Langstroth on the Hive and the Honey-Bee: A Bee Keeper's Manual

by L. L. Langstroth

Protector.

I attach very great importance to the way in which I give the bees effectual protection against extremes of heat and cold, and sudden changes of temperature, without removing them from their stands, or incurring the expense and disadvantages of a covered Bee-House. This I accomplish by means of what I shall call a Protector which is constructed substantially as follows.

Select a dry and suitable location for the bees, where they will not be disturbed, or prove an annoyance to others. If possible, let it be in full sight of the sitting room, so that they may be seen in case of swarming; and let it face the South-East, and be well protected from the force of strong winds. Dig a trench, about two feet deep; its length should depend upon the number of hives to be accommodated; and its breadth should be such that when it is properly walled up, it should measure from the outside top of one wall to another, just sufficient to receive the bottom of the hive. The walls, may be built of refuse brick or stones, and should be about four feet high from the foundation; the upper six inches being built of good brick, and the back wall about two inches higher than the front one, so as to give the bottom-board of the hives, the proper slant towards the entrance. At one end of this Protector, a wooden chimney should be built, and if the number of hives is great, there should be one at each end, admitting air in Winter, and yet excluding rain and snow. The earth which is thrown out in digging, should be banked up against the walls as high as the good brick, and in a slope which, when grassed over, may be easily mowed with a common scythe. The slope on the back should be more perpendicular than in front so as not to be in the way when operating upon the hives.

The bottom may be covered with an inch or two of clean sand and in winter with straw. In Summer, the ends are left open, so that a free current of air may pass through, while in Winter, they are properly banked up; and straw, evergreen boughs, or any other material, suitable for excluding frost, may if necessary, be placed all around the outside of the Protector. Such an arrangement will be found very cheap, when compared with a Bee-House or covered Apiary, and may be made both neat and highly ornamental. It may be constructed of wood by those who desire something still cheaper, and any one who can handle a spade, hammer, plane and saw, can make for himself a structure on which a hundred hives may stand, at less expense than would be necessary to build a covered Apiary for ten. As the ventilators of the hive open into this Protector, the bees are, in Summer, supplied with a cool and refreshing atmosphere, as closely as possible resembling that which they find in a forest home; while in Winter, the external entrances of the hives may be safely closed, and they will receive a supply of air remarkably uniform and never much below the freezing point. As the hives themselves are double, no frost can penetrate through them, and thus their interior will almost always be perfectly dry. When the weather suddenly moderates, and bees in the common hives fly out, and are lost on the snow, those arranged in the manner described, will not know that any change has taken place, but will remain quiet in their winter quarters, unless the weather is so warm that their owner judges it safe to open the entrances, so that the warmth may penetrate their hives, and tempt them to fly, and discharge their fæces. Let it be remembered that the object of this arrangement is not to warm up the hives by artificial heat; but merely to enable the bees to retain to the utmost their own animal heat, to secure the advantages set forth in this Chapter on Protection. Once or twice during the Winter, the blocks which regulate the entrances to my hives should be removed, and as the frames are kept about half an inch from the bottom-board, by means of a stick or wire, all the dead bees and filth may, in a few moments, be removed: or as the entrance of the hives by removing the blocks, may be so enlarged as to offer no obstruction to its introduction or removal, an old newspaper can be kept on the bottom-board, and drawn out from time to time, with all its contents.

A movable board of the same thickness and length with the bottom-boards of the hive and about six inches wide, separates the hives from each other, as they stand upon the Protector.

I have made numerous observations upon the temperature of a Protector made substantially on the plan described, and find that it is wonderfully uniform. The lowest range of the thermometer during the months of January and February, 1853, in the Protector, was 28°; in the open air, 14° below zero; the highest in the Protector 32°; in the open air 56°. It will thus be seen that while the thermometer out of doors had a range of 70°, in the Protector it had a range of only 4°. While bees in common hives during some warm days flew out and perished in large numbers on the snow; the bees over the Protector were perfectly quiet. To this arrangement I attach an importance second only to my movable frames, and believe that combined with doubled hives, it removes the chief obstacle to the successful cultivation of bees in cold latitudes.[14] In the coldest regions where bees can find supplies in Summer, they may during a Winter that lasts from November to May, and during which the mercury congeals, be kept as comfortable as in climates which seem much more propitious for their cultivation. The more snow the better, as it serves more the effectually to exclude the cold from the Protector. However long and dreary the Winter, the bees in their comfortable quarters feel none of its injurious influences; and actually consume less, than those which are kept where the winters are short, and so mild that the bees are often tempted to fly, and are in a state of almost continual excitement. It is in precisely such latitudes, in Poland and Russia, that bees are kept in the largest numbers, and with the most extraordinary success. In the chapter on Pasturage, I shall show that some of the coldest places in New England, and the Middle States, are among the most favored spots for obtaining the largest supplies of the very purest honey.

Having thoroughly tested the practicability of affording the bees by my Protector, complete protection against heat and cold, at a very small expense, and in a way which may be made highly ornamental, the proper steps will be taken to secure a patent right for the same; although no extra charge will be made for this, or for any other subsequent improvement, to those who purchase the right to use my hive.

CHAPTER IX.
VENTILATION OF THE HIVE.

If a populous hive is examined on a warm Summer day, a considerable number of bees will be found standing on the alighting board, with their heads turned towards the entrance, the extremity of their bodies slightly elevated, and their wings in such rapid motion that they are almost as indistinct as the spokes of a wheel, in swift rotation on its axis. A brisk current of air may be felt proceeding from the hive, and if a small piece of down be suspended by a thread, it will be blown out from one part of the entrance, and drawn in at another. What are these bees expecting to accomplish, that they appear so deeply absorbed in their fanning occupation, while busy numbers are constantly crowding in and out of the hive? and what is the meaning of this double current of air? To Huber, we owe the first satisfactory explanation of these curious phenomena. These bees plying their rapid wings in such a singular attitude, are performing the important business of ventilating the hive; and this double current is composed of pure air rushing in at one part, to supply the place of the foul air forced out at another. By a series of the most careful and beautiful experiments, Huber ascertained that the air of a crowded hive is almost, if not quite, as pure as the atmosphere by which it is surrounded. Now, as the entrance to such a hive, is often, (more especially in a state of nature,) very small, the interior air cannot be renewed without resort to some artificial means. If a lamp is put into a close vessel with only one small orifice, it will soon exhaust all the oxygen, and go out. If another small orifice is made, the same result will follow; but if by some device a current of air is drawn out from one, an equal current will force its way into the other, and the lamp will burn until the oil is exhausted.

It is precisely on this principle, of maintaining a double current by artificial means, that the bees ventilate their crowded habitations. A body of active ventilators stands inside of the hive, as well as outside, all with their heads turned towards the entrance, and by the rapid fanning of their wings, a current of air is blown briskly out of the hive, and an equal current drawn in. This important office is one which requires great physical exertion on the part of those to whom it is entrusted; and if their proceedings are carefully watched, it will be found that the exhausted ventilators, are, from time to time, relieved by fresh detachments. If the interior of the hive will admit of inspection, in very hot weather, large numbers of these ventilators will be found in regular files, in various parts of the hive, all busily engaged in their laborious employment. If the entrance at any time is contracted, a speedy accession will be made to the numbers, both inside and outside; and if it is closed entirely, the heat of the hive will quickly increase, the whole colony will commence a rapid vibration of their wings, and in a few moments will drop lifeless from the combs, for want of air.

It has been proved by careful experiments that pure air is necessary not only for the respiration of the mature bees, but that without it, neither the eggs can be hatched, nor the larvæ developed. A fine netting of air-vessels covers the eggs; and the cells of the larvæ are sealed over with a covering which is full of air holes. In Winter, as has been stated in the Chapter on Protection, bees, if kept in the dark, and neither too warm nor too cold, are almost dormant, and seem to require but a small allowance of air; but even under such circumstances, they cannot live entirely without air; and if they are excited by being exposed to atmospheric changes, or by being disturbed, a very loud humming may be heard in the interior of their hives, and they need quite as much air as in warm weather.

If at any time, by moving their hives, or in any other way, bees are greatly disturbed, it will be unsafe to confine them, especially in warm weather, unless a very free admission of air is given to them, and even then, the air ought to be admitted above, as well as below the mass of bees, or the ventilators may become clogged with dead bees, and the swarm may perish. Under close confinement, the bees become excessively heated, and the combs are often melted down. When bees are confined to a close atmosphere, especially if dampness is added to its injurious influences, they are sure to become diseased; and large numbers, if not the whole colony, perish from dysentery. Is it not under circumstances precisely similar, that cholera and dysentery prove most fatal to human beings? How often do the filthy, damp and unventilated abodes of the abject poor, become perfect lazar-houses to their wretched inmates?

I examined, last Summer, the bees of a new swarm which had been suffocated for want of air, and found their bodies distended with a yellow and noisome substance, just as though they had perished from dysentery. A few were still alive, and instead of honey, their bodies were filled with this same disgusting fluid; though the bees had not been shut up, more than two hours.

In a medical point of view, I consider these facts as highly interesting; showing as they do, under what circumstances, and how speedily, disease may be produced.

In very hot weather, if thin hives are exposed to the sun's rays, the bees are excessively annoyed by the intense heat, and have recourse to the most powerful ventilation, not merely to keep the air of the hive pure, but to carry off, as much as possible, its internal warmth. They often leave the interior of the hive, almost in a body, and in thick masses, cluster on the outside, not simply to escape the close heat within, but to guard their combs against the danger of being dissolved. At such times they are particularly careful not to cluster on the combs containing sealed honey; for as most of these combs have not been lined with the cocoons of the larvæ, they are, for this reason, as well as on account of the extra amount of wax used for their covers, much more liable to be melted, than the breeding cells.

Apiarians have often noticed the fact, that as a general thing, the bees leave the honey cells almost entirely bare, as soon as they have sealed them over; but it seems to have escaped their observation, that in hot weather, there is often an absolute necessity for such a course. In cool weather, on the contrary, the bees may often be found clustered among the sealed honey-combs, because there is then no danger of their melting down.

Few things in the range of their wonderful instincts, are so well fitted to impress the mind with their admirable sagacity, as the truly scientific device, by which these wise little insects ventilate their dwellings. I was on the point of saying that it was almost like human-reason, when the painful and mortifying reflection presented itself to my mind that in respect to ventilation, the bee is immensely in advance of the great mass of those who consider themselves as rational beings. It has, to be sure, no ability to make an elaborate analysis of the chemical constituents of the atmosphere, and to decide how large a proportion of oxygen is essential to the support of life, and how rapidly the process of breathing converts this important element into a deadly poison. It has not, like Leibig, been able to demonstrate that God has set the animal and vegetable world, the one over against the other; so that the carbonic acid produced by the breathing of the one, furnishes the aliment of the other; which, in turn, gives out its oxygen for the support of animal life; and that, in this wonderful manner, God has provided that the atmosphere shall, through all ages, be as pure as when it first came from His creating hand. But shame upon us! that with all our intelligence, the most of us live as though pure air was of little or no importance; while the bee ventilates with a scientific precision and thoroughness, that puts to the blush our criminal neglect.

To this it may be replied that ventilation in our case, cannot be had, without considerable expense. Can it be had for nothing, by the industrious bees? Those busy insects, which are so indefatigably plying their wings, are not engaged in idle amusement; nor might they, as some would-be utilitarian may imagine, be better employed in gathering honey, or in superintending some other department in the economy of the hive. They are at great expense of time and labor, supplying the rest of the colony with pure air, so conducive in every way, to their health and prosperity.

I trust that I shall be permitted to digress, for a short time, from bees to men, and that the remarks which I shall offer on the subject of ventilation in human dwellings, may make a deeper impression, in connection with the wise arrangements of the bee, than they would, if presented in the shape of a mere scientific discussion; and that some who have been in the habit of considering all air, except in the particular of temperature, as about alike, may be thoroughly convinced of their mistake.

Recent statistics prove that consumption and its kindred diseases are most fearfully on the increase, in the Northern, and more especially in the New England States; and that the general mortality of Massachusetts exceeds that of almost every other state in the Union. In these States, the tendency of increasing attention to manufacturing and mechanical pursuits, is to compel a larger and larger proportion of the population to lead an in-door life, and to breathe an atmosphere more or less vitiated, and thus unfit for the full development of vigorous health. The importance of pure air can hardly be over-estimated; indeed, the quality of the air we breath, seems to exert an influence much more powerful, and hardly less direct, than the mere quality of our food. Those who, by active exercise in the open air, keep their lungs saturated as it were, with the pure element, can eat almost anything with impunity; while those who breath the sorry apology for air which is to be found in so many habitations, although they may live upon the most nutritious diet, and avoid the least excess, are incessantly troubled with head-ache, dyspepsia, and various mental as well as physical sufferings. Well may such persons, as they witness the healthy forms and happy faces of so many of the hardy sons of toil, exclaim with the old Latin poet,

"Oh dura messorum illia!"

It is with the human family very much as it is with the vegetable kingdom. Take a plant or tree, and shut it out from the pure air, and the invigorating light, and though you may supply it with an abundance of water and the very soil, which by the strictest chemical analysis, is found to contain all the elements that are essential to its vigorous growth, it will still be a puny thing, ready to droop, if exposed to a summer's sun, or to be prostrated by the first visitation of a winter's blast. Compare now, this wretched abortion, with an oak or maple which has grown upon the comparatively sterile mountain pasture, and whose branches, in Summer are the pleasant resort of the happy songsters, while, under its mighty shade, the panting herds drink in a refreshing coolness. In Winter it laughs at the mighty storms, which wildly toss its giant branches in the air, and which serve only to exercise the limbs of the sturdy tree, whose roots deep intertwined among its native rocks, enable it to bid defiance to anything short of a whirlwind or tornado.

To a population, who, for more than two-thirds of the year, are compelled to breathe an atmosphere heated by artificial means, the question how can this air be made, at a moderate expense, to resemble, as far as possible, the purest ether of the skies is, (or as I should rather say ought to be,) a question of the utmost interest. When open fires were used, there was no lack of pure air, whatever else might have been deficient. A capacious chimney carried up through its insatiable throat, immense volumes of air, to be replaced by the pure element, whistling in glee, through every crack, crevice and keyhole. Now the house-builder and stove-maker with but few exceptions[15] seem to have joined hands in waging a most effectual warfare against the unwelcome intruder. By labor-saving machinery, they contrive to make the one, the joints of his wood-work, and the other, those of his iron-work, tighter and tighter, and if it were possible for them to accomplish fully their manifest design, they would be able to furnish rooms almost as fatal to life as "the black hole of Calcutta." But in spite of all that they can do, the materials will shrink, and no fuel has yet been found, which will burn without any air, so that sufficient ventilation is kept up, to prevent such deadly occurrences. Still they are tolerably successful in keeping out the unfriendly element; and by the use of huge cooking-stoves with towering ovens, and other salamander contrivances, the little air that can find its way in, is almost as thoroughly cooked, as are the various delicacies destined for the table.

On reading an account of a run-away slave, who was for a considerable time, closely boxed up, a gentleman remarked that if the poor fellow had only known that a renewal of the air was necessary to the support of life, he could not have lived there an hour without suffocation: I have frequently thought that if the occupants of the rooms I have been describing, could only know as much, they would be in almost similar danger.

Bad air, one would think, is bad enough: but when it is heated and dried to an excessive degree, all its original vileness is stimulated to greater activity, and thus made doubly injurious by this new element of evil. Not only our private houses, but our churches and school-rooms, our railroad cars, and all our places of public assemblage, are, to a most lamentable degree, either unprovided with any means of ventilation, or, to a great extent, supplied with those which are so wretchedly deficient that they

"Keep the word of promise to our ear,
And break it to our hope."

That ultimate degeneracy must surely follow such entire disregard of the laws of health, cannot be doubted; and those who imagine that the physical stamina of a people can be undermined, and yet that their intellectual, moral and religious health will suffer no eclipse or decay, know very little of the intimate connection between body and mind, which the Creator has seen fit to establish.

The men may, to a certain extent, resist the injurious influences of foul air; as their employments usually compel them to live much more out of doors: but alas, alas! for the poor women! In the very land where women are treated with more universal deference and respect than in any other, and where they so well deserve it, there often, no provision is made to furnish them with that great element of health, cheerfulness and beauty, heaven's pure, fresh air.

In Southern climes, where doors and windows may be safely kept open for a large part of the year, pure air is cheap enough, and can be obtained without any special effort: but in Northern latitudes, where heated air must be used for nearly three-quarters of the year, the neglect of ventilation is fast causing the health and beauty of our women to disappear. The pallid cheek, or the hectic flush, the angular form and distorted spine, the debilitated appearance of a large portion of our females, which to a stranger, would seem to indicate that they were just recovering from a long illness, all these indications of the lamentable absence of physical health, to say nothing of the anxious, care-worn faces and premature wrinkles, proclaim in sorrowful voices, our violation of God's physical laws, and the dreadful penalty with which He visits our transgressions.

Our people must, and I have no doubt that eventually they will be most thoroughly aroused to the necessity of a vital reform on this important subject. Open stoves, and cheerful grates and fire-places will again be in vogue with the mass of the people, unless some better mode of warming shall be devised, which, at less expense, shall make still more ample provision for the constant introduction of fresh air. Houses will be constructed, which, although more expensive in the first cost, will be far cheaper in the end, and by requiring a much smaller quantity of fuel to warm the air, will enable us to enjoy the luxury of breathing air which may be duly tempered, and yet be pure and invigorating. Air-tight and all other lung-tight stoves will be exploded, as economizing in fuel only when they allow the smallest possible change of air, and thus squandering health and endangering life.

The laws very wisely forbid the erection of wooden buildings in large cities, and in various ways, prescribe such regulations for the construction of edifices as are deemed to be essential to the public welfare; and the time cannot, I trust, be very far distant, when all public buildings erected for the accommodation of large numbers, will be required by law, to furnish a supply of fresh air, in some reasonable degree adequate to the necessities of those who are to occupy them.

I shall ask no excuse for the honest warmth of language which will appear extravagant only to those who cannot, or rather will not, see the immense importance of pure air to the highest enjoyment, not only of physical, but of mental and moral health. The man who shall succeed in convincing the mass of the people, of the truth of the views thus imperfectly presented, and whose inventive mind shall devise a cheap and efficacious way of furnishing a copious supply of pure air for our dwellings and public buildings, our steamboats and railroad cars, will be even more of a benefactor than a Jenner, or a Watt, a Fulton, or a Morse.

To return from this lengthy and yet I trust not unprofitable digression.

In the ventilation of my hive, I have endeavored, as far as possible, to meet all the necessities of the bees, under the varying circumstances to which they are exposed, in our uncertain climate, whose severe extremes of temperature impress most forcibly upon the bee-keeper, the maxim of the Mantuan Bard,

"Utraque vis pariter apibus metuenda."

"Extremes of heat or cold, alike are hurtful to the bees." In order to make artificial ventilation of any use to the great majority of bee-keepers, it must be simple, and not as in Nutt's hive, and many other labored contrivances, so complicated as to require almost as constant supervision as a hot-bed or a green-house. The very foundation of any system of ventilation should be such a construction of the hive that the bees shall need a change of air only for breathing.

In the Chapter on Protection, I have explained the construction of my hives, and of the Protector by which the bees being kept warm in Winter, and cool in Summer, do not require, as in thin hives, a very free introduction of air, in hot weather, to keep the combs from softening; or a still larger supply in Winter, to prevent them from moulding, and to dry up the moisture which runs from their icy tops and sides; and which, if suffered to remain, will often affect the bees with dysentery, or as it is sometimes called, "the rot." The intelligent Apiarian will perceive that I thus imitate the natural habitation of the bees in the recesses of a hollow tree in the forest, where they feel neither the extremes of heat nor cold, and where through the efficacy of their ventilating powers, a very small opening admits all the air which is necessary for respiration.

In the Chapter on the Requisites of a good hive, I have spoken of the importance of furnishing ventilation, independently of the entrance. By such an arrangement, I am able to improve upon the method which the bees are compelled to adopt in a state of nature. As they have no means of admitting air by wire-cloth, and at the same time, of effectually excluding all intruders, they are obliged in very hot weather, and in a very crowded state of their dwellings, to employ a larger force in the laborious business of ventilation, than would otherwise be necessary; while in Winter, they have no means of admitting air which is only moderately cool. I can keep the entrance so small, that only a single bee can go in at once, or I can, if circumstances require, entirely close it, and yet the bees need not suffer for the want of air. In all ordinary cases, the ventilators will admit a sufficient supply of duly tempered air from the Protector, and the bees can, at any time, increase their efficiency by their own direct agency, while yet they will, at no time, admit a strong current of chilly air, so as to endanger the life of the brood. As bees are, at all times, prone to close the ventilators with propolis, they must be placed where they can easily be removed, and cleansed, by soaking them in boiling water.

As respects ventilation from above, as well as from below, so as to allow a free current of air to pass through the hive, I am decidedly opposed to it, as in cool and windy weather, such a current often compels the bees to retire from the brood, which in this way is destroyed by a fatal chill. In thin hives, ventilation from above may be desirable in Winter, to carry off the superfluous moisture, but in properly constructed hives, standing over a Protector, there is, as has already been remarked, little or no dampness to be carried off. The construction of my hives will allow, if at all desirable, of ventilation from above; and I always make use of it, when the bees are to be shut up for any length of time, in order to be moved; as in this case, there is always a risk that the ventilators on the bottom-board may be clogged by dead bees, and the colony suffocated. As the entrance of the hive, may in a moment, be enlarged to any desirable extent, without in the least perplexing the bees, any quantity of air may be admitted, which the necessities of the bees, under any possible circumstances, may require. It may be made full 18 inches in length, but as a general rule, in Summer, in a large colony, it need not exceed six inches: while in Spring and Fall, two or three inches will suffice. In Winter, it should be entirely closed; unless in latitudes so warm, that even with the Protector, the bees cannot be kept quiet. The bee-keeper should never forget that it is almost certain destruction to a colony, to confine them when they wish to fly out. The precautions requisite to prevent robbing, will be subsequently described. In Northern latitudes, in the months of April and May, I prefer to keep the ventilators entirely closed; as the air of the Protector, at such times, like the air of a cellar in Spring, is uncomfortably cool, and has a tendency to interfere with breeding.

Note.—Since the remarks on the neglect of ventilation were put in type, my attention has been called by Hon. M. P. Wilder, of Dorchester, to an article on the same subject, in the Nov. number of the Horticulturist, for 1850, from the pen of the lamented Downing. It seems to have been written shortly after his return from Europe, and when he must have been most deeply impressed by the woful contrast, in point of physical health between the women of America and Europe. While he speaks in just and therefore glowing terms of the virtues of our countrywomen, he says: "But in the signs of physical health and all that constitutes the outward aspect of the men and women of the United States, our countrymen and especially countrywomen, compare most unfavorably with all but the absolutely starving classes on the other side of the Atlantic." Close stoves he has most appropriately styled "little demons," and impure air "The favorite poison of America." His article concludes as follows:

"Pale countrymen and countrywomen rouse yourselves! Consider that God has given us an atmosphere of pure health-giving air 45 miles high, and ventilate your houses."

CHAPTER X.
NATURAL SWARMING, AND HIVING OF SWARMS.

The swarming of bees has been justly regarded as one of the most beautiful sights in the whole compass of rural economy. Although, for reasons which will hereafter be assigned, I prefer to rely chiefly on artificial means for the multiplication of colonies, I should be very unwilling to pass a season without participating, to some extent, in the pleasing excitement of natural swarming.

"Up mounts the chief, and to the cheated eye
Ten thousand shuttles dart along the sky;
As swift through æther rise the rushing swarms,
Gay dancing to the beam their sun-bright forms;
And each thin form, still ling'ring on the sight,
Trails, as it shoots, a line of silver light.
High pois'd on buoyant wing, the thoughtful queen,
In gaze attentive, views the varied scene,
And soon her far-fetch'd ken discerns below
The light laburnum lift her polish'd brow,
Wave her green leafy ringlets o'er the glade,
And seem to beckon to her friendly shade.
Swift as the falcon's sweep, the monarch bends
Her flight abrupt; the following host descends.
Round the fine twig, like cluster'd grapes, they close
In thickening wreaths, and court a short repose."
Evans.

The swarming of bees, by making provision for the constant multiplication of colonies, was undoubtedly intended both to guard the insect against the possibility of extinction, and to make its labors in the highest degree useful to man. The laws of reproduction in those insects which do not live in regular colonies, are such as to secure an ample increase of numbers. The same is true in the case of hornets, wasps and humble-bees which live in colonies only during the warm weather. In the Fall of the year, all the males perish, while the impregnated females retreat into winter quarters and remain dormant, until the warm weather restores them to activity, and each one becomes the mother of a new family.

The honey bee differs from all these insects, in being compelled, by the laws of its physical organization, to live in communities, during the entire year. The balmy breezes of Spring will quickly thaw out the frozen veins of a torpid Wasp; but the bee is incapable of enduring even a moderate degree of cold: a temperature as low as 50° speedily chills it, and it would be quite as easy to recall to life the stiffened corpses in the charnel house of the Convent of the Great St. Bernard, as to restore to animation, a frozen bee. In cool weather, they must therefore associate in large numbers, in order to maintain the animal heat which is necessary to their preservation; and the formation of new colonies, after the manner of wasps and hornets, is clearly impossible. If the young queens left the parent stock in Summer, and were able, like the mother-wasps, to lay the foundations of a new colony, they could not maintain the warmth requisite for the development of their young, even if they were able, without any baskets on their thighs, to gather bee-bread for their support. If all these difficulties were surmounted, they would still be unable to amass any treasures for our use, or even to lay up the stores requisite for their own preservation.

How admirably are all these difficulties obviated by the present arrangement! Their domicile is well supplied with all the materials for the rearing of brood, and long before any of the insects which depend upon the heat of the sun, are able to commence breeding, the bees have added thousands in the full vigor of youth to their already numerous population. They are thus able to send off in season, colonies sufficiently powerful to take advantage of the honey-harvest, and provision the new hive against the approach of Winter. From these considerations, it is very evident that swarming, so far from being, as some Apiarians have considered it, a forced or unnatural event, is one, which in a state of nature, could not possibly be dispensed with.

Let us now inquire under what circumstances it ordinarily takes place.

The time when swarms may be expected, depends of course, upon climate, season, and the strength of the stocks. In the Northern and Middle States, bees seldom swarm before the latter part of May; and June may be considered as the great swarming month. The importance of having powerful swarms early in the season, will be discussed in another place.

In the Spring, as soon as a hive well filled with comb and bees, becomes too much crowded to accommodate its teeming population, the bees begin the necessary preparations for emigration. A number of royal cells are commenced about the time that the drones first make their appearance; and by the time that the young queens arrive at maturity, the drones are always found in the greatest abundance. The first swarm is invariably led off by the old queen, unless she has previously died from accident or disease, in which case, it is accompanied by one of the young queens reared to supply her loss. The old mother leaves soon after the royal cells are sealed over, unless delayed by unfavorable weather. There are no signs from which the Apiarian can, with certainty, predict the issue of a first swarm. I devoted annually, much attention to this point, vainly hoping to discover some infallible indications of first swarming; until taught by further reflection that, from the very nature of the case, there can be no such indications. The bees, from an unfavorable state of the weather, or the failure of the blossoms to yield an abundant supply of honey, often change their minds, and refuse to swarm, even after all their preparations have been completed. Nay more, they sometimes send out no new colonies that season, when a sudden change of weather has interrupted them on the very day when they were intending to emigrate, and after they had taken a full supply of honey for their journey.

If on a fair, warm day in the swarming season, but few bees leave a strong hive, while other colonies are busily at work, we may, unless the weather suddenly prove unfavorable, look with great confidence for a swarm. As the old queens, which accompany the first swarm, are heavy with eggs, and fly with considerable difficulty, they are shy of venturing out, except on fair, still days. If the weather is very sultry, a swarm will sometimes issue as early as 7 o'clock in the morning; but from 10 to 2, is the usual time, and the majority of swarms come off from 11 to 1. Occasionally, a swarm will venture out as late as 5 P. M. An old queen is seldom guilty of such a piece of indiscretion.

