About 3 o'clock yesterday an unusual spectacle was witnessed in Queen-street. A small boy was crossing the thoroughfare just above the point at which Queen-street is intersected by Albert-street, when he was suddenly seen to jump a couple of feet in the air, and, before he was on his feet again, he emitted a fearful howl, and then, as he ran to the footway, he began vigorously rubbing his right ear. The spectators of this apparently strange conduct were somewhat startled, and were wondering what was the matter, when suddenly they noticed a swarm of honey bees swooping down over the centre of the roadway, and then circling around from one side of the street to the other. The small boy had passed through the centre of the swarm, and had been badly stung, hence his demonstration of high jumping.

While the bees were in possession of the street several tramcars passed, and the motormen had a hot time as they beat off the bees from their faces. A countryman on a cart, drawn up near an oyster shop, was intently watching the flight of the invaders, when his horse was stung on the nose, and the man was nearly thrown on the street as the frightened animal made a violent plunge to get away. The bees remained hovering over the street for about half an hour before they found a place on which to settle. Meanwhile a large crowd that had gathered on either side of the roadway watched the settling process with evident interest. The iron covering of an arcade over a shop front became the final resting place of this swarm, which was snugly stowed away almost before the spectators realised what had happened.