The apiary; or, bees, bee-hives, and bee culture [1866] / 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

VI. MISCELLANEOUS INFORMATION.

STINGS: THEIR PREVENTION AND CURE.

OME 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; perchance 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, do not attempt to beat them off; the safest and best retreat is a green bush. Thrust your head into this, or if no such refuge be near, in an emergency, throw yourself on the ground, and, with face downwards, 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. (See [page 46].) 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. The dart, as before said, is barbed on each side, so that the bee, when very angry, is scarcely ever able to withdraw it, but

"Deems life itself to vengeance well resigned;

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

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 homoeopathically 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 larvae 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 (see [page 41]). 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," who 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 nurslings of the hive. A German pastor, Herr 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, some 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 such 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, it would prove more fruitful than its fellows. On this account, the orchard is a good place for an apiary, for it seems that, 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, as described at [page 45]; 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 extraction of 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 hives 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 oh 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 are the flowers that the bees prefer; and there are certain well-established conclusions as to the kind of district and seasons 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 pollen and 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 tongue 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, 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[23]—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. Lime-trees, when in blossom, and mignonette are also' most valuable resources. 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.

[23] It is a good practice to induce the owners of adjacent fields to sow clover-seed.

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 "honeydew," 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 them. (See coloured engraving, [Plate I., figs, 1, 2, 3.]) 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.

Tennyson most probably refers to these Ligurian bees in the following stanza of his beautiful poem "Eleanore":—

"Or the yellow banded bees,

Through half-open lattices,

Coming in the scented breeze,

Fed thee, a child, lying alone,

With whitest honey in fairy gardens culled:

A glorious child, dreaming alone

In silk soft folds, upon yielding down,

With the hum of swarming bees

Into dreamful slumbers lulled."

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 wasp 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, for such summary capital punishment was wholly unmerited, because, when a bee is peaceably received (see [page 127]), it becomes naturalized, and works side by side with the others in its fresh abode. 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 entrance of other hives.

In the season of 1864, we 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 probosces of the common bees, 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.[24]

[24] 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 M. Hermann's offer, we received a consignment of Italian Alp bees,—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, M. 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 M. 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."

If we are correctly informed, poor Hermann himself has not yet greatly profited by the discovery of the mine. He appears to have quitted Switzerland, and travelled to America, as, by the latest accounts, we learn that he is now in the neighbourhood of Philadelphia, prosecuting his favourite calling with his accustomed ardour, among the apiaries of amateur bee-keepers. We are glad that M. Hermann is thus engaged, for report had reached us that he was dead—a report to which we gave currency in our first edition.

In the pamphlet referred to, M. 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-bees, or tame house-bees, in contradistinction 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 emigration of M. Hermann from his native land, 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,[25] 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.

[25] The plan of uniting an Italian queen to an English stock is, first, to discover the queen by lifting out the frames, then take her away. This, we find, is best done by putting a wine-glass over her whilst on the comb, and, with a card a little larger than the diameter of the glass, very carefully and gently passed underneath, so as not to injure her majesty, she is thus, with a few of her subjects, made a prisoner, and easily removed. Be careful to cut away with a penknife all queen-cells. Let the hive remain queenless for twenty-four hours, and then place the Italian queen in a small wire cage, the openings of which must be large enough to enable her to receive the attentions of, and to communicate with, her new subjects, and, at the same time, to defend her from the animosity with which bees regard a stranger-queen, that has a scent different from that of her new home. Three or four days' intercourse through the wire meshes generally has a reconciling effect, and the Italian queen may be let go free to become the monarch of the hive. Sometimes, even with all this precaution, the foreigner is slain, so that it is well to preserve the black queen alive (with a few of her own subjects), by feeding and keeping her warm until the result is known. The wire cage containing the new queen is made of a flat shape, so as to be pressed down between the combs, against some honey-cells, in order that, should the inhabitants of the hive be inattentive, her majesty need not starve, but have food within reach. As it is generally considered that the queen is fed by working bees, it is always necessary to put about half a dozen of her own subjects in the cage with her, to pay her the requisite attention.

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.

We now add to the testimonies already cited that of Mr. Woodbury, as to the superior qualities of Ligurian bees. The following is extracted from the 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 38 lbs. of the finest honeycomb,[26] 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."

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

In a private letter received from Mr. Langstroth, he informs us that he has, in the season of 1865, bred over 300 Ligurian queens; these he has disseminated to various bee-masters on the American continent, and the united opinion of apiarians in that country is increasingly in favour of the decided advantage of the cultivation of the Italian bee.

