"Do you see that saucy chap there," I asked, "on that clover blossom?"
"Yes," said one of the boys, "it is a bumble-bee." This time I must be permitted to say the spelling of the word, because the boys in pronouncing it, give the sound of the b, and I, as a historian, must report their conversation faithfully.
"Well." I said, "what will you give me, if I'll take this fellow in my hand."
It was intimated that nothing could be expected from the boys, but that the bumble-bee would be likely to give me something which I would remember, until "the cows came home." I don't know what period in the future that intended to point to, but I know that was a common expression among us all—one which we used, I suppose, without stopping to think what it meant, or how it got into use.
"I dare do it," I said. I was as bold as a lion.
"You had better not," said the boys.
I did it, though. I caught the bumble-bee, and held him fast in my hand. But if ever a poor fellow got handsomely and foolishly stung, I was that unfortunate youth; and the worst of it was, that while I was dancing about, and wringing my hand, and crying, on account of the pain, my companions were doing quite another thing: they were holding a laughing concert, at my expense.
It is hardly necessary to add, that my white-faced bumble-bee turned out to be an enemy in disguise. After that event, I made a closer examination of the faces of this class of insects, and became satisfied that there was one tribe of bumble-bees who wore a face of a pale yellow color, resembling somewhat the genuine borer, but who, for all that, could sting as well as any of their race with black faces.
This feat was as near as I ever got toward the glory of capturing a nest of bumble-bees. I have tasted the honey which came from their nests, though, many a time, and I have seen other boys capture the nests.
Billy Bolton was a great fellow at that kind of sport. Billy lived with Uncle Mike. He did chores—to use a word common enough in New England, though, possibly, not an elegant one—on Mr. Marble's farm; that is, he went for the cows and drove them to pasture, fed the pigs and poultry, brought water and chips for the "women folks," and ran of errands.