The apiary; or, bees, bee-hives, and bee culture [1865] / Being a familiar account of the habits of bees, and the most improved methods of management, with full directions, adapted for the cottager, farmer, or scientific apiarian

by Alfred Neighbor

V. MISCELLANEOUS INFORMATION.

STINGS: THEIR PREVENTION AND CURE.

Some of our readers may deem us neglectful in having, as it were, left them to struggle through their bee-keeping novitiate without informing them how to avoid being stung by their docile but well armed flock. Of course, having described the bee-dress, we have supposed that the apiarian was clad, if not "in complete steel," at least, in the head-gear and gloves, which will render him invulnerable. The best safeguard from the anger of bees—as indeed from the malice of men—is a quiet and peaceable spirit. The apiarian will learn to handle his bees not only as "if he loved them,"—as the quaint angler says—but as if he fully believes that the bees love him. This they will do whenever he approaches and treats them gently. There are some cases of exception to this generally peaceable disposition of the bee; sometimes a few bees are dyspeptic, and refuse to be pacified—let their master seek to bribe them never so wisely. Then, too, sometimes the bee-master himself may be dyspeptic, which the unerring olfactory sense of the bees speedily detects, and their anger is immediately aroused. Some few persons, owing to constitutional peculiarities in their breath or insensible perspiration, are objects of constant animosity with bees, who by driving them from the apiary, are giving a physician's advice without charge for a fee. Some of the choicest perfumes used by ladies are offensive to bees: and one may feel very certain that the "fine puss gentleman," who disgusted the brave Hotspur with his "pouncet box" and praise of "'parmaceti for an inward bruise," would have been speedily driven from an apiary in ignominious flight. Occasionally, even a skilful apiarian may inadvertently crush a single bee; such a mischance is detected by the community with much more facility than by any "crowner's quest," and their prompt verdict decrees the summary punishment of the offender. There would be much less fear of stings if it were always remembered that bees are never aggressive. "Defence, not defiance," is their motto. They scarcely ever attempt to sting when away from the hive, and very seldom indeed at the time of swarming, for then they are gorged with honey. When molested by angry bees, the safest and best retreat is a green bush. Thrust your head into this, and the bees will soon leave you.

Yet some people appear to think they must inevitably be stung if they meddle with bees; and for their sakes it is needful to explain why it is that a sting is painful, and how the wound inflicted by the bee may be cured. Those familiar with the usual microscopic objects will know how marvellously delicate, and yet effective, is the mechanical structure of a bee's sting. This weapon as we see it with our naked eye—finer than a needle's point—is only the sheath, which lengthens or contracts like the tubes of a telescope. From the sheath is projected the dart, which is double, each half of it piercing alternately deeper into the wound made by the sheath. The dart is barbed on each side, so that the bee when very angry is scarcely ever able to withdraw it:—

"Deems life itself to vengeance well resigned;

Dies on the wound, and leaves the sting behind."

If the patient who receives the sting could only take it patiently, it would not prove half the inconvenience to him that often is the case. There are indeed some happy mortals whose "blood such an even tenour keeps," that a bee-sting is to them simply a puncture, and nothing more. Dr. Bevan has suggested that lovers should subject themselves to the ordeal of a bee-sting, in order to prove, we suppose, that their temper is proof against "the stings and arrows of any outrageous fortune" that matrimony can bring.

It is the homœpathically minute tincture of poison injected by the bee which causes inflammation. The first thing to do is to remove the sting, which, even when detached from the bee, will continue to penetrate still further into the wound. Next, press the hollow point of a watch-key exactly over the place stung; this will express a considerable portion of the virus. Then dip the hand or bathe the part with cold or tepid water, for the poison is volatile, and will thereby be dissipated to a great extent. On no account whatever should the part affected be rubbed; to do that will diffuse the poison, and increase the inflammation. The specific remedy for a bee-sting is taught us by chemistry: the venom is an acid, which an alkali will immediately neutralize when brought into contact with it. Spirits of hartshorn will generally be found effectual for the purpose, and should always be kept in an apiary. There are also several other remedies, more or less effectual, according to the special constitution of the patient. A strong infusion of tobacco water applied to the wound after the sting has been extracted, is a specific for many persons; others find relief from the application of a sliced onion.

We have heard the remark from several who have kept bees for years, that the poison from a sting has little or no effect on them; after receiving many inflictions, their flesh appears to become so little affected that the swelling and pain at one time experienced no longer trouble them.

POLLEN; OR, FOOD FOR INFANT BEES.

Bees, when fully grown, feed almost wholly on honey; but the larvæ require for their development a more substantial kind of nourishment. Such solid fare is found by the bees in the pollen of flowers, a farina which contains some of those nitrogenous elements in which honey is deficient. The body of a worker-bee is covered with hairs, to which the pollen adheres when, by contact with the bee, it is rubbed from the anthers and stamens of flowers. The bee with its fore legs then brushes it off, and moulds it into the pellet shape suitable for carrying it in the "baskets" or grooves on its thighs. Dewy mornings or humid bowers suit the bees for the gathering of the pollen. If the atmosphere be too dry for kneading it into pellets, they roll themselves in the blossoms, and trust to the good offices of the bees at home, who, on their return, brush off the farina into the cells intended for it, A portion of this "bee bread" is taken at once by the "nursing bees," which are supposed to subject it to some change before offering it to the larvæ; but the greater part of the pollen is stored away, and sealed over in the cells for future use. In April and May the bees are frequently busy "all the day" in gathering pollen, and often one community of bees will collect about twenty pounds weight of "bee bread" in one season.

One of the objects of the apiarian is to assist the bees in providing for the nurselings of the hive. A German pastor, Heer Dzierzon, first suggested the plan of providing the bees with "unbolted rye meal" as a substitute for the farina of flowers. He had observed that, in early spring before the flowers were open, his bees had entered a neighbouring corn mill, from whence they returned laden with rye flour. Since his discovery, most bee-keepers in early spring place either rye or wheat meal near the apiaries; to this artificial store the bees repair by thousands, and seem to rollick in the enjoyment of so much plenty, many of them returning to the hive as dusty as millers. The object in thus supplying them is, that the brood may be rapidly brought forward and early swarming induced. In this way, a few pounds of rye meal at one penny per pound may tend to the production of very many pounds of honey of twelve times the price.

