the imposture; the intruder will be seized, and immediately enclosed
in the terrible, tumultuous prison, whose obstinate walls will be
relieved, as it were, till she dies; for in this particular instance
it hardly ever occurs that the stranger emerges alive.

And here it is curious to note to what diplomacy and elaborate
stratagem man is compelled to resort in order to delude these little
sagacious insects, and bend them to his will. In their unswerving
loyalty, they will accept the most unexpected events with touching
courage, regarding them probably as some new and inevitable fatal
caprice of nature. And, indeed, all this diplomacy notwithstanding,
in the desperate confusion that may follow one of these hazardous
expedients, it is on the admirable good sense of the bee that man
always, and almost empirically, relies; on the inexhaustible
treasure of their marvellous laws and customs, on their love of
peace and order, their devotion to the public weal, and fidelity to
the future; on the adroit strength, the earnest disinterestedness,
of their character, and, above all, on the untiring devotion with
which they fulfil their duty. But the enumeration of such procedures
belongs rather to technical treatises on apiculture, and would take
us too far.*

*The stranger queen is usually brought into the hive enclosed in a
little cage, with iron wires, which is hung between two combs. The
cage has a door made of wax and honey, which the workers, their
anger over, proceed to gnaw, thus freeing the prisoner, whom they
will often receive without any ill-will. Mr. Simmins, manager of the
great apiary at Rottingdean, has recently discovered another method
of introducing a queen, which, being extremely simple and almost
invariably successful, bids fair to be generally adopted by