A low boom, not unlike the whirr of a distant motor, attracted our attention, but the sound rapidly resolved into the loud hum of an approaching swarm of bees. The whirling, giddy, dancing throng, intoxicated with the madness of the hour, passed overhead, clearing the tree-tops, filling the air with rapidly moving specks. When looked at through the glass they appeared as a network of lines, black meteors, crossing and recrossing the field of vision in every direction. The bees drifted across a field, and when I last saw them they were dancing above a distant hedge as if inclined to settle. In the wood near by, at the top of a tall conifer, was another swarm which had come to anchor – a great mass of loyal workers apparently striving to smother their queen.