I was sitting here beside the stream, watching the bees swarm in and out at the entrance to their hive, when Hercules passed by. “Come and watch the bees,” I called as he passed. “They are interesting.”
He stood and studied the busy workers, intent upon the business of their miniature society
“I wonder,” he said at last, “if our human reason shall ever evolve a system half so perfect as the one that mere instinct has taught these feeble insects.” As I was silent he continued:
“Well, at all events, I can learn one lesson from the bees, and be about my business. If society is ever to be freed from its burdens every soul must do its full duty. One life wasted means a whole world hindered just that much.” And Hercules was gone to his labors
How fearful we all are of wasting our lives, yet so rarely fearful for the results of the ceaseless activity with which we crowd themBut Hercules’ words are full ofsuggestiveness. Is our boasted human reason really less adequate to the needs of our life than is what we call the instinct, this thing that looks so much more reasonable than our reason, of the lower orders? What if, after all, we are making a desperate mistake in supposing that it is this faculty which we call reason that distinguishes us from the brute creation?