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.[34] 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.
[34] This story, in a disguised form, or, as the writer would say, an improved form, was quoted in the Cornhill Magazine some time ago. In transforming the bee-keeping curé into an English clergyman the effect was cleverly enhanced, especially as to the dismay of the decorous English prelate in hearing that his poor brother in the Church had turned "manufacturer;" but then the vraisemblance of the story, as we have it, was destroyed.
A good French bishop, in paying his annual visit to his clergy, was very much afflicted by the representations they made to him of their extreme poverty, which, indeed, the appearance of their houses and families corroborated. Deploring the sad state of things which had reduced them to such a condition, he arrived at the house of a curate, who, living amongst a poorer set of parishioners than any he had yet visited, would, he feared, be in a still more woful plight than the rest. Contrary, however, to his expectations, he found the appearance of this remote parsonage to be superior to those he had already visited. Everything about the house wore the aspect of comfort and plenty. The good bishop was amazed. "How is this, my friend?" said he; "you are the first pastor I have met with having a cheerful face and a plentiful board! Have you any income independent of your cure?" "Yes, sire," said the pastor, "I have: my family would starve on the pittance I receive from the poor people that I instruct. If you will walk into the garden, I will show you the stock that yields me such excellent interest." On going into the garden he showed the bishop a long range of beehives. "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 for disposal in the market; of the coarser portions he made a tolerable substitute for wine, and the sale of the wax nearly paid his shoemaker's bill. Ever afterwards, when any of the clergy complained to the bishop of poverty, he would say to them, "Keep bees! keep bees!" In this succinct advice—extending it to laity as well as clergy in rural districts—we heartily join, believing that in this country a tenfold greater number of hives might be successfully kept than are now established.
In a very practical sense the oft-repeated lines of Gray are strictly true:—
"Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air."
An apiary in the garden of every village clergyman would afford the means of economising this unclaimed bounty of Providence.
An Old Anecdote.
An amusing instance of the fondness of bears for honey is related by a Muscovite ambassador to Rome, in the "Feminine Monarchie; written out of Experience by Charles Butler. Printed in the Year 1609"—a quaint, but sensible work:—
"A neighbour of mine (saith he), in searching in the woods for honey, slipped down into a great hollow tree, and there sunk into a lake of honey up to the breast; where—when he had stuck fast two days, calling and crying out in vain for help, because nobody in the meanwhile came nigh that solitary place—at length, when he was out of all hope of life, he was strangely delivered by the means of a great bear, which, coming thither about the same business that he did, and smelling the honey, stirred with his striving, clambered up to the top of the tree, and then began to lower himself down backwards into it. The man bethinking himself, and knowing that the worst was but death—which in that place he was sure of—beclipt the bear fast with both his hands about the loins, and withal made an outcry as loud as he could. The bear being thus suddenly affrighted, what with the handling and what with the noise, made up again with all speed possible. The man held, and the bear pulled, until, with main force, he had drawn him out of the mire; and then being let go, away he trots, more afeared than hurt, leaving the smeared swain in joyful fear."