One of the drollest of all of Rollo’s experiments was his plan for getting a bee-hive.

One day, he was in the garden with a playmate of his, named Henry, who lived not very far from his father’s house.

In the back part of the garden were some tall hollyhocks growing.  They were in full flower.  Hollyhocks are very tall.  They grow up in a straight stem, as high as a man’s head, with leaves and flowers from top to bottom.

The flowers are large, and shaped somewhat like a cup, or rather a wine-glass, and bees often go into them to get honey.

Now it happened that as Rollo and Henry were sauntering about, near these hollyhocks, Rollo happened to see a bee in one of the flowers, loading himself up with wax or honey.  The flower, that the bee was in, was just about as high as Rollo’s head.

“O, there’s a bee!” said Rollo; “let’s catch him.”

“Catch him!” said Henry.  “If you do, you’ll catch a sting, I rather think.”

“No,” said Rollo, “I can catch him without getting stung.”

“How?” said Henry.

“I will show you,” said Rollo.

So saying, Rollo approached the hollyhocks, and put both his hands up slowly to the flower which the bee was in.  He then very carefully gathered together the edges of the flower, so as to enclose and imprison the bee.  He then gently broke off the stem of the flower, and held it up to Henry’s ear, to let him hear the bee buzz within.

“Now,” said Rollo, “I wish I had a little bee-hive.  I would put him in, and perhaps he would make some honey in there.”

“Do you think he would?” said Henry.

“Yes,” replied Rollo, “I have no doubt he would; bees always make honey in bee-hives.”

“Haven’t you got some box that will do?” said Henry.

“I don’t know,” said Rollo; “let us go along towards the barn, and see if we can’t find one.  I suppose it is no matter what the shape of it is,” he added, “if it is only a box, with a small hole for the bees to go in and out.”

“But you haven’t got but one bee,” said Henry, as they walked along towards the barn.

Rollo held the flower, with the bee imprisoned in it, safely in his fingers.

“O, I can catch plenty more.  I could catch a whole hive of them, in time.”

“But I don’t believe they will stay and work in your hive,” said Henry.  “They will all fly off and go home to where they belong.”

“No,” said Rollo, “I will plug up the hole, and keep them shut in until they get used to it.  When they get wonted to the new hive, they will stay there, after that, I know.  That’s the way they do with doves.”

“But you won’t have any queen bee,” said Henry.  “Bees won’t work without a queen bee.  I read it in a book.”

“Well, perhaps I can catch a queen bee, some day,” said Rollo, rather doubtfully.

Rollo was so much interested in his plan, that he was determined not to see any difficulties in the way of it; and yet he could not help feeling that there was some uncertainty about his succeeding in entrapping a queen bee.

However, just at this point in the conversation, he suddenly stopped, and pointed down to a flower-pot, which stood bottom upwards, upon a seat, near where they were walking.

“There,” said he, “that will do for a bee-hive.”

“Ho!” said Henry, “that is not a box.”

“No matter,” said Rollo; “it is just as good, and there is a little hole for the bees to go out and in at.”

There is always a little hole in the bottom of a flower-pot.

“So there is,” said Henry; “but do you think that the bees will make honey in an earthen pot?”

“O, yes,” said Rollo, “just as well as in any thing.  The bees don’t care what they make the honey in.  Sometimes they make it in old logs.”

“Well,” said Henry, “and we’ll call it a honey-pot.  And where shall we put it?”

“We can keep it on this seat:  it is as good a place as any; the bees will be right in the garden as soon as they come out of their hive.”

So saying, Rollo asked Henry to hold his bee a minute, while he got the honey-pot ready.  Henry took the flower very carefully, so as not to let the bee escape, and then Rollo lifted up the flower-pot, and looked inside.  It was pretty clean; but as Rollo knew that bees were very nice in their habits, he thought he would just take it to the pump, and wash it out a little.

In a few minutes, he brought it back, and replaced it, bottom upwards, upon the seat, and then prepared to put the bee in.  He took the flower again from Henry’s hand, and then very carefully inserted the edges of it, which had been gathered together with his fingers, into the hole.  He then began to knock and push the bottom of the flower, to make the bee go in.  The bee, not knowing what to make of this treatment, kept up a great buzzing, but soon went in.

“There,” said Rollo.  “Now, Henry, you be ready to clap your thumb over the hole, as soon as I take the flower away, or else he’ll come out.”

“O, no,” said Henry; “he’ll fly up and sting me.”

“No, he won’t,” said Rollo.  “I only want you to keep him in a minute, while I go and get a plug.”

Henry then, with much hesitation and fear, put his thumb over the hole, as Rollo withdrew the flower.  He stood there while Rollo went for a plug; but he seemed to feel very uneasy, and continually called Rollo to be quick.

Rollo could not find a plug, but he picked up a small, flat stone, and concluded that that would do just as well.  So he released Henry from his dangerous position, and put the stone over the hole.

“There,” said Rollo, with a tone of great satisfaction, when he had done this, “now he is safe.  We’ll let him stay, while we go and catch another bee.”

