of the Honey-Bee, and is that peculiar substance or material with which Bees principally construct their combs;—I say—principally, because the foundation of every comb is propolis: it is by this tenacious substance (propolis) that combs are securely attached to, and suspended from, the roof of a hive or a box,—and it is by this that they are firmly glued to the sides, wherever they are made to touch them.

BEES' WAX, however, in the common acceptation of the term, is that well-known, valuable article, obtained from honey-comb by the following process:—

Having drained all the honey from the combs, put them into a clean pot, together with as much rain-water as will make them float; then simmer over a clear fire until the combs be completely dissolved; and the wax and the dross mixed with it will swim at the top of the water. Pour the whole into a strong and tolerably fine canvas bag, made wide at the top and tapering downwards to a point, in the form of a jelly bag. Hold this over a tub or large vessel in which is a quantity of cold water. The boiling water will, of course, soon drain through, and leave in the bag the greater part of the liquefied wax commingled with dross. Have ready then a piece of smooth board of such a length that, when one end of it is placed in the tub of cold water, the other end may be conveniently rested against, and securely stayed by your breast. Upon this inclined plane lay your dripping, reeking strainer, and keep it from slipping into the cold water by bringing its upper part over the top of the board so as to be held firmly between it and your breast. If the strainer be made with a broad hem round its top, a piece of strong tape or cord passed through such hem will draw it close, and should be long enough to form a stirrup for the foot, by which an additional power will be gained of keeping the scalding-hot strainer in its proper place on the board: then by compressing the bag, or rather its contents, with any convenient roller, the wax will ooze through and run down the board into the cold water, on the surface of which it will set in thin flakes. When this part of the operation is finished, collect the wax, put it into a clean saucepan, in which is a little water to keep the wax from being burnt to the bottom; melt it carefully (for, should it be neglected and suffered to boil over, serious mischief might ensue, liquid wax being of a very inflammable nature) therefore melt it carefully over a slow fire, and skim off the dross as it rises to the top; then pour it into such moulds or shapes as your fancy may direct, having first well rinsed them, in order that you may be able to get the wax, when cold and solid, out of them without breaking either the moulds or the wax: place them, covered over with cloths or with pieces of board, where the wax will cool slowly; because the more slowly it cools the more solid it will be and free from flaws and cracks. You will thus have your wax in cakes, which may be rendered still more pure by a second melting and moulding. If run into very thin cakes, and afterwards exposed to the influence of the sun and the air, frequently turned, and occasionally wetted, it will lose its yellowness, and become beautifully white. This last process is called bleaching; and, though more simple and practicable than that pursued in establishments where large quantities of wax are bleached—where bleaching wax is of itself a regular business—it may probably be sufficient to answer all the purposes for which white-wax is wanted in private families. I have by me wax of my own bleaching that is equal in whiteness and delicacy to any I have ever met with.

Good wax is a heavy, solid substance, of a deep yellow colour, has an agreeable, balsamic odour, and possesses several medicinal and other valuable qualities.

Combs that have never been filled, and those that have been filled with honey only, afford the best wax. Of the former kind but very little need ever be taken from Bees in collateral-boxes; and when any such combs are taken, they may be far more advantageously disposed of than by being melted down for the wax they contain.

Instead of crushing and melting all the combs of three or four hives together, as is mostly done by cottage Bee-keepers, the fine, clean parts should be separated from those that are discoloured, less pure, and inferior, by reason of their age,—of having been brood combs,—or of containing pollen, and should be melted first. By this very easy mode of manipulation, the quantity of wax would not be lessened, and the superior quality of the fine would command a price that would be an ample remuneration for the additional trouble attending the management of it in this way.

Should the preceding directions be thought to be tediously or unnecessarily minute, my apology for making them so is—an anxious wish on my part to render every thing relating to Bees clearly understood—understood so as to be set about and properly managed by persons who never before bestowed one thought upon the subject.