I have in repeated instances witnessed the whole process of swarming, in my observing hives. On the day fixed for their departure, the queen appears to be very restless, and instead of depositing her eggs in the cells, she travels over the combs, and communicates her agitation to the whole colony. The emigrating bees fill themselves with honey, some time before their departure: in one instance, I noticed them laying in their supplies, more than two hours before they left. A short time before the swarm rises, a few bees may generally be seen, sporting in the air, with their heads turned always to the hive, occasionally flying in and out, as though they were impatient for the important event to take place. At length, a very violent agitation commences in the hive: the bees appear almost frantic, whirling around in a circle, which continually enlarges, like the circles made by a stone thrown into still water, until at last the whole hive is in a state of the greatest ferment, and the bees rush impetuously to the entrance, and pour forth in one steady stream. Not a bee looks behind, but each one pushes straight ahead, as though flying "for dear life," or urged on by some invisible power, in its headlong career. The queen often does not come out, until a large number have left, and she is frequently so heavy, from the large number of eggs in her ovaries, that she falls to the ground, incapable of rising with the colony into the air.

The bees are very soon aware of her absence, and a most interesting scene may now be witnessed. A diligent search is immediately made for their missing mother; the swarm scatters in all directions, and I have frequently seen the leaves of the adjoining trees and bushes, almost as thickly covered with the anxious explorers, as they are with drops of rain after a copious shower. If she cannot be found, they return to the old hive, though occasionally they attempt to enter some other hive, or join themselves to another swarm if any is still unhived.

The ringing of bells, and beating of kettles and frying-pans, is one of the good old ways more honored by the breach than the observance; it may answer a very good purpose in amusing the children, but I believe that as far as the bees are concerned, it is all time thrown away; and that it is not a whit more efficacious than the custom practiced by some savage tribes, who, when the sun is eclipsed, imagining that it has been swallowed by an enormous dragon, resort to the most frightful noises, to compel his snake-ship to disgorge their favorite luminary. If a swarm has selected a new home previous to their departure, no amount of noise will ever compel them to alight, but as soon as all the bees which compose the emigrating colony have left the hive, they fly in a direct course, or "bee-line," to the chosen spot. I have noticed that when bees are much neglected by those who pretend to take care of them, such unceremonious leave-taking is quite common; on the contrary, when proper attention is bestowed on them, it seldom occurs.

It can seldom if ever occur to those who manage their bees according to my system; as I shall show in the Chapter on Artificial Swarming. If the Apiarian perceives that his swarm instead of clustering begins to rise higher and higher in the air, and evidently means to depart, not a moment is to be lost: instead of empty noises, he must resort to means much more effective to stay their vagrant propensities. Handfulls of dirt cast into the air, or water thrown among them, will often so disorganize them as to compel them to alight. Of all devices for stopping them, the most original one that I have ever heard of, is to flash the sun's rays among them, by the use of a looking glass! I have never had occasion to try it, but the anonymous writer who recommends it, says that he never knew it to fail. If they are forcibly prevented from eloping, then special care must be taken or they will be almost sure soon after hiving, to leave for their selected home. The queen should be caught and confined for several days in a way which will be subsequently described. The same caution must be exercised, when new swarms abandon their hive. If the queen cannot be caught, and there is reason to dread a desertion, the bees may be carried into the cellar, and confined in total darkness, until towards sun-set of the third day after they swarmed, being supplied in the mean time with water and honey to build their combs.

If a colony decides to go, they look upon the hive in which they are put as only a temporary stopping place, and seldom trouble themselves to build any comb in it. If the hive is so constructed as to permit inspection, I can tell by a glance whether bees are disgusted with their new residence, and mean before long to clear out. They not only refuse to work with that energy so characteristic of a new swarm, but they have a peculiar look which to the experienced eye at once proclaims the fact that they are staying only upon sufferance. Their very attitude, hanging as they do with a sort of dogged or supercilious air, as though they hated even so much as to touch their detested abode, is equivalent to an open proclamation that they mean to be off. My numerous experiments in attempting from the moment of hiving, to make the bees work in observing hives exposed to the full light of day, instead of keeping them as I now do in darkness for several days, have made me quite familiar with all their graceless, do-nothing proceedings before their departure. Bees sometimes abandon their hives very early in the Spring, or late in Summer or Fall. They exhibit all the appearance of natural swarming; but they leave, not because the population is crowded, but because it is either so small, or the hive so destitute of supplies, that they are discouraged or driven to desperation. I once knew a colony to leave the hive under such circumstances, on a springlike day in December! They seem to have a presentiment that they must perish if they stay, and instead of awaiting the sure approach of famine, they sally out to see if something cannot be done to better their condition.

At first sight, it seems strange that so provident an insect should not always select a suitable domicile before venturing on so important a step as to abandon the old home. Often before they are safely housed again, they are exposed to powerful winds and drenching rains, which beat down and destroy many of their number.

I solve this problem in the economy of the bee, in the same manner that I have solved so many others, by considering in what way, this arrangement conduces to the advantage of man.

The honey-bee would have been of comparatively little service to him, if instead of tarrying until he had sufficient time to establish them in a hive in which to labor for him, their instinct impelled them to decamp, without any delay, from the restraints of domestication. In this, as in many other things, we see that what on a superficial view, appeared to be a very obvious imperfection, proves, on closer examination, to be a special contrivance to answer important ends.

To return to our new swarm. The queen sometimes alights first, and sometimes joins the cluster after it has commenced forming. It is a very rare thing for the bees ever to cluster, unless the queen is with them; and when they do, and yet afterwards disperse, I believe that usually the queen, after first rising with them, has been lost by falling into some spot where she is unnoticed by the bees. In two instances, I performed the following interesting experiment.

Perceiving a hive in the very act of swarming, I contracted the entrance so as to secure the queen when she made her appearance. In each case, at least one third of the bees came out, before the queen presented herself to join them. When I perceived that the swarm had given up their search for her, and were beginning to return to the parent hive, I placed her, with her wings clipped, on the limb of a small evergreen tree: she crawled to the very top of the limb, as if for the purpose of making herself as conspicuous as possible. A few bees noticed her, and instead of alighting, darted rapidly away; in a few seconds, the whole colony were apprised of her presence, flew in a dense cloud to the spot, and commenced quietly clustering around her. I have often noticed the surprising rapidity with which bees communicate with each other, while on the wing. Telegraphic signals are hardly more instantaneous. (See Chapter on the [Loss of the Queen].)

That bees send out scouts to seek a suitable abode, it seems to me, can admit of no serious question. Swarms have been traced to their new home, either in their flight directly from their hive, or from the place where they have clustered; and it is evident, that in such instances, they have pursued the most direct course. Now such a precision of flight to a "terra incognita," an unknown home, would plainly be impossible, if some of their number had not previously selected the spot, so as to be competent to act as guides to the rest. The sight of the bees for distant objects, is wonderfully acute, and after rising to a sufficient elevation, they can see the prominent objects in the vicinity of their intended abode, even although they may be several miles distant. Whether the bees send out their scouts before or after swarming, may admit of more question. In cases where the colony flies without alighting, to its new home, they are unquestionably dispatched before swarming. If this were their usual course, then we should naturally expect all the colonies to take the same speedy departure. Or if, for the convenience of the queen over fatigued by the excitement of swarming, or for any other reason, they should see fit to cluster, then we should expect that only a transient tarrying would be allowed. Instead of this, they often remain until the next day, and instances of a more protracted delay are not unfrequent. The cases which occur, of bees stopping in their flight, and clustering again on any convenient object, are not inconsistent with this view of the subject; for if the weather is hot, and the sun shines directly upon them, they will often leave before they have found a suitable habitation; and even when they are on the way to their new home, the queen being heavy with eggs, and unaccustomed to fly, is sometimes from weariness, compelled to alight, and her colony clusters around her. Queens, under such circumstances, sometimes seem unwilling to entrust themselves again to their wings, and the poor bees attempt to lay the foundations of their colony, on fence rails, hay-stacks, or other most unsuitable places.

I have been informed by Mr. Henry M. Zollickoffer of Philadelphia, a very intelligent and reliable observer, that he knew a swarm to settle on a willow tree in that city, in a lot owned by the Pennsylvania Hospital; it remained there for sometime, and the boys pelted it with stones, to get possession of its comb and honey.

The absolute necessity for scouts or explorers, is evident from all the facts in the case, unless we admit that bees have the faculty of flying in an air-line to a hollow tree, or some suitable abode which they have never seen, though they cannot find their hive, if, in their absence, it is moved only a few rods from its former position.

These obvious considerations are abundantly confirmed by the repeated instances in which a few bees have been noticed prying very inquisitively into a hole in a hollow tree or the cornice of a building, and have been succeeded, before long, by a whole colony. The importance of these remarks will be more obvious, when I come to discuss the proper mode of hiving bees.

Having described the common method of procedure pursued by the new swarm, when left without interference to their natural instincts, it is time to return to the parent stock from which they emigrated.

In witnessing the immense number which have abandoned it, we might naturally suppose that it must be almost entirely depopulated. It is sometimes asserted that as bees swarm in the pleasantest part of the day, the population is replenished by the return of large numbers of workers that were absent in the fields; this, however, can seldom be the case, as it is rare for many bees to be absent from the hive at the time of swarming.

To those who limit the fertility of the queen to 200, or at most 400 eggs per day, the rapid replenishing of the hive after swarming, must ever be a problem incapable of solution; but to those who have ocular demonstration that she can lay from one to three thousand eggs a day, it is no mystery at all. A sufficient number of bees is always left behind, to carry on the domestic operations of the hive, and as the old queen departs only when the population of the hive is super-abundant; and when thousands of young bees are hatching daily, and often 30,000 or more, are rapidly maturing, in a short time the hive is almost as populous as it was before swarming. Those who assert that the new colony is composed of young bees which have been forced to emigrate by the older ones, have certainly failed to use their eyes to much advantage, or they would have seen, in hiving a new swarm, that it is composed of both young and old; some, having wings ragged from hard work, while others are evidently quite young. After the tumult of swarming is entirely over, not a bee that did not participate in it, seeks afterwards to join the new colony, and not one that did, seeks to return. What determines some to go, and others to stay, we have no certain means of knowing.

How wonderfully abiding the impression made upon an insect, which in a moment causes it to lose all its strong affection for the old home in which it was bred, and which it has entered, perhaps hundreds of times; so that when established in another hive, though only a few feet distant, it never afterwards pays the slightest attention to its former abode! Often, when the hive into which the new swarm is put, is not removed from the place where the bees were hived, until some have gone to the fields, on their return, they fly for hours, in ceaseless circles about the spot where the missing hive stood. I have often known them to continue the vain search for their companions until they have, at length, dropped down from utter exhaustion, and perished in close proximity to their old homes!

It has been already stated that the old queen, if the weather is favorable, generally leaves about the time that the young queens are sealed over, to be changed into nymphs. In about eight days more, one of these queens hatches, and the question must now be decided whether any more colonies are to be sent out that season, or not. If the hive is well filled with bees, and the season in all respects promising, this question is generally decided in the affirmative; although colonies often refuse to swarm more than once when they are very strong, and when we can assign no reason for such a course; and they sometimes swarm repeatedly, to the utter ruin of both the old stock, and the after-swarms.

If the bees decide to swarm again, the first hatched queen is allowed to have her own way. She rushes immediately to the cells of her sisters, and, (as was described in the Chapter on Physiology,) stings them to death. From some observations that I have made, I am inclined to think that the other bees aid her in this murderous transaction: they certainly tear open the cradles of the slaughtered innocents, and remove them from the cells. Their dead bodies may often be found on the ground in front of the hive.

When a queen has emerged in the natural way from her cell, the bees usually nibble away the now useless abode, until only a small acorn cup remains; but when by violence she has met with an untimely end, they take down entirely the whole of the cell. By counting these acorn-cups, it can always be ascertained how many young queens have hatched in a hive.

Before the queens emerge from their cells, a fluttering sound is frequently heard, which is caused by the rapid motion of their wings, and which must not be confounded with the piping notes which will soon be described. If the bees of the parent stock decide to swarm again, the first hatched queen is prevented from killing the others. A strong guard is kept over their cells, and as often as she approaches them with murderous intent, she is bitten, or otherwise rudely treated, and given to understand by the most uncourtier-like demonstrations, that she cannot, in all things, do just as she pleases.

When thus repulsed, like men and women who cannot have their own way, she is highly offended and utters an angry sound, given forth in a quick succession of notes, and which sounds not unlike the rapid utterance of the words, "peep, peep." I have frequently, by holding a queen in the closed hand, caused her to make the same noise. To this angry note, one or more of the queens still unhatched, will respond, in a somewhat hoarser key, just as chicken-cocks, by crowing, bid defiance to each other. These sounds are entirely unlike the usual steady hum of the bees, and when heard, are the almost infallible indications that a second swarm will soon issue. They are occasionally so loud that they may be heard at some distance from the hive.

About a week after first swarming, the Apiarian should, early in the morning or at evening, when the bees are still, place his ear against the hive, and he will, if the queens are piping, readily recognize their peculiar sounds. If their notes are not heard, at the very latest, sixteen days after the departure of the first swarm, by which time the young queens are mature, even if the first colony left as soon as the eggs were deposited in the royal cells, it is an infallible indication that the first hatched queen is without rivals in the hive, and that swarming is over, in that stock, for the season.

The second swarm usually issues on the second or third day after this sound is heard: although I have known them to delay coming out, until the fifth day, in consequence of a very unfavorable state of the weather. Occasionally, the weather is so unfavorable, that the bees permit the oldest queen to kill the others, and refuse to swarm again. This is a rare occurrence, as the young queens, unlike the old ones, do not appear to be very particular about the weather, and sometimes venture out, not merely when it is cloudy, but even when rain is falling. On this account, if a very close watch is not kept, they are often lost. As piping ordinarily commences about eight or nine days after first swarming, the second swarm generally issues ten or twelve days after the first. It has been known to issue as early as the third day after the first, and as late as the seventeenth. Such cases, however, are of rare occurrence. It frequently happens in the agitation of swarming, that several of the young queens emerge from their cells at the same time, and accompany the colony: when this is the case, the bees often alight in two or more separate clusters. Young queens not having their ovaries burdened with eggs, are much more quick on the wing, than old ones, and fly frequently much farther from the parent stock, before they alight; though I never knew a second swarm to depart to the woods without clustering at all. After the departure of a second swarm, the oldest of the remaining queens leaves her cell; and if another swarm is to be sent forth, piping will still be heard, and so before the issue of each swarm after the first. I once had five stocks issue from one swarm, and they all came out in about two weeks. In warm latitudes more than twice this number of swarms have been known to issue in one season from a single stock. The third swarm commonly makes its appearance on the second or third day after the second swarm, and the others, at intervals of about a day.

After-swarms, or casts, (these names are given to all swarms after the first,) reduce very seriously the strength of the parent stock; for after the departure of the old queen, no more eggs are deposited in the cells, until all swarming is over. It is a very wise arrangement that the second swarm does not ordinarily issue until all the eggs left by the first queen are hatched, and the young fed and sealed over, so as to require no further care. The departure of the second swarm earlier than this, would leave too few laborers to attend to the wants of the young bees. As it is, if the weather after swarming, suddenly becomes chilly, and the hives are thin and admit too much air, the bees are too much reduced in numbers, to maintain the heat requisite for the proper development of the brood, and numbers are destroyed.

In the Chapter on Artificial Swarming, I shall discuss the effect of too frequent swarming, on the profits of the Apiary. If the bee-keeper desires to have no casts, he can, by the use of my hives, very easily, prevent their issue. As soon as the first swarm is hived, the parent stock may be opened, and all the queen cells except one removed. How much better this is, than to attempt to return the after-swarms to the parent hive, can only be appreciated by one who has thoroughly tried both plans. If the Apiarian desires the most rapid multiplication of colonies possible, where natural swarming is relied on, full directions will be furnished, in the sequel, for building up all after-swarms, however small, into vigorous stocks. It will be remembered that both the parent stock from which the swarm issues, and all the colonies except the first, have a young queen. These queens never leave the hive for impregnation, until after they have been established as the acknowledged heads of independent families. They generally go out for this purpose, the first pleasant day after they are thus acknowledged, early in the afternoon, at which hour the drones are flying in the greatest numbers. On first leaving their hive, they always fly with their heads turned towards it, and enter and depart often several times before they finally soar up into the air. Such precautions on the part of a young queen, are highly necessary that she may not mistake her own hive on her return, and lose her life by attempting to enter that of another colony. Mistakes of this kind are frequently made when the hives stand near, and closely resemble each other, and are fatal, not only to the queen, but to her whole colony. In the new hive there is no brood at all, and in the old one it is too far advanced towards maturity to answer for raising new queens. Such calamities, in my hive, admit of a very easy remedy, as I shall show in the Chapter on the Loss of the Queen.

To guard the young queen against such frequent mistakes, I paint the covered fronts of my hives, with the alighting boards, and blocks guarding the entrance, of different colors. This answers the same purpose as to paint the whole surface of the boxes, some of one color, and some of another. The only proper color for a hive when exposed to the weather, is a perfect white; any shade of color will absorb the heat of the sun, so as to warp the wood-work of the hive, besides exposing the bees to a pent and suffocating heat.

When a young queen leaves the hive for the purpose above mentioned, the bees, on missing her, are often filled with alarm, and rush from the hive, just as though they were intending to swarm. Their agitation soon calms down, if she returns to them in safety. I shall give through the medium of the Latin tongue, some statements which are important only to the scientific naturalist, and entomologist.

Post coitum fucus statim perit. Penis ejectio, ut ego comperi, lenem compressionem fuci ventris, consequitur; et fucus extemplo similis fulmine tacto, moritur. Dominus Huber sæpe videbat fuci organum post congressum, in corpore feminæ hæsisse. Vidi semel tam firme inhærens, ut nisi disruptione reginæ ventris, non possim divellere.

The queen commences laying eggs, about two days after impregnation, and for the first season, lays none but the eggs of workers; no males being needed in colonies which will throw no swarm till another season. It is seldom until after she has commenced replenishing the cells with eggs, that she is treated with any special attention by the bees; although if deprived of her before this time, they show, by their despair, that they thoroughly comprehended her vast importance to their welfare.

I shall now give such practical directions for the easy hiving of swarms, as will, I trust, greatly facilitate the whole operation, not merely to the novice, but even to many experienced bee-keepers; and I shall try to make these directions sufficiently minute, to guide those who having never seen a swarm hived, are very apt to imagine that the process must be a formidable one, instead of being, as it usually is to those who are fond of bees, a most delightful entertainment. Experience in this, as in other things, will speedily give the requisite skill and confidence; and the cry of "the bees are swarming," will soon be hailed with greater pleasure than an invitation to the most sumptuous banquet.

The hives for the new swarms should all be in readiness before the swarming season begins, and should be painted long enough beforehand, to have the paint most thoroughly dried. The smell of fresh paint is well known to be exceedingly injurious to human beings, and is such an abomination to the bees, that they will often desert a new hive sooner than put up with it. If the hives cannot be painted in ample season, then such paints should be used, as contain no white lead, and they should be mixed in such a manner as to dry as quickly as possible. Thin hives ought never to stand in the sun, and then, when heated to an insufferable degree, be used for a new swarm. Bees often refuse to enter such hives at all, and at best, are very slow in taking possession of them. It should be borne in mind, that bees, when they swarm, are greatly excited, and unnaturally heated. The temperature of the hive, at the moment of swarming, rises very suddenly, and many of the bees are often drenched with such a profuse perspiration that they are unable to take wing and join the departing colony. The attempt to make bees enter a heated hive in a blazing sun, is as irrational as it would be to try to force a panting crowd of human beings into the suffocating atmosphere of a close garret. If bees are to be put in hives through which the heat of the sun can penetrate, the process should be accomplished in the shade, or if this cannot conveniently be done, the hive should be covered with a sheet, or shaded with leafy boughs. If a hive with my movable frames is used, these should all be furnished, or at least, every other one, with a small piece of worker-comb, attached to the center of the frame, with melted wax or rosin. Without such a guide comb, the bees will almost always work some of the combs out of the true direction, and this will interfere with their easy removal. A sheet of comb, not larger than five inches square, will answer for all the frames of one hive. If even so small a piece of comb as this cannot be procured, let a thin line of melted wax be drawn, lengthwise, over the middle of each frame, and let the colony be examined, on the second day after hiving, and all the frames which contain irregular comb, be removed. This comb may be cut off, and attached so as to serve as a proper guide to the bees. The possession of six frames containing good worker comb, and wrought with perfect accuracy, may be made by the following device, to answer a most admirable end. Put them into a hive with six empty frames; first a frame with comb, then an empty one, &c. After the bees have had possession of this hive two or three days, visit them, and very politely inform them that the full frames were intended as a loan, and not as a gift; and that having served to set them an example how they should work, you must now have them to teach other young swarms the same useful lesson; and that the new combs which they have built with such admirable regularity, are beautiful patterns for the empty ones which you must give them. In this way, the same combs may be made to answer for many successive swarms.

Drone combs should never be attached to the frames as a guide, unless it is desired to have the bees follow the pattern, and build large ranges of drone comb, to breed a vast horde of useless consumers. Such comb, if white, may be used to great advantage in the surplus honey-boxes; if old and discolored, it should be melted for wax. I am now engaged in a course of experiments, which I hope, will enable me to dispense with the necessity of guide-combs for my frames, as they are sometimes difficult to be procured by those who have just commenced bee-keeping. As a general thing, however, every one, after a few weeks' experience, may have enough and to spare, for such purposes. Every piece of good worker-comb, if large enough to be attached to a frame, should be used both for its intrinsic value, and because bees are so wonderfully pleased when they find such unexpected treasures in a hive, that they will seldom desert it. A new swarm has been known to take possession of an old hive without any occupants, but well stored with comb. Though dozens of empty hives may be in the Apiary, they never unless under such circumstances, enter a hive, of their own accord. It might seem as though an instinct impelling them to do so, would have been a most admirable one, and so doubtless, it may seem to some that it would have been much better for man, if the earth had only brought forth spontaneously all things requisite for the support of man and beast, without any necessity for the sweat of the brow. The first and last frames in my hive, are placed about a quarter of an inch from the ends, and the others just half an inch apart. When first put in, it will be advisable to attach them slightly with a very little glue or melted wax, to keep them in their places, until they are fastened with propolis, by the bees. The rubbing of hives with various kinds of herbs or washes, has always seemed to me, useless, and often positively injurious. There ought always to be some small trees near the hives, on which the swarms can cluster, and from which they can be easily gathered. If there are none, limbs of trees about six feet high, (evergreens are best,) may be fastened into the ground, a few rods in front of the hives, and they will answer a very good temporary purpose. It will inspire the inexperienced Apiarian with much greater confidence, to remember that almost all the bees in a swarm, have filled themselves with honey, before leaving the parent stock, and are therefore in a very peaceable mood. If he is at all timid, or liable, as some are, to suffer severely from the sting of a single bee, he should, by all means, furnish himself with the protection of a bee-dress. (See [Bee-Dress].)

I shall, in another place, give the best remedies for the relief of a sting. As soon as the bees have quietly clustered around their queen, preparation should be made to hive them without any unnecessary delay. The headlong haste of some Apiarians, which, by throwing them into a profuse perspiration, renders them very liable to be stung, is altogether unnecessary. The very fact that the bees have clustered, after leaving the parent stock, is almost equivalent to a certainty that they will not leave, for at least one or two hours. All convenient despatch should be used, however, lest other colonies issue before the first one is hived, and attempt to add themselves, as they frequently do, to the first swarm. The proper course to be pursued, in such a case, will be subsequently explained. If my hives are used, the entrance on the whole front must be opened, so that the bees may have every chance to enter as rapidly as possible; and a sheet must be fastened to the alighting-board, to keep the bees from being separated from each other or soiled by dirt, for a bee thoroughly covered with dust or dirt, is almost sure to perish. Unless the bees cluster at a considerable distance from the place where they are intended to be permanently stationed, the new hive which receives them may stand on the Protector in its proper place, with the sheet tacked or pinned to the alighting-board, and spread out over the mound in front of the entrance. If the common hives are used, they must generally be carried to the swarm, and propped up on the sheet, so as to give the bees a free admission. When the bees alight where they can be easily reached from the ground, the limb on which they have clustered, should, with one hand, be shaken, so that they may gently fall into a basket held under them, by the other. If the basket is sufficiently open to admit the air freely, and not so open as to allow the bees to get through the sides, it will answer all the better. The bees should now be carried very slowly to their new home, and be gently shaken, or poured out, on the sheet, in front of it. If they seem at all reluctant to enter, take up a few of them in a large spoon, (a cup will answer equally well,) and shake them close to the entrance. As they go in, they will fan with their wings, and raise a peculiar note, which communicates the joyful news that they have found a home, to the rest of their companions; and in a short time, the whole swarm will enter, and they are thus safely hived, without injury to a single bee. When bees are once shaken down on the sheet, the great mass of them are very unwilling to take wing again; for they are loaded with honey, and like heavily armed troops, they desire to march slowly and sedately to the place of encampment. If the sheet hangs in folds, or is not stretched out, so as to present an uninterrupted surface, they are often greatly confused, and take a long time to find the entrance to the hive. If it is desired to have them enter sooner than they are sometimes inclined to do, they may be gently separated, with a feather, or leafy twig, when they cluster in bunches on the sheet. On first shaking them down into the basket, multitudes will again take wing, and multitudes more will be left on the tree, but they will speedily form a line of communication with those on the sheet, and enter the hive with them; for many of them will follow the Apiarian, as he slowly carries the basket to the hive.

It sometimes happens that the queen is left on the tree: in this case, the bees will either refuse to enter the hive, or if they go in, will speedily come out, and all take wing again, to join their queen. This happens much more frequently in the case of after-swarms, whose young queens, instead of exhibiting the gravity of the old matron, are apt to be constantly flying about, and frisking in the air. When the bees cluster again on the tree, the process of hiving must be repeated.

If the Apiarian has a pair of sharp pruning-shears, and the limb on which the bees have clustered, is of no value, and so small, that it can be cut without jarring them off, this may be done, and the bees carried on it and then shaken off on the sheet.

If the bees settle too high to be easily reached, the basket should be fastened to a pole, and raised directly under the swarm; a quick motion of the basket will cause the mass of the bees to fall into it, when it may be carried to the hive, and the bees poured out from it on the sheet.

If the bees light on the trunk of a tree, or any thing from which they cannot easily be gathered in a basket, place a leafy bough over them, (it may be fastened with a gimlet,) and if they do not mount it of their own accord, a little smoke will compel them to do so. If the place is inaccessible, and this is about the worst case that occurs, they will enter a basket well shaded by cotton cloth fastened around it, and elevated so as to rest with its open top sideways to the mass of the bees. When small trees, or limbs fastened into the ground, are placed near the hives, and there are no large trees near, there will seldom be found any difficulty in hiving swarms. If two swarms light together, I advise that they should be put into one hive, and abundant room at once be given them, for storing surplus honey. This can always be readily done in my hives. Large quantities of honey are generally obtained from such stocks, if the season is favorable, and they have issued early. If it is desired to separate them, place in each of the hives which is to receive them, a comb containing brood and eggs, from which, in case of necessity, a new queen may be raised. Shake a portion of the bees in front of each hive, sprinkling them thoroughly, both before and after they are shaken out from the basket, so that they will not take wing to unite again. If possible, secure the queens, so that one may be given to each hive. If this cannot be done, the hives should be examined the next day, and if the two queens entered the same hive, one will have killed the other, and the queenless hive will be found building royal cells. It should be supplied with a sealed queen nearly mature, taken from another hive, not only to save time, but to prevent them from filling their hive with comb unfit for the rearing of workers. (See [Artificial Swarming].) Of course, this cannot be done with the common hives, and if the Apiarian does not succeed in getting a queen for each hive, the queenless one will refuse to stay, and will go back to the old stock.

The old-fashioned way of hiving bees, by mounting trees, cutting and lowering down large limbs, (often to the injury of valuable trees,) and placing the hive over the bees, frequently crushing large numbers, and endangering the life of the queen, should be entirely abandoned. A swarm may be hived in the proper way with far less risk and trouble, and in much less time. In large Apiaries managed on the swarming plan, where a number of swarms come out on the same day, and there is constant danger of their mixing,[16] the speedy hiving of swarms is an object of great importance. If the new hive does not stand where it is to remain for the season, it should be removed to its permanent stand as soon as the bees have entered; for if allowed to remain to be removed in the evening, or early next morning, the scouts which have left the cluster, in search of a hollow tree, will find the bees when they return, and will often entice them from the hive. There is the greater danger of this, if the bees have remained on the tree, a considerable time before they were hived. I have invariably found that swarms which abandon a suitable hive for the woods, have been hived near the spot where they clustered, and allowed to remain to be moved in the evening. If the bees swarm early in the day, they will generally begin to work in a few hours (or in less time, if they have empty comb,) and many more may be lost by returning next day to the place where they were hived, than would be lost, by removing them as soon as they have entered; in this latter case, the few that are on the wing, will generally be able to find the hive if it is slowly moved to its permanent stand.

