be that of a small hive, crowded with thirty or forty | thousand bees full of life and activity, the greater part of the interior filled up with waxen cells, and only one small opening for the ingress and egress of the inhabitants, as well as for the escape of foul air and the entrance of fresh. In a common hive there is absolutely no other door, or window, or opening than this small entrance hole; for on taking possession of a new hive the bees stop up all cracks and chinks with a resinous substance called propolis, for the purpose of keeping out insect and other depredators; and the proprietor, with the same object in view, generally plasters the hive to the stool; and, in order to shelter it from the rain, covers it with a heavy straw cap, or turns an old broken pan over it. The reader is, of course, aware that the vital part of the air which we breathe is the oxygen, occupying only one-fifth of the whole of the atmosphere. The lungs as well as our lamps and fires convert this oxygen into carbonic acid, which supports neither life nor combustion. If we turn a glass over a lighted taper it is soon extinguished, and an animal similarly confined dies speedily. But it may be said that insects are so different from other animals, that they may be shut up in a box and smothered, and yet be revived again; kept under water for hours, and yet be restored to life; kept without food for days and weeks, and yet not be starved to death. Much of this is true, for the vitality of insects is something very extraordinary; but still they are affected by the same agencies which affect us, and in a similar manner; they fall down apparently dead if shut up in a close vessel; they perish in gases which destroy ourselves; they perspire and faint with too much heat, and they are frozen to death with too great a degree of cold. Huber introduced some bees into the receiver of an air-pump; they bore a considerable rarefaction of the air apparently uninjured, but on carrying it further they fell down motionless. They revived on exposure to the air, which would not have been the case with a warm-blooded animal. In another experiment, three glass vessels, each capable of holding sixteen ounces of water, were taken. 250 worker bees were introduced into the first, the same number into the second, and 150 males into the third. The first and last were shut close, and the second only partially closed, so as to prevent the escape of the prisoners. In a quarter of an hour the workers in the close vessel became uneasy; they breathed with difficulty, perspired copiously, and licked the moisture from the sides of the vessel. In another quarter of an hour they fell down apparently dead. They revived, however, on exposure to the air. The males were affected more fatally, for none survived; but the bees in the vessel which admitted air did not suffer. On examining the air in the other vessels, the oxygen had disappeared, and other bees introduced into it perished immediately. On adding a little oxygen gas to it, other bees lived in it. They became instantly insensible on being plunged into carbonic acid gas, but revived on exposure to the air; they perished irrecoverably in nitrogen and hydrogen gases. Similar experiments were performed on the eggs, the larvae and the nymphs of bees, proving the conversion of oxygen into carbonic acid in all three states. The larvæ consumed more oxygen than the eggs, and less than the nymphs. Eggs put into foul air lost their vitality. Larvæ resisted the pernicious influence of carbonic acid better than the perfect insect would have done, but the nymphs died almost instantly. The experiment above noticed of shutting up a few bees in a close vessel has also been performed on a whole hive. At a time when great activity prevailed, and the buzzing was audible at the distance of ten paces, Huber shut up the entrance at three o'clock on a rainy day, when all the bees of the hive were at home. In a quarter of an hour," writes this distinguished naturalist," they began to testify some uneasiness, for, until that time, they seemed unconscious of their imprisonment. But their labours were now suspended, and the hive assumed quite a different aspect-all the bees, those covering the surface of the combs as well as those clustering together, quitted their stations and vibrated their wings in great agitation. This ferment continued about ten minutes, when the motion of the wings gradually relaxed and became less incessant. At thirty-seven minutes past three the workers had lost their strength-they could not cling by the legs, and speedily fell down. The numbers of falling bees kept on increasing until thousands strewed the board of the hive. Not one remained in the combs, and three minutes later the whole colony was suffocated. The hive cooled suddenly, the thermometer in it sinking from 95° to the temperature of the atmosphere. In hopes that the admission of purer air would restore heat and animation, we opened a stop-cock adapted to the hive, and also its entrance. The effects of the current introduced were unequivocal. In a few minutes the bees were in a condition to respire, the rings of the abdomen began to play, the vibration of their wings commenced simultaneously-a very remarkable fact, which we had previously noticed at the moment privation of the external air had been felt. The bees in a short time reascended their combs, the temperature rose to the degree which these insects know how to preserve habitually, and in a few hours order was established in their dwelling." These experiments sufficiently prove that bees require constant supplies of fresh air, much in the same manner as do all other animals. They also require their dwelling to be kept moderately cool. When, from any circumstance, such as exposure to the sun, over-crowding, or the excitement produced by fear, anger, or preparations