In gathering pollen from flowers, bees are doing more than merely providing for their own community. Whilst humming through our gardens they are assisting to propagate our flowers, and their merry buzz in our orchards indicates that the blossoms of spring will in autumn fulfil their promise by abundance of fruit. In Mr. Darwin's remarkable work, "The Fertilization of Orchids," the mystery of the fructification of flowers is scientifically explained; but before the subject was so fully understood, it was quite believed that bees in passing from flower to flower performed some important service. Owners of fruit trees have noticed, in a season generally unfavourable for the orchard, that if during only one fine forenoon the bees had spread freely amongst the blossoms of a particular tree, that it would prove more fruitful than its fellows. On this account the orchard is a good place for an apiary, for it seems—more abundant the honey, more plentiful will be the fruit. Bees bear the fructifying matter from one sex of flowers to the other, but they confine their attention to one kind of flower during each excursion: and the careful observer may see how the colour of the pollen on the bodies of the bees will vary from yellow to red and brown, according to the kind of flowers from which it has been gathered. The gathering of pollen, its use by the nursing bees, and the storing of it in the cells, afford to the bee-keeper opportunity for observations of exceeding interest.

PROPOLIS; OR, BEES' CEMENT.

The old notion that wax is gathered by bees from flowers as they gather honey, has long since been set aside by the discoveries of Hornbostel and Huber. Wax is an oily substance secreted from the honey in the bodies of the bees, on which it forms in thin flakes. But there is "a resinous substance, very tenacious and semi-transparent," which is indispensable for the bees as a cement wherewith to fix their combs and fortify their hives against intruders, and this is "propolis." The bees, in working the propolis, often soften it by blending it with a portion of wax; but they have to extract it in its natural state directly from the bark and buds of certain trees. The bark of the willow, the leaf buds of the poplar and alder, and the unopened blossoms of the hollyhock, are very usual sources of propolis. In the case of a new swarm, as bees must have this glue before they can begin to build their combs, they will resort to most unlikely places to obtain it. Sometimes they will enter a paint shop and attack the varnish, and it is said they have been seen to obtain propolis from the pitch and rigging of a ship. These circumstances afford intelligible hints to the apiarian, who, if his bees have not easy access to firs, poplars, or willows, will provide some glutinous or resinous matter which may serve for a substitute. The extracting of the propolis costs the bees very considerable labour, which they should be relieved of as much as possible, in order to facilitate their great work of honey gathering. Bees choose the warmer part of the day during which to gather propolis, as then it does not so rapidly stiffen. Frequently when they arrive at the hive it has become so hard that the other bees are scarcely able to gnaw it from their thighs.

With propolis bees fasten down their hives, stop up crevices to exclude moths and ants, and sometimes use it to narrow the entrance of their hive against the invasion of wasps. Extraordinary anecdotes are told of the prompt and ingenious use they make of this substance. Reaumur relates that a snail having been observed by the bees on the window of the hive, they proceeded to glue the shell to the glass, and there sealed down the intruder in hopeless durance. In another case, that of a slug, or snail without a shell, the bees having slain it with their stings, were quite unable to remove it from the hive. With wonderful foresight, they then proceeded to secure their community from the noxious effects likely to arise from the decay of the carcase; and this they did by completely enveloping it with a coating of impervious varnish. Huish relates a similar occurrence in the case of a mouse caught in a hive by bees. Propolis yields benzoic acid, and contains some aromatic properties.

PASTURAGE FOR BEES.

"Bees work for man; and yet they never bruise

Their master's flower, but leave it, having done,

As fair as ever, and as fit for use"

Apiarians generally agree in the opinion that very little can be done in the way of providing any special forage for bees. Yet bee-fanciers are always interested in observing which the flowers are that the bees prefer; and there are certain well established conclusions as to the kind of district and season which are the likeliest to produce a good honey harvest. There is an old saying that a country which produces the finest wool also yields the best honey; and a pastoral district is decidedly better than one under tillage. The principle of the matter is, that the bees are best suited with a long dry season—an early spring, a hot summer, and a late autumn. As not one of these blessings can be commanded by the apiarian, his art must be applied to provide some mitigation of the injury suffered by the bees when the season is short or wet. For early spring, the crocus, the blue hepatica, and the violet, all afford good supplies of honey, and if cultivated near the apiary, will be of great service when the wild flowers are backward. All varieties of the willow and poplar furnish early supplies of honey, as well as of the propolis of which we have spoken; the blossoms of the gooseberry and currant are very useful for the bees in May. Wet, when it enters flowers of any kind, prevents the proboscis of the bee from reaching the secret source of honey. On this account, it is well to know, as does the bee, that the drooping blossoms of the raspberry escape the effect of the showers, and honey is gathered from them when other flowers are drenched within as well as without. For a similar reason, the borage (borago officinalis) is valuable for bees; and, also, because that plant continues to flower until the frosts set in. The honey both from raspberry blossoms and borage is very superior. Mr. Langstroth says that "the precipitous and rocky lands of New England, which abound with the wild red raspberry, might be made almost as valuable as some of the vine-clad terraces of the mountain districts of Europe." The "golden rod," and also asters, afford superior honey for autumn gathering. Dzierzon strongly recommends buck-wheat being sown in the winter stubbles on behalf of the bees, and he tries hard to persuade farmers that it is to their interest to cultivate it. It should be named that all the ordinary fruit blossoms, especially those of the apple, supply abundant store for bees.

It is, however, to wild or field flowers that the bee-master must chiefly look for the raw material on which his myriad artisans shall exert their skill. The white clover of the pasture—the wild thyme on the hill—the heather on the moors—the furze and the broom on the sandy waste—offer exhaustless stores for a greater number of bees than can ever be located near them. There are also two or three peculiar sources of honey which one would not have suspected, as, for instance the blossoms of the onion plant, of turnips, and in still greater degree, the flower of the mustard plant. In those districts of England where mustard seed is cultivated so extensively, it would be well worth while for the farmers to keep large colonies of bees. Another, but a very uncertain source of honey, is the "honey-dew," which in some seasons appears in large quantities on the leaves of the oak, the lime, and some other trees.

It is important to mention that bees in the principal breeding season require a plentiful supply of water. Owing either to their carelessness or eagerness, they are frequently drowned when drinking from any large quantity of water; the bee-keeper should, therefore, place near the hives shallow vessels of water containing pebbles, on which the bees may alight to take frequent but temperate draughts.

THE LIGURIAN OR ITALIAN ALP-BEE.

A new, or rather a re-discovered, variety of bee has recently been brought into practical use amongst apiarians in Germany and America, as well as in this country. The ordinary bee is the Apis Mellifica of naturalists; the new kind is the Apis Ligustica. It was also named "The Ligurian Bee" by the Marquis de Spinola, who found it in Piedmont in 1805; and he considered it to be the principal species known to the Greeks, who speak of the "best kind" of bee as being of a red colour. Leading apiarians agree in pronouncing these bees to be justly entitled to the high character given to them. Their special advantages are—greater fecundity of the queens, less irascibility, and a more handsome appearance, for being of a golden colour, they are prettier than our black bees.