If the Apiarian wishes to secure the queen, the bees should be shaken from the hiving basket, about a foot from the entrance to the hive, and if a careful look-out is kept, she will generally be seen as she passes over the sheet, to the entrance. Care must be taken to brush the bees back from the entrance when they press forward in such dense masses that the queen is likely to enter unnoticed. An experienced eye readily catches a glance of her peculiar form and color. She may be taken up without danger, as she never stings, unless engaged in combat with another queen. As it will sometimes happen, even to careful bee-keepers, that swarms will come off when no suitable hives are in readiness to receive them, I shall show what may be done in such an emergency. Take any old hive, box, cask, or measure, and hive the bees in it, placing them with suitable protection against the sun, where their new hive is to stand; when this is ready, they may, by a quick jerking motion, be easily shaken out on a sheet, and hived in it, just as though they were shaken from the hiving basket. If they are to remain in the temporary hive over the second day, they ought to be shaken out on a sheet, and after their comb is taken from them, allowed to enter it again, or else there will be danger of crushing the queen by the weight of the comb.

I have endeavored, even at the risk of being tedious, to give such specific directions as will qualify the novice to hive a swarm of bees, under almost any circumstances; for I know the necessity of such directions and how seldom they are to be met with, even in large treatises on Bee-Keeping. Vague or imperfect directions always fail, just at the moment that the inexperienced attempt to put them into practice.

Before leaving this subject, I will add to the directions for hiving already given, a method which I have practiced with good success.

When the situation of the bees does not admit of the basket being easily elevated to them, the bee-keeper may carry it with him to the cluster, and then after shaking the bees into it, may lower it down by a string, to an assistant standing below.

That Natural Swarming may, with suitable hives, be made highly profitable, I cannot for a moment question. As it is the most simple and obvious way of multiplying colonies, and the one which requires the least amount of knowledge or skill, it will undoubtedly, for many years at least, be the favorite method with a large number of bee-keepers. I have therefore, been careful to furnish suitable directions for its successful practice; and before I discuss the question of Artificial Increase, I shall show how it may be more profitably conducted than ever before; many of the most embarrassing difficulties in the way of its successful management being readily obviated by the use of my hives.

1. The common hives fail to furnish adequate protection in Winter, against cold, and those sudden changes to unseasonable warmth, by which bees are tempted to come out and perish in large numbers on the snow; and the colonies are thus prevented from breeding on a large scale, as early as they otherwise would. Under such circumstances, they can make no profitable use of the early honey-harvest; and they will swarm so late, if they swarm at all, as to have but little opportunity for laying up surplus honey, while often they do not gather enough even for their own use, and their owner closes the season by purchasing honey to preserve them from starvation. The way in which I give the bees that amount of protection in Winter, which conduces most powerfully to early swarming, has already been described in the Chapter on Protection.

2. Another serious objection to all the ordinary swarming hives, is the vexatious fact that if the bees swarm at all, they are liable to swarm so often as to destroy the value of both the parent stock and the after-swarms. Experienced bee-keepers obviate this difficulty, by uniting second swarms, so as to make one good colony out of two; and they return to the parent stock all swarms after the second, and even this if the season is far advanced. Such operations consume much time, and often give much more trouble than they are worth. By removing all the queen cells but one, after the first swarm has left, second swarming in my hives will always be prevented; and by removing all but two, provision may be made for the issue of second swarms, and yet all after-swarming be prevented. The process of returning after-swarms is not only objectionable, on account of the time it requires, having often to be repeated again and again before one queen is allowed to destroy the others; but it also causes a large portion of the gathering season to be wasted; for the bees seem unwilling to work with energy, so long as the pretensions of several rival queens are unsettled.

3. Another very serious objection to Natural Swarming, as practiced with the common hives, is the inability of the Apiarian who wishes rapidly to multiply his colonies, to aid his late and small swarms, so as to build them up into vigorous stocks. The time and money which are ordinarily spent upon small colonies, are almost always thrown away; by far the larger portion of them never survive the Winter, and the majority of those that do, are so enfeebled, as to be of little or no value. If they escape being robbed by stronger stocks, or destroyed by the moth, they seldom recruit in season to swarm, and very often the feeding must be repeated, the second Fall, or they will at last perish. I doubt not that many of my readers will, from their own experience, endorse every word of these remarks, as true to the very letter. All who have ever attempted to multiply colonies by nursing and feeding small swarms, on the ordinary plans, have found it attended with nothing but loss and vexation. The more a man has of such stocks, the poorer he is: for by their weakness, they are constantly tempting his strong swarms to evil courses; so that at last, they prefer to live as far as they can, by stealing, rather than by habits of honest industry; and if the feeble colonies escape being plundered, they often become mere nurseries for raising a plentiful supply of moths, to ravage his whole Apiary.

I have already shown, in what way by the use of my hives, the smallest swarms that ever issue, may be so managed as to become powerful stocks. In the same way the Apiarian can easily strengthen all his colonies which are feeble in Spring.

4. As the loss of the young queens in the parent stock after it has swarmed, and in the after-swarms, is a very common occurrence, a hive which like mine, furnishes the means of easily remedying this misfortune, will greatly promote the success of those who practice natural swarming. A very intelligent bee-keeper once assured me, that he must use at least one such hive in his Apiary, for this purpose, even if in other respects it possessed no superior merits.

5. Bees, as is well known, often refuse to swarm at all, and most of the swarming hives are so constructed, that proper accommodations for storing honey, cannot be furnished to the super-abundant population. Under such circumstances, they often hang for several months, in black masses on the outside of the hive; and are worse than useless, as they consume the honey which the others have gathered. In my hives, an abundance of room for storing honey can always be given them, not all at once, so as to prevent them from swarming, but by degrees, as their necessities require: so that if they are indisposed, for any reason to swarm, they may have suitable receptacles easily accessible, and furnished with guide comb to make them more attractive, in which to store up any amount of honey that they can possibly collect.

6. In the common hives, but little can be done to dislodge the bee-moth, when once it has gained the mastery of the bees; whereas in mine, it can be most effectually rooted out when it has made a lodgment. (See [Remarks on Bee-Moth].)

7. In the common hives, nothing can be done except with great difficulty, to remove the old queen when her fertility is impaired; whereas in my hives, (as will be shown in the Chapter on Artificial Swarming,) this can easily be effected, so that an Apiary may constantly contain a stock of young queens, in the full vigor of their re-productive powers.

I trust that these remarks will convince intelligent Apiarians, that I have not spoken boastfully or at random, in asserting that natural swarming can be carried on with much greater certainty and success, by the use of my hives, than in any other way; and that they will see that many of the most perplexing embarrassments and mortifying discouragements under which they have hitherto prosecuted it, may be effectually remedied.

CHAPTER X.
ARTIFICIAL SWARMING.

The numerous efforts which have been made for the last fifty years or more, to dispense with natural swarming, plainly indicate the anxiety of Apiarians to find some better mode of increasing their colonies.

Although I am able to propagate bees by natural swarming, with a rapidity and certainty unattainable except by the complete control of all the combs in the hive, still there are difficulties in this mode of increase, inherent to the system itself, and therefore entirely incapable of being removed by any kind of hive. Before describing the various methods which I employ to increase colonies by artificial means, I shall first enumerate these difficulties, in order that each individual bee-keeper may decide for himself, in which way he can most advantageously propagate his bees.

1. The large number of swarms lost every year, is a powerful argument against natural swarming.

An eminent Apiarian has estimated that one fourth of the best swarms are lost every season! This estimate can hardly be considered too high, if all who keep bees are taken into account. While some bee-keepers are so careful that they seldom lose a swarm, the majority, either from the grossest negligence, or from necessary hindrances during the swarming season, are constantly incurring serious losses, by the flight of their bees to the woods. It is next to impossible, entirely to prevent such occurrences, if bees are allowed to swarm at all.

2. The great amount of time and labor required by natural swarming, has always been regarded as a decided objection to this mode of increase.

As soon as the swarming season begins, the Apiary must be closely watched almost every day, or some of the new swarms will be lost. If this business is entrusted to thoughtless children, or careless adults, many swarms will be lost by their neglect. It is very evident that but few persons who keep bees, can always be on hand to watch them and to hive the new swarms. But, in the height of the swarming season, if any considerable number of colonies is kept, the Apiarian, to guard against serious losses, should either be always on the spot himself, or have some one who can be entrusted with the care of his bees. Even the Sabbath cannot be observed as a day of rest; and often, instead of being able to go to the House of God, the bee-keeper is compelled to labor among his bees, as hard as on other days, or even harder. That he is as justifiable in hiving his bees on the Sabbath, as in taking care of his stock, can admit of no serious doubt; but the very liability of being called to do so, is with many, a sufficient objection against Apiarian pursuits.

The merchant, mechanic and professional man, are often so situated that they would take great interest in bees, if they were not deterred from their cultivation by inability to take care of them, during the swarming season; and they are thus debarred from a pursuit, which is intensely fascinating, not merely to the lover of Nature, but to every one possessed of an inquiring mind. No man who spends some of his leisure hours in studying the wonderful habits and instincts of bees, will ever complain that he can find nothing to fill up his time out of the range of his business, or the gratification of his appetites. Bees may be kept with great advantage, even in large cities, and those who are debarred from every other rural pursuit, may still listen to the soothing hum of the industrious bee, and harvest annually its delicious nectar.

If the Apiarian could always be on hand during the swarming season, it would still, in many instances, be exceedingly inconvenient for him to attend to his bees. How often is the farmer interrupted in the business of hay-making, by the cry that his bees are swarming; and by the time he has hived them, perhaps a shower comes up, and his hay is injured more than his swarm is worth. In this way, the keeping of a few bees, instead of a source of profit, often becomes rather an expensive luxury; and if a very large stock is kept, the difficulties and embarrassments are often most seriously increased. If the weather becomes pleasant after a succession of days unfavorable for swarming, it often happens that several swarms rise at once, and cluster together, to the great annoyance of the Apiarian; and not unfrequently, in the noise and confusion, other swarms fly off, and are entirely lost. I have seen the Apiarian so perplexed and exhausted under such circumstances, as to be almost ready to wish that he had never seen a bee.

3. The managing of bees by natural swarming, must, in our country, almost entirely prevent the establishment of large Apiaries.

Even if it were possible, in this way, to multiply bees with certainty and rapidity, and without any of the perplexities which I have just described, how few persons are so situated as to be able to give almost the whole of their time in the busiest part of the year, to the management of their bees. The swarming season is with the farmer, the very busiest part of the whole year, and if he purposes to keep a large number of swarming hives, he must not only devote nearly the whole of his time, for a number of weeks, to their supervision, but at a season when labor commands the highest price, he will often be compelled to hire additional assistance.

I have long been convinced that, as a general rule, the keeping of a few colonies in swarming hives, costs more than they are worth, and that the keeping of a very large number is entirely out of the question, unless with those who are so situated that they can afford to devote their time, for about two months every year, almost entirely to their bees. The number of persons who can afford to do this must be very small; and I have seldom heard of a bee-keeper, in our country, who has an Apiary on a scale extensive enough to make bee-keeping anything more than a subordinate pursuit. Multitudes have tried to make it a large and remunerating business, but hitherto, I believe that they have nearly all been disappointed in their expectations. In such countries as Poland and Russia where labor is deplorably cheap, it may be done to great advantage; but never to any considerable extent in our own.

4. A serious objection to natural swarming, is the discouraging fact that the bees often refuse to swarm at all, and the Apiarian finds it impossible to multiply his colonies with any certainty or rapidity, even although he may find himself in all respects favorably situated for the cultivation of bees, and may be exceedingly anxious to engage in the business on a much more extensive scale.

I am acquainted with many careful bee-keepers who have managed their bees according to the most reliable information they could obtain, never destroying any of their colonies, and endeavoring to multiply them to the best of their ability, who yet have not as many stocks as they had ten years ago. Most of them would abandon the pursuit, if they looked upon bee-keeping simply in the light of dollars and cents, rather than as a source of pleasant recreation; and some do not hesitate to say that much more money has been spent, by the mass of those who have used patent hives, than they have ever realized from their bees.

It is a very simple matter to make calculations on paper, which shall seem to point out a road to wealth, almost as flattering, as a tour to the gold mines of Australia or California. Only purchase a patent bee-hive, and if it fulfills all or even a part of the promises of its sanguine inventor, a fortune must, in the course of a few years, be certainly realized; but such are the disappointments resulting from the bees refusing often to swarm at all, that if the hive could remedy all the other difficulties in the way of bee-keeping, it would still fail to answer the reasonable wishes of the experienced Apiarian. If every swarm of bees could be made to yield a profit of 20 dollars a year, and if the Apiarian could be sure of selling his new swarms at the most extravagant prices, he could not, like the growers of mulberry trees, or the breeders of fancy fowls, multiply his stocks so as to meet the demand, however extensive; but would be entirely dependent upon the whims and caprices of his bees; or rather, upon the natural laws which control their swarming.

Every practical bee-keeper is well aware of the utter uncertainty of natural swarming. Under no circumstances, can its occurrence be confidently relied on. While some stocks swarm regularly and repeatedly, others, strong in numbers and rich in stores, although the season may, in all respects, be propitious, refuse to swarm at all. Such colonies, on examination, will often be found to have taken no steps for raising young queens. In some cases, the wings of the old mother will be found defective, while in others, she is abundantly able to fly, but seems to prefer the riches of the old hive, to the risks attending the formation of a new colony. It frequently happens, in our uncertain climate, that when all the necessary preparations have been made for swarming, the weather proves unpropitious for so long a time, that the young queens coming to maturity before the old one can leave, are all destroyed. This is a very frequent occurrence, and under such circumstances, swarming is almost certain to be prevented, for that season. The young queens are frequently destroyed, even although the weather is pleasant, in consequence of some sudden and perhaps only temporary suspension of the honey-harvest; for bees seldom colonize even if all their preparations are completed, unless the flowers are yielding an abundant supply of honey.

From these and other causes which my limits will not permit me to notice, it has hitherto been found impossible, in the uncertain climate of our Northern States, to multiply colonies very rapidly, by natural swarming; and bee-keeping, on this plan, offers very poor inducements to those who are aware how little has been accomplished, even by the most enthusiastic, experienced and energetic Apiarians.

The numerous perplexities which have ever attended natural swarming, have for ages, directed the attention of practical cultivators, to the importance of devising some more reliable method of increasing their colonies. Columella, who lived about the middle of the first century of the Christian Era, and who wrote twelve books on husbandry (De re rustica,) has given directions for making artificial colonies. He says, "you must examine the hive, and view what honey-combs it has; then afterwards from the wax which contains the seeds of the young bees, you must cut away that part wherein the offspring of the royal brood is animated: for this is easy to be seen; because at the very end of the wax-works there appears, as it were, a thimble-like process (somewhat similar to an acorn,) rising higher, and having a wider cavity, than the rest of the holes, wherein the young bees of vulgar note are contained."

Hyginus, who flourished before Columella, had evidently noticed the royal jelly; for he speaks of cells larger than those of the common bees, "filled as it were with a solid substance of a red color, out of which the winged king is at first formed." This ancient observer must undoubtedly have seen the quince-like jelly, a portion of which is always found at the base of the royal cells, after the queens have emerged. The ancients generally called the queen a king, although Aristotle says that some in his time called her the mother. Swammerdam was the first to prove by dissection that the queen is a perfect female, and the only one in the hive, and that the drone is the male.

For reasons which I shall shortly mention, the ancient methods of artificial increase appear to have met with but small success. Towards the close of the last century, a new impulse was given to the artificial production of swarms, by the discovery of Schirach, a German clergyman, that bees are able to rear a queen from worker-brood. For want, however, of a more thorough knowledge of some important principles in the economy of the bee, these efforts met with slender encouragement.

Huber, after his splendid discoveries in the physiology of the bee, perceived at once, the importance of multiplying colonies by some method more reliable than that of natural swarming. His leaf or book hive consisted of 12 frames, each an inch and a half in width; any one of which could be opened at pleasure. He recommends forming artificial swarms, by dividing one of these hives into two parts; adding to each part six empty frames. After using a Huber hive for a number of years, I became perfectly convinced that it could only be made servicable, by an adroit, experienced and fearless Apiarian. The bees fasten the frames in such a manner, with their propolis, that they cannot, except with extreme care, be opened without jarring the bees, and exciting their anger; nor can they be shut without constant danger of crushing them. Huber nowhere speaks of having multiplied colonies extensively by such hives, and although they have been in use more than sixty years, they have never been successfully employed for such a purpose. If Huber had only contrived a plan for suspending his frames, instead of folding them together like the leaves of a book, I believe that the cause of Apiarian science would have been fifty years in advance of what it now is.

Dividing hives of various kinds have been used in this country. After giving some of the best of them a thorough trial, and inventing others which somewhat resembled the Huber hive, I found that they could not possibly be made to answer any valuable end in securing artificial swarms. For a long time I felt that the plan ought to succeed, and it was not until I had made numerous experiments with my hive substantially as now constructed, that I ascertained the precise causes of failure.

It may be regarded as one of the laws of the bee-hive, that bees, when not in possession of a mature queen, seldom build any comb except such as being designed merely for storing honey, is too coarse for the rearing of workers. Until I became acquainted with the discoveries of Dzierzon, I supposed myself to be the only observer who had noticed this remarkable fact, and who had been led by it, to modify the whole system of artificial swarming. The perusal of Mr. Wagner's manuscript translation of that author, showed me that he had arrived at precisely similar results.

It may seem at first, very unaccountable that bees should go on to fill their hives with comb unfit for breeding, when the young queen will so soon require worker-cells for her eggs; but it must be borne in mind, that bees, under such circumstances, are always in an unnatural state. They are attempting to rear a new queen in a hive which is only partially filled with comb; whereas, if left to follow their own instincts, they never construct royal cells except in hives which are well filled with comb, for it is only in such hives that they make any preparations for swarming. It must be confessed that they do not show their ordinary sagacity in filling a hive with unsuitable comb; but if it were not for a few instances of this kind of bad management, we should perhaps, form too exalted an idea of their intelligence, and should almost fail to notice the marked distinction between reason in man, and even the most refined instincts of some of the animals by which he is surrounded.

The determination of bees, when they have no mature queen, if they build any comb at all, to build such as is suited only for storing honey, and unfit for breeding, will show at once, the folly of attempting to multiply colonies by the dividing-hives. Even if the Apiarian has been perfectly successful in dividing a colony, and the part without a queen takes the necessary steps to supply her loss, if the bees are sufficiently numerous to build a large quantity of new comb, (and they ought to be in order to make the artificial colony of any value,) they will build this comb in such a manner that it will answer only for storing honey, while they will use the half of the hive with the old comb, for the purposes of breeding. The next year, if an attempt is made to divide this hive, one half will contain nearly all the brood and mature bees, while the other, having most of the honey, in combs unfit for breeding, the new colony formed from it will be a complete failure.

Even with a Huber hive, the plan of multiplying colonies by dividing a full hive into two parts, and adding an empty half to each, will be attended with serious difficulties; although some of them may be remedied in consequence of the hive being constructed so as to divide into many parts; the very attempt to remedy them, however, will be found to require a degree of skill and knowledge far in advance of what can be expected of the great mass of bee-keepers.

The common dividing hives, separating into two parts, can never, under any circumstances, be made of the least practical value; and the business of multiplying colonies by them, will be found far more laborious, uncertain and vexatious, than to rely on natural swarming. I do not know of a solitary practical Apiarian, who, on trial of this system, has not been compelled to abandon it, and allow the bees to swarm from his dividing hives in the old-fashioned way.

Some Apiarians have attempted to multiply their colonies by putting a piece of brood comb containing the materials for raising a new queen, into an empty hive, set in the place of a strong stock which has been removed to a new stand when thousands of its inmates were abroad in the fields. This method is still worse than the one which has just been described. In the dividing hive, the bees already had a large amount of suitable comb for breeding, while in this having next to none, they build all their combs until the queen is hatched, of a size unsuitable for rearing workers. In the first case, the queenless part of the dividing hive may have had a young queen almost mature, so that the process of building large combs would be of short continuance; for as soon as the young queen begins to lay, the bees at once commence building combs adapted to the reception of worker eggs. In some of my attempts to rear artificial swarms by moving a full stock, as described above, I have had combs built of enormous size, nearly four inches through! and these monster combs have afterwards been pieced out on their lower edge, with worker cells for the accommodation of the young queen! So uniformly do the bees with an unhatched queen, build in the way described, that I can often tell at a single glance, by seeing what kind of comb they are building, that a hive is queenless, or that having been so, they have now a fertile young queen. When a new colony is formed, by dividing the old hive, the queenless part has thousands of cells filled with brood and eggs, and young bees will be hourly hatching, for at least three weeks: and by this time, the young queen will be laying eggs, so that there will be an interval of not more than three weeks, during which no accessions will be made to the numbers of the colony. But when a new swarm is formed by moving, not an egg will be deposited for nearly three weeks; and not a bee will be hatched for nearly six weeks; and during all this time, the colony will rapidly decrease, until by the time that the progeny of the young queen begins to emerge from their cells, the number of bees in the new hive will be so small, that it would be of no value, even if its combs were of the best construction.

Every observing bee-keeper must have noticed how rapidly even a powerful swarm diminishes in number, for the first three weeks after it has been hived. In many cases, before the young begin to hatch, it does not contain one half its original number; so very great is the mortality of bees during the height of the working season.

I have most thoroughly tested, in the only way in which it can be practiced in the ordinary hives, this last plan of artificial swarming, and do not hesitate to say that it does not possess the very slightest practical value; and as this is the method which Apiarians have usually tried, it is not strange that they have almost unanimously pronounced Artificial swarming to be utterly worthless. The experience of Dzierzon on this point has been the same with my own.

Another method of artificial swarming has been zealously advocated, which, if it could only be made to answer, would be, of all conceivable plans the most effectual, and as it would require the smallest amount of labor, experience, or skill, would be everywhere practiced. A number of hives must be put in connection with each other, so as to communicate by holes which allow the bees to travel from any one apartment to the others. The bees, on this plan, are to colonize themselves, and in time, a single swarm will, of its own accord, multiply so as to form a large number of independent families, each one possessing its own queen, and all living in perfect harmony.

This method so beautiful and fascinating in theory, has been repeatedly tried with various ingenious modifications, but in every instance, as far as I know, it has proved an entire failure. It will always be found if bees are allowed to pass from one hive to another, that they will still, for the most part, confine their breeding operations to a single apartment, if it is of the ordinary size, while the others will be used, chiefly for the storing of honey. This is almost invariably the case, if the additional room is given by collateral or side boxes, as the queen seldom enters such apartments for the purpose of breeding. If the new hive is directly below that in which the swarm is first lodged, then if the connections are suitable, the queen will be almost certain to descend and lay her eggs in the new combs, as soon as they are commenced by the bees; in this case, the upper hive is almost entirely abandoned by her, and the bees store the cells with honey, as fast as the brood is hatched, as their instinct impels them always, if they can, to keep their stores of honey above the breeding cells. So long as bees have an abundance of room below their main hive, they will never swarm, but will use it in the way that I have described; if the room is on the sides of their hive, and very accessible, they seldom swarm, but if it is above them, they frequently prefer to swarm rather than to take possession of it. But in none of these cases, do they ever, if left to themselves, form separate and independent colonies.

I am aware that the Apiarian, by separating from the main hive with a slide, an apartment that contains brood, and directing to it by some artificial contrivance a considerable number of bees, may succeed in rearing an artificial colony; but unless all his hives admit of the most thorough inspection, as he can never know their exact condition, he must always work in the dark, and will be much more likely to fail than succeed. Success indeed can only be possible when a skillful Apiarian devotes a large portion of his time to watching and managing his bees, so as to compel them to colonize, and even then it will be very uncertain; so that this plausible theory to be reduced to even a most precarious practice, requires more skill, care, labor and time, than are necessary to manage the ordinary swarming hives.

The failure of so many attempts to increase colonies by artificial means, as well in the hands of scientific and experienced Apiarians, as under the direction of those who are almost totally ignorant of the physiology of the bee, has led many to prefer to use non-swarming hives. In this way, very large harvests of honey are often obtained from a powerful stock of bees; but it is very evident that if the increase of new colonies were entirely discouraged, the insect would soon be exterminated. To prevent this, the advocates of the non-swarming plan, must either have their bees swarm, to some extent, or rely upon those who do.

My hive may be used as a non-swarmer, and may be made more effectually to prevent swarming, than any with which I am acquainted: as in the Spring, (See No. 34. p. [104],) ample accommodations may be given to the bees, below their main works, and when this is seasonably done, swarming will never take place.

There are certain objections however, which must always prevent the non-swarming plan from being the most successful mode of managing bees. To say nothing of the loss to the bee-keeper, who has, after some years, only one stock, when if the natural mode of increase had been allowed, he ought to have a number, it is usually found that after bees have been kept in a non-swarming hive for several seasons, they seem to work with much less vigor than usual. Of this, any one may convince himself, who will compare the industrious working of a new swarm, with that of a much more powerful stock in a non-swarming hive. The former will work with such astonishing zeal, that to one unacquainted with the facts, it would be taken to be by far the more powerful stock.

As the fertility of the queen decreases by age, the disadvantage of using non-swarming hives of the ordinary construction, will be obvious. This objection to the system can be remedied in my hive, as the old queen can be easily caught and removed; but when hives are used in which this cannot be done, the Apiary, instead of containing a race of young queens in the full vigor of their reproductive powers, will contain many that have passed their prime, and these old queens may die when there are no eggs in the hive to enable the bees to replace them, and thus the whole colony will perish.

If the bee-keeper wishes to winter only a certain number of stocks, I will, in another place, show him a way in which this can be done, so as to obtain more honey from them, than from an equal number kept on the non-swarming plan, while at the same time, they may all be maintained in a state of the highest health and vigor.

I shall now describe a method of artificial swarming, which may be successfully practiced with almost any hive, by those who have sufficient experience in the management of bees.

About the time that natural swarming may be expected, a populous hive, rich in stores is selected, and what I shall call a forced swarm is obtained from it, by the following process. Choose that part of a pleasant day, say from 10 A. M. to 2 P. M., when the largest number of bees are abroad in the fields; if any bees are clustered in front of the hive, or on the bottom-board, puff among them a few whiffs of smoke from burning rags or paper, so as to force them to go up among the combs. This can be done with greater ease, if the hive is elevated, by small wedges, about one quarter of an inch above the bottom-board. Have an empty hive or box in readiness, the diameter of which is as nearly as possible, the same with that of the hive from which you intend to drive the swarm. Lift the hive very gently, and without the slightest jar, from its bottom-board; invert it and carry it in the same careful manner, about a rod from its old stand, as bees are always much more inclined to be peaceable, when removed a short distance, than when any operation is performed on the familiar spot. If the hive is carefully placed on the ground, upside down, scarcely a single bee will fly out, and there will be little danger of being stung. Timid and inexperienced Apiarians will, of course, protect themselves with a bee-dress, and they may have an assistant to sprinkle the hive gently with sugar-water, as soon as it is inverted. After placing the hive in an inverted position on the ground, the empty hive must be put over it, and every crack from which a bee might escape, must be carefully closed with paper or any convenient material. The upper hive ought to be furnished with two or three slats, about an inch and a half wide, and fastened one third of the distance from the top, so as to give the bees every opportunity to cluster.

As soon as the Apiarian is perfectly sure that the bees cannot escape, he should place an empty hive upon the stand from which they were removed, so that the multitudes which return from the fields may enter it, instead of dispersing to other hives, where some of them may meet with a very unkind reception; although as a general rule, a bee with a load of freshly gathered honey, after the extent of his resources is ascertained, is almost always, welcomed by any hive to which he may carry his treasures; while a poor unfortunate that ventures to present itself empty and poverty stricken, is generally at once destroyed! The one meets with as friendly a reception as a wealthy gentleman who proposes to take up his abode in a country village, while the other is as much an object of dislike as a pauper who is suspected of wishing to become a parish charge!

