passage through the air. Every bee has two kinds of eyes the two large compound ones, looking like hemispheres on either side, and the three simple ones which crown the top of the head. Each compound eye is composed of 3,500 facets. That is to say, an object is reflected 3,500 times on its surface. Every one of these facets is the base of an inverted hexagonal pyramid whose apex is fixed to the head. Each pyramid may be termed an eye; for each has it own iris and optic nerve. How the insect manages this marvellous number of eyes is not yet known. They are immovable; but mobility is rendered unnecessary because of the great range of vision afforded by the position and number of the facets. They have no lids, but are protected from dust and injury by rows of hairs growing along the lines at the junctions of the facets.

STING OF A BEE.

The simple eyes are supposed to have been given the bee to enable her to see above her head when intent upon gathering honey from the cups of flowers. Probably this may be one reason; but it is likely there are other uses for them not yet ascertained.

A bee flies much in the same way as a pigeon.

That is to say, she first takes an upward, spiral flight into the air, and then darts straight for the object she has in view. Now an experimenter on insect nature covered a bee's simple eyes with paint, and sent her into the air; instead of darting straight off after rising, she continued to ascend. Apparently, then, these eyes are used in some measure to direct the flight.

A very great deal has been learned about the senses of insects, but there is still a vast field for investigation.

The worker-bee carries such a formidable weapon of offence and defence that her enemies may well be alarmed and flee from danger. When "her temper is on the move," and the sting is brought into action, discretion is then the better part of valour. It is better to depart than wait to be stung; for connected with the jagged barbs, thrust out of the sheath in which they lie hidden by the bee to wound her adversary, is a tube leading from sacs in which poison of the most virulent kind is secreted.

Woe betide the unhappy insect into which this poison enters, and woe betide the bee when she projects her sting into such substances as leather or the human flesh, for she is often, because of its barbed points, unable to withdraw it, and in hastily flying away, leaves her weapon behind her.

thus caused always proves fatal to herself.

The injury

She dies

very soon after she has lost her sting, although

apparently not suffering pain or inconvenience. It is perhaps better to die than be unable to defend herself when attacked.

In contemplating the wonderful gifts bestowed by Nature upon her children we are filled with wonder and admiration, for every creature seems to be provided with things fit for its particular state of being.

"Nature, great parent, whose unceasing hand
Rolls round the seasons of the changeful year,
How mighty, how majestic are thy works!
With what a pleasing dread they swell the soul
That sees astonished, and astonished sings!"

ONE of the most enjoyable and exciting tasks undertaken by an angler is that of hunting up bait for his hooks. He not only catches for this purpose the smaller fish on which his victims feed, but also seeks for the undeveloped insects that lie hidden in the coverings in which their mothers have deposited them as eggs.

On a dark night, guided by the light of a bull's-eye lantern, and grasping in the hand the fatal squib, what intense delight may be experienced in going wasp'snesting! During the daylight the unwary wasps have been tracked to their home (underground, perhaps) by the grub-loving angler, and in the darkness of the night, when all the inmates of the nest are peacefully reposing with the assurance of a well-earned rest, the train is laid, the squib is fired, and the unhappy wasps are thrown by the fumes into a state of stupor, from which to awake, if they ever awake at all, is to

behold their nest ravaged and their brood gone. The poor little half-developed wasps go to feed the poor doomed fishes, both creatures being sacrificed for the enjoyment of the lord of creation.

The very word "wasp," however, brings unpleasant thoughts to the mind, and little sympathy is felt when the insect comes to a premature end. One thinks of bad tempers and sharp retorts. Nor do these ideas arise without some reference to the nature of the creature from whose name the adjective "waspish" is derived.

Like bees, they live in large communities, and make

combs, where they lay their eggs and rear their young. Unlike the bee, however, they, except in rare instances, do not store honey, nor do they make wax. Their nests and combs are composed of a kind of papiermâché, manufactured by themselves from small particles of woody fibre mixed into pulp with saliva. Sometimes a hollow tree is selected as a habitation, and in this their combs, each composed of only one set of cells, with their openings pointing downwards, are arranged like shelves. Although the eggs are firmly glued to the end of the cell, one of the great