In the use of artificial foundation, bee keepers have attempted to control the normal action of bees. This foundation is made only of worker cells, and some bee keepers thought that they could, by the use of foundation, entirely exclude drones from their hives, being of the opinion that drones could be developed only in the drone cells, but the queen lays drone eggs in the worker cells. The worker bees elongate these cells and enlarge them, so that the drone may develop in the same. It is not possible to keep down the normal number of drones by any efforts on our part, at least not in this direction.

The instincts of the bee are also manifested in the division of labor, which is known to be the normal condition of things in every hive. Some bees perform one labor, others another. Virgil seemed to have noticed this. We quote him, using Dryden's translation:

"Some o'er the public magazine preside,

And some are sent new forage to provide;

These march the fields abroad, and those at home

Lay deep foundation for the labored comb.

With dew, narcissus leaves and clammy gum,

To fill the waxen flowering some contrive;

Some nurse the future nation of the hive.

Sweet honey some condense; some purge the grout;
The rest in cells apart the liquid nectar shut.”

It is certain that for several days, possibly a week or more, the young bees do not leave the hive, but are engaged in various labors within it. Certain bees act as sentinels. Some keep the hive clean, for bees are thorough sanitarians.

The list here given by no means includes all the instincts which interest us, but we have given enough to show that the study of this insect may open up to us new views concerning the intelligence of a lowly form of life.

SOME ASPECTS OF THE FORESTRY PROBLEM IN PENNSYL

VANIA.

BY DR. J. T. ROTHROCK, State Forestry Commissioner, West Chester, Pa.

Nothing is clearer than that henceforth forestry ideas and practice will hold an important place in our country. The period of destruction of wood land has not passed, nor indeed can it ever pass; but plans of restoration are abroad, and it will be but a brief period before individuals, corporations, and probably the State, will begin systematic attempts at replanting.

The present seems like a suitable time to call attention to certain points in connection with this work.

One of the most important factors in this problem presents itself to owners of cleared lands which have become worn out by tillage.

There is in the State of Pennsylvania, an enormous acreage of such. Steep hillsides, especially, are apt, if the soil is made up of disintegrated shale, to deteriorate very rapidly. There is, of course, a twofold reason for this: First, the inclination, and second, the absence of a dense retaining sod. With every dash of rain the elements of plant growth are carried to the lower levels and off of the field. It may be fairly asked whether, in the present condition of agriculture, it pays to attempt farming soil of this kind. Indeed, it may be askedwhether it ever did pay to farm it? Would not more attention given to fewer acres have produced larger results? It may be stated as an axiom, that land under cultivation tends to become poorer. Instances are known of virgin western soil producing fifty bushels of wheat to the acre; but how many such yields as this can be shown on fields which have been long tilled?

We claim that it would be wise to give up a large portion of these steep hillsides at once to native trees. It is quite true that the impoverished condition of the soil would result in tardy growth, even of these trees. But the two leading facts of the case are, that it does not, as a rule, pay to farm such land as I have described, and that the soil is becoming poorer the longer the attempt is made. The proposition seems to be a plain one then-plant unremunerative, steep hillsides in trees, even if you have to furnish a start by fertilizing a foothold for the trees.

It would be out of place here to indicate just what specimens should be planted. On such spots, as a rule, probably nothing would bring a return quicker than locust or chestnut. The white pine, if in a soil and region adapted to it, is of easy growth and promises large future results. But bear in mind when you think of the long time which must elapse before your trees yield anything, that it would probably be a longer time before the soil I am writing of will yield you any. thing else.

There is, I think I may say, a peculiarity of our American foreststheir rapid growth. It will probably be a liberal estimate to say that 50 cubic feet yearly, per acre, would be a large yield for a German or other European forest. Yet there are not wanting instances here where land owners count on 100 feet annually, at least.. Their estimates, and observations, too, seem well founded from a long and large practical experience. On the other hand, there are some who have run this idea quite too far. It is mischievous to assert that our trees can be counted on to mature in fifty years. No pine, or oak, or hickory, or ash, which are our most important trees, will do so. It is a comparative loss to cut them at that age. And unless it be second growth from a vigorous stump the timber is apt to be of inferior quality. Fifty years will seldom produce a normally tall white pine with a stump of over 18 inches in diameter. This statement is a result of many counts made in different parts of the white pine belt in this State. Furthermore, take a chestnut forest (not an isolated chestnut tree), and fifty years will produce first class telegraph poles, but not a strictly well matured timber.

In such trees as white pine, the year's growth at fifty years is usually still quite large. The decrease in size of these annual rings does not begin until much later. And it must be remembered that one-eighth, or a quarter of an inch increase in size around a stump of 18 inches diameter means the formation of much more wood than if the stump

were but half that diameter. Hence my statement that to cut a tree of this kind at such an early period is a relative loss, for the simple reason that then the tree is in the most productive period of its life. The same is measurably true of other kinds of trees, excepting that in the oak, the period of greatest productiveness is apt to end before the tree has attained a diameter of 18 inches.

As further bearing on this subject of spontaneous production of our native forests, I may say that the rapid restoration of saplings is amazing. On the other hand, the subsequent growth on poor land is often slow; for example, my attention was recently called by Prof. Buckhout to some small black oaks in Centre county, which were dying at the tops, yet they had not attained half their normal size. It was all explained, apparently, by an inspection of the locality, which revealed a bed of rock just under a thin coating of soil. This, however, was an exception, and does not in the least invalidate the general statement that our native trees grow here with a rapidity which must surprise a forester from abroad.

The object of insisting upon these points is to enforce the general proposition that our most serious enemy, especially on unseated lands, is fire. There are extensive areas in Pennsylvania, where, I am informed, that about once in three years the whole surface of the country is swept by fire. The wide views of dead, black, charred tree trunks, which are too often seen, seems to show that this statement is true. (See illustration.) It must be observed that hemlock, both large and small, white pine of less than a foot diameter, young chestnut, and even rock oak, are the most frequent and severe sufferers by these visitations. Pitch and yellow pine, after they are well started, are more resisting to the action of fire. Indeed, one experienced lumberman affirmed that occasional fires improve them. It would hardly be wise to act upon that idea, however.

There is, then, no more important question (and I may add, no more difficult), to answer than this-how shall the frequency and the severity of the forest fires, especially on the unseated lands of the State, be prevented?

The difficulty is not, per se, an insuperable one. Its gravity depends on lack of men and money available to restrain incendiaries, and to head off accidental conflagrations. In the present condition of public sentiment, it would be worse than useless to ask support for radical measures. Men of sense will simply ask for what they can get, and be content to make the best out of resources at command.

There are, however, certain conditions which may be changed. To illustrate within a month, I have seen an extensive area, say 500 acres, more or less, of young white pine, which had already attained an average diameter of almost a foot at the butt, which was wholly killed by a forest fire last spring.

It is morally certain, the fire was started for the purpose of destroying underbrush in order that cattle might find pasture and browsing. Such things were done in earlier years with hardly an attempt at concealment. The fact that it is now a carefully guarded secret indicates a proper and promising change in public sentiment. But, nevertheless, it is done "in the dark o' the moon." The disparity between the damage done and the good accomplished by such firing, would be ridiculous if it were less serious.