for swarming, the temperature of the hive is greatly raised, the bees evidently suffer; they often perspire so copiously as to be drenched with moisture, and on fine summer nights thousands of them will hang out in festoons and clusters to relieve the crowded state of the hive. In one of Réaumur's hives, which contained a small swarm, the temperature greatly exceeded that of the hottest days of summer; and when the bees were excited, one of the panes of glass in the side of the hive would feel, to a hand placed near it, as if it had been held near a fierce fire; and the heat has been known to soften the wax of the combs and to cause them to fall. In inquiring into the method adopted by the bees for renewing the air of the hive, Huber was struck with the constant appearance of a number of the workers arranged on each side of the entrance-hole, a little within the hive, constantly engaged in vibrating their wings. In order to see what effect a similar fanning would produce upon the air of a glass receiver containing a lighted taper, M. Senebier advised him to construct a little artificial ventilator, consisting of eighteen tin vanes. This was put into a box, on the top of which was adapted a large cylindrical vessel of the capacity of more than three thousand square inches. A lighted taper contained in this vessel was extinguished in eight minutes, but, on restoring the air, and setting the ventilator in motion, the taper burnt brilliantly with undiminished light, and continued to do so as long as the vanes were kept moving. On holding small pieces of paper suspended from threads before the aperture, the existence of two currents of air became evident; there was a current of hot air rushing out, and at the same time a current of cold air passing in. On holding little bits of paper or cotton near the hole of the hive, similar effects were produced: they were impelled towards the entrance by the ingoing current, and, the moment after encountering the outgoing current, were repelled with equal rapidity. The method, then, by which the bees set these two currents in motion is with their wings. The workers only fill the office of ventilators, and the number varies from eight or ten to twenty or thirty, according to the state of the hive and the heat of the weather. It is interesting to watch these persevering little fanners, as the writer has frequently done. They station themselves in files near the entrance of the hive, with their heads towards the entrance, while another and a larger party stand a considerable way within the hive, with their heads also towards the entrance. They plant their feet and claws as firmly as possible on the place they occupy, the first pair of legs being stretched out before, the second pair extended to the right and left, whilst the third, placed near together, are kept perpendicular to the abdomen, so as to give that part considerable elevation. Then uniting the two wings of each side by means of the small marginal hooks with which they are provided, so as to make them present as large a surface as possible to the air, they vibrate them with such rapidity that they become almost invisible. The two sets of ventilators standing with their heads opposed to each other thus produce a complete circulation of the air of the hive, and keep down the temperature to that point which is fitted to the nature of the animal. When a higher temperature is required at one particular spot, as, for example, on the combs containing the young brood, the nurse-bees place themselves over the cells, and, by increasing the rapidity of their respirations, produce a large amount of animal heat just where it is wanted. The laborious task of ventilating the hive is seldom or never intermitted, in the common form of hive, either by day or night during summer. There are distinct gangs of ventilators, each gang being on duty for about half an hour. In winter, when the bees are quiet, and their respiration only just sufficient to maintain vitality, of course no ventilation is carried on, but, by gently tapping on the hive, its inmates wake up, increase their respirations, and consequently the temperature of the hive to such a degree that the air becomes intolerably hot and vitiated. To remedy this a number of worker-bees immediately come to the entrance of the hive, and begin to ventilate the interior as laboriously as in the summer, although the open air be too cold for them to venture abroad. In some of the larger and improved forms of hive the necessity for ventilation is not so urgent; but Huber remarked that the bees began to fan the air as soon as the sun was allowed to shine into a glass hive by removing the shelter. By similar means bees endeavour to get rid of noxious odours. Huber says, "Having separated some bees from their hive by the attraction of honey, we brought cotton, dipped in spirit of wine, near the head. Its effect could not be mistaken they dispersed, agitating their wings, and then drew together again to resume their repast. When completely engaged the experiment was repeated, and they dispersed anew, but without retracting the proboscis entirely they were satisfied with vibrating the wings, and continued feeding: when too much affected by disagreeable sensations, they precipitately withdrew and took to flight. Frequently a bee turned away from the honey and began to fan itself, until the sensation or its cause were by this means abated, and then returned to feed. 