the cavity is soon cut away and the interior with its white-yellow mass
of comb-honey is exposed, and not a bee strikes a blow in defense of
its all. This may seem singular, but it has nearly always been my
experience. When a swarm of bees are thus rudely assaulted with an
ax, they evidently think the end of the world has come, and, like true
misers as they are, each one seizes as much of the treasure as it can
hold; in other words they all fall to and gorge themselves with honey,
and calmly await the issue. When in this condition they make no
defense and will not sting unless taken hold of. In fact they are as
harmless as flies. Bees are always to be managed with boldness and
decision.

Any half-way measures, any timid poking about, any feeble attempts to
reach their honey, are sure to be quickly resented. The popular notion
that bees have a special antipathy toward certain persons and a liking
for certain others has only this fact at the bottom of it; they will
sting a person who is afraid of them and goes skulking and dodging
about, and they will not sting a person who faces them boldly and has
no dread of them. They are like dogs. The way to disarm a vicious dog
is to show him you do not fear him; it is his turn to be afraid then.
I never had any dread of bees and am seldom stung by them. I have
climbed up into a large chestnut that contained a swarm in one of its
cavities and chopped them out with an ax, being obliged at times to
pause and brush the bewildered bees from my hands and face, and not
been stung once. I have chopped a swarm out of an apple-tree in June
and taken out the cards of honey and arranged them in a hive, and then
dipped out the bees with a dipper, and taken the whole home with me in
pretty good condition, with scarcely any opposition on the part of the
bees. In reaching your hand into the cavity to detach and remove the
comb you are pretty sure to get stung, for when you touch the