l sting even though its head be off. But the bee carries the
antidote to its own poison. The best remedy for bee sting is honey, and
when your hands are besmeared with honey, as they are sure to be on such
occasions, the wound is scarcely more painful than the prick of a pin.
Assault your bee-tree, then, boldly with your ax, and you will find that
when the honey is exposed every bee has surrendered and the whole swarm
is cowering in helpless bewilderment and terror. Our tree yields only a
few pounds of honey, not enough to have lasted the swarm till January,
but no matter; we have the less burden to carry.

In the afternoon we go nearly half a mile farther along the ridge to
a cornfield that lies immediately in front of the highest point of the
mountain. The view is superb; the ripe autumn landscape rolls away to
the east, cut through by the great placid river; in the extreme north
the wall of the Catskills stands out clear and strong, while in the
south the mountains of the Highlands bound the view. The day is warm and
the bees are very busy there in that neglected corner of the field, rich
in asters, flea-bane, and golden-rod. The corn has been cut, and upon a
stout, but a few rods from the woods, which here drop quickly down from
the precipitous heights, we set up our bee-box, touched again with
the pungent oil. In a few moments a bee has found it; she comes up
to leeward, following the scent. On leaving the box she goes straight
toward the woods. More bees quickly come, and it is not long before the
line is well established. Now we have recourse to the same tactics we
employed before, and move along the ridge to another field to get our
cross line. But the bees still go in almost the same direction they did
from the corn stout. The tree is then either on the top of the mountain
or on the other or west side of it. We hesitate to make the plunge into
the woods and seek to scale those precipices, for the eye can plainly
see what is before us. As the afternoon sun gets lower the bees are seen
with wonderful distinctness. They fly toward and under the sun and are
in a strong light, while the near woods which form the background are
in deep shadow. They look like large luminous motes. Their swiftly
vibrating, transparent wings surround their bodies with a shining nimbus
that makes them visible for a long distance. They seem magnified many
times. We see them bridge the little gulf between us and the woods, then
rise up over