required for the part it has to take in the formation of a comb.

When all these devoted wax-makers have similarly served their wares, a bee comes forward and begins in the middle of the heap to form a cell. She then retires, and another takes her place. When the centre cell is complete, other bees come and work round it, and eventually the delicate, exquisitely regular collection of cells called a comb is finished, and ready to receive the sweet stores which are alike welcomed and enjoyed by men and bees.

A GOOD USE FOR WINGS.

ON a hot summer's day, how
delightful it is to feel in the
still sultry air the stirring of
a fan! and what a long pro-
cession of ages, peoples, and
usages, the mere word "fan"
presents to the mind! The
luxurious ladies
ladies of Eastern
countries seem to pass their
days reclining upon delightfully
soft cushions, enjoying the cool
air wafted through the apart-
ment by great palm-leaves,
gracefully and continuously

kept in motion by the weary little negroes who serve as foils to their mistresses' charms, and add such picturesqueness to the scene. Fans have been used for ornaments, as weapons in the hands of coquettes wherewith to make havoc of men's hearts, as sunshades, as masks, and as the instruments wherewith certain fair dames express their approval or disapproval of sermons, of

conversation, and of entertainments. In trying to trace the history of fans to its source we lose ourselves in the mists of antiquity. For use, for ornament, for conquest, these many-shaped, many-sized, many-coloured inventions have been devised and manufactured. of many materials.

In India, where the heat is almost more than humanity can endure, we find each house is provided with its gigantic fan. This punkah, as it is called, consists of a light framework of wood, from which hangs a curtain, and it is suspended from the top of the apartment by cords. A rope attached to it, and pulled by a servant outside, serves to set it swinging, thus giving a cooling motion to the air, and rendering a hot unhealthy atmosphere endurable.

Bees have learned the use of fans, and because of the great number of these insects a prosperous hive contains, and the closeness of the atmosphere caused by so many living in so small a space, it devolves upon certain of the workers to act as fans for the ventilation of their home.

An observer of the habits of bees may, in the hot weather, see some of the inmates of a hive standing—a few just within, and a few just without, the doorway— moving their extended wings rapidly up and down in an apparently aimless manner. This action on their part is, however, anything but aimless.

The house has become too hot, therefore air must be introduced. By some mysterious instinct the bees set to work in the best possible manner to remedy

the evil, and for this end use the delicate membranous members which, at first sight, seem to be given to them for purposes of flight only.

What a wonderful and beautiful structure is the wing of a bee! The frame is composed of fine hollow tubes lined with an elastic spiral thread which keeps

them round and open. Over this foundation is spread a shining transparent skin, covered with tiny hairs, all inclining in one direction. The tubes are very tough, thus making the framework of the wings very strong, and are filled with air, which renders them extremely light. The membrane covering them is perfectly airtight, and acts as sails wherewith the bee may climb the air; and the little hairs with which they are covered serve, like the feathers on a duck's back, as aqueducts to carry off the drops of rain or dew which might otherwise rest on them and retard the flight of the insect.

When we learn that the bee has two pairs of such wings, secured by strong flexible muscles to her sides, we imagine she is well provided with the means of flight.

There is, however, yet another remarkable contrivance to make the flying members perfect. With the aid of a microscope we find on the front edges of the back pair of wings a row of tiny hairs shaped like hooklets. When the bee expands her wings, these hooklets on the posterior pair catch on a bar discernible on the hinder edge of the front pair. By this wonderful contrivance the two sets of wings are united, so that they present, when extended, an unbroken surface. The advantages of such an arrangement are at once

apparent.

When the wind blows against the sails, a ship moves along swiftly and easily. If the sails be torn, nearly all their resisting power is gone, and the speed of the vessel is greatly reduced. In like manner the quantity of air moved by the waving of a perfect fan is very much larger than it would be were the fan broken in halves. So we see that, both for purposes of flight, and as instruments of ventilation, the joining of the bee's wings gives the often heavily-laden and suffocating insects the greatest assistance in carrying their burdens and cooling their nests.

The directness of the bee's flight is proverbial. Our American cousins have evidently made a note of this, for we hear them describe the shortest distance between any two given points as a bee-line. Many observers think that the immense eyes with which the insect is furnished, greatly assist, if they do not entirely account for, the arrowy straightness of her