neat and trim, though there were no eyes but our own to view the scene.

One day I told my sons that I would try to make a flight of stairs in
place of the cane steps with rope sides, which were, to tell the truth,
the worst part of our house. As yet we had not used them much, but the
rain would some day force us to keep in The Nest, and then we should
like to go up and down stairs with more ease than we could now climb
the rude steps. I knew that a swarm of bees had built their nest in the
trunk of our tree, and this led me to think that there might be a void
space in it some way up. "Should this prove to be the case," I said,
"our work will be half done, for we shall then have but to fix the
stairs in the tree round the trunk." The boys got up and went to the
top of the root to tap the trunk, and to judge by the sound how far up
the hole went. But they had to pay for their want of thought; the whole
swarm of bees came out as soon as they heard the noise, stung their
cheeks, stuck to their hair and clothes, and soon put them to flight.

We found that Jack, who was at all times rash, had struck the bees'
nest with his axe, and was much more hurt by them than the rest.
Ernest, who went to his work in his slow way, got up to it last, and
thus did not get more than a sting or two, but the rest were some hours
ere they could see out of their eyes. I took a large gourd, which had
long been meant to serve for a hive, and put it on a stand, We then
made a straw roof to keep it from the sun and wind, and as by this time
it grew dark, we left the hive there for the night.

Next day, the boys, whose wounds were now quite well, went with me to
help to move the bees to the new home we had made for them. Our first
work was to stop with clay all the holes in the tree but one through
which the bees were wont to go in to their nest. To this I put the bowl