In undertaking this work, as I originally did, at the pressing solicitations of several of those Noblemen and Gentlemen, whose names graced the list of the subscribers for the first edition, I had two main objects in view; of which a full and particular explanation of the mode of managing Honey-Bees, in my boxes and upon my principles, was one,—and the other, which I do ardently hope will result from the adoption and encouragement of my long-tried plan, is—the prospective improvement, not only of the culture and condition of those ingenious, admired, and most interesting little creatures, but also of honey and wax—the two valuable articles which Bees, and Bees alone, afford us. To prepare the way for the accomplishment of the latter of these objects, I have exerted my best endeavours—I have spared neither pains nor expense, to give minute, and, I trust, intelligible descriptions of all my boxes and hives, of my Bee-machinery, and of every thing thereto pertaining; which descriptions have been accompanied with such practical directions and relations of experiments, as will, if duly attended to, enable my Bee-friends to put their apiaries upon my humane and profitable system of management. Therefore I do not think it is incumbent upon me to proceed farther at present. I might easily double the size of my book, by entering into and giving lengthy details of several matters relative to Bees, which are not here so much as hinted at; such, for instance, as the distance that they sometimes fly from their hives in quest of honey, and the experiments that have been made to determine that distance;—the nature of honey-dew, and how it is occasioned,—why it abounds on some trees and plants, whilst others are entirely destitute of it,—whether it be a natural exudation of the plants that afford it,—or whether it be produced by the leaf-lice, called aphides;—why, if the impregnation of a Virgin-Queen be retarded beyond a certain number of days after her coming into existence, all the eggs she lays during her whole life, should invariably produce drones;—the language of Bees, for Bees, it has been held, have their peculiar language, though I profess not to understand it, nor even to have studied it, my business being with their habits;—the various diseases or maladies with which skilful men assure us they are occasionally affected;—their senses, their anatomy, and their instinct;—their affinity to the wasp;—exotic Bees from those of Lapland to those of China; and from those of Siberia to those of the Cape of Good Hope;—the stingless Bees of South America, mentioned by Dr. Hancock, that from the luxuriant ever-blooming, tropical plants and flowers, produce black wax;[N] what Aristotle hath remarked on one subject,—what Pliny hath said on another,—what classic Virgil hath so delightfully sung of the nature, economy, and management of Bees in Italy,—what Gelieu in modest prose hath said of Bees in Switzerland,—Huber and Reaumur in France, and a host of writers in Germany, and in our own native England; what opposite opinions have been entertained respecting honey; whether plants and flowers secrete pure honey, or whether the saccharine matter culled from them undergoes any percolating, rectifying, chemical process in the stomach of the Bee.—I might observe, that the illustrious Hunter was of opinion that it undergoes no change; although the no less illustrious naturalist Reaumur, and the entomologists Kirby and Spence, imagine that some change does take place before the honey is stored in the cells,—that, as the nectarious exudation of plants is not of the same consistence as honey from the hives, it is reasonable to suppose that it undergoes some change in transitu whilst in the body of the Bee; that, as far as my experience has enabled me to make observations on this subject, I am disposed to lean to the opinion of Reaumur, Kirby, and Spence, and to ascribe the difference between honey in the nectarium of a flower or on the leaf of a tree, and honey in the cells of a comb, to the absorption of the volatile parts of the saccharine of the plants and flowers whilst in the honey-bag; which absorption is aided and accelerated by the natural heat of the Bee, and by which process honey is rendered of uniform consistence, in the graphic language of my chemical friend—Mr. Booth—I might exclaim, "How necessarily do the least valued products in the economy of nature, eliminated in the most miniature laboratory of her operations, confirm us in the belief of the existence, wisdom, and power of nature's God—the Great Chemist—who has not only imbued matter to act upon its fellow matter in the infinity of space, to produce an infinite diversity of changes in the material world; but, within the small compass of a Bee, has provided apparatus for certain changes to take place, which are more elaborate, important, and complicated, than are produced in the largest apparatus of the manufacturer! In this little insect are performed all those chemical processes of life, by which nature is kept in the equanimity and beauty of existence—here composition and decomposition, solution and precipitation, sublimation, volatilization, distillation, and absorption, through the agency of heat and attraction, take place on the minutest matters, secreted by the plants and collected by the Bees; and in the hive, by the concentration of their individual efforts, is elaborated that immense quantity of those important products, which constitute such useful commodities in the arts and economy of life."
The discussion of some of these topics, and dissertations on others, might be made amusing, perhaps interesting, and would, at all events, swell the size of my book; but whether I should thereby enhance its intrinsic merits (if intrinsic merit it possess) is more than I dare venture to affirm. In short, these topics come not within my plan,—they are foreign to it, and I gladly leave them to be treated of by others, whose learning is mare able to cope with them, and whose taste may direct them to such subjects. I have withheld nothing that I deem to be essentially necessary to the thorough understanding of my mode of Bee-management; consequently, I anticipate that my two main objects will eventually be attained—that Bee-culture will become a pleasing and a profitable study—a source of instructive amusement and of profit too,—and that our country will, at no great distance of time, be everywhere studded and ornamented with neat, well-ordered apiaries. I will, therefore, now close my present labours with a few miscellaneous directions, chiefly recapitulatory, which, on account of their importance, every apiarian should constantly bear in mind.
Have your Bee-boxes well-made, and of good substantial materials. Strength and durability are of greater consequence than neatness, though that need not be neglected—neatness and strength are not incompatible—they may be combined.
Paint your boxes annually, when they are in their winter situation.
Make a clear ground or floor-way from the pavilion into each of the end-boxes, by cutting away about two inches from the lower edge of each of the corresponding ends, to the depth of half an inch; and make this way or passage as near the front-entrance as it conveniently may be. This convenience has been suggested to me since the directions for making collateral-boxes were printed, and I therefore mention it here as an improvement, because such a way on the floor, and without any climbing, will afford an additional accommodation to Bees on many occasions.
Boxes will not work Bees, neither will Bees work boxes to advantage, unless due attention be paid to them—i. e. both to boxes and to Bees.
Situation is of prime importance: for summer it should be clear and open in front of your boxes, and sheltered at their back by a north-wall or by a thick hedge.