After such emphatic 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. The honey-bee of the Holy Land is the Ligurian.

The Rev. H. B. Tristram, M.A., in his valuable book, "The Land of Israel," has the following interesting account of the bees in that country:—In Palestine bee-keeping is not an unimportant item of industry, and every house possesses a pile of bee-hives in its yard. Though similar in its habits, the hive-bee of Palestine is a different species to our own. "We never," he says, "found Apis mellifica, L., our domestic species, in the country, though it very possibly occurs in the north; but the common Holy Land insect, Apis ligustica, is amazingly abundant; both in hives, in rocks, and in old hollow, trees. It is smaller [?] than our bees, with brighter yellow, bands: on the thorax and abdomen, which, is rather wasp-like in shape, and with very long antennæ. In its habits, and especially in the immense population of neuters in each community, and in the drones cast forth in autumn, it resembles the other species. Its sting, also, is quite as sharp. The hives are very simple, consisting of large tubes of sun-dried mud, like gas-pipes, about four feet long, and closed with mud at each end, leaving only an aperture in the centre, large enough for two or three bees to, pass at a time. The insects appear to frequent both doors equally. The tubes are laid in rows horizontally, and piled in a pyramid. I counted one of these colonies, consisting of seventy-eight tubes, each a distinct hive. Coolness being the great object, the whole is thickly plastered over with mud, and covered with boughs, while a branch is stuck in the ground at each end, to assist the bees in alighting. At first we took these singular structures for ovens or hen-houses. The barbarous practice of destroying the swarms for their honey is unknown. When the hives are fully, the clay is removed from the ends of the pipes, and the honey extracted with an iron hook; those pieces of comb which contain young bees being carefully replaced, and the hives then closed up again. Everywhere during our journey we found honey was always to be purchased; and it is used by the natives for many culinary purposes, and especially for the preparation of sweet cakes. It has the delicate aromatic flavour of the thyme-scented honey of Hybla or Hymettus.

"But, however extensive are the bee-colonies of the villages, the number of wild bees of the same species is far greater. The innumerable fissures, and clefts of the limestone rocks, which everywhere flank the valleys, afford in their recesses secure shelter for any number of swarms; and many of the Bedouin, particularly in the wilderness of Judæea, obtain: the subsistence by bee-hunting, bringing into Jerusalem jars of that wild, honey on which John the Baptist fed in the wilderness, and which Jonathan had long before unwittingly tasted, when the comb had dropped on the ground from the hollow tree in which it was suspended. The visitor to the Wady Kurn, when he sees the busy multitudes of bees about its cliffs, cannot but recall to mind the promise, 'With honey out of the stony rock would I have satisfied thee.' There is no epithet of the Land of Promise more true to the letter, even to the present day, than this, that it was 'a land flowing with milk and honey."

Does not evidence such as this point to the conclusion that the bees which Sampson found in the carcase of the lion were Ligurian; and may we not further speculate that the ribs of the carcase constituted the first bar-hive? Surely, "there is no new thing under the sun."

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 an 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. Mr. Wilson informs us that one of these hives contained 136 lbs. of honey, on the 25th of December, 1864 (Midsummer in Australia).

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, even with adequate ventilation, 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 these 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. Several of his operations with them were regarded as feats of legerdemain by the uninitiated, as when he appeared before 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 each of 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 comer 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 inquiry 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 practised in many districts, has such a notable effect on the honey harvest.

A novel sight for Londoners to witness occurred in June, 1865. A swarm, having been ordered to be sent into the country the following morning, was temporarily placed on the leads at the back of our house, 149, Regent Street. The sun shining hot on the hive, or some other cause, induced the inmates to decamp. A passer-by called in to inform us that some bees had arrested the progress of a cab. We at once conjectured that they were those of our missing swarm, the absence of which had previously puzzled us not a little; so we sent our man with a straw-hive to bring the truants back, which he succeeded in doing, followed to the door by a crowd, who were amazed at the sight of the "'oney-bees," as the Cockney lads called them. Cabby had to be compensated for the loss of his fare, for the affrighted passengers had left him in a hurry, so that, altogether, no little commotion was caused—a crowd so soon collects in London streets. Among the lookers-on appears to have been a reporter from the Times newspaper, for, two days afterwards, the following paragraph appeared in the leading journal:—

"A Swarm of Bees in Burlington Street.—On Wednesday afternoon, about five o'clock, not a little excitement and astonishment was caused in New Burlington Street, Regent Street, by the circumstance of a swarm of bees alighting on a cab which had just drawn up at the Burlington Restaurant. A man having procured a hive, set to work, and, with assistance, succeeded in securing the whole of the unexpected visitors, and took them away. A swarm of bees is rarely, if ever, seen in the streets of London, but it is not an uncommon occurrence for a swarm to stray considerable distances."

