'Will they sting?' inquired I.

'Some folks they will,' he replied. 'If they hate a man they'll follow him a mile; and no body knows who they hate and who they don't, until they're tried.'

"Where's the honey?' I inquired again.

'Well, that's the next thing I'm arter;' and Venison put his ear to the trunk of the tree to ascertain in what part of it they were 'a-workin'. He listened a while, but they warn't low down, he know'd, for he did n't hear 'em hummin'. He thought the honey was 'out the way, high up some where.' So at the tree he went with his axe, and in a half an hour the old oak older, probably, than any man on the globe - came down with a crash that roused up all the echoes of the wilderness.

Upon an examination, the honey was, probably, Venison thought, packed away in a hollow of the tree, about fifty feet from the ground, as a large knot-hole was discerned out of which the bees were streaming in great consternation. So he severed the trunk again, at the bottom of the hollow, and there it was, great flakes, piled one upon another, some of which had been broken by the fall of the tree, and were dripping and oozing out their wild richness.

'That's the raal stuff,' exclaimed Venison; 'something 'sides beebread.'

Venison had brought nothing with him to hold his honey, and I was a little curious to know how he would manage. He cut the tree again above the knot. During his labor, the bees had settled all over him. His hands, face, and hair were filled, beside a circle of them that were angrily wheeling about his head. But he heeded them not, except by an occasional shake, which was significant of pity rather than rage.

'Now,' said Venison, when his work was finished, the tree cut, the knot hole stopped, and the whole turned upside down,' that's what I call a natʼral bee-hive, and we'll just stuff in a little dry grass on the top, and then I'll be ready to move.'

'Move!' I exclaimed, 'move! You do n't expect we will carry home a tree, do you?'

'Two or three on 'em, I s'pect. Venison allers gets as much as that.' Venison was right. Before noon, half a dozen hives were captured and ready for removal. I confess, after the excitement was over, that I began to grow quite serious over my forenoon's labor. I sat down to rest myself, and the very solemnity of the wilderness produced a sober train of thought. A south-west breeze sprang up loaded with the dying breath of the fall-flowers. It was blowing down the leaves around me, and piling them up in gorgeous drifts. Like an undertaker around the remains of the dead, it was quietly tearing down the drapery, and preparing the year for its burial. A haze overspread every thing, and the distance was mellow, the objects indistinct, and the whole landscape seemed swimming, as we sometimes see it in a dream. The trees were covered with haze; and a canoe, on its way down, appeared to be hung up in the air; the birds were hazy; and, looking about me, I appeared to be sitting in a great tent of haze. The squirrels were clattering through the trees, and throwing down the nuts; the partridges were drumming; the rabbits rustling through the dry leaves; the water-fowl hurrying through the air;