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

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

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

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

"Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,

And waste its fragrance on the desert air."

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

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

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

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