To return to our imprisoned bees. Beginning at the top, or what is now, (as the hive is upside down,) the bottom, their hive should be beaten smartly with two small rods on the front and back, or on the sides to which the combs are attached, so as to run no risk of loosening them. If the hive when removed from its stand was put upon a stool or table, or something not so solid as the ground, the drumming will cause more motion, and yet be less apt to start any of the combs. These "rappings" which certainly are not of a very "spiritual" character, produce nevertheless, a most decided effect upon the bees: their first impulse is to sally out and wreak their vengeance upon those who have thus rudely assailed their honied dome; but as soon as they find that they are shut in, a sudden fear that they are to be driven from their treasures, seems to take possession of them. If the two hives have glass windows, so that all the operations can be witnessed, the bees, in a few moments, will be seen most busily engaged in gorging themselves with honey. During all this time, the rapping must be continued, and in about five minutes, nearly every bee will have filled itself to its utmost capacity, and they are now prepared for their forced emigration; a prodigious hum is heard, and the bees begin to mount into the upper box. In about ten minutes from the time the rapping began, the mass of the bees with their queen will have ascended, and will hang clustered, just like a natural swarm. The box with the expelled bees must now be gently lifted off, and should be placed upon a bottom-board with a gauze wire ventilator, so that the bees may be confined, and yet have plenty of air. A shallow vessel or a piece of old comb containing water, ought to be first placed on the bottom-board. If no gauze wire bottom-board is at hand, the hive must be wedged up, so as to admit an abundance of air, and be set in a shady place.

The hive from which the bees were driven, must now be set, without crushing any of the bees, on its old spot, in the place of the decoy hive, that all the bees which have returned from abroad, may enter. Before this change is made, these bees will be running in and out of the empty hive, (See p. [72],) but as soon as the opportunity is given them, they will crowd into their well-known home, and if there are no royal cells started, will proceed, almost at once, to construct them, and the next day they will act as though the forced swarm had left of its own accord. When the operation is delayed until about the season for natural swarming, the hive will contain immature queens, if the bees were intending to swarm, and a new queen will soon take the place of the old one, just as in natural swarming. If it is performed too early, and before the drones have made their appearance, the young queen may not be seasonably impregnated, and the parent stock will perish.

It will be obvious that this whole process, in order to be successfully performed, requires a knowledge of the most important points in the economy of the bee-hive; indeed the same remark may be made of almost any operation, and those who are willing to remain ignorant of the laws which regulate the breeding of bees, ought not to depart in the least, from the old-fashioned mode of management. All such deviations will only be attended with a wanton sacrifice of bees. A man may use the common swarming hives a whole life-time, and yet remain ignorant of the very first principles in the physiology of the bee, unless he gains his information from other sources; while, by the use of my hives, any intelligent cultivator may, in a single season, verify for himself, the discoveries which have only been made by the accumulated toil of many observers, for more than two thousand years. The ease with which Apiarians may now, by the sight of their own eyes, gain a knowledge of all the important facts in the economy of the hive, will stimulate them most powerfully, to study the nature of the bee and thus to prepare themselves for an enlightened system of management.

In giving directions for the creation of forced swarms, I advised that it should be done during the pleasantest part of the day, when the largest number of bees are foraging abroad. If the operation is performed when all the bees are at home, and they are all driven into the empty hive, the old hive will be so depopulated that many of the young will perish for want of suitable attention, and the parent stock will be greatly deteriorated in value. If only a part of the bees are expelled, the queen may be left behind, and the whole operation will be a failure, and at best it will be difficult to make a suitable division of the bees between the two hives. Indeed, under any circumstances, this is the most difficult part of the process, and it often requires no little judgment to equalize the two colonies.

Some recommend placing the forced swarm on the old stand, and removing the parent hive with the bees that are deemed sufficient, to a new place. If this is done, and the bees have their liberty, so many of them will leave for the familiar spot, that the hive will be almost deserted, and a very large proportion of its brood will perish. The bees in this hive, if it is to be set in a new place, must have water given to them, and be so shut up as to have an abundance of air, until late in the afternoon of the third day, when the hive may be opened, and they will take wing, almost as though they were intending to swarm. Some will even then, return to the place where they originally stood, and join the forced swarm, but the most of them, after hovering in the air for a short time, will re-enter the hive. During the time that they have been shut up, thousands of young bees will have emerged from their cells, and these, knowing no other home, will aid in taking care of the larvæ, and in carrying on the work of the hive.

Instead of trying to make an equitable division at the time of driving out the bees, I prefer to expel all that I can, and to rely upon the bees returning from their gatherings, to replenish the old stock. If the number appears to be too small, I open temporarily the entrance of the hive containing the forced swarm, and permit as many as I judge best, to come out and enter their old abode. It must here be borne in mind, that bees which are thus ejected from a hive, do not, in all respects, act like a natural swarm, which having left the parent stock, of its own accord, never seeks, unless it has lost its queen, to return; whereas, many of the forced swarm, as soon as they leave the hive into which they have been driven, will return to their former abode. The same is true of bees which are moved to any distance not far enough to be beyond the limits of their previous excursions in search of food. If we could only make our bees when moved, or forced to swarm, adhere to their hives as faithfully as a natural swarm, many difficulties which now perplex us, would be at once removed.

Having ascertained that the parent hive contains a sufficient number of bees to carry on operations, about sun-set, after the bees are all at home, it may be removed to a new stand, and the bees, after being supplied with water, must be shut up, according to the directions previously given. If the hive is so constructed that water cannot be conveniently given them, the following plan I have found to answer most admirably. Bore a small hole towards the top on the front side, and with a straw, water may be injected with scarcely any trouble. A mouthful once or twice a day, will be sufficient. If the bees are confined without water, they will not be able to prepare the food for the larvæ, and multitudes of them must necessarily perish.

The expelled colony must be placed, on the same evening, precisely where the hive from which they were driven stood, and have their liberty given to them. The next morning, they will work with as much vigor as though they had swarmed in the natural way.

The directions which have here been given for creating forced swarms, will be found to differ in some important respects from any which other Apiarians have previously furnished. I have already shown that it is difficult to secure the right number of bees for the parent stock, unless it is set temporarily on its old stand, so as to catch up the returning bees. The common plan has been to try to leave in it, as many bees as are needed, and then to shut it up for a few days, having placed it in a new spot, while the forced swarm is immediately replaced so that all the stragglers may be added to it. If we could always be sure of driving out the queen, and with her, as many bees as we want and no more, this would undoubtedly be the simplest plan; but for the reasons already assigned, it will be found a very precarious operation.

Some Apiarians recommend putting the forced swarm in a new place in the Apiary; but as large numbers of the bees will be sure, when they go out to work, to return to the familiar spot, the new colony will often be so seriously depopulated as to be of but little value. If the Apiarian can remove his forced swarms, some two or three miles off, he may give them their liberty at once, and in the course of a few weeks, he can, without risk, bring them back to his Apiary.

If he chooses, he may allow the parent stock to remain on the old stand, and confine the forced swarm, until about an hour before sun set of the third day. They must in the mean time be supplied with both honey and water, and if they cannot be kept cool and quiet, they should be removed into the cellar until they are placed in their new position. Many will even then return to the old spot, but not enough to interfere seriously with their prosperity. If the bees cannot, as in my hives, be kept cool and dark, they will be excessively uneasy, and may suffer very seriously from so long confinement: hence the very great importance of setting them in the cellar.

It may seem strange, that bees, when their hive is moved, or when they are forcibly expelled from it, should not adhere to the new spot, just as when they have swarmed of their own accord. In each case, as soon as a bee leaves its new place, it flies with its head turned towards the hive, in order to mark the surrounding objects, that it may be able to return to the same spot; but when they have not emigrated of their own accord, many of them seem, when they rise in the air, or return from work, entirely to forget that their location has been changed; and they return to the place where they have lived so long, and if no hive is there, they often die on the deserted and desolate, yet home-like spot. If, on the contrary, they swarmed of their own accord, they seldom, if ever, make such a mistake. It may truly be said that

"A 'bee removed' against its will
Is of the same opinion still."

I have been thus minute in describing the whole process of creating forced swarms, not merely on account of the importance of the plan in multiplying colonies, but because the driving or drumming out of bees from a common hive, is employed with great success in a variety of ways which will be hereafter specified. I doubt not that many bee-keepers, on reading this mode of creating colonies, are ready to object that it not only requires more skill, but more time and labor, than to allow them to swarm, and then to hive them in the old-fashioned way.

As practiced with ordinary hives, it is undoubtedly liable to this serious objection, and I would easily with my basket hiver, undertake to hive four natural swarms, in the time that it would require to create one forced swarm; to say nothing of the care which must be bestowed upon the artificial swarms, with their parent stocks, after the driving process has been completed. For this reason, I do not advise the bee-keeper to force his swarms from the common hives, until he has first ascertained that they are not likely to swarm in tolerably good season, of their own accord, unless he is afraid that they will come out during his absence, and decamp to the woods.

By the aid of my hives, this process may be most expeditiously performed. An empty hive, with its frames furnished with guide combs, must be in readiness. The cover of the full hive should be removed, and the bees gently sprinkled with sugar-water from a watering pot that discharges a fine stream. In about two minutes, the frames may be taken out, and the bees, by a quick motion, shaken on a sheet directly in front of their hive. As fast as a comb is deprived of its bees, it should be set in a proper position in the new hive, and an empty frame put in its place. Two or three of the combs containing brood, eggs, &c., should be left in the old hive, as well to give them greater encouragement, as to prevent them from being dissatisfied if their queen should, by any possibility, be taken from them. In removing the frames with the bees, I always look for the queen, and if I see her, as I generally do, I return to the hive the frame which contains her, without shaking off the bees. In that case, I put several of the necessary combs into the new hive, with all the bees upon them.

In dislodging the bees upon the sheet, I do not shake them all off from the frames; but leave about one quarter of them on, and put them with the combs into the new hive. I never knew the queen to be left on a frame after it was shaken so that the larger portion of the bees would fall off. As soon as the operation is completed, and the necessary number of bees have been transferred with their comb to the new hive, it should be managed according to the directions previously given, in the case of the old hive from which a swarm was drummed out.

If in the operation the Apiarian does not see the queen, he must, in the course of the third day, examine the hive having the larger portion of bees, and if they have commenced building royal cells among the combs given to them, he may be certain that she is in the other hive. The comb containing the royal cells may then be transferred to that hive, and the queen searched for, and returned with the combs on which she is found, to her proper place. A little experience, however, will enable the operator to be sure from the first, that the queen is with the right division.

To most persons, it would seem to be of little consequence, in which hive the queen is placed: but if the bees which have only a few frames of comb, are compelled to rear another, they will be sure to fill their hive with comb unfit for breeding purposes, and will also be so long before they can have additions to their number, as to be of but little value.

If many swarms are to be created in this manner, and the operation is delayed until near swarming time, in some of them, numerous royal cells will be found, so that each stock which has no queen, may have one nearly mature, given to it, and thus much valuable time may be saved.

By making a few forced swarms, about a week or ten days before the time in which the most will be made, the Apiarian may be sure of having an abundance of sealed queens almost mature, so that every swarm may have one. If he can give each hive that needs it, an unhatched queen, without removing her from her frame, so much the better; but if he has not enough frames with sealed queens, while some of them contain two or more queens, he must proceed as follows:

With a very sharp knife, carefully cut out a queen cell, on a piece of comb an inch or more square; cut a place in one of the combs of the hive to which this cell is to be given, just about large enough to receive it in a natural position, and if it is not secure, put a little melted wax with a feather, where the edges meet. The bees will soon fasten it, so as to make all right. Unless very great care is used in transferring these royal cells, the enclosed queens will be destroyed; as their bodies, until they are nearly mature, are so exceedingly soft, that a very slight compression of their cell often kills them. For this reason, I prefer not to remove them, until they are within three or four days of hatching. As the forcing of a swarm may always be conducted, with my hives, in such a manner that the Apiarian can be sure to effect a suitable division of the bees, the process may be performed at any time when the sun is above the horizon, and the weather is not too unpleasant. It ought not to be attempted when the weather is so cool as to endanger the destruction of the brood, by a chill; and never unless when there is not only sufficient light to enable the Apiarian to see distinctly, but enough for the bees that take wing, to see the hive, and direct their flight to its entrance. If hives are meddled with, when it is dark, the bees are always more irascible, and as they cannot see where to fly, they will constantly be alighting upon the person of the bee-keeper, who will be almost sure to receive some stings. I have seldom attempted night-work upon my bees, without having occasion most thoroughly to rue my folly. If the weather is not too cool, early in the morning, before the bees are stirring, will be the best time, as there will be less danger of annoyance from robber-bees.

If honey-water is used instead of sugar-water in sprinkling the bees when the hive is first opened, the smell will be almost certain to entice marauders from other hives to attempt to take possession of treasures which do not belong to them, and when they once commence such a pilfering course of life, they will be very loth to lay it aside. When the honey harvest is abundant, (and this is the very time for forcing swarms,) bees, with proper precautions, are seldom inclined to rob. I have sometimes found it difficult to induce them to notice honey-combs which I wished them to empty, even when they were placed in an exposed situation. This subject, however, will be more fully treated in the remarks on Robbing.

Perhaps some of my readers will hardly be able to convince themselves that bees may be dealt with after the fashion I have been describing, without becoming greatly enraged; so far is this from being the case, that in my operations, I often use neither sugar-water nor bee-dress, although I do not recommend the neglect of such precautions.

The artificial swarm may be created with perfect safety, even at mid-day, when thousands of bees are returning to the hive: for these bees being laden with honey, never venture upon making an attack, while those at home may be easily pacified.

I find a very great advantage in the peculiar shape of my hive, which allows the top to be easily removed, and the sugar-water to be sprinkled upon the bees, before they attempt to take wing. If like the Dzierzon hive, it opened on the end, it would be impossible for me to use the sweetened water, so as to make it run down between all the ranges of comb, and I should be forced, as he does, to employ smoke, in all my operations. Huber thus speaks of the pacific effect produced upon the bees by the use of his leaf hive. "On opening the hive, no stings are to be dreaded, for one of the most singular and valuable properties attending my construction, is its rendering the bees tractable. I ascribe their tranquility to the manner in which they are affected by the sudden admission of light, they appear rather to testify fear than anger. Many retire, and entering the cells, seem to conceal themselves." I will admit that Huber has here fallen into an error which he would not have made, had he used his own eyes. The bees do indeed enter the cells when the frames are exposed, but not "to conceal themselves;" they imagine that their sweets, thus unceremoniously exposed to the light of day, are to be taken from them, and they fill themselves to their utmost capacity, in order to save all that they can. I always expect them to appropriate the contents of the open cells, as soon as I remove their frames from the hive. It is not merely the sudden admission of light, but its introduction from an unexpected quarter, that seems for the time to disarm the hostility of the bees. They appear for a few moments, almost as much confounded as we should be, if without any warning the roof and ceiling of a house should suddenly fly off into the air. Before they recover from their amazement, the sweet libation is poured out upon them, and surprize is quickly converted into pleasure rather than anger. I believe that in the working season, almost all the bees near the top are gorged with honey, and that this is the reason why opening the hive from ABOVE is so easily effected. The bees below that are disposed to resent any intrusions, are met in their threatening ascent, with an avalanche of nectar which "like a soft answer," most effectually "turneth away wrath." Who would ever be willing to use the sickening fumes of the disgusting weed, when so much pleasure instead of pain may be given to his bees. That bees never seem to be prepared to make an instant assault from the top of their hive, but only near the entrance, any one may be convinced of, who will put my frames into a suspended hive with a movable bottom which may be made to drop at pleasure. If now, for any purpose, he attempts to meddle with the combs from below, he will find that unless he uses smoke, the bees will be almost, if not quite unmanageable.

I shall now give some directions, which will greatly assist the Apiarian in his operations. He must bear in mind that nothing irritates bees more than a sudden jar, and that this must, in all cases, be most carefully avoided. The inside cover of the hive, or as I shall term it, the honey-board, because the surplus honey receptacles stand upon it, can never be very firmly attached by the bees: it may always be readily loosened with a thin knife, or better still, with an apothecary's spatula, which will be very useful for many purposes in the Apiary. When the honey-board is removed, its lower surface will be usually covered with bees, and it should be carefully set on end, so as not to crush them. There is not the least danger that one of them will offer to sting, as they are completely bewildered by the sudden introduction of light, and their removal from the hive. As soon as the cover is disposed of, the Apiarian should sprinkle the bees with the sweet solution. This should descend from the watering-pot in a fine stream, so as not to drench the bees, and should fall upon the tops of the frames, as well as between the ranges of comb. The bees will at once, accept the proffered treat, and will begin lapping it up, as peaceably as so many chickens helping themselves to corn. While they are thus engaged, the frames must be very gently pried by a stick, from their attachments to the rabbets on which they rest; this may be done without any jar and without wounding or enraging a single bee. They may all be loosened preparatory to removing them, in less than a minute.[17] By this time, the sprinkled bees will have filled themselves, or if all have not done so, the grateful intelligence that sweets have been furnished them, will diffuse an unusual good nature through all the honied realm. The Apiarian should now remove one of the outside frames, taking hold of its two ends which rest upon the rabbets, and carefully lifting it out without inclining it from its perpendicular position, so as not to injure a single bee. The removal of the next comb, and of all the succeeding ones, will be more easily effected, as there will be more room to operate to advantage. If bees were disposed to fly away at once from their combs, as soon as they were taken out, it would be very difficult to manage them, but so far are they from doing this, that they adhere to them with most wonderful tenacity. I have sometimes removed all the combs, and arranged them in a continued line, and the bees have not only refused to leave them, but have stoutly defended them against the thieving propensities of other bees. By shaking off the bees from the combs upon a sheet, and securing the queen, I can, on any pleasant day, exhibit nearly all the appearances of natural swarming. The bees, as soon as they miss their queen, will rise into the air, and by placing her on the twig of a tree, they will soon cluster around her in the manner already described.

A word as to the manner of catching the queen. I seize her very gently, as I espy her among the bees, and by taking care to crush none of them, run not the least risk of being stung. The queen herself never stings, even if handled ever so roughly.

In removing the frames from the hive, it will be found very convenient to have a box with suitable rabbets in which they may be temporarily put, and covered over with a piece of cotton cloth. They may thus be very easily protected from the cold, and from robbing bees, if they are to be kept out of the hive for some time; and such a box will be very convenient to receive frames that are lifted out for examination. In returning the frames to a hive, care must be taken not to crush the bees where their ends rest upon the rabbets; they must be put in slowly, so that a bee, when he feels the slightest pressure may have a chance to creep from under them, before he is hurt.

The honey-cover, for convenience, is generally in two pieces: these cannot be laid down on the hive, without danger of killing many bees; they are therefore very carefully slid on, so that any bees which may be in the way, are pushed before them, instead of being crushed. If any bees are upon such parts of the hive as to be imprisoned if the outside cover is closed, it should be left a little open, until they have flown to the entrance of the hive. It cannot be too deeply impressed upon the bee-keeper, that all his motions must be slow and gentle, and that the bees must not be injured or breathed upon. If he will carefully follow the directions I have given, he may soon open a hundred hives and perform any necessary operation upon them, without any bee-dress, and yet with very little risk of being stung, but I almost despair of being able to convince even the most experienced Apiarians, of the ease and safety with which bees may be managed on my plan, until they have actually been eye-witnesses of its successful operation.

I can make an artificial colony in the way above described in ten minutes from the time that I open the hive, and if I see the queen as quickly as I often do, in not more than five minutes. Fifteen minutes will be a very liberal allowance of time to complete the whole work. If I had an Apiary of a hundred colonies, in less than a week, if the weather was pleasant, I could without any assistance easily finish the business of swarming for the whole season.

But how can the Apiarian, if he delays the formation of artificial swarms until nearly the season for natural swarming, be sure that his bees will not swarm in the usual way? Must he not still be constantly on hand, or run the risk of losing many of his best swarms? I come now to the entirely novel plan by which such objections are completely obviated. If the Apiarian decides that he can most advantageously multiply his colonies by artificial swarming, he must see that all his fertile queens are deprived of their wings, so as to be unable to lead off new swarms. As an old queen never leaves the hive except to accompany a new swarm, the loss of her wings does not, in the least interfere with her usefulness, or with the attachment of the bees. Occasionally, a wingless queen is so bent on emigrating, that in spite of her inability to fly, she tries to go off with a swarm; she has "a will," but contrary to the old maxim she can find "no way," but helplessly falls upon the ground instead of gaily mounting into the air. If the bees succeed in finding her, they will never desert her, but cluster directly around her, and may thus be easily secured by the Apiarian. If she is not found, the bees will return to the parent stock to await the maturity of the young queens. The Apiarian will ordinarily be prepared to form his artificial colonies before any of these young queens are hatched.

The following is the best plan for removing the wings from the queens. Every hive which contains a young queen, ought to be examined about a week after she has hatched, (see Chapter on [Loss of the Queen],) in order to ascertain that she has been impregnated, and has begun to lay eggs. Some of the central combs or those on which the bees are most thickly clustered, should be first lifted out, for she will almost always be found on one of them; the Apiarian when he has caught her, should remove the wings on one side with a pair of scissors taking care not to hurt her. On examining his hives next season, let him remove one of the two remaining wings from the queen. The third season, he may deprive her of her last wing. Bees always have four wings, a pair on each side. This plan saves him the trouble of marking his hives so as to know the age of the queens they contain.

As the fertility of the queen generally decreases after the second year, I prefer, just before the drones are destroyed, to kill all the old queens that have entered their third year. In this way, I guard against some of my stocks becoming queenless, in consequence of the queen dying of old age, when there is no worker-brood in the hive, from which they can rear another: or of having a worthless, drone-laying queen whose impregnation has been retarded. These old queens are removed at that period of the year when their colony is strong in numbers; and as the honey-harvest is by this time, nearly over, their removal is often a positive benefit, instead of a loss. The population is prevented from being over crowded at a time when the bees are consumers and not producers, and when the young queen, reared in the place of the old one matures, she will rapidly fill the cells with eggs, and raise a large number of bees to take advantage of the late honey-harvest, and to prepare the hive to winter most advantageously.

The certainty, rapidity and ease of making artificial swarms with my hives, will be such as to amaze those most who have had the greatest experience and success in the management of bees. Instead of weeks wasted in watching the Apiary, in addition to all the other vexations and embarrassments which are so often found to attend reliance on natural swarming, the Apiarian will find not only that he can create all his new colonies in a very short time, but that he can, if he chooses, entirely prevent the issue of all after-swarms. In order to do this, he ought to examine the stocks which are raising young queens, in season to cut out all the queen cells but one, before the larvæ come to maturity. If he gave them a sealed queen nearly mature, they will raise no others, and no swarming, for that season, will take place. If the Apiarian wishes to do more than to double his stocks in one season, and is favorably situated for practicing natural swarming, he can allow the stocks that raise young queens to swarm if they will, and he can strengthen the small swarms by giving to them comb with honey and maturing brood from other hives. Or he can, after an interval of about three weeks, make one swarm from every two good ones in his Apiary, in a way that will soon be described.

I do not know that I can find a better place in which to impress certain highly important principles upon the attention of the bee-keeper. I am afraid, that in spite of all that I can say, many persons as soon as they find themselves able to multiply colonies at pleasure, will so overdo the matter, as to run the risk of losing all their bees. If the Apiarian aims at obtaining a large quantity of honey in any one season, he cannot at the furthest, more than double the number of his stocks: nor can he do this, unless they are all strong, and the season favorable. The moment that he aims, in any one season, at a more rapid increase, he must not only renounce the idea of having any surplus honey, but must expect to purchase food for the support of his colonies, unless he is willing to see them all perish by starvation. The time, food, care and skill required to multiply stocks with very great rapidity, in our short and uncertain climate, are so great that not one Apiarian in a hundred can expect to make it profitable; while the great mass of those who attempt it, will be almost sure, at the close of the season, to find themselves in possession of stocks which have been so managed as to be of very little value.

Before explaining some other methods of artificial swarming, which I have employed to great advantage, I shall endeavor to impress upon the mind of the bee-keeper, the great importance of thoroughly understanding each season, the precise object at which he is aiming, before he enters on the work of increasing his colonies. If his object is, in any one season, to get the largest yield of surplus honey, he must at once make up his mind to be content with a very moderate increase of stocks. If, on the contrary, he desires to multiply his colonies, say, three or four fold, he must be prepared, not only to relinquish the expectation of obtaining any surplus honey, if the season should prove unfavorable, but to purchase food for the support of his bees. Rapid multiplication of colonies, and large harvests of surplus honey cannot, in the very nature of things, be secure in our climate, in any one season.

If the number of colonies is to be increased to a large extent, then the bees in the Apiary will be tasked to the utmost in building new comb, as well as in rearing brood. For these purposes, they must consume the supply of honey which, under other circumstances, they would have stored up, a part for their own use in the main hive, and the balance for their owner, in the spare honey-boxes.

To make this matter perfectly plain, let us suppose a colony to swarm. If the new hive, into which the swarm is put, holds, as it ought, about a bushel, it will require about two pounds of wax to fill it with comb, and at least forty pounds of honey will be used in its manufacture! If the season is favorable, and the swarm was large and early, they may gather, not only enough to build this comb and to store it with honey sufficient for their own use, but a number of pounds in addition, for the benefit of their owner. If the old stock does not swarm again, it will rapidly replenish its numbers, and as it has no new comb to build in the main hive which already contains much honey, it will be able to store up a generous allowance in the upper boxes. These favorable results are all on the supposition that the season was ordinarily productive in honey, and that the hive was so powerful in numbers as to be able to swarm early. If the season should prove to be very unfavorable, the first swarm cannot be expected to gather more than enough for its own use, while the parent stock will yield only a small return. The profits of the bee-keeper, in such an unfortunate season, will be mainly in the increase of his stocks. If the swarm was late, in consequence of the stock being weak in Spring, the early part of the honey-harvest will pass away, and the bees will be able to obtain from it, but a small share of honey. During all this time of comparative inactivity, the orchards may present

"One boundless blush, one white empurpled shower
Of mingled blossoms,"

and tens of thousands of bees from stronger stocks, may be engaged all day, in sipping the fragrant sweets, so that every gale which "fans its odoriferous wings" about their dwellings, dispenses

"Native perfumes, and whispers whence they stole[18]
Those balmy spoils."

By the time that the feeble stock is prepared to swarm, if it swarm at all that season, the honey-harvest is almost over, and the new colony will seldom be able to gather enough for its own use, so that unless fed, it must perish the succeeding Winter. Bee-keeping with colonies feeble in the Spring, is most emphatically nothing but "folly and vexation of spirit."

I have shown how the bee-keeper, with a strong stock-hive which has swarmed early and but once, may in a favorable season realize handsome profits from his bees. If the parent stock throws a second swarm, then, as a general rule, unless this swarm was very early, and the honey season good, if managed on the ordinary plan, it will seldom prove of any value. It will almost always perish in the Winter, if it does not desert its hive in the Fall, and the family from which it issued, will not only gather no surplus honey, (unless it was secured before the first swarm issued,) but will very often perish likewise. Thus the inexperienced owner who was so delighted with the rapid increase of his colonies, begins the next season with no more colonies than he had the year before, and has very often lost all the time he has bestowed upon his bees. I can, to be sure, on my plan, prevent the death of the bees, and can build up all the feeble colonies, so as to make them strong and powerful: but only by giving up all idea of obtaining a single pound of honey. From the first swarm, I must take combs containing maturing brood, to strengthen my weak swarms, and this first swarm however powerful or early, instead of being able to store its combs with honey, will be constantly tasked in building new combs to replace those taken away, so that when the honey harvest closes, it will have scarcely any honey, and must be fed to prevent it from starving. Any man who has sense enough to be entrusted with bees, can, from these remarks, understand exactly why it is impossible to multiply colonies rapidly in any one season, and yet obtain from them large supplies of honey. Even the doubling of stocks in one season, will very often be too rapid an increase, if the greatest quantity of spare honey is to be obtained from them; and when the largest yield of honey is desired, I much prefer to form, in a way soon to be described, only one new stock from two old ones; this will give even more from the three, than could have been obtained from the two, on the ordinary non-swarming plan.

I would very strongly dissuade any but experienced Apiarians, from attempting at the furthest, to do more than to triple their stocks in one year. In order to furnish directions for very rapid multiplication, sufficiently full and explicit to be of any value to the inexperienced, I should have to write a book on this one topic; and even then, the most of those who should undertake it, would be sure at first to fail.