'Such experiments are never more successful than at the entrance of the hive; because the bees, retained by the united attraction of honey and their home, are less disposed to retreat from external impressions. Humble bees adopt the same method of dispelling pernicious odours. But what is very remarkable, and may partly show the importance of vibrating their wings, neither their males, nor those of domestic bees, though very sensible of similar sensations, know how to protect themselves, like the workers, against them. Ventilation is therefore one of the industrial operations peculiar to the workers. "The Author of Nature in assigning a dwelling to these insects where the air can hardly penetrate, bestows the means of averting the fatal effects which might result from the vitiation of their atmosphere. | Perhaps the bee is the only creature entrusted with so important a function, and which indicates such delicacy in its organization." It appears from the beautiful experiments of Mr. Newport, noticed in the former article, that bees in general maintain a temperature of 10 or 15° above that of the medium in which they live; but that at certain periods this temperature is greatly increased. In the month of June when the atmosphere was at 56° or 58°, the temperature of the hive was 96° or 98°. This high temperature arose from the nurse-bees incubating on the combs, and voluntarily increasing their heat by means of respiration before the new bees come forth. C. T. RAMBLES IN BELGIUM. THERE was a tremendous stir and excitement at the station at Malines, when I got out of the railway carriage at that great central point of all the Belgian railroads. A train from Ostend had met with an accident, and, no particulars having arrived, there were a great many individuals, friends of expected passengers, in a state of feverish uncertainty and suspense: I became so inte rested in the probable fate of these parties, that I waited to hear the result. In about an hour the train itself appeared; and, much to the joy and satisfaction of all present, it became speedily known that no lives were lost, and that no one had received any very serious injury. To listen, then, to the cordial greetings and the exclamations poured forth by German, Belgian, French, Dutch, and English tongues, was truly entertaining. "All's well that ends well," was the prevailing senti ment, and one in which I heartily united as I left the station, and made my entrée through the new gilt gate into the quiet town of Malines. My attention was immediately awakened to the antiquity of the surrounding streets and houses; the latter are very large, and are adorned in the veritable Flemish style. Some of the ornaments are excessively rich, and the points and gables are decorated in the most florid manner. It seemed, at first sight, that a hundred histories were attached to a particularly antique looking house, when anon, another appeared in a neighbouring street as quaint and fanciful, and then going further and further on, others of the same character were seen in every part of the town; and when at night I indulged in a reverie and promenade, the effect of all these was extremely picturesque and beautiful, especially as the moon, just then at the full, gave her softened lustre, and imparted a silvery tint that completed the perfect charm of the ensemble. It needed very little effort of the imagination to fancy many a passer by and many a group lingering to have yet another word, actors in the scenes that Froissart and Philip de Comines depicted with so much fidelity. The garments of the peasantry add greatly to the mise en scene, and, above all, the moon shining so steadily. Whoever wishes to see the architectural beauties of Belgium in their best aspect, should certainly select moonlight nights during his ramblings, in order to enjoy the fantastic appearances that will be found wherever he moves. A great many Eng lish families were residing here, probably partly for quiet's sake, partly for economy, as living in this out-ofthe way town is very moderate, house rent reasonable, provisions cheap, and luxuries attainable. It is also conveniently situated within an easy distance of Brussels, and not a long journey from the coast. It is called Malines and Mechlin; under this latter designation it is well known to most of the fair sex from its lace, which, though of coarser quality than the famous Brussels' variety, is yet very celebrated and much admired. The host of the hotel, La Grue, accompanied me a short distance down the street to the left of the Grande Place, in order to show me the cathedral: on our way, we passed through a line of stalls and booths, and I found that it was the Malines' Fair. There were a great number of stalls for the sale of cakes, fruit, and light fancy articles, and one which not a little astonished me, a book-stall. The books were of very various nature and age, some of the cheap light books of the day, some few dark-looking volumes, which would have delighted the heart of a bibliopole to look at; in fact, all sorts were here to be met with. Malines is the Canterbury of Belgium, being the see of the primate; he has a residence not far from the cathedral, which is a quiet, respectablelooking edifice. The cathedral is very ancient, and is remarkable as possessing a lofty tower of immense height. The architecture is evidently of the Moresco style; on the outside is a clock-dial, the numbers on which are so large, that in the strong moonlight the citizens can tell the hour. The effect of the moon's rays through the open Gothic work of the summit of this tower is beautiful. On the pavement is a circle of stones of the same size and dimensions as the clock above. The interior of the building contains a picture, in the very best manner of his most finished style, by Vandyke. The subject is the Crucifixion. The vigour and attention to detail in this work are most extraordinary. Some of the figures are in themselves exquisite studies. The weeping Magdalen is perfect; it is the very portrait of that devoted woman, who is here represented at the foot of the Cross. No idealist, however highly he may have formed his image of that lovely follower of divine faith, will be disappointed when he sees her on this glowing