Our own experience with the Italian Alp-bee enables us to corroborate the statements which have been made in favour of this new variety. We find the queens more prolific than those of the common kind, and the quantity of honey produced is greater. These two facts stand as cause and effect; the bees being multiplied more quickly, the store of honey is accumulated more rapidly, and the Italian bees consume, if anything, less food than the common kind. When of pure Italian blood, these bees are by some apiarians thought to be hardier than our own. That they forage for stores with greater eagerness, and have little hesitation in paying visits to other hives, we can testify from our own observation. The following anecdote will illustrate their intrusive propensities. Another bee-keeper living in the neighbourhood of our apiary, when inspecting our hives, observed the yellow bees; he exclaimed, "Now I have found out where those strange-looking bees come from; for," said he, "these yellow-jackets are incessant visitors to my hives. I thought they were a species of wasps that had come to rob, and until now I have been unable to account for their appearance at the entrance of my hive, so that I have killed them by hundreds." This was not at all pleasing intelligence for us, and we trust that our neighbour has been more lenient to "the yellow-jackets" since his visit. We are inclined to believe that more visiting takes place amongst bees of different hives than bee-keepers have been accustomed to suppose; where the Italian and black bees are kept near each other, the foreigners being conspicuous by their lighter colour, there is less difficulty in identifying them when at the entrances of other hives.

This season (1864) we have had more honey from a Ligurian stock than from any one of our colonies of black bees. From this Ligurian hive we have taken a glass super containing 40 lbs. nett of honey, besides having drawn from it an artificial swarm; and, after all, it remains the strongest hive in our apiary.

The Baron Von Berlepsch and Pastor Dzierzon, who are probably the two most intelligent and skilful bee-keepers of Germany, award to the Italian a very decided preference over the common bees. The Baron says that he has found:—1. That the Italian bees are less sensitive to cold than the common kind. 2. That their queens are more prolific. 3. That the colonies swarm earlier and more frequently. 4. That they are less apt to sting. 5. They are more industrious. 6. That they are more disposed to rob than common bees, and more courageous and active in self defence. They strive, whenever opportunity offers, to force their way into colonies of common bees; but when strange bees attack their hives, they fight with great fierceness, and with incredible adroitness.

It is said, that the Italian bee can extract honey from some flowers which the common bee is unable to penetrate. For instance, the blossom tubes of the red clover being too deep for the proboscis of the common bee, that flower is useless to them, although so plentiful; but, says Mr. Langstroth, the American apiarian, the Italian bee visits the red clover assiduously, and draws large quantities of honey from it.[7]

[7] This opinion is not held by the closest observer of Italian bees in England.

The introduction of this new variety of bee into England was through our agency. M. Hermann, a bee cultivator at Tamins-by-Chur, Canton Grison, Switzerland, wrote to us on the 5th July, 1859, offering to supply us with Italian Alp queen bees. This letter, or an extract from it, appeared in the current number of the Journal of Horticulture, (then called the Cottage Gardener,) a periodical that regularly opens its columns to apiarian subjects. Prior to this the Italian Alp, or as it has been named the "Ligurian" bee, was unknown in this country, except to a few naturalists. The letter referred to attracted the attention of that intelligent apiarian T. W. Woodbury, Esq., now so well known as the "Devonshire Bee-keeper." On the 19th of July, that is a fortnight after Mr. Hermann's offer, we received a consignment of Italian Alp bees, being the first imported into England, with these, Mr. Woodbury also received one queen-bee and a few workers, which he introduced into a hive of English bees from which the queen had been taken. His efforts were very successful, and "the spring of 1860 found him in possession of four Ligurianized stocks." His subsequent experience with the Italian Alp bee he has fully described in a communication to The Bath and West of England Agricultural Journal.

Subsequently Mr. Hermann sent us a copy of his pamphlet entitled "The Italian Alp Bee; or, the Gold Mine of Husbandry," with the request that we should have it translated from the German, and that copies of it should be printed in the English language. The pamphlet was speedily published by us, and although singular as a literary production, it may be useful for the advanced apiarian.

Certainly the bees are partially of an orange or golden colour, and if one could believe the golden anticipations indulged in by Mr. Hermann respecting them, it would be sufficient to identify the Italian Alp bee as the species described by Hood in Miss Kilmansegg;—those which dwelt in

"A golden hive, on a golden bank,

Where golden bees, by alchemical prank,

Gather gold instead of honey."

Poor Hermann himself did not profit by the discovery of the mine. His enthusiasm for the culture of the Alpine bee instead of wafting him to El Dorado appears to have driven him to the prosaic retreat of a debtor's prison. By the latest accounts we learn that—his ardent spirit chafing against his incarceration,—he had made an attempt to escape, and in doing so, fell from the prison walls and broke both legs. We understand that he has since died.

In the pamphlet referred to, Mr. Hermann gives the following description of what he insists on designating as Apis Helvetica:— "The yellow Italian Alp-bee is a mountain insect; it is found between two mountain chains to the right and left of Lombardy and the Rhetian Alps, and comprises the whole territory of Tessins, Veltlin, and South-Graubunden. It thrives up to the height of 4,500 feet above the level of the sea, and appears to prefer the northern clime to the warmer, for in the south of Italy it is not found. The Alps are their native country, therefore they are called Yellow Alp-bee, or tame house bees, in contra distinction to the black European bees, whom we might call common forest bees, and who, on the slightest touch, fly like lightning into your face.(?)

"As all good and noble things in the world are more scarce than common ones, so there are more common black bees than of the noble yellow race, which latter inhabit only a very small piece of country, while the black ones are at home everywhere in Europe, and even in America."

Notwithstanding the death of M. Hermann, we shall in future be able to supply all bee-keepers, who may wish to possess stocks of the genuine yellow Alpine bees.

The Italian varies but little from the common bees in its physical characteristics. The difference in appearance consists in the first rings of the abdomen, except the posterior edge, and the base of the third—being of an orange colour instead of a deep brown. These orange coloured parts are transparent when closely examined with the sun shining on them. The Italian bees are more active than common bees when on the wing.

During the summers of 1859 and 1860 we had over from the Continent a great number of Ligurian queens; these were sent to all parts of the kingdom. We regret to say that but few were successfully united to English stocks. It requires a considerable amount of apiarian skill to accomplish the union, so that we find by experience it is best to send out complete Ligurian stocks. This is particularly desirable now that the packing of whole hives is so easily accomplished by us with the aid of bars and frames. We have sent a great number of stocks to all parts by rail.

