Mrs. Mansfield. Very probably you have. There is a queen to every hive; and she is larger than the rest. She very seldom comes abroad, and whenever she does, she is attended by a number of her subjects. They are so much attached to her, that, if she dies, they make a mournful humming, and unless another queen be given to them, will at last pine away, and die too.
“How very surprising!” said Charles. “Who would have thought that such little insects could show so much attachment to each other?”
Mrs. Mansfield. The natural history of the bee is full of wonders, my dear. Besides the queen, there are two different sorts, the drones and the working bees.
The drones seldom leave the hive, and never assist to procure honey. When the time comes for making up their winter stores, they are, therefore, all killed by the working bees as useless members of society. As they are without stings, they are unable to defend themselves. The working bees compose the most numerous body of the state. They have the care of the hive, collect wax and honey from the flowers, make the wax into combs, feed the young, keep the hive clean, turn out all strangers, and employ themselves in promoting the general good.
Arthur. They are very industrious, indeed, Charles! Do you recollect Dr. Watts’s little hymn about the Busy Bee?
Charles. Yes, brother; I was just thinking of it.
Mrs. Mansfield. Repeat it then will you, my love? After the account I have been giving you, we shall attend to it with particular pleasure.
Charles. How doth the little busy bee
Improve each shining hour!
And gather honey all the day