canvas. There was so much to notice in this celebrated painting, that I did not allow myself on this occasion sufficient time to judge of the merits of several others which were on the adjoining walls. Subsequent visits, however, did not detain me by their side, for I invariably left all to enjoy again and again the real gem of the whole collection. Every time I saw this one, I found some new beauty to admire, something too that bore minute inspection, and yet held out promise of more enjoyment for another day. It would seem to be an acknowledged verity, that the subject of which this painting is the representation, is one which stimulates the artist to all that is in him of genius and talent. So should it be, in the hour of that solemn agony, there speaks a voice lofty and prompting to the heart of the true worker in the province of high art. It is impulsive rather than suggestive. It is a subject which can never tire; and the more often we behold it with true devotional feelings, and with a thorough consciousness of its sublimity and grandeur, the more open will our hearts, sated with the petty vexations and wearisome trials of this world of woes and griefs, become softened and toned down to the endurance of our own lot. With respect to this particular artist, Vandyke, I can safely say, until this period of my life I never knew of what high conceptions he was gifted with. In England there are so few of his sacred compositions, that I was continually surprised with the beauties I met with in the different churches throughout Flanders. My whole thoughts when in this cathedral were so constantly absorbed by repeated gazings on the Crucifixion, that, although I entered the holy walls seven or eight times during my stay at Malines, I did not give more than five minutes' attention to the wondrous carved pulpit, which some connoisseurs reckon the finest in Europe. It represents the Conversion of St. Paul, and occupies a large space in the body of the cathedral. On my last visit, the sacristan led me to a monument in the wall of the choir. It is the family memorial of the house of Bartholdi. There is this inscription on it :— "TRIUM BERTHOLDORUM, QUI SECULO DECIMO TERTIO MECHLINIE DOMINARUNT HIC I had a great wish to see the botanical garden, and found there was no difficulty in doing so. It is prettily laid out, but the grass plot was at once an offence to my English eyes, accustomed to the neat lawns of the gardens of trim English gardeners. It was innocent of any scythe or broom, and would most likely so continue to be till the great mighty Time, with his ever-moving power, should mow away grass, garden, and all fair things beside, into the regions of Eternity. The good people who had charge of these public gardens did not seem to have any idea of their deficiencies in this matter and could not understand why the English should so clip the luxuriant growth of nature, as to have their lawns mown once or twice a week. The conservatory was kept in very good condition, and had some very fair specimens of the Orchidaceous tribe. In it also I beheld a novelty in the shape of some heliotropes and sweet-scented yellow-jasmines trained in the same way, and to the same height as our standard roses. The appearance was not only novel, but very pleasing. After leaving the gardens, I met a friend who was on his way home from Munich; I was persuaded by him to play a game at billiards, and accompanied him therefore to a room set apart for the purpose; the balls were very large, and the game is different from ours, for the art consists in avoiding knocking the ball into the pockets. The table was a small one. Our stay was short, but it was an amusement for an idle half hour, which served to show one how these things are done in Flanders. On our way to join the table d'hôte, we met a great man's funeral; he had been the grand seigneur of an adjoining village, and was being taken to his last earthly resting-place in all the consequence of pomp. There was a great quantity of priests in the rear, one of whom had a velvet mantle covered with emblems of mortality, which had a lugubrious effect in the warm sunshine. The streets of Malines are particularly clean, and are free from any annoying nuisances. The sabots are much worn by the lower orders who clatter along the quiet places, with very certain testimony of their whereabouts. At the market I saw some boys, who at the end of a long string had fastened each a bird; one of these unfortunates was a quail; they were all to be disposed of, but I did not remain to witness any of these commercial transactions. The vegetables and fruit exposed for sale were remarkably fine and very cheap; the pears were in excellent order, very large, sweet, and in great variety. There is a custom I observed in many of the gardens, both here and in many other places in Belgium, of training the pear-trees as the elms are done in the vicinity of London; that is to say, all the lower branches are lopped off, and the tree is made to grow in a sort of bush at the top. In all probability, this is designed to cause the tree to produce a greater abundance of fine fruit. The church at Nôtre Dame contains a picture by Rubens, which having been strongly recommended to my notice, I took an early opportunity of going to see it. It is placed on the back of the altar; the colours are very fresh, and the picture is in good preservation. It originally consisted of eight distinct groups, all having reference to the main subject-"The Miraculous Draught of Fishes;" but the whole having been carried off to Paris, only five were subsequently restored; consequently, in its present state it is imperfect. One of the volets has a figure of Tobias, drawn in the most masterly manner, and in colouring equal to many of the productions of Titian. The walls of this church were hung with black drapery, on which