Mr. Woodbury, owing to his knowledge and skill in bee-keeping, was eminently successful in propagating the Ligurian bees first imported into this country; and we would recommend all who may be interested in the subject, to peruse the interesting articles written by him in the Journal of Horticulture. He has shown great patience and energy by his labours in the rearing of queens and the multiplication of stocks, for which he merits all praise. On the other hand, Mr. Woodbury has to thank the Ligurian bees for the development of his own skill, for although prior to this he was a valued correspondent to the before named Journal, his commencement of scientific bee-keeping must be dated from the time of their introduction.

We now add to the other testimonies already cited, that of Mr. Woodbury as to the superior qualities of the Ligurian bees. The following is extracted from a paper contributed by him to the Bath and West of England Agricultural Journal:—"From my strongest Ligurian stock I took eight artificial swarms in the spring, besides depriving it of numerous brood-combs. Finding in June that the bees were collecting honey so fast that the queen could not find an empty cell in which to lay an egg, I was reluctantly compelled to put on a super. When this had been filled with. 88 lbs. of the finest honey-comb,[8] I removed it, and as the stock-hive (a very large one) could not contain the multitude of bees which issued from it, I formed them into another very large artificial swarm. The foregoing facts speak for themselves; but as information on this point has been very generally asked, I have no hesitation in saying that I believe the Ligurian honey-bee infinitely superior in every respect to the only species that we have hitherto been acquainted with."

[8] This super was exhibited at our stand in the International Exhibition of 1862.

After such decided testimony as this, corroborated, as it is, by many other observers, there seems every reason to expect that the Ligurian bee will gradually supersede the common kind throughout the United Kingdom.

LIVING BEES AT THE INTERNATIONAL EXHIBITION OF 1862, SENDING BEES TO AUSTRALIA, &c.

The engraving represents our stand in the Agricultural Department of the International Exhibition of 1862. The space granted us in the World's great Fair was somewhat limited; but we were able to exhibit a tolerably complete stock of apiarian apparatus and all the more important bee-hives. Amongst these was a Unicomb Hive stocked with the Yellow Alpine or "Ligurian" bee. This was an object of great attention, and daily hundreds of visitors flocked round our stand in order to watch the movements of the Italian queen with her gay and busy subjects. The entrance way for the bees being in the "Open Court," to which all visitors had access, it was necessary to place the hive in an elevated position, so as for it to be beyond the reach of incautious passers by, and to obviate any chance of annoyance to the vast crowds of people continually around.

Among others who took a deep interest in our exhibition, was Mr. Edward Wilson, President of the Acclimatisation Society of Victoria. This gentleman requested us to pack four stocks of the Ligurian bees for conveyance to Melbourne. With the assistance of Mr. Woodbury—whose aid was, indeed, essential—these stocks were sent off on the 25th of September, 1862, by the steam ship Alhambra, so as to arrive at the colony during the Austral summer. The hives were Woodbury-frame hives, having ample space and ventilation, as well as the means of supplying water to their inmates during the voyage; there was, also, a sufficient store of honey to last until the following March. The bees arrived at Melbourne, where they were released after an imprisonment of seventy nine days, and have since rapidly multiplied, the climate and pasturage of Australia greatly favouring the increase of this superior variety of the bee.

Mr. Wilson was so well pleased with the careful manner in which these stocks were fitted out for their voyage across the seas, that he subsequently instructed us to prepare him three more hives, which were sent out in a sailing vessel. Owing to the mismanagement of the water supply during the voyage, only one stock survived in this instance.

Upwards of twenty years ago, we sent a Nutt's Hive stocked with bees to New Zealand. We then adopted the plan of fixing the hive in a meat safe, so that the bees could fly about a little, and also cleanse the hive of their dead, for bees are very attentive to sanitary arrangements; they always remove the dead ones from their midst, and do not void excrement within the hive.

When bees are shut up in their hives too long, they are apt to be attacked by a disease called by apiarians—dysentery. Sometimes when confined by the unfavourableness of the weather in winter or the lateness of spring, this disease produces serious mischief amongst the bees. Various remedies have been recommended; but we believe the best is to see that there is wholesome food within the hive, and plenty of it, and when fine weather returns, the health of the bees will return with it. Dampness of the hives, and too late feeding in the autumn, are also frequent causes of this disease.

BEE-KEEPING IN LONDON.

There are many persons now in this noisy city pent, who frequently remember the days of childhood when, among pastures of clover or amidst flowery heath and woodlands, they listened to the cheerful hum of bees. Partly from a desire to revive those old associations, and also from a natural liking for the tendance of living creatures, such persons would be glad to keep bees if they thought it possible to do so in London or its suburbs with any chance of success. We do not wonder that many should doubt even the possibility of bees feeding themselves amidst such an "endless meal of brick;" but we can easily prove that bees, if not placed too near to smoky chimneys, are able to produce honey, both for themselves and for their masters. To make this plain, we will mention some special instances of metropolitan bee-keeping.

About ninety years ago, a Mr. Wildman kept a bee-house and honey warehouse near to Middle Row, Holborn. He was not only a tradesman, but was also the apiarian of his day. He kept hives of thriving bees on the roof of his house in Holborn, and many of the nobility and gentry used to mount thither in order to inspect the apiary. At that period, St. Pancras was a "village two miles north-west of London," and what is now the Regent's Park was open country. It was then much easier for London bees to find their favourite forage, but Mr. Wildman believed that his hives were filled with stores from a considerable distance. Whilst enjoying his country rambles on Hampstead Heath, he had a shrewd suspicion that many of the bees he there observed gathering honey were Labourers from his own apiary. In order to identify his own flock amongst the rest, he hit upon a homely but very effective expedient. Having borrowed Mrs. Wildman's "dredging box," he stationed himself near the entrance of his hives, and gently dusted his bees with flour as they issued forth. He then betook himself to Hampstead, where he found his previous surmise confirmed, for there were numbers of his bees in their livery of white.

Wildman became noted for the remarkable control he obtained over his bees, many instances of which he exhibited before the public. Many of his operations with them were regarded as feats of legerdemain by the uninitiated, as when he appeared before the king George III. with a swarm of bees hanging in festoons from his chin, or suspended in a cluster at arm's length. The Journal of Horticulture recently, in alluding to Wildman, gives the following particulars as to his performances:—

Near the "Three Hats," Islington, was a place of popular entertainment called "Dobney's Tea Gardens," kept by Mrs. Ann Dobney. These gardens occupied the ground between White Lion Street and Winchester Place, and were established as far back as 1728. In 1771 the house was taken for a short time as a boarding school; but it was soon changed to its original purpose as a place of amusement, for in 1772 Daniel Wildman exhibited bees here. This is a copy of the advertisement:—

"June 20, 1772. Exhibition of bees on horseback! at the Jubilee Gardens, Islington, (late Dobney's), this and every evening until further notice (wet evenings excepted.)

