tion of his own composition (for everything is transacted in this tongue); relating to the Greek or Roman author, who is to be publicly interpreted by all the members and aspirants, for the benefit of all those who wish to partake of the advantages which the seminary offers to all. The directors distribute among themselves the supervision of the Greek and Latin departments, and the discussions of the disputants and opponents. Each member and each aspirant writes, every term, one, or sometimes two dissertations, on any subject of antiquity, history, or philosophy, one copy of which is handed to the professor, and another to the opponent, who attacks those parts in which he thinks the author either weak or mistaken. Honor and emoluments attend the members of this classic fraternity; and the best success often crowns their exertions. They are eagerly sought for as instructers of the gymnasia; or the university itself offers them employment as private teachers, till, through the faithful performance of these duties and literary distinctions thus acquired, public favor is secured; which soon raises them to stations worthy of their character, talents, and attainments. The benefits resulting to the public from such institutions are inestimable. They impart to the student a scientific knowledge of the profession he is going to practise as teacher, form his character and habits as such, by causing him to study the art of communicating his ideas in the simplest and most engaging manner, to shape and to finish the thoughts of his pupil according to his own model, and to instil into his tender mind those delicate and elevated feelings of honor, which are the best safeguard against illiberality of opinion, and against the abuse of confidence. These feelings, which grow with the pupil, find the most powerful promoters at the universities, and are cultivated through life.

Seminaries, on a larger scale, for the education of popular teachers, are conducted by distinguished divines of each state, who, for the most part, reside in the capital, and are the same persons who examine each clergyman three times before his ordination. Unless a candidate can give evidence of his ability, and of, at least, a two years' stay in those popular institutions where religious instruction is the main object, he is not allowed to teach any branch of knowledge whatever. We cannot now enter upon the particulars of these seminaries, they being beyond the limits of our present discussion.

ART. IV.-The Farmer's Manual, including a Treatise on the Management of Bees. By FREDERICK BUTLER. Hartford. S. G. Goodrich.

THE bee seems to be a native of every part of the globe, and the same characteristic traits distinguish the whole race; we allude simply to the Honey Bee, Apis Mellifica. Even in New South Wales, we find that, excepting in some variation of size and color, the honey bee is the same with that of Europe and America. The history of one bee, and of one community of bees, is, with the slight variation which is always produced by climate, the history of the whole race; nor should we venture to add our stock of observation to the great mass of what is already known upon the subject, and accessible to every class of persons, did we not wish to excite the attention more particularly of those who inhabit the mountainous districts of this portion of our country, to this practicable and profitable branch of horticulture.

From the commencement of history to our own day, bees have been an object of attention, honey has been used, and wax has been an article of commerce. In fact the amount consumed of the former for food, medicine, and a pleasant beverage, and of the latter for various purposes in the arts, would astonish those who have never turned their attention to the subject. In the savage and civilized state, wherever there has been sun enough to mature a flower, every individual of the community is as familiar with the luxury of honey, and the merits and uses of bees-wax, as with the daily food that is consumed.

Man has never been slow to appropriate to himself the physical powers of the inferior animals; but of all those which have been subdued to his use the bee alone has preserved its independence. We ought not, in fact, to use the term subdued, as it does not apply to the situation or position which the bee holds among us in its domestic state. Neither its nature nor its habits are in any wise altered or modified. It preserves its singular economy unchanged, whether it inhabit a hollow tree in the midst of an unfrequented forest, or a hive in the centre of an apiary.

And here, we would remark, that a hive ought not to be considered as the house or habitation of the bee, for even in

the forests, where there may be supposed to be abundance of hollow trees suited to their purposes, bees have built their cells on the under side of a stout branch; and they have neglected the convenient form of a well constructed hive, to attach themselves to the eaves of a house, or to the inner sides of a chimney. The nature of this part of their instinct goes no further than to secure a firm roof, to which they can attach the cells, and a position that shall protect the cells from the sun and rain.

This faculty, or instinct, is sometimes at fault, for we often hear of their adopting the strangest and most unsuitable tenements for the construction of cells. A hussar's cap, so suspended from a moderate sized branch of a tree, as to be agitated by slight winds, was found filled with bees and comb. An old coat, that had been thrown over the decayed trunk of a tree and forgotten, was filled with comb and bees. Any thing, in short, either near the habitations of man, or in the forests, will serve the bees for a shelter to their combs.