I have no doubt that with ten strong stocks of bees in a good location, in one favorable season, I could so increase them as to have, on the approach of Winter, one hundred good colonies: but I should expect to feed hundreds of pounds of honey, to devote nearly all my time to their management, and to bring to the work, the experience of many years, and the wisdom acquired by numerous failures. After all, what we most need, in order to be successful in the cultivation of bees, is a certain, rather than a rapid multiplication of stocks. It would require but a very few years to stock our whole country with bees, if colonies could only be doubled annually; and an increase of even one third, would before long, give us bees enough. This rate of increase I should always encourage in the swarming season, even if, in the Fall, I reduced my stocks (see [Union of Stocks]) to the Spring number. In the long run, it will keep the colonies in a much more prosperous condition, and secure from them the largest yield of honey.

I have never myself hesitated to sacrifice one or more colonies, in order to ascertain a single fact, and it would require a separate volume quite as large as this, to detail the various experiments which I have made on the subject of Artificial Swarming. The practical bee-keeper, however, should never, for a moment, lose sight of the important distinction between an Apiary managed principally for the purposes of experiment and discovery, and one conducted almost exclusively with reference to pecuniary profit. Any bee-keeper can easily experiment with my hives: but I would recommend him to do so, at first, on a small scale, and if profit is his object, to follow the directions furnished in this treatise, until he is sure that he has discovered others which are preferable. These cautions are given to prevent persons from incurring serious losses and disappointments, if they use hives which, if they are not on their guard, may tempt them into rash and unprofitable courses, by allowing so easily of all manner of experiments. Let the practical Apiarian remember that the less he disturbs the stocks on which he relies for surplus honey, the better. After they are properly lodged in their new hive, they ought by all means to be allowed to carry on their labors without any interruption. The object of giving the control over every comb in the hive, is not to enable him to be incessantly taking them in and out, and subjecting the bees to all sorts of annoyances. Unless he is conducting a course of experiments, such interference will be almost as silly as the conduct of children who pull up the seeds which they have planted, to see whether they have sprouted, or how much they have grown. If after these cautions, any still choose to disregard them, the blame of their losses will fall, not upon the hive, but upon their own mismanagement.

Let me not, for a moment, be understood as wishing to discourage investigation, or to intimate that perfection has been so nearly attained that no more important discoveries remain to be made. On the contrary, I should be glad to learn that many who have the time and means, are disposed to use the facilities furnished by hives which give the control of each comb, to experiment on a large scale; and I hope that every intelligent bee-keeper who follows my plans, will experiment at least on a small scale. In this way, we may soon expect to see, more satisfactorily elucidated, some points in the Natural History of the bee, which are still involved in doubt.

Having described the way in which forced swarms are made, both in common hives and in my own, when the Apiarian wishes in one season merely to double his colonies, I shall now show in what way he can secure the largest yield of honey, by forming only one new colony from two old ones.

Early in the season, before the bees fly out, or better still, after they ceased to fly in the previous Fall, the two hives from which the new colony is to be formed, should be placed near each other, unless they are already, not more than a foot apart. When the time for forming the artificial colony has arrived, these hives should be removed from their stand, and the bees driven from them, precisely in the manner already described. If all the bees are at home, I sometimes shut up the hives on their stand, and drum long enough to cause the bees to fill themselves before the hive is removed. Timid Apiarians may find some advantage in this course, as the bees will all be quiet after they are well drummed, and the hive may then be removed with greater safety. In five minutes I can in this way reduce any swarm to a peaceable condition. After the forced swarms are secured, the removed hives are replaced, in order to catch up all the returning bees, and the forced swarms must be shut up, until towards sunset; unless it is judged best to keep the entrances temporarily open, so as to secure the return of a sufficient number of bees to the parent stocks. The old stocks are now moved to a new place, and managed according to the previous directions. If neither of the expelled swarms was driven into the hive intended for the new colony, then the proper hive must be placed, as near as possible, in the center of the space previously occupied by the original colonies. One of the swarms must now be shaken out upon a sheet, in front of this hive which should be elevated, so as to enable the bees to enter it readily. As soon as they are shaken out, they should be gently sprinkled with sugar-water scented with peppermint, or any other fragrant odor. Diligent search must now be made for the Queen, and if found, she should be carefully removed, and given to the hive to which she belongs. If the queen of the first swarm has been found, the second colony may be shaken out, and sprinkled in the same way, and allowed to enter without any further trouble. If the queen of the first colony was not found, then that of the second one must be sought for; if neither can be found, (though this, after a little experience, will very seldom happen,) one of the Queens will soon kill the other, and reign over the united family. The next day, the doubled colony will be found working with amazing vigor, and it will not only fill its main hive, but will, in any ordinary season, gather large quantities of surplus honey besides.

The Apiarian who relies upon natural swarming, can double his new colonies if they issue at the same time, by hiving them together, or if this cannot be done, he may hive them in separate hives, and then, towards evening, set one hive on a sheet, and shake down the bees from the other, so that they can enter and join the first. It may be safely done, even if several days have elapsed before the second colony swarms; although in this case, I prefer after turning up their hive to sprinkle the oldest swarm with scented sugar-water, and then to give the new swarm the same treatment. I have doubled natural swarms in this way, repeatedly, and have never, when they were early, failed to secure from them a large quantity of honey. In sprinkling bees, let the operator remember that they are not to be drenched, or almost drowned, as in this case, they will require a long time to enter the hive. Bees seem to recognize each other by the sense of smell; and when they are made to have the same odor, they will always mingle peaceably. This is the reason why I use a few drops of peppermint in the sugar-water.

If one of the queens of the forced swarms can be returned to her own colony, it will of course, save them the time which would otherwise be lost in raising another. I do not know that I can better illustrate the importance of the inexperienced Apiarian following carefully my directions, than by supposing him to return the queen to the colony to which she does not belong. Now I can easily imagine that some bee-keeper may do so, conceiving that I am foolishly precise in my directions, and that the queen might be just as well given to one hive as to the other. But if this is done before at least 24 hours have elapsed since they were deprived of their own, she will almost certainly be destroyed. The bees do not sting a queen to death, but have a curious mode of crowding or knotting around her, so that she is soon smothered; and while thus imprisoned, she will often make the same piping note which has already been described. In all this treatise, I have constantly aimed to give no directions which are not important; and while I utterly repudiate the notion that these directions may not be modified and improved, I am quite certain that this cannot be done by any but those who have considerable experience in the management of bees.

The formation of one new swarm from two old colonies, may, of course, be very much simplified by the use of my hives. The two old hives are first opened and sprinkled, and the bees taken from them and put into the new hive in the same way in which the process was conducted when only one colony was expelled, some brood comb being given to the united family. There will be no difficulty in rightly proportioning the bees; one queen may always be caught and preserved, and the operation may be performed at any time when the sun is above the horizon. I have no doubt that those who have a strong stock of bees, and who are anxious to realize the largest profits in honey, will find this mode of increase, by far the simplest and best. If judiciously practiced, they will find that their colonies may always be kept powerful, and that they may be managed with very great economy in time and labor. As Apiarians may be so situated as to wish to increase their bees quite rapidly, I shall give such methods as from numerous experiments, many of them conducted on a large scale, I have found to be the best. I wish it however to be most distinctly understood, that I do not consider very rapid multiplication as likely to succeed, except in the hands of skillful Apiarians; and under ordinary circumstances it requires too much time, care and honey, to be of very great practical value. Its chief merit consists in the short time which it requires to build up an Apiary. After trying my mode of management for a few seasons, a bee-keeper may find out, that he is in all respects, favorably situated for taking care of a large stock of bees. Suppose him to have acquired both skill and confidence, and that he has ten powerful colonies. If he is willing to do without surplus honey for one season, and the honey-harvest should be very productive, he may without feeding, and without very much labor, safely increase his ten colonies to thirty. If he chooses to feed largely, he may possibly end the season with fifty or sixty, or even more; but he will probably end it in such a manner as most thoroughly to disgust him with his folly, and to teach him that in bee-keeping, as well as in other things, "Haste makes waste."

On the supposition that by the time the fruit-trees are in blossom, the Apiarian has, in hives of my construction, ten powerful colonies, let him select four of the strongest, and make from each a forced swarm. He will now have four queenless colonies, which will at once, proceed to supply themselves with a young queen. In about ten days, he may make from his other six stocks, six more forced swarms. He will probably find in making these, many sealed queens, if he has delayed the operation until about swarming time; so that he may give to each of the six stocks from which he has expelled a swarm, the means of soon obtaining another. If he has not enough for this purpose, he must take the required number from the four stocks which are raising young queens, the exact condition of which ought to have been previously ascertained. Some of these stocks will be found to contain a large number of queen cells. Huber, in one of his experiments, found twenty-four in one hive, and even a larger number has sometimes been reared by a single colony. As the Apiarian will always have many more queens than are wanted, he ought to select those combs which contain a sealed queen, so as to secure say, about fifteen combs, each of which has one or more queens. If necessary, he can cut out some of the cells, and adjust them in the manner previously described. Each comb containing a sealed queen must be put with all the bees adhering to it, into an empty hive; and by a divider, or movable partition, they must be confined to about one quarter of the hive; water should be given to them, and honey, if none is contained in the comb. I always prefer to select a comb which contains a large number of workers almost mature, and some of which are just beginning to hatch, so that even if a considerable number of the bees should return to the parent stock, after their liberty is given them, there will still be a sufficient number hatched, to attend to the young, and especially to watch over the maturing queens. If the comb contains a large number of bees just emerging from their cells, I prefer to confine them only one day, otherwise I keep them shut up until about an hour before sunset of the third day. The hives containing the small colonies, ought, if they are not well protected by being made double, to be set where they are thoroughly sheltered from the intense heat of the sun; and the ventilators should give them an abundance of air. They should also be closed in such a manner, as to keep the interior in entire darkness, so that the bees may not become too uneasy during their confinement. I accomplish this by shutting up their entrance, and replacing their front board, just as though I were intending to put them into winter quarters.

These small colonies I shall call nuclei, and the system of forming stocks from them, my nucleus system; and before I describe this system more particularly, I shall show other ways in which the nuclei can be formed. If the Apiarian chooses, he can take a frame containing bees just ready to mature, and eggs and young worms, all of the worker kind, together with the old bees which cluster on it, and shut them up in the manner previously described; even if he has no sealed queen to give them. If all things are favorable, they will set about raising a queen in a few hours. I once took not more than a tea-cup full of bees and confined them with a small piece of brood comb in a dark place, and found that in about an hour's time, they had begun to enlarge some of the cells, to raise a new queen! If the Apiarian has sealed queens on hand, they ought, by all means, to be given to the nuclei, in order to save all the time possible.

I sometimes make these nuclei as follows. The suitable comb with bees &c., is taken from a stock-hive, and set in an empty one, made to stand partly in the place of the old hive, which, of course, must previously be moved a little on one side. In this way, I am able to direct a considerable number of the bees from the old stock to my nucleus, and the necessity of shutting it up, is done away with. If the bees from the old stock do not enter the small one, in sufficient numbers, I sometimes close their hive, so that the returning bees can find no other place to enter. My object is not to catch up a large number of bees. For reasons previously assigned, I do not want enough to build new comb, but only enough to adhere to the removed comb, and raise a new queen from the brood, or develop the sealed one which has been given them. A short time after one nucleus has in this way, been formed, another may be made by moving the old hive again, and so a third or fourth, if so many are wanted. This plan requires considerable skill and experience, to secure the right number of bees, without getting too many.

If bees are to be made to enter a new hive, by removing the old one from its stand, it will always be very desirable not only to have the new one contain a piece of comb, but a considerable number of bees clustered on that comb. I repeatedly found my bees, after entering the hive, refuse to have anything to do with the brood comb, and for a long time, I was unable to conjecture the cause; until I ascertained that they were dissatisfied with its deserted appearance, and that, by taking the precaution to have it well covered with bees, I seldom failed to reconcile them to my system of forced colonization. I can usually tell, in less than two minutes, whether the operation will succeed or not. If the returning bees are content, they will, however much agitated at first, soon begin to join the cluster on the comb; while if they are dissatisfied, they will abandon the hive, and nearly all the bees that were originally on the comb, will leave with them. They seem capricious in this matter, and are sometimes so very self-willed, that they refuse to have anything to do with the brood comb, when I can see no good reason why they should be so rebellious.

I shall here state some conjectures which have occurred to me on this subject. Is it absolutely certain that bees can raise a queen from any egg or young larva which would produce a worker? Or if this is possible, is it certain that any kind of workers can accomplish this? Huber ascertained to his own satisfaction that there were two kinds of workers in a hive. He thus describes them.

"One of these is, in general, destined for the elaboration of wax, and its size is considerably enlarged when full of honey; the other immediately imparts what it has collected to its companions, its abdomen undergoes no sensible change, or it retains only the honey necessary for its own subsistence. The particular function of the bees of this kind is to take care of the young, for they are not charged with provisioning the hive. In opposition to the wax workers, we shall call them small bees or nurses."

"Although the external difference be inconsiderable, this is not an imaginary distinction. Anatomical observations prove that the capacity of the stomach is not the same—experiments have ascertained that one of the species cannot fulfil all the functions shared among the workers of a hive. We painted those of each class with different colors, in order to study their proceedings; and these were not interchanged. In another experiment, after supplying a hive deprived of a queen with brood and pollen, we saw the small bees quickly occupied in nutrition of the larvæ, while those of the wax working class neglected them. Small bees also produce wax, but in a very inferior quantity to what is elaborated by the real wax workers."

Now if these statements can be relied on, and thus far I have nearly always found Huber's statements, where-ever I had an opportunity to test them, to be most wonderfully reliable, then it may be that when bees refuse to cluster on the brood comb and to proceed at once to rear a new queen, it is because they find that some of the conditions necessary for success are wanting. Either there may not be a sufficient number of wax-workers, to enlarge the cells, or a sufficient number of nurses to take charge of the larvæ; or it may be that the cells contain only young wax-workers which cannot be developed into queens, or only young nurses, which may be in the same predicament.

If any of my readers imagine that the work of carefully experimenting, in order to establish facts upon the solid basis of complete demonstration, is an easy work, let them attempt now to prove or disprove the truth of any or all of my conjectures upon this single topic. They will probably find the task more difficult than to blot over whole quires and reams of paper with careless assertions.

All operations of any kind which interfere in the very least, with the natural mode of forming colonies, are best performed in the swarming season: or at least, at a time when the bees are breeding freely, and are able to bring in large stores of honey from the fields. At other times, they are very precarious, and unless under the management of persons who have great experience, they will in most cases, end in nothing but vexatious losses and disappointments.

It is quite amusing to see how bees act, when they find, on their return from foraging abroad, that their hive has been moved, and another put in its place. If the new hive is precisely similar to their own, in size and outward appearance, they enter it as though all was right; but in a few moments, they rush out in violent agitation, imagining that they have made a prodigious mistake and have entered the wrong place. They now take wing again in order to correct their blunder, but find to their increasing surprise, that they had previously directed their flight to the familiar spot; again they enter, and again they tumble out, in bewildered crowds, until, at length, if they can find the means of raising a new queen, or one is already there, they seem to make up their minds that if this is not home, it not only looks like it, but stands just where their home ought to be, and is at all events the only home they are likely to get. No doubt they often feel that a very hard bargain has been imposed upon them, but they seem generally determined to make the best of it.

There is one trait in the character of bees, for which I feel, not merely admiration, but the most profound respect. Such is their indomitable energy and perseverance, that under circumstances apparently the most despairing, they will still labor to the utmost, to retrieve their losses, and sustain the sinking state. So long as they have a queen, or any prospect of raising one, they struggle most vigorously against impending ruin, and never give up, unless their condition is absolutely desperate. In one of my observing hives, I once had a colony of bees, the whole of which might have been spread out on my two hands, busy at work in raising a new queen, from a small piece of brood comb. For two long weeks, they adhered with unfailing perseverance and industry, to their forlorn hope: until at last, one of the two queens which they raised, came forth, and destroyed the other while still in her cell. The bees had now dwindled away to less than half their original number, and the new queen had wings so imperfect that she was unable to fly. I watched their proceedings with great interest; they actually paid very unusual attention to this crippled queen, and treated her more as they are wont to treat a fertile one. In the course of a week, there were not more than a dozen left in the hive, and in a few days more, I missed the queen, and saw only a few disconsolate wretches crawling over the deserted comb! Shame upon the faint-hearted and cowardly of our own race, who, if overtaken by calamity, instead of nobly breasting the dark waters of affliction, and manfully buffetting with their tumultuous waves, meanly resign themselves to their ignoble fate, and sink and perish where they might have lived and triumphed; and double shame upon those who thus "faint in the day of adversity," when living in a Christian land, they might, if they would only receive the word of God, and open the eye of faith, behold a bow of promise spanning the still stormy clouds, and hear a voice bidding them, like the great apostle of the Gentiles, learn not merely to "rejoice in hope of the glory of God," but to "glory in tribulations also."

I have been informed by Mr. Wagner, that Dzierzon has recently devised a plan of forming nuclei, substantially the same with my own. His book, however, contemplates having two Apiaries, three or four miles apart, and his plans for multiplying colonies, as there described, were based upon the supposition that the Apiarian will have two such establishments. Such an arrangement would no doubt very greatly facilitate many operations. Our forced swarms might all be removed from the Apiary where they were formed, to the other, and our nuclei treated in the same way, and there would be no necessity for confining the bees after their removal. There are however, weighty objections to such an arrangement, which will prevent it, at least for some time, from being extensively adopted. The labor of removing the bees backwards and forwards, is a serious objection to the whole plan; and in addition to this, the necessity of having a skillful Apiarian at each establishment, puts its adoption out of the question, with most persons who keep bees. It might answer, however, if two bee-keepers, sufficiently far apart, would enter into partnership, and manage their bees as a joint concern. Dzierzon's new plan of creating nuclei, is as follows. Towards evening, remove a piece of brood comb, with eggs and bees just hatching, and put it, with a sufficient number of mature bees, into an empty hive; there must be enough to keep the brood from being chilled over night. If the operation is performed so late that the bees are not disposed to take wing and leave the hive, by morning a sufficient number will have hatched, to supply the place of those which may abandon the nucleus. In my numerous experiments last Summer, in the formation of artificial swarms, I tried this plan and found that it answered a good purpose; the chief objection to it, is the difficulty often of selecting the suitable kind of comb, if the operation is delayed until late in the afternoon. I prefer, therefore, to perform it, when the sun is an hour or two high, and to confine the bees until dark. If there are not a sufficient number of bees on the comb, I shake off some from another frame, directly into the hive, and shut them all up, giving them a supply of water. Sealed queens if possible, should be used in all these operations.

I shall now give a novel mode of creating nuclei, which I have devised, and which I find to be attended with great success. Hive a new swarm in the usual manner, in an old box, and as soon as the bees have entered it, shut them up and carry them down into the cellar. About an hour before sunset, take combs suitable to form as many nuclei as you judge best, say five or six, or even eight or ten if the swarm was large, and you need as many. Bring up the new swarm and shake it out upon a sheet, sprinkling it gently with sugar-water. With a large tumbler or saucer, scoop up without hurting any of the bees, a pint or more of them, and place them before the mouth of one of the hives containing a brood comb; repeat the process, until each nucleus has, say, a quart of bees. If you see the queen, you may give the hive in which you put her, three or four times as many bees as any other; and the next day it may be strengthened with a few combs containing brood, just ready to mature. If you did not find her, at the time of forming the nuclei, when you afterwards examine them, the one which contains her may be properly reinforced with bees and comb, so as to enable it to work to the best advantage.

If this plan of forming nuclei, were attempted earlier in the afternoon it would be difficult to prevent the bees from communicating on the wing, and all going to the hive which contained their queen. If however, the bees when first shaken out of the temporary hive, are so thoroughly sprinkled, as not to be able to take wing and unite together, this mode of forming colonies may be practiced at any hour of the day; and an experienced Apiarian may prefer to do it, as soon as he has fairly hived the new swarm. When the bees are shaken out in front of a hive which has a sealed queen, or eggs from which they can raise one, having a whole night in which to accustom themselves to their new situation, they will be found, the next day, to adhere to the place where they were put, with as much tenacity as a natural swarm does to their new hive. How wonderful that the act of swarming should so thoroughly impress upon the bees, an absolute indisposition to return to the parent stock. If this were a fixed and invariable unwillingness, a sort of blind, unreasoning instinct, it would not be so surprising, but we have already seen that in case the bees lose their queen, they return in a very short time to the stock from which they issued! If the nuclei formed in the manner just described, found in their new hive, no means of obtaining a queen, they would all return, next morning, to the parent stock.

When the Apiarian can obtain a natural swarm from any other Apiary, it may be divided into nuclei in the same way, and even a forced swarm, if brought from a distance, will answer equally well. If the Apiarian wishes to form colonies earlier than the season of natural swarming, and cannot conveniently obtain a forced swarm from an Apiary, at least a mile distant, he may, before the bees begin to fly out in the Spring, transport one of his stocks to a neighbor's, and force from it a swarm at the desired time. Even if it is moved not more than half a mile off, the operation will be almost sure to succeed. Of all modes of forming the nuclei, this I believe will be found to be the neatest, simplest and best.

Having thus described the various ways in which I have successfully formed my nuclei, I shall now show how they may be all built up into powerful stocks. It will be very obvious that on the ordinary plan of management, they would be absolutely worthless, even if it were possible to form them with the common hives. If they were not fed, they would be unable to collect the means of building new comb, and would gradually dwindle away, just as third or fourth swarms which issue late in the season; nor could they be saved even by the most generous feeding, as they would only use their supplies to fill up the little comb they had; so that when the queen was ready to lay, there would be no empty cells to receive her eggs, and too few bees to build any, even if they had all the honey that they required. Such small colonies must gradually waste away, unless they can be speedily and effectually supplied with the requisite number of bees, and this can be done only by hives which give the control of all the combs. With such hives, I can speedily build up my nuclei, (provided I have not formed too many,) to the strength necessary to make them powerful stocks. The hives containing them, ought if possible, to stand at some distance from other hives, say two or three feet: and if this cannot conveniently be done, they should in some way, be so distinguished from the adjoining hives, that the young queens when they are hatched and go out to seek the drones, will not be liable to lose their lives by entering a wrong hive on their return. A small leafy twig fastened on the alighting board of such hives, when they stand near to others, will be almost sure to prevent such a catastrophe: if they stand near to each other, some may be marked in this way, and others with a piece of colored cloth. (See Page [159].) To guard them against robbers, &c., the entrances to these nuclei should be contracted, so that only a few bees can enter at once. Those which were confined, should be examined, the day after their liberty is given to them; the others, the day after they were formed, when, if they were not supplied with a sealed queen, they will be found actively engaged in constructing royal cells. A new range of comb should now be given to each one, and it should contain no old bees, but brood rapidly maturing, and if possible, eggs and worms only a few days old.

This new addition of strength will greatly encourage the nuclei, and give them the means of starting young queens, if they have not succeeded in doing so with the first comb. I have very frequently found that for some cause which I have not yet ascertained, they often start a large number of queen cells, which in a few days, are all discontinued and untenanted. The second attempt seldom fails. Does practice in this thing make them more expert? But I will simply state the fact, referring to my conjectures on page [218]; and remarking that when they make a second attempt, they seem frequently disposed to start a much larger number than they otherwise would have done. In two or three days after giving them the first piece of comb, I give them another, if their queen is nearly mature, and I now let them alone until she ought to be depositing eggs in the hive. I then give them, at intervals of a few days, two or three combs more, and they will now be sufficiently powerful in bees, to gather large quantities of honey, and fill the empty part of their hive. The young queen is supplying with thousands of worker-eggs, the cells from which the brood has emerged, and also the new ones built by the bees, and the new colony will soon be one of the best stock hives in the Apiary. If some of the full frames are moved, and empty ones placed between them, as soon as the bees begin to build powerfully, there need be no guide combs on the empty frames, and still the work will be executed with the most beautiful regularity.

But what, in the mean time, is the condition of the hives from which we are taking so many brood combs for the proper development of our nuclei; are they not weakened so much as to become quite enfeebled? I come now to the very turning point of the whole nucleus system. If due judgment has not been used, and the sanguine bee-keeper has endeavored to multiply his colonies too rapidly, a most grievous disappointment awaits him. Either his nuclei cannot be strengthened at the right time, or this can be done, only by impoverishing the old stocks, and the result of the whole operation will be a most decided failure, and if he is in the vicinity of sugar-houses, confectionaries, or other tempting places of bee resort, he will find the population of his colonies very seriously diminished, and will have to break up the most of the nuclei which he had formed, and incur the danger of losing nearly the whole of his stock. I lay it down as a fundamental principle in my nucleus system, that the old stocks must never be so much weakened by the removal of brood-comb and bees that they are not able to keep their numbers sufficiently strong to refill rapidly all the vacancies among their combs. If the Apiarian attempts to multiply his stocks so rapidly that this cannot be done, I will ensure him ample cause to repent at leisure of his folly. If however, the attempt at very rapid multiplication is made only by those who are favorably situated, and who have skill in the management of bees, a very large gain may be made in the number of stocks, and they may all be strong and flourishing.

If a strong stock of bees in a hive of moderate size, which admits of thorough inspection, is examined at the height of the honey harvest, nearly all the cells will often be found filled with brood, honey or bee-bread. The great laying of the queen, according to some writers, is now over, not however as they erroneously imagine, because her fertility has decreased, but merely because there is not room in the hive for all her eggs. She may often be seen restlessly traversing the combs, seeking in vain for empty cells, until finding none, she is compelled to extrude her eggs only to be devoured by the bees. (See p. [52].) If some of the full combs are removed, and empty ones substituted in their place, she will speedily fill them, laying at the rate of two or three thousand a day! When my strong stocks are from time to time deprived of one or two combs, if honey can easily be procured,[19] the bees proceed at once to replace them, and the queen commences laying in the new combs as soon as the cells are fairly started. If the combs are not removed too fast, and care is taken not to deprive the stock of so much brood that the bees cannot keep up a vigorous population, a queen in a hive so managed, will lay her eggs in cells to be nurtured by the bees, instead of being eaten up; and thus, in the course of the season, she may become the mother of three or four times as many bees, as are reared in a hive under other circumstances. By careful management, brood enough may, in this way, be taken from a single hive, to build up a large number of nuclei. Towards the close of the season however, as such a hive has been constantly tasked in building comb and feeding young bees, almost all its honey will have been used for these purposes, and although it may be very populous, unless it is liberally fed, it will be sure to perish. Since the discovery that unbolted rye flour will answer so admirably as a substitute for pollen, we can supply the bees not only with honey, when none can be obtained from the blossoms, but with an abundance of bee-bread, when pollen is scarce. As I am writing this chapter, (March 29, 1853,) my bees are zealously engaged in taking the flour from some old combs in front of their hives, and they can be seen most beautifully moulding the little pellets on their thighs. By my movable combs, I can give them the flour at once in their hives, as it can easily be rubbed into an empty comb. The importance of Dzierzon's discovers of a substitute for pollen, can hardly be over-estimated. If he had done nothing more for the cause of Apiarian science, no true-hearted bee-keeper would ever allow his name to be forgotten.

In the Chapter on Feeding, I shall give more specific directions as to the way in which the cultivator must feed his bees, when he aims at increasing, as rapidly as possible, the number of his stocks. Unless this work is done with great judgment, he will find often that the more he feeds, the less bees he has in his hives, the cells being all occupied with honey instead of brood. Such is the passion of bees for storing away honey, that large supplies of it will always most seriously interfere with breeding, unless the bees are sufficiently numerous to build new comb in which the queen can find room for her eggs.

I have no doubt that some who have but little experience in the management of bees, are ready to imagine that they could easily strike out a simpler and better way of increasing the number of colonies. For instance: let a full hive have half its comb and bees put into an empty hive, and the work of doubling, is without further trouble, effectually accomplished. But what will the queenless hive do, under such circumstances? Why, build of course, queen cells, and rear another. But what kind of comb will they fill their hives with, before the young queen begins to breed? Of that, perhaps, you had never thought. Let me now lay down the only safe rule for all who engage in the multiplication of artificial swarms. Never, under any circumstances, take so much comb and brood from your stock hives, as seriously to reduce their numbers. This should be to the Apiarian, as "the law of the Medes and Persians, which altereth not."