"The celebrated Daniel Wildman will exhibit several new and amazing experiments, never attempted by any man in this or any other kingdom before. The rider standing upright, one foot on the saddle and one on the neck, with a mask of bees on his head and face. He also rides standing upright on the saddle with the bridle in his mouth, and by firing a pistol, makes one part of the bees march over the table, and the other swarm in the air and return to their hive again, with other performances too tedious to insert. The doors open at six; to begin at a quarter before seven. Admittance:—Box and gallery, 2s.; the other seats. 1s."

The secret of Wildman's skilful manipulation is well understood now; it consisted in a careful holding and disposal of the queen, together with confidence in the generally inoffensive disposition of bees. Dr. Evans, whom we have often quoted for his correct information in apiarian matters, thus speaks of his feats:—

"Such was the spell which, round a Wildman's arm.

Twined in dark wreaths the fascinated swarm;

Bright o'er his breast the glittering legions led.

Or with a living garland bound his head.

His dextrous hand, with firm yet hurtless hold,

Could seize the chief, known by her scales of gold,

Prune, 'mid the wondering train, her filmy wing.

Or o'er her folds the silken fetter fling."

To recur to our subject. After the days of Wildman, our own establishment in Holborn became widely known for bee hives and honey. Although we never attempted to start a London apiary at all approaching in extent that of our predecessor, we have occasionally kept bees on the house top both in Holborn and Regent Street. At both those situations, we have noticed that the bees bring "pollen" as well as honey into their hives. Last summer there was brought under our notice an illustration of the acuteness of the scent of bees, and of their diligent search for food, proving too that if sweets can be obtained even from unusual sources, the bees will find them out. A poor woman who, at the corner of an adjacent street vends "brandy balls," "toffee," "rock," and other saccharine compounds—all well known to and appreciated by most juveniles,—used to receive frequent visits from our bees. Their visits to the old dame's domain were at first rather interesting, and if the few pioneers who had the sagacity to find such a store had kept the secret only to themselves, their company would not have been objected to. Such selfish policy does not, however, accord with the social instinct of bees, and these soon informed their companions of the good fortune provided for them in an archipelago of sugar islands. Day by day the swarms of these uninvited visitors increased, until all legitimate customers were beaten off; and the old dame had to see, not only her hope of gain destroyed, but her stock of "goodies" sensibly diminishing by the thefts of these brigands of the air. She could not, or dare not attempt to, drive the intruders away, so made diligent enquiry as to where the robbers were harboured. Having traced them to our establishment in Regent Street, she came to implore of us to move the bees if possible, or she would have to move her stall, and so lose her "connection" in the "toffee" and "rock" trade. Wishing not to hinder the poor woman in gaining her livelihood, we decided on removing our bees into the country.

It is difficult to assign an exact limit to the distance that bees will go in search of honey yielding blossoms. It has been proved by various experiments that they will fly say five or six miles, if the supplies are scanty within a shorter radius; but bees well understand that first of all economies,—the saving of time, and if they can find forage near at hand, they prefer it. Hence, other things being equal, the quantity of honey stored will be in proportion to the contiguity of good pasturage. In this way it is that the systematic removal of hives, as practiced in many districts, has such a notable effect on the honey harvest.

During several years we kept bees in the Zoological Gardens, Regent's Park, and have there frequently taken full and handsome glasses of honey. The position of our apiary was on the site now occupied by the "New Monkey House." The Society promise to erect a new building for an apiary in the course of the ensuing summer. The visitors to the Gardens found considerable interest in watching the bees in our glass hives, and are now much disappointed at the absence of so entertaining an exhibition.

A gentleman residing in St. James's Place, has for some considerable time past kept bees in his garden there. He uses our improved cottage hives, and his bee-keeping is decidedly successful as he generally takes some fine glasses of honey each season, besides leaving sufficient as winter store for the bees. For a London situation, St. James's Place is a very favourable one; the gardens behind the houses pleasantly face the Green Park, so that the bees have an uninterrupted flight to start with. They are also within easy range of the richly flowered gardens of Buckingham Palace and those of the nobility and gentry who reside around the Parks. To those gardens the bees of St. James's Place resort, without waiting for any license or certificate from the royal and noble owners of the honey yielding preserves. Being within a short distance of our establishment, when this gentleman's bees swarm he generally sends to us for assistance in hiving them.

The neighbourhood of St. John's Wood, and indeed almost all the suburbs of London, are favourable for the production of honey. We mention St. John's Wood because, from the fact of having kept bees there ourselves, we are able to prove by our experience that they do well in that locality. We have several customers on nearly all sides of the town, who have each had this year a considerable surplus of honey in their "supers," after leaving sufficient for the bees themselves in the lower or stock hives.

We exhibited in our window last autumn a super of fine honey from the apiary of Shirley Hibberd, Esq., the proprietor and editor of the Gardiner's Weekly Magazine. It is a box containing 20 lbs. nett weight of honey, and was produced at Stoke Newington, only 3¼ miles from the General Post Office.

The Times "Bee-Master," whose letters from Tunbridge Wells have awakened so much interest in this pleasing pursuit, also commissioned us to exhibit a "super," produced under his own management in that locality. A friend of ours at Exeter had upwards of 400 lbs. of honey, of excellent quality, though one of his apiaries is quite within the city.

The last has been an excellent honey yielding season; our own bees, at Dorking, in Surrey, have produced us large quantities, and the accounts from nearly all parts of the country coincide in stating that the bees have in the year, 1864, enjoyed unusual opportunities for accumulation. In not a few localities, the season of 1863 was even more abundant.

WASPS AND MOTHS.

Bees have few enemies more formidable than wasps. The most effectual method of checking their invasion of hives, is to have as narrow an entrance as the bees can do with. If a stock be not very weak in numbers, the bees will be well able to guard a small aperture, and can repel the attacks of those insidious and merciless robbers. On this account, the entrance to our No. 5 hive as described at [page 31], may be used.

The bee-keeper is interested in preventing the increase of wasps; it is, therefore, a good practice for him to set a price on queen wasps in the spring, the death of one of them at that time being equivalent to the destruction of a whole nest.

Should nests be found in the neighbourhood of an apiary, their annihilation must be accomplished either by blowing them up with gunpowder, an operation well understood by most country lads; or any other effectual method. The late Mr. Payne recommended that a small quantity of gas tar should be put into the mouth of a wasp's nest, and if then covered with earth, the total destruction of the wasps will be accomplished without further trouble. But to use blazing straw for the purpose is always dangerous in country districts. We have lately heard of a very ingenious and successful mode of entrapping and killing wasps. Place some sugar or strongly sweetened compound on the ground in a garden, and place over it a square hand glass, wedged up an inch or so all round. On this glass, which should have an opening at the apex, lodge another, but a sound one. The wasps, attracted by the sweets, will soon crowd under the lower glass, and when they have well feasted, will ascend into the upper one; there, between the two, they soon become scorched and perish by the heat of the sun shining on the outer glass.