skulls and thigh bones were worked in white. Very dismal and very suggestive of all sad things. It was here where the lord of the manor, whose funeral I passed the previous day, was buried. The character of this edifice is essentially Gothic, and has no mixture in any of its parts; so that these funeral equipments appeared the very climax of woe's despondency. The church of St. Jean, possessing an altar-piece, also by Rubens, and, indeed, considered by him as his best production, claimed my attention; and after having some trouble in finding out the functionary who held the keys, I stood before "the Adoration of the Magi." I must confess that I give the preference to the painting at the church of Nôtre Dame. Either the canvas has been injured by cleanings or repairs, or else the colours having been laid on thickly, have given way, and thus deteriorated the general effect. The receipt in the handwriting of the great artist is carefully preserved by the custos. It is written in a good manly hand, and is signed Peter Paul Rubens. He was paid 1,800 florins, and began and finished the painting and volets in eighteen days. It was impossible to resist the invitation of my landlady, who procured me an introduction to a pleasant pic-nic party, who allowed me to accompany them to Steen, where I saw the château occupied by Rubens, and from thence to Perck where Teniers resided, and where there is a picture of his which, however, I did not see. It was with much regret that I bade Malines adieu; not the least charm which the town has is its carillons, that so agreeably wait upon the ear with dulcet harmonies. They consist of a chime set in motion by machinery, and connected to which are very many stops. Of an evening by the side of the river, the carillons were welcome harbingers of the night's arrival. Poetry. [In Original Poetry, the Name, real or assumed, of the Author, is printed in Small Capitals under the title; in Selections, it is printed in Italics at the end.] A CHILD'S LAMENT, ON THE UNEXPECTED DEATH OF A FAVOURITE BIRD. Written for, and at the request of, my little Son, BY THE REV. HOWELL PHILLIPS. Ir was a little wayward thing, But Death, whose noiseless, viewless hand Unkindly struck my bird: No outward sign of sickness gave It died unseen, unheard. The day of health, the peaceful sleep, I loved the bird-my mother dear Miscellaneous. MODE OF BREEDING LEECHES IN SCINDE. THE breeding of leeches, even in Europe, is kept a secret, so far as anything can be in that quarter of the world. The breeding of them was at one period almost entirely confined to a tribe of gipsies, but the secret got known and went abroad. In Great Britain, even to this day, the best description of leeches is procured from the Continent. In Ceylon, where the variety of leeches is more numerous perhaps than in any part of the world, the propagation of the sort used in phlebotomy is made a secret of. In India the leech propagators do all they can to keep the knowledge to themselves. This has not, however, prevented one of our most accomplished naturalists and botanists from propagating these valu able reptiles with the greatest success; so much so, indeed, as to be a great saving to Government in furnishing the hospitals. Major Blenkins is the gentleman to whom we allude, and to whom we take this opportunity of returning thanks for the perusal of his curious and very interesting paper on this subject. Burnt earthen vessels, commonly called "cottee pots," are used for this purpose, of globular shape or form, being three feet in circumference, one ditto in height, and with mouth six inches in diameter, each pot being two-thirds filled with stiff black earth, containing a good portion of clay. To this add four handsful of finely-powdered dry goat or cow dung, two handfuls of dried hemp leaves, finely powdered, with two ounces of assafoetida. The vessel is then filled to within three inches of the mouth with water, and the whole mixed up with a wand or stick. Leeches of full growth and of the largest size are required for propagation, varying, perhaps, from three to five inches in length, after being placed on and glutted from the human body. The leeches are put, nineteen or twenty, into each vessel; an earthen cover is then placed over the mouth, and the whole smeared over with a coating of cow-dung and earth, and placed in a sheltered spot, free from wind and sun. After the space of twenty-five days or a month, on the cover being moved off, about twenty cocoons will be found of the size of the sparrow's egg, and longer, and of a spongy nature. On being carefully torn open with the finger, from five to fifteen small leeches will emerge. All of these are then placed in a pot of water, into which a table-spoonful of sugar has been thrown. After ten days it is requisite to feed them with blood from the human body for a period of three months, when they will have attained the usual size for application. During the warm months, after a respite of ten days or so, the breeding leeches can again be placed as above described. The leech appears to live about eighteen months, and any number can be procured in this way.-Colonial Magazine. LIFE is to us all like a succession of shower-baths. Some shiver and tremble, and holding in their hands the fatal string, look round for a means of escape, and give a slight pull, and feel the first misery of the shock, and then in fear give way, and shiver, and look, and gently pull again, and at last leave the scene of their trial, chilled and comfortless, and uninvigorated: and others rouse up their energies to face the seeming suffer ing, and after the first alarm is over, find that they have attained a lasting good at the expense of a momentary evil, for good that must be which, at whatever price, strengthens our powers of self-command, and gives us moral courage.-Margaret Percival. |