GENERAL.
A popular acquaintance with the habits of bees is very important. Such an accident as the following, related in the Scotsman newspaper, could scarcely have occurred if the victim had learned a little on this subject:—
"On Thursday, while Dr. Bonthron, of West Linton, Peebleshire, was being driven along the road leading from Garvald to the railway station at Dolphinton, he was attacked by a swarm of bees, apparently newly 'cast-off,' and so severely stung on the face and head as to be unable to attend to his duties for the present. His face and head became dreadfully swollen and disfigured an hour or two after the occurrence, the eyes being firmly closed, and the face and throat greatly swollen and discoloured, while a considerable amount of fever has set in from the effects of the poison—in fact, but for the precautions taken, it is probable that the case would have proved fatal. The driver of the vehicle was also severely stung on several parts of the head and neck, and only escaped further mischief by a timely use of whip and rein. The queen-bee of the caste must have flown directly on Dr. Bonthron's head, from the instantaneousness with which he was perfectly covered by the bees: and it is supposed that the motion of the vehicle must have irritated the insects to use their stings. Upwards of thirty bee-stings were taken out of Dr. Bonthron's face, neck, and head."
Had Dr. Bonthron remained perfectly still, the bees would not have been irritated, and they would have discovered there was no room for a swarm of bees in his hat; and if the driver could have distinguished the queen-bee, and quietly removed and laid her on the hedge-side, no catastrophe would have occurred. Bees are perfectly harmless in swarming. But of course any attempt to drive them off from their queen by violence never can be made with impunity.
But in the swarming season it is most expedient that nobody but their bee-master should take any share in hiving a swarm; for so nervous are most people at the presence of ten thousand stings, that they will indiscreetly and ignorantly irritate such members of the young family as may accidentally alight on them.
A far more delightful incident is recorded by Thorley:—
"In or about the year 1717, one of my swarms settling among the close-twisted branches of some codling-trees, and not to be got into an hive without more help, my maid-servant, hired into the family the Michaelmas before, very officiously offered her assistance, so far as to hold the hive while I dislodged the bees, she being little apprehensive of what followed.
"Having never been acquainted with bees, and likewise afraid, she put a linen cloth over her head and shoulders, concluding that would be a sufficient guard, and secure her from their swords. A few of the bees fell into the hive; some upon the ground; but the main body of them upon the cloth which covered her upper garments.
"No sooner had I taken the hive out of her hands, but, in a terrible fright and surprise, she cried out the bees were got under the covering, crowding up towards her breast and face, which immediately put her into a trembling posture. When I perceived the veil was of no further service, she at last gave me leave to remove it. This done, a most affecting spectacle presented itself to the view of all the company, filling me with the deepest distress and concern, as I thought myself the unhappy instrument of drawing her into so great and imminent hazard of her life, which now so manifestly lay at stake.
"It is not in my power to tell the confusion and distress of mind I was in, from the awful apprehensions it raised; and her dread and terror in such circumstances may reasonably be supposed to be much more. Every moment she was at the point of retiring with all the bees about her. Vain thought! to escape by flight. She might have left the place, indeed, but could not the company, and the remedy would have been much worse than the disease. Had she enraged them, all resistance had been vain, and nothing less than her life would have atoned for the offence. And now to have had that life (in so much jeopardy) insured, what would I not have given!
"To prevent, therefore, a flight which must have been attended with so fatal a consequence, I spared not to urge all the arguments I could think of, and use the most affectionate entreaties, begging her, with all the earnestness in my power, to stand her ground, and keep her present posture; in order to which, I gave encouragement to hope, in a little space, for a full discharge from her disagreeable companions; on the other hand, assuring her she had no other chance for her life. I was, through necessity, constantly reasoning with her, or else beseeching and encouraging her.
"I began to search among them for the queen, now got in a great body upon her breast, about her neck, and up to her chin. I presently saw her, and immediately seized her, taking her from the crowd, with some of the commons in company with her, and put them together into the hive. Here I watched her for some time, and as I did not observe that she came out, I conceived an expectation of seeing the whole body quickly abandon their settlement; but instead of that, I soon observed them, to my greater sorrow and surprise, gathering closer together without the least signal for departing. Upon this I immediately reflected, that either there must be another sovereign, or that the same was returned. I directly commenced a second search, and in a short time, with a most agreeable surprise, found a second or the same; she strove, by entering further into the crowd, to escape me, which I was fully determined against; and apprehending her without any further ceremony, or the least apology, I reconducted her, with a great number of the populace, into the hive. And now the melancholy scene began to change, and give way to one infinitely more agreeable and pleasant.
"The bees, presently missing their queen, began to dislodge and repair to the hive, crowding into it in multitudes, and in the greatest hurry imaginable. And in the space of two or three minutes the maid had not a single bee about her, neither had she so much as one sting, a small number of which would have quickly stopped her breath.
"How inexpressible the pleasure which succeeded her past fear! What joy appeared in every countenance upon so signal a deliverance! and what mutual congratulations were heard! I never call to mind the wonderful escape without a secret and very sensible pleasure. I hope never to see such another sight, though I triumph in this most noble and glorious victory."
LETTERS FROM CORRESPONDENTS,
ADDRESSED TO
"THE TIMES" BEE-MASTER.