The season of 1864 was most productive for the increase of these prime pests of the apiary, and many hives have severely suffered by their depredations. When once wasps in any number have gained an entrance into a hive, the bees can seldom eject them, and the invaders generally remain until they have freely regaled themselves from the luscious store. They not only consume the honey, but cause a good deal of worry to the legitimate inhabitants of the hive, as well as killing the foremost defenders of it. Wasps being of so much superior strength, it requires, at least, three bees to master one of them.

Having suffered loss in our own apiary from the attacks of wasps, we feel it desirable to give a detailed account of our own troubles from that cause. One of our Ligurian stocks was besieged and worried by wasps to such an extent, that the bees deserted it on the 5th of September, (1864). Fortunately, the bees chose a time for their departure just as we visited the apiary. An unusual turmoil was heard in the hive, such as is experienced at the time of swarming, and on immediately examining the entrance, we observed that the bees were quitting in tumultuous haste. The usual methods that induce bees to settle were tried—amongst others, that of throwing sand up into the air, so as it should fall down amongst the bees on the wing; but they were dispersed in disorder, and their flight extended over three adjacent gardens. We only discovered the clustered bees by diligent search, as the sequel will show. Permission being asked of our next door neighbour, we searched his garden to see if our bees had alighted there; but found that they had passed over. Making a similar application to the owner of the garden adjoining, we entered, having a straw hive in hand, but no bees were there. After looking diligently all round, and climbing the wall, thereby gaining a view of the third garden, we perceived in it unmistakable signs of an unwonted commotion. The occupiers of the house were intently looking at a particular part of the garden, and there was a dustpan and a key, with which the master had been "tanging the bees" to induce them to settle. We quickly made for the proper entrance to the garden, and soon discovered our little wanderers clustered to a large flower vase. Our neighbours, however, were sadly disappointed of their prize, for the gardener had hastily been dispatched into the town to purchase a hive for the welcome colonists. In depriving our neighbours of so unexpected and cheaply acquired a treasure, we could sympathise with their regret, having been much disheartened half-an-hour before at our own loss; but, of course, we could do no other than claim our own bees. We gladly agreed to defray the expense of the straw hive that had been purchased for the sake of our truant swarm. After brushing the bees into the hive, and leaving it propped up with a stick, in order that the stray ones might join, we returned home for an hour or so, to give them time to settle. Judge of our vexation when on returning to fetch the hive home, we found that the refractory creatures had again taken flight, and that all the work was to do over again. The wasps were not to blame for this second flight of the Ligurians; we judged that the swarm had been disturbed by visits from a colony of bees that we discovered were living the life of outlaws under the roof of an adjoining house. Although much disheartened and perplexed, we at once renewed our search, and, upon enquiry, found that the missing bees had taken a southerly course across the turnpike road, and it was therefore necessary to ask permission to search the gardens of the houses opposite. From one of these we observed, on looking through the hedge, that the inhabitants of the next house were on the qui vive. On enquiring whether they had seen a colony of bees, the wary old dame replied that she "had no bees but her own," and added that "they were very much excited." Having asked permission to go through the hedge to look at her bees, we soon discovered our Ligurians on the top of the old lady's bee-house. There was no difficulty in identifying our own bees; their yellow rings were as good as a private mark. Quickly hiving the swarm, we took them home, and replaced them in the hive they had quitted. It was almost destitute of honey; but by liberal feeding, and lessening the entrance so that only one bee at a time could find ingress or egress, we succeeded in inducing them to rest in their old home. Thus nearly half a day's exertion was needed to save a fine colony, which would otherwise have been utterly lost by the power of the relentless wasps.

Much watchfulness is needed to prevent the loss of swarms, and the foregoing incident may serve to suggest the necessity of having hives so located as to be constantly within view, either from the dining room, or of those whose duties oblige them to be near the apiary. If we had not happened to be at hand at the moment this colony started, it would have been irretrievably lost to us. Many swarms and colonies are lost simply because the departure takes place without any one witnessing it. Let us hope that runaway bees may always fall into the hands of those who are as capable of taking care of them as our neighbours appeared to be on the occasion we have described.

Another formidable enemy of bees are the moths. These insects are creatures of the night, as the bees of the day, and they make their way into the hives under cover of darkness, in spite of the bee-sentinels. They deposit their eggs in any crevices in or near the hive that they can find. There the warmth of the hive or of the sheltered situation, causes the eggs speedily to hatch, and then the maggots soon work their way to the comb and larvæ food, which they greedily devour, thereby often bringing about the gradual but certain destruction of the whole community of bees. The best way of keeping moths outside the hives is to lessen the entrance, as before alluded to. Also, in the early spring, the hives should be lifted from their floorboards, which must then be made thoroughly clean, and all crevices and corners about the hive and stand should be scraped, so as to get rid of all eggs of moths and other insects before the warm weather hatches them or enables them to do mischief. The bee-moth is not so troublesome in England as it is in America and some parts of Germany; but still its encroachments should be carefully guarded against in this country, for if not, it may easily increase to a very serious extent.

DRAINING HONEY FROM THE COMBS.

Those of our readers who prefer eating "run honey" to honey in the comb, may be glad of some instruction as to the best way of separating the two. For this purpose, it is better to let the honey run without squeezing, in order to preserve both its transparency and flavour.

Take a sharp knife, and slice the combs on both sides, keeping the knife parallel with the partition wall, so that every cell may be laid open. Place these broken combs in a sieve, or on a piece of muslin stretched across and tied round the opening of a pan or large mouthed jar. Allow the honey to flow out of the combs spontaneously, and reserve the squeezing process for a separate jar, so that the honey of the first drained jar may be perfectly pure, both in appearance and flavour. That which has pressure put on it will be waxy in flavour and thick. Some persons recommend that the opened combs be placed in the sun, as the heat will cause the honey to run more freely. The great disadvantage of this is, the temptation the honey will offer to bees, who will be eager to gain a share. Honey whilst in the combs keeps remarkably well when left in the supers; if cut out, the combs should be folded in writing paper and sealed up, so as effectually to prevent free entrance of air; they should then be placed in a warm dry closet.

Honey, like most vegetable products, should be fresh every year. It may easily be kept from one season to another; but when kept beyond that time, unless very carefully stored in a warm temperature, it will crystallize in the comb, and it is liable to ferment when in jars separated from the comb.

GENERAL REMARKS.