If this instinct were as absolute as some persons would make us believe, the bees, when swarming, would undoubtedly choose a domicile, as nearly similar to the one they had left as possible; but this is rarely the case. In their pursuit of food, with which the woods as frequently supply them as the gardens, their quick eye guides them to the places suitable for the establishment of a swarm. They do not, by a distinct succession of thoughts, arrive at the conclusion, that the hollow tree will suit them as a dwelling; but they find it unoccupied, they pass it daily, and when the whole swarm is collected on the branch of a tree, these foraging scouts, that have espied the hollow tree, run over the mass of bees as they hang, give the signal of departure, lead the way to the woods, and the queen and the whole swarm follow to the selected tree.

But although the bees are rarely unprovided with a retreat for a new swarm, yet they readily accept of a more obvious one, when offered. Aware of this willingness on the part of the bees, man takes the opportunity, when they are collecting their numbers, of introducing them into a hive, and of bringing them under his own immediate surveillance, that he may the more easily partake of the fruits of their labors. Yet although colony after colony have dwelt in uninterrupted succession in a particular apiary, their instinct is not improved, nor their reflective powers enlarged. They are the same in all their in

stincts and formations as they were, when the first observations on their habits, with which we are acquainted, were made.

We have, for seven years, had a little colony under our immediate inspection, and we began our personal observation with the knowledge of all that ancient and modern theorists have advanced, in relation to the habits, customs, and manners, of this wonderful insect. We came to their superintendence with a mind tinctured with all that was marvellous and fanciful, and with an ardor that seven years have not subdued; although theory after theory has now melted away, and most of the wonders and enigmas have been solved, and reduced to the clearest and most simple particulars. Our wonder and admiration, although deprived of the charms of the fanciful legends in which the history of the bee was embodied, are still undiminished, nay, increased; for an elevation of thought and feeling has been produced by the study.

Notwithstanding the astonishing sagacity to be traced in the economy of bees, and the diversity of habits which might be expected, nature in reality is less variable in this instance than in most others; for although climate and a contracted habitation may reduce their size, and scantiness of food reduce their numbers, yet as long as there are flowers, the bee will abstract the honey, and as long as there are forests, the bee will construct a cell. With other insects and animals, and even with man himself, the case is different. Insects will imbibe nourishment from the exudations of both animal and vegetable substances. Man can accommodate himself to every variety of diet, and thrive on all. The bee alone never changes its food. The sweet sap that exudes from vegetable pores, and which is accumulated in the nectary of flowers, serves alike to sustain the bee, and to render the seeds of plants fit for germination. As no flower can arrive at maturity without the assistance of this fluid, it is ever present; and as the bee has a twofold duty to perform, that of preserving its own being by such means as nature has pointed out, and that of assisting the winds in carrying the pollen from flower to flower, creative wisdom has so arranged it, that the peculiar food of the bee is in abundance. And as this nutritive fluid is to support inanimate life, which requires an unvaried and uniform food, the bee for ever partakes of the same nourishment, and is enabled to preserve its peculiarities of form and instinct unaltered from generation to generation.

For both the operations, therefore, of sustaining life and of dispersing pollen, which require uniformity of instinct and organization, the bee is the same in all situations and in all ages. The working bees have the instinctive faculties of building different shaped cells; of choosing and preparing the food, both for the larvæ and for themselves; of taking care of the young brood; of carrying off noxious and extraneous matter; of defending themselves from enemies of their own species; and of expelling the drones when they are no longer of use in the hive. They have the instinctive knowledge that they cannot, as other insects do, exist individually; they are constructed, therefore, in so admirable a manner as to make everything subservient to the safety and comfort of the mother of the brood. She is, in their estimation, as much a part of themselves, as an eye or a limb. Their care of her is a kind of self-preservation, a law implanted in every living thing.

After rejecting all the fanciful and marvellous speculations of the theorists, there are still several material points unsettled, on three of which we propose to make a few remarks at the present time.

1st. The most modern and the most rational theorists differ in their opinions respecting the accuracy of the facts, that are stated in relation to the queen bee's leaving the hive at any other time, than when she goes forth with a new swarm.

2d. They dispute likewise on the possibility of the bees' making a queen bee, from a neuter, when circumstances require it.

3d. They are still ignorant, whether the drone perform the office of nurse to the larva when deposited in the different cells.

On the first point we venture to state unhesitatingly, that the queen bee never leaves the hive, but when she accompanies a swarm. For ten weeks, we fixed our attention on the entrance of two hives that stood close to each other on a bench. Our watch, either in person, or entrusted to another as interested and vigilant as ourselves, commenced at grey dawn, and continued till sunset; and never within that period did the queen bee of either hive leave them, but at the time of swarming, which occurred once in each hive during our inspection. With an eye to this single circumstance, we have, for six successive years subsequent to the careful observation just stated, been in the constant habit of noting every peculiar movement at the VOL. XXVII.-No. 61.

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