a small oval head, rather shallow, but bumpy with rocks; a long,

Posed, and not a bee strikes a blow in defense of its all. This may seem singular, but it has nearly always been my experience. When a swarm of bees are thus rudely assaulted with
an ax, they evidently think the end of the world has come, and, like true misers as they are, each one seizes as much of the treasure as
it can hold; in other words they all fall to and gorge themselves with
honey, and calmly await the issue. When in this condition they make no defense and will not sting unless taken hold of. In fact they are as harmless as flies. Bees are always to be managed

with boldness and decision. Any half-way measures, any timid poking about, any feeble attempts to reach their honey,

are sure to be quickly resented. The popular notion that bees have a special antipathy toward certain persons and a liking for certain others has only this
fact at the bottom of it; they will sting a person who is afraid of them and goes skulking and dodging about, and they will not sting a person who faces them boldly and has no dread of them. They are like dogs. The way to disarm a
vicious dog

is to show him you do not fear him; it is his turn to be afraid then. I never had any dread of bees and am seldom stung by them. I have climbed up into a large chestnut that contained a swarm in one of its cavities and chopped them out with an ax, being obliged at
times to pause and brush the bewildered
bees from my
hands and face, and not been stung once. I have chopped
a swarm out of an apple-tree in June and taken
out the cards of honey and arranged them in a hive, and then dipped out the bees with a dipper, and taken the whole home with me

in pretty good condition,
with scarcely any opposition
on the part of the bees. In reaching your hand into the cavity to