Suppose that I divide a populous stock, about swarming season, into four or five colonies; the strong probability is, that not one of them, if left to themselves, will be strong enough to survive the Winter. If fed in the ordinary way, and yet not supplied with combs and bees, their ruin will often be only accelerated. If, on the contrary, I had taken, from time to time, combs sufficient to form three or four nuclei, and had strengthened the new colonies, in such a way as not to draw too severely upon the resources of the parent stock, I might expect to see them all, in due time, strong and flourishing.

In the Spring of the year, if I desire to determine the strength of a colony principally to raising young bees, I can easily effect it by the following plan. A box is made, of the same inside dimensions with the lower hive, into which the combs and bees of a full hive can all be transferred, as soon as the bees are gathering honey enough to build new combs. This box is now set over the old hive, which contains its complement of frames with guide combs, or better still, with empty combs. As soon as the bees begin to build, they take possession of the lower hive, through which they go in and out, and the queen descends with them, in order to lay her eggs in the lower combs. As soon as the old apartment becomes pretty well filled, a large number of combs with maturing bees, may be taken from the upper one, and when the hive below is full, they may all be safely removed. If none of the upper combs are removed, they will be filled with honey, as soon as the brood is hatched; and as they will contain large stores of bee-bread, they will answer admirably for replenishing stocks which have an insufficient supply. In no other way, so far as I know, can so much honey be secured, and if quantity, not quality, is aimed at, or if the test of quality is its fitness for the use of the bees, I would recommend this mode as superior to any other. If two swarms are hived together, or a very powerful stock is lodged in a hive, so that at once they can have access to the upper apartment, an extraordinary quantity of honey can be secured, and of a very excellent quality. As soon as the bees have raised one generation of young, in the combs of the upper box, or rather in a part of them, they will use it chiefly for storing honey, and all that it contains may be taken from them. In flavor, it will be found to be nearly as good as honey stored in what is called "virgin comb."

In the Chapter on the Requisites of a good hive, I have said that in size it should be adapted to the natural instincts of the bee, and yet admit of enlarging or contracting, according to the wants of the colony placed in it. I never use a hive, the main apartment of which, holds less than a Winchester bushel. If small colonies are placed in such a hive, it must be temporarily partitioned off, to suit the size of its inmates; for if bees have too much room given to them, they cannot concentrate their animal heat, and are so much discouraged that they often abandon their hive. I am aware that many judicious Apiarians recommend hives of much smaller dimensions, and I shall now give my reasons for using one so large. If a hive is too small, then in the Spring, the combs are soon filled with honey, bee-bread and brood, and the surprising fertility of the queen bee, can be turned to no efficient account. If the honey-harvest in any year, is deficient, such a colony is very apt to perish in the succeeding Winter; whereas in a large hive, the honey stored up in a fruitful season, is a reserve supply, in time of need. In very large hives, I have seen large accumulations of honey which have been untouched for years, while on the same stand, stocks of about the same age, in small hives have perished by starvation. A good early swarm in any situation at all favorable, will fill, the first season, a hive that holds a bushel: and if there is any location in which they cannot do this, a doubled swarm should be put into the hive, or bee-keeping may, as far as profit is concerned, be abandoned. But it may be objected that if the swarm was not sufficiently strong to fill their hive, the bees often suffer from the cold in Winter, and become too much reduced in numbers, to build early and rapidly in the ensuing Spring. This is undoubtedly true, and hence the great importance of putting a generous allowance of bees into a hive at the first start, unless, as on my plan, the requisite strength can be given to them, at a subsequent period. The hive, if large, should be all the more carefully protected from extremes of cold, in order to give the bees an opportunity of developing their natural powers of re-production, to the best advantage.

In such a hive, the queen will be able to breed almost every month in the year, even in the coldest climates where bees flourish, and on the return of Spring, thousands of young bees will be found in it, which could not have been bred in a small, or badly protected hive. The Polish hives described by Mr. Dohiogost, have already been referred to. Some of these hold about three bushels, and yet the bees swarm from them with great regularity, and the swarms are often of immense size. These hives are admirably protected, and at the time of hiving at least four times the number of bees are lodged in them, that are ordinarily put into one of our hives. The queen bee, in such a hive, has ample room to lay her three thousand eggs, or more, daily: and a prodigious colony is raised, which often stores enormous supplies of honey. As all the frames in my hives are of the same dimensions, the size of the hive may be conveniently varied, to suit the views of different bee-keepers; for they may be large or small, according to the number of frames designed to be used. I hope, before long, to experiment with hives as large again, as those that I now use; or rather, with such, as by containing an upper box, may be made to accommodate twice as many bees. This whole subject of the proper size of hives, certainly needs to be taken entirely out of the region of conjecture, and to be put upon the basis of careful observations. Unquestionably the size will require, in some respects, to be modified by the more or less favorable character of the country for bee-keeping; but I am satisfied that small hives will be found of but little profit, and that large ones, unless well stocked with bees, from the first, and thoroughly protected, will often fail to answer any good end. If I should find on further experiment, that the very large hives of which I have spoken, are better, my hives are at present so constructed that without any alteration of existing parts, they can easily be supplied with the required additions. I have already mentioned that I sometimes build my hives, three in one structure, in order to save expense in their construction. I do not however, wish to be considered as recommending such hives as the best for general use. For some purposes a single hive is unquestionably the best, as it can be easily moved by one person; and this, will many times be found to be a point of great importance. The double hives, or two in one, are for most purposes, decidedly the best, as well as the cheapest. I have quite recently contrived a plan of constructing my wooden hives in such a manner as to give them very great protection against extremes of heat and cold, while at the same time they can be easily and cheaply made, by any one who can handle the simplest mechanical tools.

It has been previously stated that the queen bee cannot be induced to sting, by any kind of treatment however severe. The reason of this strange unwillingness to use her natural and powerful weapon, will be obvious, when we consider how indispensable the preservation of her life is to the very existence of the colony, and that her single sting, the loss of which would be her death, could avail but little for their defence, in case of an attack. She never uses her weapon, except when engaged in mortal combat with another queen. As soon as the two rivals come together, they clinch, at once, with every demonstration of the most vindictive hatred. Why then, are not both of them often destroyed? and why are not hives, in the swarming season, almost certain to become queenless? We can never sufficiently admire the provision so simple and yet so effectual, by which such a calamity is prevented. The queen bee never stings unless she has such an advantage in the combat, that she can curve her body under that of her rival, in such a manner as to inflict a deadly wound, without any risk of being stung herself! The moment that the position of the two combatants is such that neither has the advantage, and that both are liable to perish, they not only refuse to sting, but disengage themselves, and suspend their conflict for a short time! If it were not for this peculiarity of instinct, such combats would very often terminate in the death of both the parties, and the race of bees would be in danger of becoming extinct.

The unwillingness of a swarm of bees, which has been deprived of its queen, to receive another, until after some time has elapsed, must always be borne in mind, by those who have anything to do with making artificial swarms. About 24 hours must elapse before it will be safe to introduce a strange mother into a queenless hive; and even then, if she is not fertile, she will run a great risk of being destroyed. To prevent such losses, I adopt the German plan of confining the queen, in what they call, "a queen cage." A small hole, about as large as a thimble, may be gouged out of a block, and covered over with wire gauze, or any other kind of perforated cover, so that when the queen is put in, the bees cannot enter to destroy her. Before long, they will cultivate an acquaintance, by thrusting their antennæ through to her; so that, when she is liberated the next day, they will gladly adopt her in place of the one they have lost. If a hole large enough for her to creep out, is closed with wax, they will gnaw the wax away, and liberate her themselves, from her confinement. Queens that seem bent on departing to the woods, may be confined in the same way, until the colony has given up all thoughts of forsaking its hive. A small paste-board box with suitable holes, or a wooden match-box thoroughly scalded, I have found to answer a very good purpose.

I shall here describe what may be called a Queen Nursery which I have contrived to aid those who are engaged in the rapid multiplication of colonies by artificial means. A solid block about an inch and a quarter thick, is substituted for one of my frames; holes, about one and a half inches in diameter, are bored through it, and covered on both sides, with gauze wire slides; the wire ought to be such as will allow a common bee to pass through, but should be too small to permit a queen to do the same. Any kind of perforated cover may be made to answer the same purpose as the gauze wire. If a number of sealed queens are on hand, and there is danger that some may hatch, and destroy the others, before the Apiarian can make use of them in forming artificial swarms, he may very carefully cut out the combs containing them, and place them each in a separate cradle! The bees having access to them, will give them proper attention, and as soon as they are hatched, will supply them with food, and thus they will always be on hand for use when they are needed. This Nursery must of course, be established in a hive which has no mature queen, or it will quickly be transformed into a slaughter house by the bees. I have not yet tested this plan so thoroughly as to be certain that it will succeed; and I know so well the immense difference between theoretical conjectures and practical results, that I consider nothing in the bee line, or indeed in any other line, as established, until it has been submitted to the most rigorous demonstrations, and has triumphantly passed from the mere regions of the brain to those of actual fact. A theory on any subject may seem so plausible as almost to amount to a positive demonstration, and yet when put to the working test, it is often found to be encumbered by some unforeseen difficulty, which speedily convinces even its sanguine projector, that it has no practical value. Nine things out of ten may work to a charm, and yet the tenth may be so connected with the other nine, that its failure renders their success of no account. When I first used this Nursery, I did not give the bees access to it, and I found that the queens were not properly developed, and died in their cells. Perhaps they did not receive sufficient warmth, or were not treated in some other important respects, as they would have been if left under the care of the bees. In the multiplicity of my experiments, I did not repeat this one under a sufficient variety of circumstances, to ascertain the precise cause of failure; nor have I as yet, tried whether it will answer perfectly, by admitting the bees to the queen cells.

Last Spring, I made one queen supply several hives with eggs, so as to keep them strong in numbers while they were constantly engaged in rearing a large number of spare queens. Two hives which I shall call A and B, were deprived at intervals of a week, each of its queen,[20] in order to induce them to raise a number of young sealed queens for the use of the Apiary. As soon as the queens in A, were of an age suitable to be removed, I took them away and gave the colony a fertile queen from another hive, C; as soon as she had laid a large number of eggs in the empty cells, I removed the queen cells now sealed over, from B, and gave them the loan of this fertile mother, until she had performed the same necessary office for them. By this time, the queen cells in C, were sealed over; these were now removed, and the queen restored; she had thus made one circuit, and laid a very large number of eggs in the two hives which were first deprived of their queens. After allowing her to replenish her own hive with eggs, I sent her out again on her perambulating mission, and by this new device was able to get an extraordinary number of young queens from the three hives, and at the same time to preserve their numbers from seriously diminishing. Two queens may in this way, be made in six hives to furnish all the supernumerary queens which will be wanted in quite a large Apiary.

It will be perfectly obvious to every intelligent and ingenious Apiarian, that the perfect control of the comb, is the soul of an entirely new system of practical management, and that it may be modified to suit the wants of all who wish to cultivate bees. Even the advocate of the old fashioned plan of killing the bees, can with one of my hives, destroy his faithful laborers, by shaking them into a tub of water, almost, if not quite as speedily as by setting them over a sulphur pit; while after the work of death is accomplished, his honey will be free from disgusting fumes, and all the labor of cutting it out of the hive, may be dispensed with.

I am now prepared to answer an objection which doubtless has been present in the minds of many, all the time that they have been reading the various processes on which I rely for the multiplication of colonies. A very large number of persons who keep bees, or who wish to keep them, are so much afraid of them that they object entirely even to natural swarming, because they are in danger of being stung in the process of hiving the bees. How are such persons to manage bees on my plan, which seems like bearding a lion in its very den! The truth is that some persons are so very timid, or suffer so dreadfully from the sting of a bee, that they are every way disqualified from having anything to do with them, and ought either to have no bees upon their premises, or to entrust the care of them to some suitable person. By managing bees according to the directions furnished in this treatise, almost any one can learn, by using a bee-dress, to superintend them, with very little risk; while those who are favorites with them, may dispense entirely with any protection. I find in short, that the risk of being stung is really diminished by the use of my hives; although it will be hard to convince those who have not seen them in use, that this can be so.

There is still another class who either keep bees or can be induced to keep them, and who are anxiously inquiring for some new hive or new plan by which, with little or no trouble, they may reap copious harvests of the precious nectar. This is emphatically the class to seize hold of every new device, and waste their time and money to fill the coffers of the ignorant or unprincipled. There never will be a "royal road" to profitable bee-keeping. If there is any branch of rural economy which more than all others demands care and experience, for its profitable management, it is the keeping of bees; and those who have a painful consciousness that the disposition to put off and neglect, was, so to speak, born in them, and has never been got out of them, will do well to let bees alone, unless they hope, by the study of their systematic industry, to reform evil habits which are well nigh incurable.

While I feel very sanguine that my system of management will be used extensively and very advantageously, by careful and skillful Apiarians, I know too much of the world to expect that it will, with the masses, very speedily supercede other methods, even if it were so absolutely perfect, as to admit of no possible improvement. I hope, however, that I may, without being charged with presumption, be permitted to put on record the prediction, that movable frames will in due season, be almost universally employed; and this, whether bees are allowed to swarm naturally, or are increased by artificial means, or are kept in hives in which they are not expected to swarm at all.

Note.—The very day on which I first contrived the plan, so perfectly simple, and yet so efficacious, of gaining the control of the combs by these frames, I not only foresaw all the consequences which would follow their adoption, but wrote as follows, in my Bee-Journal. "The use of these frames will, I am persuaded, give a new impulse to the easy and profitable management of bees; and will render the making of artificial swarms an easy operation."

CHAPTER XI.
THE BEE-MOTH, AND OTHER ENEMIES OF BEES. DISEASES OF BEES.

Of all the numerous enemies of the honey-bee, the Bee-Moth (Tinea mellonella,) in climates of hot Summers, is by far, the most to be dreaded. So wide spread and fatal have been its ravages in this country, that thousands have abandoned the cultivation of bees in despair, and in districts which once produced abundant supplies of the purest honey, bee-keeping has gradually dwindled down into a very insignificant pursuit. Contrivances almost without number, have been devised, to defend the bees against this invidious foe, but still it continues its desolating inroads, almost unchecked, laughing as it were to scorn, at all the so-called "moth-proof" hives, and turning many of the ingenious fixtures designed to entrap or exclude it, into actual aids and comforts in its nefarious designs.

I should feel but little confidence in being able to reinstate bee-keeping in our country, into a certain and profitable pursuit, if I could not show the Apiarian in what way he can safely bid defiance to the pestiferous assaults of this, his most implacable enemy. I have patiently studied its habits for years, and I am at length able to announce a system of management founded upon the peculiar construction of my hives, which will enable the careful bee-keeper to protect his colonies against the monster. The careful bee-keeper, I say: for to pretend that the careless one, can by any contrivance effect this, is "a snare and a delusion;" and no well-informed man, unless he is steeped to the very lips, in fraud and imposture, will ever claim to accomplish any thing of the kind. The bee-moth infects our Apiaries, just as weeds take possession of a fertile soil; and the negligent bee-keeper will find a "moth-proof" hive, when the sluggard finds a weed-proof soil, and I suspect not until a consummation so devoutly wished for by the slothful has arrived. Before explaining the means upon which I rely, to circumvent the moth, I will first give a brief description of its habits.

Swammerdam, towards the close of the 17th century, gave a very accurate description of this insect, which was then called by the very expressive name of the "bee-wolf." He has furnished good drawings of it, in all its changes, from the worm to the perfect moth, together with the peculiar webs or galleries which it constructs and from which the name of Tinea Galleria or gallery moth, has been given to it by some entomologists. He failed, however, to discriminate between the male and female, which, because they differ so much in size and appearance, he supposed to be two different species of the wax-moth. It seems to have been a great pest in his time; and even Virgil speaks of the "dirum tineæ genus," the dreadful offspring of the moth; that is the worm. This destroyer usually makes its appearance about the hives, in April or May; the time of its coming, depending upon the warmth of the climate, or the forwardness of the season. It is seldom seen on the wing, (unless startled from its lurking place about the hive,) until towards dark, and is evidently, chiefly nocturnal in its habits. In dark cloudy days, however, I have noticed it on the wing long before sunset, and if several such days follow in succession, the female oppressed with the urgent necessity of laying her eggs, may be seen endeavoring to gain admission to the hives. The female is much larger than the male, and "her color is deeper and more inclining to a darkish gray, with small spots or blackish streaks on the interior edge of her upper wings." The color of the male inclines more to a light gray; they might easily be mistaken for different species of moths. These insects are surprisingly agile, both on foot and on the wing. The motions of a bee are very slow in comparison. "They are," says Reaumur, "the most nimble-footed creatures that I know." "If the approach to the Apiary[21] be observed of a moonlight evening, the moths will be found flying or running round the hives, watching an opportunity to enter, whilst the bees that have to guard the entrances against their intrusion, will be seen acting as vigilant sentinels, performing continual rounds near this important post, extending their antennæ to the utmost, and moving them to the right and left alternately. Woe to the unfortunate moth that comes within their reach!" "It is curious," says Huber, "to observe how artfully the moth knows how to profit, to the disadvantage of the bees, which require much light for seeing objects; and the precautions taken by the latter in reconnoitering and expelling so dangerous an enemy."

The entrance of the moth into a hive, and the ravages committed by her progeny, forcibly remind one of the sad havoc which sin often makes of character and happiness, when it finds admission into the human heart, and is allowed to prey unchecked, upon all its most precious treasures; and he who would not be so enslaved by its power, as to lose all his spiritual life and prosperity, must be constantly on the defensive, and ever on the "watch" against its fatal intrusions.

Only some tiny eggs are deposited by the moth, and they give birth to a very delicate, innocent-looking worm; but let these apparently insignificant creatures once "get the upper hand," and all the fragrance of the honied dome, is soon corrupted by their abominable stench; every thing beautiful and useful, is ruthlessly destroyed; the hum of happy industry is stilled, and at last, nothing is left in the desecrated hive, but a set of ravenous, half famished worms, knotting and writhing around each other, in most loathsome convolutions.

Wax is the proper aliment of the larvæ of the bee-moth: and upon this seemingly indigestible substance, they thrive and fatten. When obliged to steal their living as best they can, among a powerful stock of bees, they are exposed, during their growth, to many perils, and seldom fare well enough to reach their natural size: but if they are rioting at pleasure, among the full combs of a feeble and discouraged population, they often attain a size and corpulency truly astonishing. If the bee-keeper wishes to see their innate capabilities fully developed, let him rear a lot for himself among some old combs, and if prizes were offered for fat and full grown worms, he might easily obtain one. In the course of a few weeks, the larva like that of the silk-worm, stops eating, and begins to think of a suitable place for encasing itself in its silky shroud. In hives where they reign uncontrolled, this is a work of but little difficulty; almost any place will answer their purpose, and they often pile their cocoons, one on top of another, or join them in long rows together: but in hives strongly guarded by healthy bees, this is a matter not very easily accomplished; and many a worm while it is cautiously prying about, to see where it can find some snug place in which to ensconce itself, is caught by the nape of the neck, and very unceremoniously served with an instant writ of ejection from the hive. If a hive is thoroughly made, of sound materials, and has no cracks or crevices under which the worm can retreat, it is obliged to leave the interior in search of such a place, and it runs a most dangerous gantlet, as it passes, for this purpose, through the ranks of its enraged foes. Even in the worm state, however, its motions are exceedingly quick; it can crawl backwards or forwards, and as well one way as another: it can twist round on itself, curl up almost into a knot, and flatten itself out like a pancake! in short, it is full of stratagems and cunning devices. If obliged to leave the hive, it gets under any board or concealed crack, spins its cocoon, and patiently awaits its transformation. In most of the common hives, it is under no necessity of leaving its birth place for this purpose. It is almost certain to find a crack or flaw into which it can creep, or a small space between the bottom-board and the edges of the hive which rest upon it. A very small crevice will answer all its purposes. It enters, by flattening itself out almost as much as though it had been passed under a roller, and as soon as it is safe from the bees, it speedily begins to give its cramped tenement, the requisite proportions. It is utterly amazing how an insect apparently so feeble, can do this; but it will often gnaw for itself a cavity, even in solid wood, and thus enlarge its retreat, until it has ample room for making its cocoon! The time when it will break forth into a winged insect, depends entirely upon the degree of heat to which it is exposed. I have had them spin their cocoons and hatch in a temperature of about 70°, in ten or eleven days, and I have known them to spin so late in the Fall, that they remained all Winter, undeveloped, and did not emerge until the warm weather of the ensuing Spring!

If they are hatched in the hive, they leave it, in order to attend to the business of impregnation. In the moth state, they do not actually attack the hives, to plunder them of food, although they have a "sweet tooth" in their head, and are easily attracted by the odor of liquid sweets. The male, having no special business in the hive, usually keeps himself at a safe distance from the bees: but the female, impelled by an irresistible instinct, seeks admission, in order to deposit her eggs where her offspring may gain the readiest access to their natural food. She carefully explores all the cracks and crevices about the bottom-board, and if she finds a suitable place under them, lays her eggs among the parings of the combs, and other refuse matter which has fallen from the hive. If she enters a feeble or discouraged stock, where she can act her own pleasure, she will lay her eggs among the combs. In a hive where she is too closely watched to effect this, she will insert them in the corners, into the soft propolis, or in any place where there are small pieces of wax and bee-bread, which have fallen upon the bottom-board, and which will furnish a temporary place of concealment for her progeny, and also the requisite nourishment, until they have strength and enterprise enough to reach the main combs of the hive, and fortify themselves there. "As soon as hatched,[22] the worm encloses itself in a case of white silk, which it spins around its body; at first it is like a mere thread, but gradually increases in size, and during its growth, feeds upon the cells around it, for which purpose it has only to put forth its head, and find its wants supplied. It devours its food with great avidity, and consequently increases so much in bulk, that its gallery soon becomes too short and narrow, and the creature is obliged to thrust itself forward and lengthen the gallery, as well to obtain more room as to procure an additional supply of food. Its augmented size exposing it to attacks from surrounding foes, the wary insect fortifies its new abode with additional strength and thickness, by blending with the filaments of its silken covering, a mixture of wax and its own excrement, for the external barrier of a new gallery, the interior and partitions of which are lined with a smooth surface of white silk, which admits the occasional movements of the insect, without injury to its delicate (?) texture. In performing these operations, the insect might be expected to meet with opposition from the bees, and to be gradually rendered more assailable as it advanced in age. It never, however, exposes any part but its head and neck, both of which are covered with stout helmets or scales impenetrable to the sting of a bee, as is the composition of the galleries that surround it." As soon as it has reached its full growth, it seeks in the manner previously described, a secure place for undergoing its changes into a winged insect.

Before describing the way in which I protect my hives from this deadly pest, I shall first show why the bee-moth has so wonderfully increased in numbers in this country, and how the use of patent hives has so powerfully contributed to encourage its ravages. It ought to be borne in mind that our climate is altogether more propitious to its rapid increase, than that of Great Britain. Our intensely hot summers develop most rapidly and powerfully, insect life, and those parts of our country where the heat is most protracted and intense, have, as a general thing, suffered most from the devastations of the bee-moth.

The bee is not a native of the American continent; it was first brought here by colonists from Great Britain, and was called by the Indians, the white man's fly. With the bee, was introduced its natural enemy, created for the special purpose, not of destroying the insect, on whose industry it thrives, and whose extermination would be fatal to the moth itself, but that it might gain its livelihood as best it could in this busy world. Finding itself in a country whose climate is exceedingly propitious to its rapid increase, it has multiplied and increased a thousand fold, until now there is hardly a spot where the bees inhabit, which is not infested by its powerful enemy.

I have often listened to the glowing accounts of the vast supplies of honey obtained by the first settlers, from their bees. Fifty years ago, the markets in our large cities were much more abundantly supplied than they now are, and it was no uncommon thing to see exposed for sale, large washing-tubs filled with the most beautiful honey. Various reasons have been assigned for the present depressed state of Apiarian pursuits. Some imagine that newly settled countries are most favorable for the labors of the bee: others, that we have overstocked our farms, so that the bees cannot find a sufficient supply of food. That neither of these reasons will account for the change, I shall prove more at length, in my remarks on Honey, and when I discuss the question of overstocking a district with bees. Others lay all the blame upon the bee-moth, and others still, upon our departure from the good old-fashioned way of managing bees. That the bee-moth has multiplied most astonishingly, is undoubtedly true. In many districts, it so superabounds, that the man who should expect to manage his bees with as little care as his father and grandfather bestowed upon them, and yet realize as large profits, would find himself most wofully mistaken. The old bee-keeper often never looked at his bees after the swarming season, until the time came for appropriating their spoils. He then carefully "hefted" all his hives so as to be able to judge as well as he could, how much honey they contained. All which were found to be too light to survive the Winter, he at once condemned; and if any were deficient in bees, or for any other reason, appeared to be of doubtful promise, they were, in like manner, sentenced to the sulphur pit. A certain number of those containing the largest supplies of honey, were also treated in the same summary way: while the requisite number of the very best, were reserved to replenish his stock another season. If the same system precisely, were now followed, a number of colonies would still perish annually, through the increased devastations of the moth.

The change which has taken place in the circumstances of the bee-keeper, may be illustrated by supposing that when the country was first settled, weeds were almost unknown. The farmer plants his corn, and then lets it alone, and as there are no weeds to molest it, at the end of the season he harvests a fair crop. Suppose, however, that in process of time, the weeds begin to spread more and more, until at last, this farmer's son or grandson finds that they entirely choke his corn, and that he cannot, in the old way, obtain a remunerating crop. Now listen to him, as he gravely informs you that he cannot tell how it is, but corn with him has all "run out." He manages it precisely as his father or grandfather always managed theirs, but somehow the pestiferous weeds will spring up, and he has next to no crop. Perhaps you can hardly conceive of such transparent ignorance and stupidity; but it would be difficult to show that it would be one whit greater than that of a large number who keep bees in places where the bee-moth abounds, and who yet imagine that those plans which answered perfectly well fifty or a hundred years ago, when moths were scarce, will answer just as well now.

If however, the old plan had been rigidly adhered to, the ravages of the bee-moth would never have been so great as they now are. The introduction of patent hives has contributed most powerfully, to fill the land with the devouring pest. I am perfectly aware that this is a bold assertion, and that it may, at first sight, appear to be very uncourteous, if not unjust, to the many intelligent and ingenious Apiarians, who have devoted much time, and spent large sums of money, in perfecting hives designed to enable the bee-keeper to contend most successfully against his worst enemy. As I do not wish to treat such persons with even the appearance of disrespect, I shall endeavor to show just how the use of the hives which they have devised, has contributed to undermine the prosperity of the bees. Many of these hives have valuable properties, and if they were always used in strict accordance with the enlightened directions of those who have invented them, they would undoubtedly be real and substantial improvements over the old box or straw hive, and would greatly aid the bee-keeper in his contest with the moth. The great difficulty is that they are none of them, able to give him the facilities which alone can make him victorious. No hive, as I shall soon show, can ever do this, which does not give the complete and easy control of all the combs.

I do not know of a single improved hive which does not aim at entirely doing away with the old-fashioned plan of killing the bees. Such a practice is denounced as being almost as cruel and silly as to kill a hen for the sake of obtaining her feathers or a few of her eggs. Now if the Apiarian can be furnished with suitable instructions, and such as he will practice, for managing his bees so as to avoid this necessity, then I admit the full force of all the objections which have been urged against it. I have never read the beautiful verses of the poet Thompson, without feeling all their force:

"Ah, see, where robbed and murdered in that pit
Lies the still heaving hive! at evening snatched,
Beneath the cloud of guilt-concealing night,
And fixed o'er sulphur! while, not dreaming ill,
The happy people, in their waxen cells,
Sat tending public cares;
Sudden, the dark oppressive steam ascends,
And, used to milder scents, the tender race,
By thousands, tumble from their honied dome!
Into a gulf of blue sulphureous flame."

The plain matter of fact however, is, that in our country, as many bees, if not more, die of starvation in their hives, as ever were killed by the fumes of sulphur. Commend me rather to the humanity of the old-fashioned bee-keeper, who put to a speedy and therefore merciful death, the poor bees which are now, by millions, tortured by slow starvation among their empty combs! At the present time, (April 1853,) I am almost daily hearing of swarms which have perished in this way, during the last Winter; and I know of only one person who was merciful enough to kill his weak stocks, rather than suffer them to die so cruel a death.