The reporter was, of course, unaware that, instead of the bees having "strayed" so far as he represented, they were brought into London by rail, and had made but a short flight from their temporary home.

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 collection of these hives are now exhibited by the Acclimatisation Society of Great Britain, with living bees in them, at the Fish Department of the Royal Horticultural Gardens, South Kensington.

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 licence 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 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, in the autumn of 1864, a super of fine honey from the apiary of Mr. Shirley Hibberd, the proprietor and editor of the Gardeners' Weekly Magazine. It consisted of 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. Mr. S. B. Fox, 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, 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 years 1864 and 1865; 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 cottager-hive, as described at [page 74], 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 wasps' 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 much superior in 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 troubles from that cause. A Ligurian stock 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 that 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 dust-pan 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 a so unexpected and cheaply-acquired 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 inquiry, 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 inquiring 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 anyone 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.

Other formidable enemies of bees are moths. These insects are creatures of the night, as the wasps are 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 method 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 floor-boards, 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. In the season of 1865, wasps were as few as they were numerous the preceding year; their paucity was attributable either to frosts in May or to heavy rains in June, which destroyed them in their nests. In general, wasps are great depredators of wall-fruit, but, in the autumn before mentioned, the bees occupied the wasps' foraging-ground. Perhaps never in the memory of bee-keepers did bees feast upon fruit in the same manner. Various reasons have been assigned for this unusual occurrence; some thought that as there were so few wasps the bees were unmolested, and enjoyed the saccharine matter in the fruit without let or hindrance—for bees are about as partial to the company of wasps as mice are to that of rats. Other bee-keepers remarked the sudden and early termination of the honey-gathering, and conjectured that the bees, being anxious to make up their winter store, endeavoured to bring home nectar from the fruit because the weather was unusually fine. There was one feature which is worth remarking: as far as our observation extended, the bees did not, like the wasps, break the skin of sound fruit, but were satisfied with lapping the juice of the ripe fruit that had the skin already broken.

An unusual amount of robbing and fighting occurred in the autumn of 1865; the weather remaining fine and warm, and the honey having all but ceased in the flowers, the bees began to assail each other's hives, as usual, the strong attacking the weak. In most years, this spirit of depredation exists, and the bee-keeper should be on his guard not to tempt the avarice of bees' by exposing honey, either in the comb or liquid, and also to be very tardy of opening bar and frame hives at this time of year. If needful to do so (soon after sunrise is the safest, because there will be few bees about), take the hive to a quiet corner of the garden, many yards away from the other hives, and do what is requisite speedily, so as not to expose the honey to the scent of a host of robbers, who will most unceremoniously pillage, and cause a terrible commotion. This caution will also be necessary to be kept in view when removing supers. In fact, many liberties that may be taken with bees when they are busy in the gathering season will most wofully disturb an apiary in August or September; and this plundering spirit may exist even in October.[27]

[27] In the spring of the year, great care is also needful as regards feeding and in opening hives.

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 offers 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 to effectually prevent the 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.

DISEASES OF BEES.

Dysentery is a disease produced either by long confinement, by dampness, or by feeding in the winter. The first thing bees do when disturbed is to fill themselves with food, so that in winter weather, when they cannot get out to void their fæces, hives should not be meddled with, otherwise the complaint may be brought on. It is also engendered in many instances by the state of the weather in winter months, and is indicated by the yellow colour of the excrement, and by its being voided upon the floors and at the entrance of the hives, which bees in a healthy state generally keep clean. All, that can be done for them when affected is to well clean or to change the floor-board, and so produce cleanliness. Having made some remarks on this disease at [page 214], in connection with bees sent to Australia, we will pass on to the more formidable, but happily less common, malady of "foul brood."

