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Rh comes out, she runs about over the comb, taking exercise on her own royal legs, and perhaps taking a little honey out of the cells on her own account; especially does she hunt for other queen cells, for she has no wish to share her duties or honours with another. If she finds such a cell, she usually makes a hole in its side, and in some way, she stings to death the hapless princess within. Some observers claim that she merely takes the initiative, tearing down the wall of the cell, and the bees finish by tearing it down as they would any broken comb, and destroy the inmate in the process. If, in her promenade, she discovers another full-grown queen, a contest ensues; it is a duel to the death and the weapons are stings, which are kept sacred for this special occasion. It is interesting that the queen reserves her weapon for her peers, and never attempts to sting workers, and may be handled fearlessly by the bee-keeper. As the plate armour of the bee is so arranged that the sting may enter in only at certain spots, this duel resolves itself into a fencing match, until one thrusts her weapon into some vulnerable portion of the other. One morning we found fifteen dead queens outside of one of our hives; a grim tribute to the prowess of the queen within, and quite as much a tribute to our carelessness in letting so many queens be developed uselessly.

The belligerent attitude of the queens toward each other seems to have been so strong an emotion that a voice has been developed to express it, and is eloquent with rage and fear. This note must be heard to be