I HAVE selected a few of the countless letters addressed to me by those who read my letters in The Times, and I have appended such replies as seemed to me expedient. I have not printed several anonymous and very acrimonious letters. One writer of two anonymous letters says, his connection with the press is very great, and that in the Saturday Review and other periodicals he will write "scorching critiques;" that he will warn the publishers that they will earn a loss; and that he will influence The Times to receive no more communications. One letter has the post-mark "Ampthill;" but I suppose its real date ought to be Colney Hatch or Hanwell.
I cannot otherwise explain the extraordinary language.
But I am able to add, that the letters of the Bee-master in The Times have done good service; and I hope this little work will survive these threats of one or two irritable hornets.
I once thought quarrels and angry controversies were confined to ecclesiastical denominations—churches and chapels. But I have learned what I did not expect, that not a few apiarians so devoutly believe each his own patent hive to be the only way to a honey harvest, that if you do not notice it, you are denounced as ignorant of the progress of science, and if you disapprove of it, you must know nothing about bees.
I hope they will all improve in temper as they advance in experience, and agree to differ while they cease to quarrel. I have made up my mind on two or three subjects, from thought and reading, and personal observation; and though open to argument, evidence, and facts, I am not in the least to be moved by intemperate criticism or ill-natured ridicule.
August 1st.
The "Bee-master" is respectfully requested to publish his letters to The Times in a pamphlet by themselves.
It is suggested that the paragraph about "Brother Ignatius" be omitted.
The "Bee-master" must have forgotten to have taken his usual allowance of honey at breakfast when he penned those harsh words.
Did he know "Brother Ignatius," he would soon discover he was
No Drone.
That he is no honey-bee is plain. If not a drone he must be a spider or earwig, creeping by stealth into the old Romish Benedictine hive, to which he does not really belong.
Stoke-upon-Trent, July 29th.
Dear Sir,—I have long been hoping against hope, and trying to persuade my friends to interest themselves in that courageous little insect, the apis mellifica; but the drawbacks appear to me to be rather disheartening. In the first place, the ladies dread the stings of my little friends; and in the next place, they lose the pleasure of investigation into the habits of the bees by not being enabled to procure hives that will enable one to observe the operations of the industrious little creatures. Your letter, however, in yesterday's Times enlightens us somewhat as to where the best-constructed hives may be obtained; and I am sure you have my hearty thanks for the information you have so kindly spread abroad through the medium of The Times. The common straw hive may not be very conveniently "tolled" without being in mortal fear of an accident; and to destroy the bees seems very cruel and wasteful, in order to take the honey from them. For my part, I have never yet had the courage to attempt to interfere with a straw hive, nor have I ever yet destroyed one, but kept them for my amusement and observation. Last year I constructed a wooden hive—say a square box, divided in the middle by a slide—and I introduced a young swarm into it, and they soon filled the bottom half of the box. This year they have had one swarm only, which I have put into a newly-constructed hive with a moveable bottom and front, with glass to look through and doors to protect the glass: the size is 12 by 14 and 16 inches, and they have very nearly filled it since they were swarmed, on the 6th June. It contains ten large parallel combs or plates, which are beautifully full of virgin honey, carefully covered with fine films of wax, to prevent it from either running out or becoming damaged, I presume, from the atmosphere. I have a small box to fit underneath the full one; but I cannot induce the bees to come down by easy means—that is, by shaking the box or drumming upon it: the vibrations only cause them to run about, but they will not descend. Pray what means would you adopt to cause them to leave the spaces between the combs, and go into the lower box, to enable me to take a portion of the combs and their contents without destroying or injuring the queen or the other bees? With regard to the box-hive first named, and which is divided in the middle by a wooden slide, which has a hole cut into its centre about 6 by 4 inches, and which was covered by a zinc slide, which I removed in June, after the swarm came from the box. In a few days after I could only observe about a dozen which had passed into the top part of the hive. I then tried to frighten them by shaking the box, in order to induce them to leave the combs in the bottom half, and pass through the hole into the top, but without success. I afterwards reversed the box, thinking that I might induce them to descend, and so shut them out; but they would not budge an inch. I afterwards placed the box in its proper position, and closed the entrance-holes for two days, thinking by that means to cause them to ascend in order to find a way out, but without any result, save the destruction of eight hundred drones in those two days, from the anger of the little workers; for, as they could not go abroad to collect food, the drones cleared every comb that contained any honey, and now I can see them all as empty as when just made; so you see I am really nonplussed. Pray what would you do? for if I smoke them, they will come down, not go up; and I am afraid that brimstone or tobacco would destroy them.
Yours very faithfully,
T. H.
This family of my correspondent has been, I fear, very ill-used. Bees have a will of their own, and a way too. You may lead and draw, but you cannot, and should not, drive.
Had Mr. H. given them more barley-sugar, or ale and sugar, and practised less manipulation, I think they would have behaved as well as he could wish.
Stamford, July 29th.
Sir,—I feel compelled to ask you to answer one or two queries of mine, for without answers I shall be unable to follow out your admirable instructions in the letter of yesterday's Times. I can only say, that if you will take the trouble to give me a line I shall feel greatly obliged.
I am, Sir, yours faithfully,
J. B. S.