This disease does not attack the bees themselves, but affects the larvæ, by causing them to putrefy in the cells, thus destroying all hope of the rising generation. Bees are exceedingly fond of their young, and are greatly dispirited when their hives are in this plight. In common with most pestilential disorders, no satisfactory cause is assigned for its first appearance. Some apiarians contend, that "foul brood" is another name for chilled, brood; others, that the queen, by a freak of nature, deposits some of her eggs the wrong way upwards, and that these putrefy in the cells and contaminate the others. Whatever may be the origin, one thing is very certain, "it is catching;" there is, however, in the circumstance of the adult bees and of those about emerging from the cells not being injuriously affected thereby, a great help to its eradication, as will presently be shown.

There are two kinds of foul brood—one is moist and fœtid, the other is dry and not contagious, the brood merely drying up in the cells, and, from its partial character, is probably within the power of the bees themselves to overcome. In the former, instead of drying up, the brood remains dark and slimy in the cells, and emits a most unpleasant odour, perceptible at some distance from the hive.

In the year 1848, Pastor Dzierzon lost a large number of stocks from this disease; he, however, was enabled to banish it from his apiary, and communicated to a German bee-journal very wholesome advice, which Mr. Langstroth quotes, and from which we make an extract:—"When the malady makes its appearance in only two or three of the colonies, and is discovered early (which may readily be done in hives having movable combs), it can be arrested and cured without damage or diminution of profit. To prevent the disease from spreading in a colony, there is no more reliable and efficient process THAN TO STOP THE PRODUCTION OF BROOD; for where no brood exists, none can perish or putrefy. The disease is thus deprived both of its aliment and its subjects. The healthy brood will mature and emerge in due time, and the putrid matter remaining in a few cells will dry up and be removed by the workers. All this will certainly result from a well-timed removal of the queen from such colonies. If such removal becomes necessary in the spring or early part of the summer, a supernumerary queen is thereby obtained, by means of which an artificial colony may be started, which will certainly be healthy if the bees and brood used be taken from healthy colonies. Should the removal be made in the latter part of summer, the useless production of brood will at once be stopped and an unnecessary consumption of honey prevented. Thus, in either case, we are gainers by the operation."

In cases where the disease assumes a more malignant character—in other words, "has got ahead," through "not being nipped in the bud,"—it will be well to take notice of another quotation from Mr. Langstroth's book:—"In the spring or summer, when the weather is fine and pasturage abounds, the following cure is recommended by a German apiarian:—'Drive out the bees into any clean, hive, and shut them up in a dark place without food for twenty-four hours; prepare for them a clean hive, properly fitted up with comb from healthy colonies; transfer the bees into it, and confine them two days longer, feeding them with pure honey.'"

Mr. Woodbury's apiary was severely attacked by this disease in the spring and summer of 1863. The writer happened to be on a visit to him at this juncture, and witnessed him withdrawing infected combs from hives that were literally masses of corruption, the brood-cells of which, on being opened with a pointed instrument, revealed the dark brown slimy matter before alluded to, and from which arose a most unpleasant smell. Mr. Woodbury communicated to the Journal of Horticulture, of July 21, 1863, an exact and graphic account of his misfortunes, headed "A Dwindling Apiary." Finding that the removal of the putrid matter must be simultaneously effected and the bees driven out and placed in hives that had undergone a complete purification, Mr. Woodbury set about endeavouring to accomplish his object, and was so far successful, that he was able to furnish an article to the before-named journal of August 4th, under the more cheerful title of "Convalescent," in which he says: "First, let me indorse the opinions both of Dzierzon and Rothe, that, except under very especial circumstances, it is unadvisable to attempt the cure of a foul-breeding stock: better, far better, to consign its inhabitants to the brimstone pit; the hive itself, if a straw one, to the flames; the comb to the melting pot; and appropriate the honey to any purpose, except that of feeding bees."

Mr. Woodbury further says: "Before starting, it was requisite to insure the transfer of the bees to unpolluted hives; and here I found that Dzierzon declares that every hive that has contained a foul-breeding colony should be exposed to the sun and air for two years before being re-stocked. In my own case, this was simply impossible, and I therefore adopted the practice of another German writer on the subject, viz., to scrape out the hive very carefully, wash it all over with a saturated solution of chloride of lime, keeping it closely shut up for twenty-four hours, and then, after thoroughly washing it with clean water, exposing it to the sun and air until the smell of the disinfectant had passed off. This method has the advantage of enabling one to use a wooden hive again after a lapse of a couple of days, and is, I believe, thoroughly effectual."