So they went back to the hollyhocks, and there, quite fortunately, they found another bee just going into one of the flowers.  Rollo secured him in the same way, and carried him along, and pushed him into the flower-pot.  Henry stood ready to clap the stone on, as soon as he was in, and then they came back to the hollyhocks again.  They had then to wait a little while, watching for bees; at length, however, one came, and, by and by, another; and so, in the course of an hour or two, they got seven bees, all safe in the honey-pot, and Rollo said he thought seven were about enough to go to work, at least, to begin.  They had not yet found any one, however, that seemed to Rollo to be a queen bee.

At last, it was time for Henry to go home, and Rollo concluded to leave his bee-hive until the next morning.  He thought he would leave the hole stopped up, so that the bees might get used to their new accommodations; but he intended to open it the next day, in order to let them begin their work.

The next morning, Henry came over soon after breakfast to see how affairs stood in respect to the bee-hive.  He and Rollo went out into the garden to look at the establishment, and found every thing as they had left it the night before.  Rollo felt quite confident of the success of his experiment.  The only thing that gave him any uneasiness was the want of a queen bee.  He and Henry were just speculating upon the expediency of sending in a bumble-bee instead, for a king, when their attention was arrested by hearing Jonas calling Rollo.  They looked up, and saw him standing at the garden gate.

“Rollo,” said Jonas, “do you want to go out with me to the pasture, and catch the horse?”

“Why, ­yes,” said Rollo.  But yet he did not go.  He seemed to feel in doubt.  “Must you go this minute?” said he.

“Yes,” said Jonas.  “Come; and Henry may go, too.”

“Well, wait a minute, just till I go and open the door in my bee-hive.”

“Your bee-hive!” said Jonas; “what do you mean by that?”

But Rollo did not hear what Jonas said; for he had run off along the alley, Henry after him, towards the place where they had established their hive.

“What does he mean by his bee-hive?” said Jonas to himself.  “I mean to go and see.”

So Jonas opened the garden gate, and came in.  When he came up near the seat where Henry and Rollo stood, he found the boys standing a step or two back from the flower-pot, both watching the hole with the utmost intentness.

“What are you looking at, there, boys?” said Jonas, with great surprise.

“O, we are looking to see the bees come out.”

“The bees come out!” said Jonas.

“Yes,” said Rollo; “that is our bee-hive, ­honey-pot we call it.  We have put some bees in it.”

Here Jonas burst into a loud, and long, and apparently incontrollable fit of laughter.  Henry and Rollo looked upon him with an expression of ludicrous gravity and perplexity.

“What are you laughing at?” said Rollo.

Jonas could hardly control himself sufficiently to speak; but presently he succeeded in asking Rollo if he supposed that bees would make honey there.

“Certainly I do,” said Rollo, with a positive air.  “Why should they not?  They don’t care what shape their hive is, or what it is made of, and this flower-pot is as good as any thing else.  There! there! see, Henry,” he exclaimed, interrupting himself, and pointing down to the flower-pot, “one is coming out.”

Henry and Jonas both looked, and they saw a poor, forlorn-looking bee cautiously putting forth his head at the hole, and then slowly crawling out.  He came on until he was fairly out of the hole, and then, extending his wings, rose and flew away through the air.

Here Jonas burst out again in a fit of laughter.

“You needn’t laugh, Jonas,” said Rollo; “he’ll come back again; I know he will.  That’s the way they always do.”

“And you suppose that the bees will fill up the flower-pot with honey?” said Jonas.

“Yes,” said Rollo; “and then I shall take it away without killing any of the bees.  I read how to do it in a book.”

“How shall you do it?” said Jonas.

“Why, when this honey-pot is full of honey, I shall get another, and put on the top of it, bottom upwards.  Then the bees will work up into that, and come out at the upper hole.  When they get fairly at work in the upper hive, then I shall get Henry to hold it, while I slip the lower one out, and put the upper one down in its place.”

As Rollo was speaking these words, in order to show Jonas more exactly how he meant to perform the operation, he took hold of the flower-pot with both his hands, and slid it suddenly off of the seat.  Now it happened that the poor bees that were inside, chilled with the dampness and cold, were nearly all crawling about upon the seat; and when Rollo suddenly moved the flower-pot along, forgetting for a moment what there was inside, the rough edges of the flower-pot bruised and ground them to death, and they dropped down upon the walk, some dead, some buzzing a little, and one trying to crawl.

“There now, Rollo,” said Henry, in a tone of great disappointment and sorrow, “now you have killed all our bees!”

Rollo looked astonished enough.  He had no idea of such a catastrophe; and he and Henry both at the same instant took up the honey-pot to see if any of the bees had escaped destruction.  Their eyes fell, at the same moment, upon one solitary bee that was standing upon the inside of the flower-pot.  His attention had been arrested by the sudden glare of light, and so, just as Rollo and Henry first observed him, and before they had time to put the flower-pot down again, he spread his wings and flew out towards them.

Down dropped the flower-pot.  The boys started.  “Run!” exclaimed Jonas, following them with shouts of laughter, “run, run, boys, for dear life!” and away they all went towards the garden gate.

The bee, however, was not following them.  His only object was to get away.  He flew in another direction; but Rollo, Henry, and Jonas did not stop to look behind them.  They kept on running, until Jonas was well on his way towards the pasture, and Rollo and Henry were safe in the shed.  And this was the last time that Rollo ever attempted to make up a hive of bees.