reason, the hive should be made of sound lumber,
entirely free from cracks, and thoroughly painted on the inside as well
as outside. When glass is used, there is no risk that the bed moth will
find a place in which she can insert her ovi-positor and lay her eggs.
The corners of the hive, which the bees always fill with propolis,
should have a melted mixture of three parts rosin, and one part bees-wax
run into them, which remains hard during the hottest weather, and bids
defiance to the moth. The inside of the hive may be coated with the same
mixture, put on hot with a brush.

The bees find it difficult to gather the propolis, and equally so to
remove from their thighs, and to work so sticky a material. For this
reason, it is doubly important to save them all unnecessary labor in
amassing it. To men, time is _money_; to bees, it is _honey_; and all
the arrangements of the hive should be such as to economize it to the
very utmost.

Propolis is sometimes put to a very curious use by the bees. "A
snail[10] having crept into one of M. Reaumur's hives early in the
morning, after crawling about for some time, adhered by means of its own
slime to one of the glass panes. The bees having discovered the snail,
surrounded it and formed a border of propolis round the verge of its
shell, and fastened it so securely to the glass that it became
immovable."

"Forever closed the impenetrable door,
It naught avails that in his torpid veins
Year after year, life's loitering spark remains."[11]
_Evans._

"Maraldi, another eminent Apiarian, has related a somewhat similar
instance. He states that a snail without a shell, or slug, as it is
called, had entered one of his hives; and that the bees, as soon as they
observed it, stung it to death: after which being unable to dislodge
it, they covered it all over with an impervious coat of propolis."

"For soon in fearless ire, their wonder lost,
Spring fiercely from the comb the indignant host,
Lay the pierced monster breathless on the ground,
And clap in joy their victor pinions round:
While all in vain concurrent numbers strive,
To heave the slime-girt giant from the hive--
Sure not alone by force Instinctive swayed,
But blest with reason's soul directing aid,
Alike in man or bee, they haste to pour,
Thick hard'ning as it falls, the flaky shower;
Embalmed in shroud of glue the mummy lies,