Every bee-keeper should be a book-keeper; that is, so far as to have a permanent record of the events of the apiary and the fortunes of his bees. A book similar to a tradesman's journal would be very suitable for the purpose. In it he should note down the date of the first swarm of the season especially, and those of the other swarms also; and in autumn, the quantity of honey taken from each hive should be entered, with remarks on the probable size of the various stocks. These particulars will not only be interesting for the bee-keeper to turn to in winter, but will be of practical service in enabling him to know the exact age and probable strength of each stock. The bee-book may also be contrived to show the total amount of honey that the bees have produced for their owner, and the net money profit of the apiary. A simple and clear account Like this—provided, by the bye, that it does show a satisfactory balance—will be very useful for inducing cottagers and farm labourers to start bee-keeping. Nothing like ocular demonstration for this class. The "humane" apiarian will reason with them in vain until he shows them a monster "skep" of honey, and mentions the price that it will fetch in the market. When convinced that the depriving system will pay, the cottager will gladly adopt it.

A writer in the Quarterly Review gives the following good advice:—"Don't bore the cottager with long lectures; don't heap upon him many little books; but give him a hive of the best construction, show him the management, and then buy his honey; buy all he brings, even though you should have to give the surplus to some gardenless widow. But only buy such as comes from an improved hive—and you cannot easily be deceived in this,—one which preserves the bees and betters the honey. Then, when you pay him, you may read to him, if you will, the wise rules of old Butler," exempli gratia:—

"If thou wilt have the favour of thy bees that they sting thee not, thou must not be unchaste or uncleanly; thou must not come among them with a stinking breath, caused either through eating of leeks, onions, or garlic, or by any other means, the noisomeness whereof is corrected by a cup of beer; thou must not be given to surfeiting or drunkenness; thou must not come puffing or blowing unto them, neither hastily stir among them, nor violently defend thyself when they seem to threaten thee; but, softly moving by, thy hand before thy face, gently put them by; and, lastly, thou must be no stranger to them. In a word, (or rather, in five words,) be chaste, sweet, sober, quiet, familiar; so they will love thee and know thee from all others."

Allusion having been made to the profit that may be gained by the judicious management of bees, we will illustrate that point by relating an anecdote of a certain French curé.[9] It is one which may be suggestive to some of the rural clergy in this country, who might almost as easily keep an apiary as they do a garden or an orchard.

[9] This story, in a disguised form, or—as the writer would say—an improved form, was quoted in the Cornhill Magazine some time ago. In transforming the bee-keeping cure into an English clergyman the effect was cleverly

A good French bishop, in paying his annual visit to his clergy, was very much afflicted by the representations they made to him of their extreme poverty, which indeed the appearance of their houses and families corroborated. Deploring the sad state of things which had reduced them to such a condition, he arrived at the house of a curate who, living amongst a poorer set of parishioners than any he had yet visited, would, he feared, be in a still more woful plight than the rest. Contrary, however, to his expectations, he found the appearance of this remote parsonage to be superior to those he had already visited. Everything about the house wore the aspect of comfort and plenty. The good bishop was amazed. "How is this, my friend," said he, "you are the first pastor I have met with having a cheerful face and a plentiful board! Have you any income independent of your cure?" "Yes, Sire," said the pastor, "I have: my family would starve on the pittance I receive from the poor people that I instruct. If you will walk into the garden, I will show you the stock that yields me such excellent interest." On going into the garden, he showed the bishop a long range of bee-hives. "There," said he, "is the bank from which I draw an annual dividend, and it is one that never stops payment." His harvest of honey enabled him almost to dispense with the use of sugar, leaving him a considerable quantity of it for disposal in the market; of the coarser portions he made a tolerable substitute for wine, and the sale of his wax nearly paid his shoemaker's bill. Ever afterwards, when any of the clergy complained to the bishop of poverty, he would say to them "Keep bees! keep bees!" In this succinct advice, extending it to laity as well as clergy in rural districts, we heartily join, believing that in this country a ten times greater number of hives might be successfully kept than are now established. In a very practical sense, the oft repeated lines of Gray are strictly true:—

"Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,

And waste its fragrance on the desert air."

enhanced, especially as to the dismay of the decorous English prelate in hearing that his poor brother in the Church had turned "manufacturer;" but then the vraisemblance of the story, as we have it, was destroyed. An apiary in the garden of every village clergyman would afford the means of economising this unclaimed bounty of Providence.

Bees may be very inexpensively and profitably kept in the Cottager's hive (see [page 34]), which will be found a very productive one. It is true that it has not the appliances of windows and bell glasses; for the cottager is not supposed so much to care for his hives as a source of amusement; his object in bee-keeping is simply the profit it may bring. For those of our readers who wish to have united the facility of observing the bees with that of the plentiful production of honey, we would especially recommend the "Improved Cottage" hive, described at [page 28]. If inclined to go to a little further expense, the hives numbered 1, 2, 3, and 7, all afford constant opportunity for inspection of the bees, and allow of their working freely in the most natural manner.

There are few hobbies which cost so little outlay as the keeping of bees. Once the "plant" of hives is purchased, there is little, if any, additional expense, and always a probability of a fair return. If honey be obtainable, the bees will find it; they work for nothing, and provide themselves with sustenance, requiring only a very little labour from their keepers, and that labour is of a pleasing and instructive kind.

To the advanced and skilful apiarian we would especially commend the use of the Bar-and-frame hives. With these, as we have attempted to show, the bee-keeper has a full command over his hives and bees. Many mistakes, it is true, have been made by uninitiated bee-keepers in using the more elaborate hives. Being struck with the remarkable facilities afforded by these superior hives for the extraction of any one comb, and, perhaps, fascinated with their easy sway over so highly organized a community, these new-fangled bee-keepers have acquired a habit of perpetually and incautiously meddling with the bees. The inevitable results in such cases are distress to the bees, impoverishment of the stocks, and loss and vexation to the over zealous apiarian. All these things may be avoided, if it be remembered that there are first steps in bee-keeping, as well as in croquet, chemistry, or cricket. In bee-keeping, as in floriculture it is a great point to know when to "let well alone." There is no florist, however anxious for a prize, who would be continually pulling up his plants to see how their roots were growing. Doubtless, the full control which the bars and frames afford over the inmost recesses of the hives, is a great temptation to the bee-keeper; but, if he yields too readily to it, he will imperil his chance of profit, and deprive himself of that continuous source of interest, which a judicious apiarian always enjoys.