Mr. Woodbury then captured the queen, secured her in a "cage," and placed her in a clean empty hive; all her bees were brushed from their combs into it as rapidly as possible, in order to prevent their carrying much of the infected honey with them, whilst the combs themselves were set draining out of the bees' reach, and consigned as quickly as possible to the melting pot. After the lapse of three or four days, the queen (still imprisoned) and bees were again transferred to another clean hive, furnished with a few pure combs, and in this they were suffered to remain, their queen being released in a day or two, as soon as they appeared contentedly settled. Mr. Woodbury gives another important hint that operations of this kind with tainted combs should be performed out of reach of robber-bees from adjacent hives, lest they should carry the infection to their respective houses. By the before-mentioned process, Mr. Woodbury succeeded in completely extirpating foul brood from his apiary in 1863, and has had no return of it since. English apiarian writers have made so little allusion to this disorder, that some of our older bee-keepers contend that modern hives and foreign bees have something to do with bringing it about. To show that the disease made its appearance in former days, there is a chapter on this subject in Bonner's "Bee-Keeper's Companion," published at Berwick, in 1798, entitled, "An uncommon Disaster which sometimes, though rarely, happens to Bees," which Mr. Woodbury quotes at length in the Journal of Horticulture. Bonner, after recounting therein his observations of the dwindling state of his apiary for which he could not account, says: "He saw plainly that the young were all going backward in the cells, and that he looked down between the combs, but was unable to proceed for the stench that the rotten maggots produced." Mr. Langstroth writes that "Aristotle speaks of a disease which was accompanied with a disgusting smell, so that there is reason to believe that foul brood was known two thousand years ago."

When we take into consideration how sorely our farmers are perplexed by the cattle plague, known as the rinderpest, concerning which so many conflicting opinions exist (and the same may be said of the recommendations for its cure), can we wonder that our little favourites should occasionally be liable to disorders of this sort, which puzzle even experienced bee-keepers? In the hope of allaying unnecessary alarm, we would just add that "foul brood" is not a very general complaint, and, so far as our observation extends, has been most fatal in large experimental apiaries, where extensive propagation has necessarily had to be pushed forward. With the experience and advice already gained, this disorder may now be said to be deprived of its terrors.

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 gratiâ:—

"'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 though 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.[28] 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.

[28] 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 curé into an English clergyman, the effect was cleverly 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.

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 quantify for disposal in the market; of the coarser portions he made a tolerable substitute for wine, and the sale of the 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-fold 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 sweetness on the desert air."

An apiary in the garden of every village clergyman would afford the means of economising this unclaimed bounty of Providence.

An amusing, instance of the fondness of bears for honey is related by a Muscovite ambassador to Rome, in the "Feminine Monarchie; written out of Experience by Charles Butler. Printed in the Year 1609,"—a quaint, but sensible work:—

"A neighbour of mine (saith he), in searching in the woods for honey, slipped down into a great hollow tree, and there sunk into a lake of honey up to the breast; where—when he had stuck fast two days, calling and crying out in vain for help, because nobody in the meanwhile, came nigh that solitary place—at length, when he was out of all hope of life, he was strangely delivered by the means of a great bear, which, coming thither about the same business that he did, and smelling the honey, stirred with his striving, clambered up to the top of the tree, and then began to lower himself down backwards into it. The man bethinking himself, and knowing that the worst was but death—which in that place he was sure of—beclipt the bear fast with both his hands about the loins, and withal made an outcry as loud as he could. The bear being thus suddenly affrighted, what with the handling and what with the noise, made-up again with all speed possible. The man held, and the bear pulled, until, with main force, he had drawn him out of the mire; and then being let go, away he trots, more afeared than hurt, leaving the smeared swain in joyful fear."

Bees may be very inexpensively and profitably kept in the cottager's hive (see [page 80]), 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 69]. If inclined to go to a little further expense, the hives described at pages [51], [62], [77], and [84], all afford constant opportunity for inspection of the bees, and allow of their working freely in the most natural manner. The Stewarton hive ([page 109]) is also a favourite with those who give the preference to honey, stored in boxes, although the opportunities for observation are not so great as with some others.

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 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 is remembered that there are first steps in bee-keeping, as well as in chemistry, croquet, 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 connexion 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.

