crawls out into a hazardous world. After a fortnight or so of moving about the combs and eating his fill he goes out of the hive and tries his wings. This he does on some pleasant day, about noon or a little after. As soon as he is sure of himself, he makes his flight longer, and the length of his journeys may only be guessed at. When he meets the queen they unite at once in the air, and after this they fall to the ground and she frees herself by tearing off and holding within herself the generative appendages of her dying consort.
In every hive are developed thousands of these princes royal, who are maintained at the expense of the colony until the dawn of that fatal day when the honey crop runs short; and then an unhappy experience lies before these useless brothers of the reigning house. Then their sisters chase them out of the hive apparently attempting to sting them, and, changed to furies, bite off their wings and harry them until they give up, great helpless creatures that they are, and fulfil their final destiny, which is to die for the sake of the colony.
Even the drone eggs, larvae, and pupae are not exempt on this appointed day of execution, but are ruthlessly killed, and their remains thrust forth from the hive. If conditions should change and more honey be made, a reprieve to the unhappy drone may be granted, for the length of his life is measured by the food supply. Any time during the summer when the bee-keeper finds the workers