If the use of the common patent hives could only keep the stocks strong in numbers, and if the bee-keepers would always see that they were well supplied with honey, then I admit that to kill the bees would be both cruel and unnecessary. Such however, are the discouragements and losses necessarily attending the use of any hive which does not give the control of the combs, that there will be few who do not continually find that some of their stocks are too feeble to be worth the labor and expense of attempting to preserve them over Winter. How many colonies are annually wintered, which are not only of no value to their owner, but are positive nuisances in his Apiary; being so feeble in the Spring, that they are speedily overcome by the moth, and answer only to breed a horde of destroyers to ravage the rest of his Apiary. The time spent upon them is often as absolutely wasted, as the time devoted to a sick animal incurably diseased, and which can never be of any service, while by nursing it along, its owner incurs the risk of infecting his whole stock with its deadly taint. If, on the score of kindness, he should shut it up, and let it starve to death, few of us, I imagine, would care to cultivate a very intimate acquaintance with one so extremely original in the exhibition of his humanity!

Ever since the introduction of patent hives, the notion has almost universally prevailed, that stocks must not, under any circumstances, be voluntarily broken up; and hence, instead of Apiaries, filled in the Spring, with strong and healthy stocks of bees, easily able to protect themselves against the bee-moth, and all other enemies, we have multitudes of colonies which, if they had been kept on purpose to furnish food for the worms, could scarcely have answered a more valuable end in encouraging their increase. The simple truth is, that improved hives, without an improved system of management, have done on the whole more harm than good; in no country have they been so extensively used as in our own, and no where has the moth so completely gained the ascendency. Just so far as they have discouraged bee-keepers from the old plan of killing off all their weak swarms in the Fall, just so far have they extended "aid and comfort" to the moth, and made the condition of the bee-keeper worse than it was before. That some of them might be managed so as in all ordinary cases, to give the bees complete protection against their scourge, I do not, for a moment, question; but that they cannot, from the very nature of the case, answer fully in all emergencies, the ends for which they were designed, I shall endeavor to prove and not to assert.

The kind of hives of which I have been speaking, are such as have been devised by intelligent and honest men, practically acquainted with the management of bees: as for many of the hives which have been introduced, they not only afford the Apiarian no assistance against the inroads of the bee-moth, but they are so constructed as positively to aid it in its nefarious designs. The more they are used, the worse the poor bees are off: just as the more a man uses the lying nostrums of the brazen-faced quack, the further he finds himself from health and vigor.

I once met with an intelligent man who told me that he had paid a considerable sum, to a person who professed to be in possession of many valuable secrets in the management of bees, and who promised, among other things, to impart to him an infallible remedy against the bee-moth. On the receipt of the money, he very gravely told him that the secret of keeping the moth out of the hive, was to keep the bees strong and vigorous! A truer declaration he could not have made, but I believe that the bee-keeper felt, notwithstanding, that he had been imposed upon, as outrageously, as a poor man would be, who after paying a quack a large sum of money for an infallible, life-preserving secret, should be turned off with the truism that the secret of living forever, was to keep well!

There is not an intelligent, observing Apiarian who has been in the habit of carefully examining the operations of bees, not only in his own Apiary, but wherever he could find them, who has not seen strong stocks flourishing under almost any conceivable circumstances. They may be seen in hives of the most miserable construction, unpainted and unprotected, sometimes with large open cracks and clefts extending down their sides, and yet laughing to defiance, the bee-moth, and all other adverse influences.

Almost any thing hollow, in which the bees can establish themselves, and where they have once succeeded in becoming strong, will often be successfully tenanted by them for a series of years. To see such hives, as they sometimes may be seen, in possession of persons both ignorant and careless, and who hardly know a bee-moth from any other kind of moth, may at first sight well shake the confidence of the inquirer, in the necessity or value of any particular precautions to preserve his hives from the devastations of the moth.

After looking at these powerful stocks in what may be called log-cabin hives, let us examine some in the most costly hives, which have ever been constructed; in what have been called real "Bee-Palaces;" and we shall often find them weak and impoverished, infested and almost devoured by the worms. Their owner, with books in his hand, and all the newest devices and appliances in the Apiarian line, unable to protect his bees against their enemies, or to account for the reason why some hives seem, like the children of the poor, almost to thrive upon ill-treatment and neglect, while others, like the offspring of the rich and powerful, are feeble and diseased, almost in exact proportion to the means used to guard them against noxious influences, and to minister most lavishly to all their wants.

I once used to be much surprised to hear so many bee-keepers speak of having "good luck," or "bad luck" with their bees; but really as bees are generally managed, success or failure does seem to depend almost entirely upon what the ignorant or superstitious are wont to call "luck."

I shall now try to do what I have never yet seen satisfactorily done by any writer on bees; viz.: show exactly under what circumstances the bee-moth succeeds in establishing itself in a hive; thus explaining why some stocks flourish in spite of all neglect, while others, in the common hives, fall a prey to the moth, let their owner be as careful as he will, I shall finally show how in suitable hives, with proper precautions, it may always be kept from seriously annoying the bees.

It often happens, when a large number of stocks are kept, that in spite of all precautions, some of them are found in the Spring, so greatly reduced in numbers, that if left to themselves, they are in danger of falling a prey to the devouring moth. Bees, when in feeble colonies, seem often to lose a portion of their wonted vigilance, and as they have a large quantity of empty comb which they cannot guard, even if they would, the moth enters the hive, and deposits a large number of eggs, and thus before the bees have become sufficiently numerous to protect themselves, the combs are filled with worms, and the destruction of the colony speedily follows. The ignorant or careless bee-keeper is informed of the ravages which are going on in such a hive, only when its ruin is fully completed, and a cloud of winged pests issues from it, to destroy if they can, the rest of his stocks. But how, it may be asked, can it be ascertained that a hive is seriously infested with the all-devouring worms? The aspect of the bees, so discouraged and forlorn, proclaims at once that there is trouble of some kind within. If the hive be slightly elevated, the bottom-board will be found covered with pieces of bee-bread, &c. mixed with the excrement of the worms which looks almost exactly like fine grains of powder. As the bees in Spring, clean out their combs, and prepare the cells for the reception of brood, their bottom-board will often be so covered with parings of comb and with small pieces of bee-bread, that the hive may appear to be in danger of being destroyed by the worms. If, however, none of the black excrement is perceived, the refuse on the bottom-board, like the shavings in a carpenter's shop, are proofs of industry and not the signs of approaching ruin. It is highly important, however, to keep the bottom-boards clean, and if a piece of zinc be slipt in, (or even an old newspaper,) by removing and cleansing it from time to time, the bees will be greatly assisted in their operations. As soon as the hive is well filled with bees, this need no longer be done.

Even the most careful and experienced Apiarian will find, too often, that although he is perfectly well aware of the plague that is reigning within, his knowledge can be turned to no good account, the interior of the hive being almost as inaccessible as the interior of the human body. The way in which I manage, in such cases, is as follows.

Having ascertained, in the Spring, as soon as the bees begin to fly out, that a colony although feeble, has a fertile queen, I take the precaution at once to give it the strength which is indispensable, not merely to its safety, but to its ability for any kind of successful labor.

As a certain number of bees are needed in a hive, in order as well to warm and hatch the thousands of eggs which a healthy queen can lay, as to feed and properly develop the larvæ after they are hatched, I know that a feeble colony must remain feeble for a long time, unless they can at once be supplied with a considerable accession of numbers. Even if there were no moths in existence to trouble such a hive, it would not be able to rear a large number of bees, until after the best of the honey-harvest had passed away: and then it would become powerful only that its increasing numbers might devour the food which the others had previously stored in the cells. If the small colony has a considerable number of bees, and is able to cover and warm at least one comb in addition to those containing brood which they already have, I take from one of my strong stocks, a frame containing some three or four thousand or more young bees, which are sealed over in their cells, and are just ready to emerge. These bees which require no food, and need nothing but warmth to develop them, will, in a few days, hatch in the new hive to which they are given, and thus the requisite number of workers, in the full vigor and energy of youth, will be furnished to the hive, and the discouraged queen, finding at once a suitable number of experienced nurses[23] to take charge of her eggs, deposits them in the proper cells, instead of simply extruding them, to be devoured by the bees. While bees often attack full grown strangers which are introduced into their hive, they never fail to receive gladly all the brood comb that we choose to give them. If they are sufficiently numerous, they will always cherish it, and in warm weather, they will protect it, even if it is laid against the outside of their hive! If the bees in the weak stock, are too much reduced in numbers, to be able to cover the brood comb taken from another hive, I give them this comb with all the old bees that are clustered upon it, and shut up the hive, after supplying them with water, until two or three days have passed away. By this time, most of the strange bees will have formed an inviolable attachment to their new home, and even if a portion of them should return to the parent hive, a large number of the maturing young will have hatched, to supply their desertion. A little sugar-water scented with peppermint, may be used to sprinkle the bees, at the time that the comb is introduced, although I have never yet found that they had the least disposition, to quarrel with each other. The original settlers are only too glad to receive such a valuable accession to their scanty numbers, and the expatriated bees are too-much confounded with their unexpected emigration, to feel any desire for making a disturbance. If a sufficient increase of numbers has not been furnished by one range of comb, the operation may, in the course of a few days, be repeated. Instead of leaving the colony to the discouraging feeling that they are in a large, empty and desolate house, a divider should be run down into the hive, and they should be confined to a space which they are able to warm and defend, and the rest of the hive, until they need its additional room, should be carefully shut up against all intruders. If this operation is judiciously performed, the bees will be powerful in numbers, long before the weather is warm enough to develop the bee-moth, and they will thus be most effectually protected from the hateful pest.

A very simple change in the organization of the bee-moth would have rendered it almost if not quite impossible to protect the bees from its ravages. If it had been so constituted as to require but a very small amount of heat for its full development, it would have become very numerous early in the Spring, and might then have easily entered the hives and deposited its eggs among the combs, without any let or hindrance; for at this season, not only do the bees at night maintain no guard at the entrance of their hive, but there are large portions of their comb bare of bees, and of course, entirely unprotected. How does every fact in the history of the bee, when properly investigated, point with unerring certainty to the power, wisdom and goodness, of Him who made it!

If there is reason to apprehend that the combs which are not occupied with brood, contain any of the eggs of the moth, these combs may be removed, and thoroughly smoked with the fumes of burning sulphur; and then, in a few days, after they have been exposed to the fresh air, they may be returned to the hive. I hope I may be pardoned for feeling not the slightest pity for the unfortunate progeny of the moth, thus unceremoniously destroyed.

Bees, as is well known to every experienced bee-keeper, frequently swarm so often as to expose themselves to great danger of being destroyed by the moth. After the departure of the after-swarms, the parent colony often contains too few bees to cover and protect their combs from the insidious attacks of their wily enemy. As a number of weeks must elapse before the brood of the young queen is mature, the colony, for a considerable time, at the season when the moths are very numerous, are constantly diminishing in numbers, and before they can begin to replenish the exhausted hive, the destroyer has made a fatal lodgment.

In my hives, such calamities are easily prevented. If artificial increase is relied upon for the multiplication of colonies, it can be so conducted as to give the moth next to no chance to fortify itself in the hive. No colony is ever allowed to have more room than it needs, or more combs than it can cover and protect; and the entrance to the hive may be contracted, if necessary, so that only a single bee can go in and out, at a time, and yet the bees will have, from the ventilators, as much air as they require.

If natural swarming is allowed, after-swarms may be prevented from issuing, by cutting out all the queen cells but one, soon after the first swarm leaves the hive; or if it is desired to have as fast an increase of stocks, as can possibly be obtained from natural swarming, then instead of leaving the combs in the parent hive to be attacked by the moth, a certain portion of them may be taken out, when swarming is over, and given to the second and third swarms, so as to aid in building them up into strong stocks.

But I have not yet spoken of the most fruitful cause of the desolating ravages of the bee-moth. If a colony has lost its queen, and this loss cannot be supplied, it must, as a matter of course, fall a sacrifice to the bee-moth: and I do not hesitate to assert that by far the larger proportion of colonies which are destroyed by it, are destroyed under precisely such circumstances! Let this be remembered by all who have any thing to do with bees, and let them understand that unless a remedy for the loss of the queen, can be provided, they must constantly expect to see some of their best colonies hopelessly ruined. The crafty moth, after all, is not so much to blame, as we are apt to imagine; for a colony, once deprived of its queen, and possessing no means of securing another, would certainly perish, even if never attacked by so deadly an enemy; just as the body of an animal, when deprived of life, will speedily go to decay, even if it is not, at once, devoured by ravenous swarms of filthy flies and worms.

In order to ascertain all the important points connected with the habits of the bee-moth, I have purposely deprived colonies in some of my observing hives, of their queen, and have thus reduced them to a state of despair, that I might closely watch all their proceedings. I have invariably found that in this state, they have made little or no resistance to the entrance of the bee-moth, but have allowed her to deposit her eggs, just where she pleased. The worms, after hatching, have always appeared to be even more at home than the poor dispirited bees themselves, and have grown and thrived, in the most luxurious manner. In some instances, these colonies, so far from losing all spirit to resent other intrusions, were positively the most vindictive set of bees in my whole Apiary. One especially, assaulted every body that came near it, and when reduced in numbers to a mere handful, seemed as ready for fight as ever.

How utterly useless then, for defending a queenless colony against the moth, are all the traps and other devices which have been, of late years, so much relied upon. If a single female gains admission, she will lay eggs enough to destroy in a short time, the strongest colony that ever existed, if once it has lost its queen, and has no means of procuring another. But not only do the bees of a hive which is hopelessly queenless, make little or no opposition to the entrance of the bee-moth, and to the ravages of the worms, but by their forlorn condition, they positively invite the attacks of their destroyers. The moth seems to have an instinctive knowledge of the condition of such a hive, and no art of man can ever keep her out. She will pass by other colonies to get at the queenless one, for she seems to know that there she will find all the conditions that are necessary to the proper development of her young. There are many mysteries in the insect world, which we have not yet solved; nor can we tell just how the moth arrives at so correct a knowledge of the condition of the queenless hives in the Apiary. That such hives, very seldom, maintain a guard about the entrance, is certain; and that they do not fill the air with the pleasant voice of happy industry, is equally certain; for even to our dull ears, the difference between the hum of the prosperous hive, and the unhappy note of the despairing one, is sufficiently obvious. May it not be even more obvious to the acute senses of the provident mother, seeking a proper place for the development of her young?

The unerring sagacity of the moth, closely resembles that peculiar instinct by which the vulture and other birds that prey upon carrion, are able to single out a diseased animal from the herd, which they follow with their dismal croakings, hovering over its head, or sitting in ill-omened flocks, on the surrounding trees, watching it as its life ebbs away, and stretching out their filthy and naked necks, and opening and snapping their blood-thirsty beaks that they may be all ready to tear out its eyes just glazing in death, and banquet upon its flesh still warm with the blood of life! Let any fatal accident befall an animal, and how soon will you see them, first from one quarter of the heavens, and then from another, speeding their eager flight to their destined prey, when only a short time before, not a single one could be seen or heard.

I have repeatedly seen powerful colonies speedily devoured by the worms, because of the loss of their queen, when they have stood, side by side with feeble colonies which being in possession of a queen, have been left untouched!

That the common hives furnish no available remedy for the loss of the queen, is well known: indeed, the owner cannot, in many cases, be sure that his bees are queenless, until their destruction is certain, while not unfrequently, after keeping bees for many years, he does not even so much as believe that there is such a thing as a queen bee!

In the Chapter on the Loss of the Queen, I shall show in what way this loss can be ascertained, and ordinarily remedied, and thus the bees be protected from that calamity which more than all others, exposes them to destruction. When a colony has become hopelessly queenless, then moth or no moth, its destruction is absolutely certain. Even if the bees retained their wonted industry in gathering stores, and their usual energy in defending themselves against all their enemies, their ruin could only be delayed for a short time. In a few months, they would all die a natural death, and there being none to replace them, the hive would be utterly depopulated. Occasionally, such instances occur in which the bees have died, and large stores of honey have been found untouched in their hives. This, however, but seldom happens: for they rarely escape from the assaults of other colonies, even if after the death of their queen, they do not fall a prey to the bee-moth. A motherless hive is almost always assaulted by stronger stocks, which seem to have an instinctive knowledge of its orphanage, and hasten at once, to take possession of its spoils. (See Remarks on [Robbing].) If it escape the Scylla of these pitiless plunderers, it is soon dashed upon a more merciless Charybdis, when the miscreant moths have ascertained its destitution. Every year, large numbers of hives are bereft of their queen, and every year, the most of such hives are either robbed by other bees, or sacked by the bee-moth, or first robbed, and afterwards sacked, while their owner imputes all the mischief that is done, to something else than the real cause. He might just as well imagine that the birds, or the carrion worms which are devouring his dead horse, were actually the primary cause of its untimely end. How often we see the same kind of mistake made by those who impute the decay of a tree, to the insects which are banqueting upon its withering foliage; when often these insects are there, because the disease of the tree has both furnished them with their proper aliment, and deprived the plant of the vigor necessary to enable it to resist their attack.

The bee keeper can easily gather from these remarks, the means upon which I most rely, to protect my colonies from the bee-moth. Knowing that strong stocks supplied with a fertile queen, are always able to take care of themselves, in almost any kind of hive, I am careful to keep them in the state which is practically found to be one of such security. If they are weak, they must be properly strengthened, and confined to only as much space as they can warm and defend: and if they are queenless, they must be supplied with the means of repairing their loss, or if that cannot be done, they should be at once broken up, (See Remarks on [Queenlessness], and [Union of Stocks],) and added to other stocks.

It cannot be too deeply impressed upon the mind of the bee-keeper, that a small colony ought always to be confined to a small space, if we wish the bees to work with the greatest energy, and to offer the stoutest resistance to their numerous enemies. Bees do most unquestionably, "abhor a vacuum," if it is one which they can neither fill, warm nor defend. Let the prudent bee-master only keep his stocks strong, and they will do more to defend themselves against all intruders, than he can possibly do for them, even if he spends his whole time in watching and assisting them.

It is hardly necessary, after the preceding remarks, to say much upon the various contrivances to which so many resort, as a safeguard against the bee-moth. The idea that gauze-wire doors, to be shut daily at dusk, and opened again at morning, can exclude the moth, will not weigh much with one who has seen them flying and seeking admission, especially in dull weather, long before the bees have given over their work for the day. Even if the moth could be excluded by such a contrivance, it would require, on the part of those who rely upon it, a regularity almost akin to that of the heavenly bodies in their courses; a regularity so systematic, in short, as either to be impossible, or likely to be attained but by very few.

An exceedingly ingenious contrivance, to say the least, to remedy the necessity for such close supervision, is that by which the movable doors of all the hives are governed by a long lever in the shape of a hen-roost, so that the hives may all be closed seasonably and regularly, by the crowing and cackling tribe, when they go to bed at night, and opened at once when they fly from their perch, to greet the merry morn. Alas! that so much ingenuity should be all in vain! Chickens are often sleepy, and wish to retire sometime before the bees feel that they have completed their full day's work, and some of them are so much opposed to early rising, either from ill-health, or downright laziness, that they sit moping on their roost, long after the cheerful sun has purpled the glowing East. Even if this device were perfectly successful, it could not save from ruin, a colony which has lost its queen. The truth is, that almost all the contrivances upon which we are instructed to rely, are just about equivalent to the lock carefully put upon the stable door, after the horse has been stolen; or to attempts to prevent corruption from fastening upon the body of an animal, after the breath of life has forever departed.

Are there then no precautions to which we may resort, except by using hives which give the control over every comb? Certainly there are, and I shall now describe them in such a manner as to aid all who find themselves annoyed by the inroads of the bee-moth.

Let the prudent bee-master be deeply impressed with the very great importance of destroying early in the season, the larvæ of the bee-moth. "Prevention is," at all times, "better than cure": a single pair of worms that are permitted to undergo their changes into the winged insect, may give birth to some hundreds which before the close of the season, may fill the Apiary with thousands of their kind. The destruction of a single worm early in the Spring, may thus be more efficacious than that of hundreds, at a later period. If the common hives are used, these worms must be sought for in their hiding places, under the edges of the hive; or the hive may be propped up, on the two ends, with strips of wood, about three eighths of an inch thick; and a piece of old woolen rag put between the bottom-board and the back of the hive. Into this warm hiding place, the full grown worm will retreat to spin its cocoon, and it may then be very easily caught and effectually dealt with. Hollow sticks, or split joints of cane may be set under the hives, so as to elevate them, or may be laid on the bottom-board, and if they have a few small openings through which the bees cannot enter, the worms will take possession of them, and may easily be destroyed. Only provide some hollow, inaccessible to the bees, but communicating with the hive and easily accessible to the worms when they want to spin, and to yourself when you want them, and if the bees are in good health, so that they will not permit the worms to spin among the combs, you can, with ease, entrap nearly all of them. If the hive has lost its queen, and the worms have gained possession of it, you can do nothing for it better than to break it up as soon as possible, unless you prefer to reserve it as a moth trap to devastate your whole Apiary.

I make use of blocks of a peculiar construction, in order both to entrap the worms, and to exclude the moth from my hives. The only place where the moth can enter, is just where the bees are going in and out, and this passage may be contracted so as to suit the size of the colony: the very shape of it is such that if the moth attempts to force an entrance, she is obliged to travel over a space which is continually narrowing, and of course, is more and more easily defended by the bees. My traps are slightly elevated, so that the heat and odor of the hive pass under them, and come out through small openings into which the moth can enter, but which do not admit her into the hive. These openings, which are so much like the crevices between the common hives and their bottom-boards, the moth will enter, rather than attempt to force her way through the guards, and finding here the nibblings and parings of comb and bee-bread, in which her young can flourish, she deposits her eggs in a place where they may be reached and destroyed. All this is on the supposition that the hive has a healthy queen, and that the bees are confined to a space which they can warm and defend. If there are no guards and no resistance, or at best but a very feeble one, she will not rest in any outer chamber, but will penetrate to the very heart of the citadel, and there deposit her seeds of mischief. These same blocks have also grooves which communicate with the interior of the hives, and which appear to the prowling worm in search of a comfortable nest, just the very best possible place, so warm and snug and secure, in which to spin its web, and "bide its time." When the hand of the bee-master lights upon it, doubtless it has reason to feel that it has been caught in its own craftiness.

If asked how much will such contrivances help the careless bee-man, I answer, not one iota; nay, they will positively furnish him greater facilities for destroying his bees. Worms will spin and hatch, and moths will lay their eggs, under the blocks, and he will never remove them: thus instead of traps he will have most beautiful devices for giving more effectual aid and comfort to his enemies. Such persons, if they ever attempt to keep bees on my plans, should use only my smooth blocks, which will enable them to control, at will, the size of the entrance to the hives, and which are exceedingly important in aiding the bees to defend themselves against moths and robbers, and all enemies which seek admission to their castle.

Let me, however, strongly advise the thoroughly and incorrigibly careless, to have nothing to do with bees, either on my plan of management, or any other; for they will find their time and money almost certainly thrown away; unless their mishaps open their eyes to the secret of their failure in other things, as well as in bee-keeping.

If I find that the worms, by any means have got the upper hand in one of my hives, I take out the combs, shake off the bees, route out the worms and restore the combs again to the bees: if there is reason to fear that they contain eggs and small worms, I smoke them thoroughly with sulphur, and air them well before they are returned. Such operations, however, will very seldom be required. Shallow vessels containing sweetened water, placed on the hives after sunset, will often entrap many of the moths. Pans of milk are recommended by some as useful for this purpose. So fond are the moths of something sweet, that I have caught them sticking fast to pieces of moist sugar-candy.

I cannot deny myself the pleasure of making an extract from an article[24] from the pen of that accomplished scholar, and well-known enthusiast in bee-culture, Henry K. Oliver, Esq. "We add a few words respecting the enemies of bees. The mouse, the toad, the ant, the stouter spiders, the wasp, the death-head moth, (Sphinx atropos,) and all the varieties of gallinaceous birds, have, each and all, "a sweet tooth," and like, very well, a dinner of raw bee. But the ravages of all these are but a baby bite to the destruction caused by the bee-moth, (Tinea mellonella.) These nimble-footed little mischievous vermin may be seen, on any evening, from early May to October, fluttering about the apiary, or running about the hives, at a speed to outstrip the swiftest bee, and endeavoring to effect an entrance into the door way, for it is within the hive that their instinct teaches them they must deposit their eggs. You can hardly find them by day, for they are cunning and secrete themselves. "They love darkness rather than light, because their deeds are evil." They are a paltry looking, insignificant little grey-haired pestilent race of wax-and-honey-eating and bee-destroying rascals, that have baffled all contrivances that ingenuity has devised to conquer or destroy them."

"Your committee would be very glad indeed to be able to suggest any effectual means, by which to assist the honey-bee and its friends, against the inroads of this, its bitterest and most successful foe, whose desolating ravages are more lamented and more despondingly referred to, than those of any other enemy. Various contrivances have been announced, but none have proved efficacious to any full extent, and we are compelled to say that there really is no security, except in a very full, healthy and vigorous stock of bees, and in a very close and well made hive, the door of which is of such dimensions of length and height, that the nightly guards can effectually protect it. Not too long a door, nor too high. If too long, the bees cannot easily guard it, and if too high, the moth will get in over the heads of the guards. If the guards catch one of them, her life is not worth insuring. But if the moths, in any numbers, effect a lodgment in the hive, then the hive is not worth insuring. They immediately commence laying their eggs, from which comes, in a few days, a brownish white caterpillar, which encloses itself, all but its head, in a silken cocoon. This head, covered with an impenetrable coat of scaly mail, which bids defiance to the bees, is thrust forward, just outside of the silken enclosure, and the gluttonous pest eats all before it, wax, pollen, and exuviæ, until ruin to the stock is inevitable. As says the Prophet Joel, speaking of the ravages of the locust, "the land is as the garden of Eden before them, and behind them a desolate wilderness." Look out, brethren, bee lovers, and have your hives of the best unshaky, unknotty stock, with close fitting joints, and well covered with three or four coats of paint. He who shall be successful in devising the means of ridding the bee world of this destructive and merciless pest, will richly deserve to be crowned "King Bee," in perpetuity, to be entitled to a never-fading wreath of budding honey flowers, from sweetly breathing fields, all murmuring with bees, to be privileged to use, during his natural life, "night tapers from their waxen thighs," best wax candles, (two to the pound!) to have an annual offering from every bee-master, of ten pounds each, of very best virgin honey, and to a body guard, for protection against all foes, of thrice ten thousand workers, all armed and equipped, as Nature's law directs. Who shall have these high honors?"

It might seem highly presumptuous for me, at this early date, to lay claim to them, but I beg leave to enroll myself among the list of honorable candidates, and I cheerfully submit my pretensions to the suffrages of all intelligent keepers of bees.

In the chapter on Requisites, I have spoken of the ravages of the mouse, and have there described the way in which my hives are guarded against its intrusion. That some kinds of birds are fond of bees, every Apiarian knows, to his cost; still, I cannot advise that any should, on this account, be destroyed. It has been stated to me, by an intelligent observer, that the King-bird, which devours them by scores, confines himself always, in the season of drones, to those fat and lazy gentlemen of leisure. I fear however, that this, as the children say, "is too good news to be true," and that not only the industrious portion of the busy community fall a prey to his fatal snap, but that the luxurious gourmand can distinguish perfectly well, between an empty bee in search of food, and one which is returning full laden to its fragrant home, and whose honey-bag sweetens the delicious tit-bit, as the crushed unfortunate, all ready sugared, glides daintily down his voracious maw! Still, I have never yet been willing to destroy a bird, because of its fondness for bees; and I advise all lovers of bees to have nothing to do with such foolish practices. Unless we can check among our people, the stupid, as well as inhuman custom of destroying so wantonly, on any pretence, and often on none at all, the insectivorous birds, we shall soon, not only be deprived of their aerial melody, among the leafy branches, but shall lament over the ever increasing horde of destructive insects, which ravage our fields and desolate our orchards, and from whose successful inroads, nothing but the birds can ever protect us. Think of it, ye who can enjoy no music made by these winged choristers of the skies, except that of their agonizing screams, as they fall before your well-aimed weapons, and flutter out their innocent lives before your heartless gaze! Drive away as fast and as far as you please, from your cruel premises, all the little birds that you cannot destroy, and then find, if you can, those who will sympathize with you, when the caterpillars weave their destroying webs over your leafless trees, and insects of all kinds riot in glee, upon your blasted harvests! I hope that such a healthy public opinion will soon prevail, that the man or boy who is armed with a gun to shoot the little birds, will be scouted from all humane and civilized society, and if he should be caught about such contemptible business, will be too much ashamed even to look an honest man in the face. I shall close what I have to say about the birds, with the following beautiful translation of an old Greek poet's address to the swallow.