Much superstition has existed, and, in some quarters, still exists, among the poor respecting bees. If a death occurs in the family of the bee-owner, these superstitious folk consider it needful to make the bees aware of the bereavement by "waking" them; that is, by giving a few raps at the entrance, and audibly announcing the circumstance. If this be not done, "no luck," say they, will come of the bees the following season. Last summer, even near the metropolis, we heard a cottager bemoaning to his neighbour "his bad luck with his bees," when the other replied, "Ah! no wonder; you never 'waked' your bees when your wife died; what can you expect if you omit such needful duty?" In many parts of France, as well as here, it is a custom on such occasions to put the bees into mourning, by placing black crape or some such material round the hives. Bees also receive intelligence when a marriage or a christening takes place: in these cases, the hives are draped with red cloth. In fact, it is considered an essential element of "good luck" to inform the bees of any remarkable circumstance that occurs in the family of the bee-keeper. How would these good people manage with the newly-imported foreign bees, for they can hardly be expected to have learned our "lingo"? This difficulty is, however, not "likely" to be experienced, for it is to be hoped that intelligent bee-keepers do not believe in such nonsense. Fancy a man in this nineteenth century haranguing his bees after the above-mentioned fashion! Mr. Langstroth says that "some superstitious folk in America assert that the bees sometimes take the loss of their master so much to heart as to alight upon the coffin whenever it is exposed." A clergyman told him that he attended a funeral where, as soon as the coffin was brought from the house, the bees gathered on it so much as to excite alarm. Some years after this occurrence, being engaged in varnishing a table, the bees alighted upon it in such numbers as to convince the clergyman that love of the varnish on the outside, rather than any respect for the deceased within, was the occasion of their conduct at the funeral. Mr. Langstroth adds: "How many superstitions, believed even by intelligent persons, might be as easily explained, if it were possible to ascertain as fully all the facts connected with them?" Another infatuation is, that you should on no account part with your bees for silver money—only for gold. This is so far sensible, that it ensures a respectable price. Certain credulous bee-keepers cannot, on any account; be induced to part with their bees for money; they will barter, but not sell,—to sell bees is, in their view, to lay themselves open to evil fortune. If these apprehensions are correct, our punishment will be a severe one, for we have been great offenders in that way, and seem likely to go on sinning.

It is scarcely necessary to add that, with the increase of education, such superstitions and fancies are becoming less and less, and will soon, it is hoped, be ranked amongst the follies of bygone days.

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 that 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 draught through the hives to be pernicious; if closed up by propolis, they 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 sightly 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.

Fine colonies are sometimes destroyed by the entrance-way becoming stopped by some impediment or other, and care is requisite to keep a watch, that so fatal a catastrophe does not happen, because the bees (unless where very ample ventilation is given), excited by their imprisonment, make matters worse, by raising the temperature of their hive to such a pitch, that the combs melt from their foundations, and the bees themselves are suffocated, presenting, alas! a most woful spectacle to witness.

We give this hint because, having ourselves suffered from a similar cause when workmen have been employed in the vicinity of hives, these gentlemen, thoughtless of the welfare of the bees, but most careful of their own convenience, placed a piece of wood across, or otherwise stopped, the entrances, to prevent the bees coming out. In summer weather a very short time of confinement in a close hive suffices to complete the work of desolation; but should the bee-keeper's attention be drawn to such a state of things, he must immediately raise the hive from its floor-board, and let the poor bees have all the air possible, leaving them thus exposed for the purpose of affording them a chance of revival. When bees are likely to incommode those whose duties temporarily oblige them to be near the entrances, it is better to move the hives a few paces (for less loss will be experienced), or else let the workmen cover their faces with net. The foregoing remarks more particularly apply to the summer season. In winter or in the spring, when the weather is cool and the bees are not so numerous, hives may be shut up even for a day or so without much ventilation, and but little harm will arise therefrom.

When we send away stocks or swarms, we are always careful to pack them so as to allow of a full current of air, in order that they may travel even in the hottest weather.

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 80]).

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.

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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 extend his observations. By way of illustrating the two characters combined, we will quote another simple idyll, by the German bee-keeper, Herr Braun, whose winter musings we have already presented to the reader:—

ON THE FIRST FLIGHT OF BEES IN SPRING.

[From the German of Adalbert Braun.]
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 darling darlings,

We salute you all to-day;

For your life is our enjoyment—

Winter's sleep has pass'd away.

Grant prosperity, O 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.[29]

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.

[29] This point cannot now be considered doubtful, but it must be remembered that Herr Braun's verses were written twenty 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.