Many persons who are well informed on most subjects, are extraordinarily ignorant of the natural history of bees, and the economy of the bee-hive. Perhaps we might venture to suggest that, more pains should be taken at schools or by parents to inform young persons on this, in connection with kindred subjects. As an amusing illustration of the ignorance referred to, we transcribe an order we received a short time since from a seminary in the north of England. The young gentleman thus writes:—"Master —— presents his compliments to Messrs. Neighbour, and begs they will send him a swarm of bees; he encloses six postage stamps, and hopes they will send him a good swarm." This embryo naturalist was evidently of a mercantile turn, and had a mind to buy in the cheapest market, for in a postscript he adds:—"Please let it be fourpence, if you can!" We need scarcely say that in reply we endeavoured to enlighten our juvenile correspondent as to what constituted a swarm of bees, and returned the stamps, with our thanks.

The culture of bees would be greatly promoted, if a knowledge of it were considered necessary as one of the regular qualifications of a gardener. So little time is needed to gain the skill requisite for the tendance of an apiary, that it seems only reasonable to expect it of a well taught gardener, and he should feel a pleasure in the circumstance of its forming a part of his duties. In Germany, where a country gentleman's table is kept constantly supplied with fresh honey, the gardeners are expected to understand the management of hives; and in Bavaria, modern bee culture is taught in the colleges to all the horticultural students. Travellers in Switzerland will call to mind the almost invariable practice of placing new honey on the breakfast tables at hotels in that country.

Some writers on bee-culture attach much importance to the particular position in which an apiary stands, and the aspect towards which it faces. A southern, or rather a south-eastern aspect is the one which we have already recommended. Our reason for this preference is, that we deem it very important for the bees to have the first of the morning sun. Bees are early risers, and should have every inducement given them for the maintenance of so excellent a practice. A few years since, many strong opinions were expressed in favour of a northern aspect for hives. The chief reason given for those opinions, though very plausible, appears to us to be a very partial and inadequate one. It was said that, when the hives face the south, the bees may, like the incautious swallow in the fable, be tempted to fly abroad in the transient winter sunshine, and then perish in the freezing atmosphere when a passing cloud intervenes. But it is a very easy matter, if considered needful, to screen the entrance by fixing up matting so as to intercept the rays of the sun. At our own apiary we make no alteration in winter, under the belief that the bees will take care of themselves, and they seldom venture out when the weather is unsuitable.

With hives exposed in the open garden, it is a good practice to wind hay-bands round them in frosty weather, as such a protection enables the bees to resist the cold.

When a thaw occurs, everything, both in and out of doors, has a great deal of dampness about it. The combs of a hive are not exempt from this, so that it is advisable to have slight upward ventilation in winter. Holes the size of a pin's head allow of the escape of a good deal of bad air, which is generated by the exhalations of the bees, as well as by the dampness before referred to. These holes being small, do not create sufficient draft through the hives to be pernicious; if closed up by propolis, are readily reopened with a pin. With wooden hives in winter, a bell glass is often found to be useful; it should be placed over the hole in the crown-board, with a zinc trough to receive the condensed moisture.

In summer bees do much towards ventilating their own stock-hives. The observant apiarian will not fail to remark how, on a warm day, several of the little creatures will stand at the entrance with their abdomens slightly raised, and their twinkling wings in rapid motion, producing a current of air inwards; while another set are engaged in like manner, driving the bad air out, so that a supply of pure oxygen is conveyed to the crowded inmates. In this fanning operation their wings vibrate with such rapidity, that their shape is as indistinct as are the spokes of a wheel when revolving in rapid centrifugal motion.

This important office entails great physical exertion on the part of the bees, and they relieve each other in detachments.

Some bee-keepers find an adapting board convenient for placing underneath straw supers, as it facilitates their removal. These boards are made of mahogany half an inch thick, with a hole in the centre corresponding with that in the stock hive. We do not consider it necessary to fix cross sticks in the straw stock hives, as is frequently done; but if the apiarian prefers to have his hives so furnished, there is no serious objection to it. These observations refer to our Cottager's hive ([page 34]).

There is another little matter of detail that should be named here; that is, the necessity of the bee-keeper always having a common hive in readiness near the bees, so as to be able to secure any swarm which may unexpectedly start.

Here our pleasant task must close. We trust that all information has been given that is needful to enable the practical bee-keeper to begin business, and the scientific apiarian to commence his observations. By way of illustrating the two characters combined, we will conclude by quoting another simple idyl by the German bee-keeper, Herr Braun, whose winter musings we have already presented to the reader.

[From "The Journal of Horticulture."]

ON THE FIRST FLIGHT OF BEES IN SPRING.

By Adalbert Braun, Translated by "A Devonshire Bee-keeper."

Hark! what is so gaily humming

In the little garden there?

Hark! what is so briskly whizzing

Through the still and silent air?

Friend, it is our bees—the darlings—

Now enliven'd by the Spring;

Yes, the winter is departed.

And once more they're on the wing.

Happy he, who winter's perils

All his stocks brings safely through;

Thank Him, of all good the Giver—

Faithful Watchman He, and true.

Of my own are none departed.

All as yet unhurt remain;

Though no longer rich in honey.

Yet is Spring returned again!

Come, and let us view them nearer—

Enter by the garden gate;—

So—stand still, and watch their doings—

Light your pipe, and patient wait.

See how busily they traverse

To their pasturage and back,

That they may by toil unwearied

Save the commonwealth from wrack.

Look, O look! what loads of pollen,

Bring they in with heedful care.

Nurslings, fear not; for your cravings

Here's sufficient and to spare.

How they dart and how they hurtle

Through the genial balmy air!

To the mountains—to the meadows—

'Tis the scent attracts them there!

There they dexterously rifle

Nectar from each flow'r in bloom;

Toil they for our honey harvest,

For us fill the honey-room.

Yes, our bees, our precious darlings.

We salute you all to-day;

For your life is our enjoyment—

Winter's sleep has pass'd away.

Grant prosperity, Heaven!

To the new-born honey-year—

Give thy favour—give thy blessing—

To these objects of our care.

Now let each attentive guardian

In devoted service strive

For the proud, the Matron-monarch—

Sov'reign of the honey-hive.

So that we may learn by watching

Who that in the noon-tide glance,

Or in midnight's darkest moments.

Summons her to Hymen's dance.[10]

Ev'ry bee-hive calls for patience,

Whilst great Haller's lessons teach

Without patience Nature's secrets

None successfully can reach.

T. W. Woodbury, Mount Radford, Exeter.

[10] This point cannot now be considered doubtful, but it must be remembered that Herr Braun's verses were written eighteen years ago.

In conclusion, we would remind all bee-keepers who earnestly desire success, and who hope to draw pecuniary profit from their pursuit, of the golden rule in bee-keeping:—"Keep your stocks strong." In exercising the assiduous attention and persevering effort, which that maxim enjoins, they will not only be regarded as bee-keepers, but, as Mr. Langstroth says, will acquire a right to the title of bee-masters.