| →
(
i.e.
1869 1872 |
|
(
i
.
e
.
1859 |
|
(
I. e.
1860 1861 |
|
(
i.e
1866 |
|
| → one sixth of 1859 1860 1861 1866 1869 |
| one-sixth 1872 |
|
| → which they 1859 1860 1861 1866 1869 |
| the sphere of which they 1872 |
|
|
way as the rude humble-bee adds cylinders of wax to the circular mouths of her old cocoons. By such modifications of instincts in themselves not very wonderful,— hardly more wonderful than those which guide a bird to make its nest,— I believe that the hive-bee has acquired, through natural selection, her inimitable architectural powers. |
|
| But this theory can be tested by experiment. Following the example of Mr. Tegetmeier, I separated two combs, and put between them a long, thick,
strip of wax: the bees instantly began to excavate minute circular pits in it; and as they deepened these little pits, they made them wider and wider until they were converted into shallow basins, appearing to the eye perfectly true or parts of a sphere, and of about the diameter of a cell. It was most interesting to
observe
wherever several bees had begun to excavate these basins near together, they had begun their work at such a distance from each other, that by the time the basins had acquired the
width
→
(
i.e.
about the width of an ordinary cell), and were in depth about
→one sixth of
of the
of
→which they
formed a part, the rims of the basins intersected or broke into each other. As soon as this occurred, the bees ceased to excavate, and began to build up flat walls of wax on the lines of intersection between the basins, so that each hexagonal prism was built upon the
edge of a smooth basin, instead of on the straight edges of a three-sided pyramid as in the case of ordinary cells. |
|
| I then put into the hive, instead of a thick,
piece of wax, a thin and narrow, knife-edged ridge, coloured with vermilion. The bees instantly began on both sides to excavate little basins near to each other, in the same way as before; but the ridge of wax was
|
