When bees are shut up in their hives too long, they are apt to be attacked by a disease called by apiarians—dysentery. Sometimes when confined by the unfavourableness of the weather in winter or the lateness of spring, this disease produces serious mischief amongst the bees. Various remedies have been recommended; but we believe the best is to see that there is wholesome food within the hive, and plenty of it, and when fine weather returns, the health of the bees will return with it. Dampness of the hives, and too late feeding in the autumn, are also frequent causes of this disease.
BEE-KEEPING IN LONDON.
There are many persons now in this noisy city pent, who frequently remember the days of childhood when, among pastures of clover or amidst flowery heath and woodlands, they listened to the cheerful hum of bees. Partly from a desire to revive those old associations, and also from a natural liking for the tendance of living creatures, such persons would be glad to keep bees if they thought it possible to do so in London or its suburbs with any chance of success. We do not wonder that many should doubt even the possibility of bees feeding themselves amidst such an "endless meal of brick;" but we can easily prove that bees, if not placed too near to smoky chimneys, are able to produce honey, both for themselves and for their masters. To make this plain, we will mention some special instances of metropolitan bee-keeping.
About ninety years ago, a Mr. Wildman kept a bee-house and honey warehouse near to Middle Row, Holborn. He was not only a tradesman, but was also the apiarian of his day. He kept hives of thriving bees on the roof of his house in Holborn, and many of the nobility and gentry used to mount thither in order to inspect the apiary. At that period, St. Pancras was a "village two miles north-west of London," and what is now the Regent's Park was open country. It was then much easier for London bees to find their favourite forage, but Mr. Wildman believed that his hives were filled with stores from a considerable distance. Whilst enjoying his country rambles on Hampstead Heath, he had a shrewd suspicion that many of the bees he there observed gathering honey were Labourers from his own apiary. In order to identify his own flock amongst the rest, he hit upon a homely but very effective expedient. Having borrowed Mrs. Wildman's "dredging box," he stationed himself near the entrance of his hives, and gently dusted his bees with flour as they issued forth. He then betook himself to Hampstead, where he found his previous surmise confirmed, for there were numbers of his bees in their livery of white.
Wildman became noted for the remarkable control he obtained over his bees, many instances of which he exhibited before the public. Many of his operations with them were regarded as feats of legerdemain by the uninitiated, as when he appeared before the king George III. with a swarm of bees hanging in festoons from his chin, or suspended in a cluster at arm's length. The Journal of Horticulture recently, in alluding to Wildman, gives the following particulars as to his performances:—
Near the "Three Hats," Islington, was a place of popular entertainment called "Dobney's Tea Gardens," kept by Mrs. Ann Dobney. These gardens occupied the ground between White Lion Street and Winchester Place, and were established as far back as 1728. In 1771 the house was taken for a short time as a boarding school; but it was soon changed to its original purpose as a place of amusement, for in 1772 Daniel Wildman exhibited bees here. This is a copy of the advertisement:—
"June 20, 1772. Exhibition of bees on horseback! at the Jubilee Gardens, Islington, (late Dobney's), this and every evening until further notice (wet evenings excepted.)
"The celebrated Daniel Wildman will exhibit several new and amazing experiments, never attempted by any man in this or any other kingdom before. The rider standing upright, one foot on the saddle and one on the neck, with a mask of bees on his head and face. He also rides standing upright on the saddle with the bridle in his mouth, and by firing a pistol, makes one part of the bees march over the table, and the other swarm in the air and return to their hive again, with other performances too tedious to insert. The doors open at six; to begin at a quarter before seven. Admittance:—Box and gallery, 2s.; the other seats. 1s."
The secret of Wildman's skilful manipulation is well understood now; it consisted in a careful holding and disposal of the queen, together with confidence in the generally inoffensive disposition of bees. Dr. Evans, whom we have often quoted for his correct information in apiarian matters, thus speaks of his feats:—
"Such was the spell which, round a Wildman's arm.