"Attic maiden, honey fed,
Chirping warbler, bear'st away,
Thou the busy buzzing bee,
To thy callow brood a prey?
Warbler, thou a warbler seize?
Winged, one with lovely wings?
Guest thyself, by Summer brought,
Yellow guest whom Summer brings?
Wilt not quickly let it drop?
'Tis not fair, indeed 'tis wrong,
That the ceaseless warbler should
Die by mouth of ceaseless song."
Merivale's Translation.

I have not the space to speak at length of the other enemies of the honied race: nor indeed is it at all necessary. If the Apiarian only succeeds in keeping his stocks strong, they will be their own best protectors, and if he does not succeed in this, they would be of little value, even if they had no enemies ever vigilant, to watch for their halting. Nations which are both rich and feeble, invite attack, as well as unfit themselves for vigorous resistance. Just so with the commonwealth of bees. Unless amply guarded by thousands ready to die in its defence, it is ever liable to fall a prey to some one of its many enemies, which are all agreed in this one opinion, at least, that stolen honey is much more sweet than the slow accumulations of patient industry.

In the Chapters on Protection and Ventilation, I have spoken of the fatal effects of dysentery. This disease can always be prevented by proper caution on the part of the bee-keeper. Let him be careful not to feed his bees, late in the season, on liquid honey, (see Chapter on [Feeding],) and let him keep them in dry and thoroughly protected hives. If his situation is at all damp, and there is danger that water will settle under his Protector, let him build it entirely above ground; otherwise it may be as bad as a damp cellar, and incomparably worse than nothing at all.

There is one disease, called by the Germans, "foul brood," of which I know nothing, by my own observation, but which is, of all others, the most fatal in its effects. The brood appear to die in the cells, after they are sealed over by the bees, and the stench from their decaying bodies infects the hive, and seems to paralyze the bees. This disease is, in two instances, attributed by Dzierzon, to feeding bees on "American Honey," or, as we call it, Southern Honey, which is brought from Cuba, and other West India Islands. That such honey is not ordinarily poisonous, is well known: probably that used by him, was taken from diseased colonies. It is well known that if any honey or combs are taken from a hive in which this pestilence is raging, it will most surely infect the colonies to which they may be given. No foreign honey ought therefore to be extensively used, until its quality has been thoroughly tested. The extreme violence of this disease may be inferred from the fact, that Dzierzon in one season, lost by it, between four and five hundred colonies! As at present advised, if my colonies were attacked by it, I should burn up the bees, combs, honey, frames, and all, from every diseased hive; and then thoroughly scald and smoke with sulphur, all such hives, and replenish them with bees from a healthy stock.

There is a peculiar kind of dysentery which does not seem to affect a whole colony, but confines its ravages to a small number of the bees. In the early stages of this disease, those attacked are excessively irritable, and will attempt to sting any one who comes near the hives. If dissected, their stomachs are found to be already discolored by the disease. In the latter stages of this complaint, they not only lose all their irascibility, but seem very stupid, and may often be seen crawling upon the ground unable to fly. Their abdomens are now unnaturally swollen, and of a much lighter color than usual, owing to their being filled with a yellow matter exceedingly offensive to the smell. I have not yet ascertained the cause of this disease.

CHAPTER XII.
LOSS OF THE QUEEN.

That the queen of a hive is often lost, and that the ruin of the whole colony soon follows, unless such a loss is seasonably remedied, are facts which ought to be well known to every observing bee-keeper.

Some queens appear to die of old age or disease, and at a time when there are no worker-eggs, or larvæ of a suitable age, to enable the bees to supply their loss. It is evident, however, that no very large proportion of the queens which perish, are lost under such circumstances. Either the bees are aware of the approaching end of their aged mother, and take seasonable precautions to rear a successor; or else she dies very suddenly, so as to leave behind her, brood of a suitable age. It is seldom that a queen in a hive that is strong in numbers and stores, dies either at a period of the year when there is no brood from which another can be reared, or when there are no drones to impregnate the one reared in her place. In speaking of the age of bees, it has already been stated that queens commonly die in their fourth year, while none of the workers live to be a year old. Not only is the queen much longer lived than the other bees, but she seems to be possessed of greater tenacity of life, so that when any disease overtakes the colony, she is usually among the last to perish. By a most admirable provision, their death ordinarily takes place under circumstances the most favorable to their bereaved family. If it were otherwise, the number of colonies which would annually perish, would be very much greater than it now is; for as a number of superannuated queens must die every year, many, or even most of them might die at a season when their loss would necessarily involve the ruin of their whole colony. In non-swarming hives, I have found cells in which queens were reared, not to lead out a new swarm, but to supply the place of the old one which had died in the hive. There are a few well authenticated instances, in which a young queen has been matured before the death of the old one, but after she had become quite aged and infirm. Still, there are cases where old queens die, either so suddenly as to leave no young brood behind them, or at a season when there are no drones to impregnate the young queens.

That queens occasionally live to such an age as to become incapable of laying worker eggs, is now a well established fact. The seminal reservoir sometimes becomes exhausted, before the queen dies of old age, and as it is never replenished, (see p. [44],) she can only lay unimpregnated eggs, or such as produce drones instead of workers. This is an additional confirmation of the theory first propounded by Dzierzon. I am indebted to Mr. Wagner for the following facts. "In the Bienenzeitung, for August, 1852, Count Stosch gives us the case of a colony examined by himself, with the aid of an experienced Apiarian, on the 14th of April, previous. The worker-brood was then found to be healthy. In May following, the bees worked industriously, and built new comb. Soon afterwards they ceased to build, and appeared dispirited; and when, in the beginning of June, he examined the colony again, he found plenty of drone brood in worker cells! The queen appeared weak and languid. He confined her in a queen cage, and left her in the hive. The bees clustered around the cage; but next morning the queen was found to be dead. Here we seem to have the commencement, progress and termination of super-annuation, all in the space of five or six weeks."

In the Spring of the year, as soon as the bees begin to fly, if their motions are carefully watched, the Apiarian may even in the common hives, generally ascertain from their actions, whether they are in possession of a fertile queen. If they are seen to bring in bee-bread with great eagerness, it follows, as a matter of course, that they have brood, and are anxious to obtain fresh food for its nourishment. If any hive does not industriously gather pollen, or accept the rye flour upon which the others are feasting, then there is an almost absolute certainty either that it has not a queen, or that she is not fertile, or that the hive is seriously infested with worms, or that it is on the very verge of starvation. An experienced eye will decide upon the queenlessness, (to use the German term,) of a hive, from the restless appearance of the bees. At this period of the year when they first realize the magnitude of their loss, and before they have become in a manner either reconciled to it, or indifferent to their fate, they roam in an inquiring manner, in and out of the hive, and over its outside as well as inside, and plainly manifest that something calamitous has befallen them. Often those that return from the fields, instead of entering the hive with that dispatchful haste so characteristic of a bee returning well stored to a prosperous home, linger about the entrance with an idle and very dissatisfied appearance, and the colony is restless, long after the other stocks are quiet. Their home, like that of the man who is cursed rather than blessed in his domestic relations, is a melancholy place: and they only enter it with reluctant and slow-moving steps!

If I could address a friendly word of advice to every married woman, I would say, "Do all that you can to make your husband's home a place of attraction. When absent from it, let his heart glow at the very thought of returning to its dear enjoyments; and let his countenance involuntarily put on a more cheerful look, and his joy-quickened steps proclaim, as he is approaching, that he feels in his "heart of hearts," that "there is no place like home." Let her whom he has chosen as a wife and companion, be the happy and honored Queen in his cheerful habitation: let her be the center and soul about which his best affections shall ever revolve. I know that there are brutes in the guise of men, upon whom all the winning attractions of a prudent, virtuous wife, make little or no impression. Alas that it should be so! but who can tell how many, even of the most hopeless cases, have been saved for two worlds, by a union with a virtuous woman, in whose "tongue was the law of kindness," and of whom it could be said, "the heart of her husband doth safely trust in her," for "she will do him good and not evil, all the days of her life."

Said a man of large experience, "I scarcely know a woman who has an intemperate husband, who did not either marry a man whose habits were already bad, or who did not drive her husband to evil courses, (often when such a calamitous result was the furthest possible from her thoughts or wishes,) by making him feel that he had no happy home." Think of it, ye who find that home is not full of dear delights, as well to yourselves, as to your affectionate husbands! Try how much virtue there may be in winning words and happy smiles, and the cheerful discharge of household duties, and prove the utmost possible efficacy of love and faith and prayer, before those words of fearful agony are extorted from your despairing lips,

"Anywhere, anywhere
Out of the world;"

when amid tears and sighs of inexpressible agony, you settle down into the heart-breaking conviction that you can have no home until you have passed into that habitation not fashioned by human hands, or inhabited by human hearts!

Is there any husband who can resist all the sweet attractions of a lovely wife? who does not set a priceless value upon the very gem of his life?

"If such there be, go mark him well;
High though his titles, proud his fame,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim,
The wretch, concentered all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust from whence he sprung
Unwept, unhonored, and unsung."—Scott.

I trust my readers, remembering my profession, will pardon this long digression to which I felt myself irresistibly impelled.

When the bees commence their work in the Spring, they give, as previously stated, reliable evidence either that all is well, or that ruin lurks within. In the common hives however, it is not always easy to decide upon their real condition. The queenless ones do not, in all cases, disclose their misfortune, any more than all unhappy husbands or wives see fit to proclaim the full extent of their domestic wretchedness: there is a vast amount of seeming even in the little world of the bee-hive. One great advantage in my mode of construction is that I am never obliged to leave anything to vague conjecture; but I can, in a few moments, open the interior, and know precisely what is the real condition of the bees.

On one occasion I found that a colony which had been queenless for a considerable time, utterly refused to raise another, and devoured all the eggs which were given to them for that purpose! This colony was afterwards supplied with an unimpregnated queen, but they refused to accept of her, and attempted at once to smother her to death. I then gave them a fertile queen, but she met with no better treatment. Facts of a similar kind have been noticed, by other observers: thus it seems that bees may not only become reconciled, as it were, to living without a mother, but may pass into such an unnatural state as not only to decline to provide themselves with another, but actually to refuse to accept of one by whose agency they might be rescued from impending ruin! Before expressing too much astonishment at such foolish conduct, let us seriously inquire if it has not often an exact parallel in our obstinate rejection of the provisions which God has made in the Gospel for our moral and religious welfare.

If a colony which refuses to rear another queen, has a range of comb given to it containing maturing brood, these poor motherless innocents, as soon as they are able to work, perceive their loss, and will proceed at once, if they have the means, to supply it! They have not yet grown so hardened by habit to unnatural and ruinous courses, as not to feel that something absolutely indispensable to their safety is wanting in their hive.

A word to the young who may read this treatise. Although enjoined to "remember your Creator in the days of your youth," you are constantly tempted to neglect your religious duties, and to procrastinate their performance until some more convenient season. Like the old bees in a hive without a queen, that seek only their present enjoyment, forgetful of the ruin which must surely overtake them, so you may find that when manhood and old age arrive, you will have even less disposition to love and serve the Lord than you now have. The fetters which bind you to sinful habits will have strengthened with years until you find both the inclination and ability to break them continually decreasing.

In the Spring, as soon as the weather becomes sufficiently pleasant, I carefully examine all the hives which do not present the most unmistakable evidences of health and vigor. If a queen is wanting, I at once, if the colony is small, break it up, and add the bees to another stock. If however, the colony should be very large, I sometimes join to it one of my small stocks which has a healthy queen. It may be asked why not supply the queenless stock with the means of raising another? Simply because there would be no drones to impregnate her, in season; and the whole operation would therefore result in an entire failure. Why not endeavor then to preserve it, until the season for drones approaches, and then give it a queen? Because it is in danger of being robbed or destroyed by the moth, while the bees, if added to another stock, can do me far more service than they could, if left to idleness in their old hive. It must be remembered that I am not like the bee-keepers on the old plan, extremely anxious to save every colony, however feeble: as I can, at the proper season, form as many as I want, and with far less trouble and expense than are required to make anything out of such discouraged stocks.

If any of my colonies are found to be feeble in the Spring, but yet in possession of a healthy queen, I help them to combs containing maturing brood, in the manner already described. In short, I ascertain, at the opening of the season, the exact condition of all my stock, and apply such remedies as I find to be needed, giving to some, maturing brood, to others honey, and breaking up all whose condition appears to admit of no remedy. If however, the bees have not been multiplied too rapidly, and proper care was taken to winter none but strong stocks, they will need but little assistance in the Spring; and nearly all of them will show indubitable signs of health and vigor.

I strongly recommend every prudent bee-keeper who uses my hives, to give them all a most thorough over-hauling and cleansing, soon after the bees begin to work in the Spring. The bees of any stock may, with their combs, &c., all be transferred, in a few minutes, to a clean hive; and their hive, after being thoroughly cleansed, may be used for another transferred stock; and in this way, with one spare hive, the bees may all be lodged in habitations from which every speck of dirt has been removed. They will thus have hives which can by no possibility, harbor any of the eggs, or larvæ of the moth, and which may be made perfectly free from the least smell of must or mould or anything offensive to the delicate senses of the bees. In making this thorough cleansing of all the hives, the Apiarian will necessarily gain an exact knowledge of the true condition of each stock, and will know which have spare honey, and which require food: in short, which are in need of help in any respect, and which have the requisite strength to lend a helping hand to others. If any hive needs repairing, it may be put into perfect order, before it is used again. Hives managed in this fashion, if the roofs and outside covers are occasionally painted anew, will last for generations, and will be found, on the score of cheapness, preferable, in the long run, to any other kind. But I ought to beg pardon of the Genius of American cheapness, who so kindly presides over the making of most of our manufactures, and under whose shrewd tuition we are fast beginning to believe that cheapness in the first cost of an article, is the main point to which our attention should be directed!

Let us to be sure, save all that we can in the cost of construction, by the greatest economy in the use of materials; let us compel every minute to yield the greatest possible practical result, by the employment of the most skillful workmen and the most ingenious machinery; but do let us learn that slighting an article, so as to get up a mere sham, having all the appearance of reality, with none of the substance, is the poorest possible kind of pretended economy; to say nothing of the tendency of such a system, to encourage in all the pursuits of life, the narrow and selfish policy of doing nothing thoroughly, but everything with reference to mere outside show, or the urgent necessities of the present moment.

We have yet to describe under what circumstances, by far the larger proportion of hives, become queenless. After the first swarm has gone out with the old mother, then both the parent stock and all the subsequent swarms, will have each a young queen which must always leave the hive in order to be impregnated. It sometimes happens that the wings of the young female are, from her birth, so imperfect that she either refuses to sally out, or is unable to return to the hive, if she ventures abroad. In either case, the old stock must, if left to its own resources, speedily perish. Queens, in their contests with each other, are sometimes so much crippled as to unfit them for flight, and sometimes they are disabled by the rude treatment of the bees, who insist on driving them away from the royal cells. The great majority, however, of queens which are lost, perish when they leave the hive in search of the drones. Their extra size and slower flight make them a most tempting prey to the birds, ever on the watch in the vicinity of the hives; and many in this way, perish. Others are destroyed by sudden gusts of winds, which dash them against some hard object, or blow them into the water; for queens are by no means, exempt from the misfortunes common to the humblest of their race. Very frequently, in spite of all their caution in noticing the position and appearance of their habitation, before they left it, they make a fatal mistake on their return, and are imprisoned and destroyed as they attempt to enter the wrong hive. The precautions which should be used, to prevent such a calamity, have been already described. If these are neglected, those who build their hives of uniform size and appearance, will find themselves losing many more queens than the person who uses the old-fashioned boxes, hardly any two of which look just alike.

The bees seem to me, to have, as it were, an instinctive perception of the dangers which await their new queen when she makes her excursion in search of the drones, and often gather around her, and confine her, as though they could not bear to have her leave! I have repeatedly noticed them doing this, although I cannot affirm with positive certainty, why they do it. They are usually excessively agitated when the queen leaves, and often exhibit all the appearance of swarming. If the queen of an old stock is lost in this way, her colony will gradually dwindle away. If the queen of an after-swarm fails to return, the bees very speedily come to nothing, if they remain in the hive; as a general rule, however, they soon leave and attempt to add themselves to other colonies.

It would be highly interesting to ascertain in what way the bees become informed of the loss of their queen. When she is taken from them under such circumstances as to excite the whole colony, then we can easily see how they find out that she is gone; for when greatly excited, they always seek first to assure themselves of her safety; just as a tender mother in time of danger forgets herself in her anxiety for her helpless children! If however, the queen is carefully removed, so that the colony is not disturbed, it is sometimes a day, or even more, before they realize their loss. How do they first become aware of it? Perhaps some dutiful bee feels that it is a long time since it has seen its mother, and anxious to embrace her, makes diligent search for her through the hive! The intelligence that she cannot anywhere be found, is soon noised abroad, and the whole community are at once alarmed. At such times, instead of calmly conversing by merely touching each other's antennæ, they may be seen violently striking as it were, their antennæ together, and by the most impassioned demonstrations manifesting their agony and despair. I once removed a queen in such a manner as to cause the bees to take wing and fill the air in search of her. She was returned in a few minutes, and yet, on examining the colony, two days after, I found that they had actually commenced the building of royal cells, in order to raise another! The queen was unhurt and the cells were not tenanted. Was this work begun by some that refused for a long time to believe the others, when told that she was safe? Or was it begun from the apprehension that she might again be removed?

Every colony which has a new queen, should be watched, in order that the Apiarian may be seasonably apprised of her loss. The restless conduct of the bees, on the evening of the day that she fails to return, will at once inform the experienced bee-master of the accident which has befallen his hive. If the bees cannot be supplied with another queen, or with the means of raising one, if an old swarm it must be broken up, and the bees added to another stock; if a new swarm it must always be broken up, unless it can be supplied with a queen nearly mature, or else they will build combs unfit for the rearing of workers. By the use of my movable comb hives, all these operations can be easily performed. If any hives have lost their young queen, they may be supplied, either with the means of raising another, or with sealed queens from other hives, or, (if the plan is found to answer,) with mature ones from the "Nursery."

As a matter of precaution, I generally give to all my stocks that are raising young queens, or which have unimpregnated ones, a range of comb containing brood and eggs, so that they may, in case of any accident to their queen, proceed at once, to supply their loss. In this way, I prevent them from being so dissatisfied as to leave the hive.

About a week after the young queens have hatched, I examine all the hives which contain them, lifting out usually, some of the largest combs, and those which ought to contain brood. If I find a comb which has eggs or larvæ, I am satisfied that they have a fertile queen, and shut up the hive; unless I wish to find her, in order to deprive her of her wings, (see p. [203].) I can thus often satisfy myself in one or two minutes. If no brood is found, I suspect that the queen has been lost, or that she has some defect which has prevented her from leaving the hive. If the brood-comb which I put into the hive, contains any newly-formed royal cells, I know, without any further examination, that the queen has been lost. If the weather has been unfavorable, or the colony is quite weak, the young queen is sometimes not impregnated as early as usual, and an allowance of a few days must be made on this account. If the weather is favorable, and the colony a good one, the queen usually leaves, the day after she finds herself mistress of a family. In about two days more, she begins to lay her eggs. By waiting about a week before the examination is made, ample allowance, in most cases, is made.

Early in the month of September, I examine carefully all my hives, so as to see that in every respect, they are in suitable condition for wintering. If any need feeding, (See Chapter on [Feeding],) they are fed at this time. If any have more vacant room than they ought to have, I partition off that part of the hive which they do not need. I always expect to find some brood in every healthy hive at this time, and if in any hive I find none, and ascertain that it is queenless, I either at once break it up, or if it is strong in numbers supply it with a queen, by adding to it some feebler stock. If bees, however, are properly attended to, at the season when their young queens are impregnated, it will be a very rare occurrence to find a queenless colony in the Fall.

The practical bee-keeper without further directions, will readily perceive how any operation, which in the common hives, is performed with difficulty, if it can be performed at all, is reduced to simplicity and certainty, by the control of the combs. If however, bee-keepers will be negligent and ignorant, no hive can possible make them very successful. If they belong to the fraternity of "no eyes," who have kept bees all their lives, and do not know that there is a queen, they will probably derive no special pleasure from being compelled to believe what they have always derided as humbug or book-knowledge; although I have seen some bee-keepers very intelligent on most matters, who never seem to have learned the first rudiments in the natural history of the bee. Those who cannot, or will not learn for themselves, or who have not the leisure or disposition to manage their own bees, may yet with my hives, entrust their care to suitable persons who may, at the proper time, attend to all their wants. Practical gardeners may find the management of bees for their employers, to be quite a lucrative part of their profession. With but little extra labor and with great certainty, they may, from time to time, do all that the prosperity of the bees require; carefully over-hauling them in the Spring, making new colonies, at the suitable period, if any are wanted, giving them their surplus honey receptacles, and removing them when full; and on the approach of Winter, putting all the colonies into proper condition, to resist its rigors. The business of the practical Apiarian, and that of the Gardener, seem very naturally to go together, and one great advantage of my hive and mode of management is the ease with which they may be successfully united.

Some Apiarians after all that has been said, may still have doubts whether the young queens leave the hive for impregnation; or may think that the old ones occasionally leave, even when they do not go out to lead a swarm. Such persons may, if they choose, easily convince themselves by the following experiments of the accuracy of my statements. About a week after hiving a second swarm, or after the birth of a young queen in a hive, and after she has begun to lay eggs, open the hive and remove her: carry her a few rods in front of the Apiary, and let her fly; she will at once enter her own hive and thus show that she has previously left it. If, however, an old queen is removed a short time after hiving the swarm, she will not be able to distinguish her own hive from any other, and will thus show that she has not left it, since the swarm was hived. If this experiment is performed upon an old queen, in a hive in which she was put the year before, when unimpregnated, the same result will follow; for as she never left it after that event, she will have lost all recollection of its relative position in the Apiary. The first of these experiments has been suggested by Dzierzon.

CHAPTER XIII.
UNION OF STOCKS. TRANSFERRING BEES FROM THE COMMON HIVE. STARTING AN APIARY.

Frequent allusions have been made to the importance, for various reasons, of breaking up stocks and uniting them to other families in the Apiary. Colonies which in the early Spring, are found to be queenless, ought at once to be managed in this way, for even if not speedily destroyed by their enemies, they are only consumers of the stores which they gathered in their happier days. The same treatment should also be extended to all that in the Fall, are found to be in a similar condition.

As small colonies, even though possessed of a healthy queen, are never able to winter as advantageously as large ones, the bees from several such colonies ought to be put together, to enable them by keeping up the necessary supply of heat, to survive the Winter on a smaller supply of food. A certain quantity of animal heat must be maintained by bees, in order to live at all, and if their numbers are too small, they can only keep it up, by eating more than they would otherwise require. A small swarm will thus not unfrequently, consume as much honey as one containing two or three times as many bees. These are facts which have been most thoroughly tested on a very large scale. If a hundred persons are required to occupy, with comfort, a church that is capable of accommodating a thousand, as much fuel or even more will be required, to warm the small number as the large one.

If the stocks which are to be wintered, are in the common hives, the condemned ones must be drummed out of their old encampment, sprinkled with sugar-water scented with peppermint, or some other pleasant odor, and added to the others, (see p. [212].) The colonies which are to be united ought if possible, to stand side by side, some time before this process is attempted. This can almost always be effected by a little management, for while it would not be safe to move a colony all at once, even a few yards to the right or left of the line of flight in which the bees sally out to the fields, (especially if other hives are near,) they may be moved a slight distance one day, and a little more the next, and so on, until we have them at last in the desired place.

As persons may sometimes be obliged to move their Apiaries, during the working season, I will here describe the way by which I was able to accomplish such a removal, so as to benefit, instead of injuring my bees. Selecting a pleasant day, I moved, early in the morning, a portion of my very best stocks. A considerable number of bees from these colonies, returned in the course of the day to the familiar spot; after flying about for some time, in search of their hives, (if the weather had been chilly many of them would have perished,) they at length entered those standing next to their old homes. More of the strongest were removed, on the next pleasant day: and this process was repeated, until at last only one hive was left in the old Apiary. This was then removed, and only a few bees returned to the old spot. I thus lost no more bees, in moving a number of hives, than I should have lost in moving one: and I conducted the process in such a way, as to strengthen some of my feeble stocks, instead of very seriously diminishing their scanty numbers. I have known the most serious losses to result from the removal of an Apiary, conducted in the manner in which a change of location is usually made.

The process of uniting colonies in my hive, is exceedingly simple. The combs may, after the two colonies are sprinkled, be at once lifted out from the one which is to be broken up, and put with all the bees upon them, directly into the other hive. If the Apiarian judges it best to save any of his very small colonies, he can confine them to one half or one third of the central part of the hive, and fill the two empty ends with straw, shavings, or any good non-conductor. Any one of my frames, can, in a few minutes, by having tacked to it a thin piece of board or paste-board, or even an old newspaper, be fashioned into a divider, which will answer all practical purposes, and if it is stuffed with cotton waste, &c., it will keep the bees uncommonly warm. If a very small colony is to be preserved over Winter, the queen must be confined, in the Fall, in a queen cage, to prevent the colony from deserting the hive.

I shall now show how the bee-keeper who wishes only to keep a given number of stocks, may do so, and yet secure from that number the largest quantity of surplus honey.

If his bees are kept in non-swarming hives, he may undoubtedly, reap a bounteous harvest from the avails of their industry. I do not however, recommend this mode of bee-keeping as the best: still there are many so situated that it may be much the best for them. Such persons, by using my hives, can pursue the non-swarming plan to the best advantage. They can by taking off the wings of their queens, be sure that their colonies will not suddenly leave them; a casualty to which all other non-swarming hives are sometimes liable; and by taking away the honey in small quantities, they will always give the bees plenty of spare room for storage, and yet avoid discouraging them, as is so often done when large boxes are taken from them. (See Chapter on [Honey].)

By removing from time to time, the old queens, the colonies can all be kept in possession of queens, at the height of their fertility, and in this way a very serious objection to the non-swarming, or as it is frequently called, the storifying system, may be avoided. If at any time, new colonies are wanted, they may be made in the manner already described. In districts where the honey harvest is of very short continuance, the non-swarming plan may be found to yield the largest quantity of honey, and in case the season should prove unfavorable for the gathering of honey, it will usually secure the largest returns from a given number of stocks. I therefore prefer to keep a considerable number of my colonies, on the storifying plan, and am confident of securing from them, a good yield of honey, even in the most unfavorable seasons. If bee-keepers will pursue the same system, they will not only be on the safe side, but will be able to determine which method it will be best for them to adopt, in order to make the most from their bees. As a general rule, the Apiarian who increases the number of his colonies, one third in a season, making one very powerful swarm from two, (See p. [211],) will have more surplus honey from the three, than he could have obtained from the two, to say nothing of the value of his new swarms. If, at the approach of Winter, he wishes to reduce his stocks down to the Spring number, he may unite them in the manner described, appropriating all the good honey of those which he breaks up, and saving all their empty comb for the new colonies of the next season. The bees in the doubled stock will winter most admirably; will consume but little honey, in proportion to their numbers, and will be in most excellent condition when the Spring opens. It must not, however, be forgotten, that although they eat comparatively little in the Winter, they must be well supplied in the Spring; as they will then have a very large number of mouths to feed, to say nothing of the thousands of young bees bred in the hive. If any old-fashioned bee-keeper wishes, he can thus pursue the old plan, with only this modification; that he preserves the lives of the bees in the hives which he wishes to take up; secures his honey without any fumes of sulphur, and saves the empty comb to make it worth nearly ten times as much to himself, as it would be, if melted into wax. Let no humane bee-keeper ever feel that there is the slightest necessity for so managing his bees as to make the comparison of Shakespeare always apposite:

"When like the Bee, tolling from every flower
The virtuous sweets;
Our thighs packed with wax, our mouths, with honey,
We bring it to the hive; and like the bees,
Are murdered for our pains."

While I am an advocate for breaking up all stocks which cannot be wintered advantageously, I never advise that a single bee should be killed. Self interest and Christianity alike forbid the unnecessary sacrifice.