"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.

Many persons who are well informed on most subjects, are extraordinarily ignorant of the natural history of bees, and the economy of the bee-hive. Perhaps we might venture to suggest that, more pains should be taken at schools or by parents to inform young persons on this, in connection with kindred subjects. As an amusing illustration of the ignorance referred to, we transcribe an order we received a short time since from a seminary in the north of England. The young gentleman thus writes:—"Master —— presents his compliments to Messrs. Neighbour, and begs they will send him a swarm of bees; he encloses six postage stamps, and hopes they will send him a good swarm." This embryo naturalist was evidently of a mercantile turn, and had a mind to buy in the cheapest market, for in a postscript he adds:—"Please let it be fourpence, if you can!" We need scarcely say that in reply we endeavoured to enlighten our juvenile correspondent as to what constituted a swarm of bees, and returned the stamps, with our thanks.

The culture of bees would be greatly promoted, if a knowledge of it were considered necessary as one of the regular qualifications of a gardener. So little time is needed to gain the skill requisite for the tendance of an apiary, that it seems only reasonable to expect it of a well taught gardener, and he should feel a pleasure in the circumstance of its forming a part of his duties. In Germany, where a country gentleman's table is kept constantly supplied with fresh honey, the gardeners are expected to understand the management of hives; and in Bavaria, modern bee culture is taught in the colleges to all the horticultural students. Travellers in Switzerland will call to mind the almost invariable practice of placing new honey on the breakfast tables at hotels in that country.

Some writers on bee-culture attach much importance to the particular position in which an apiary stands, and the aspect towards which it faces. A southern, or rather a south-eastern aspect is the one which we have already recommended. Our reason for this preference is, that we deem it very important for the bees to have the first of the morning sun. Bees are early risers, and should have every inducement given them for the maintenance of so excellent a practice. A few years since, many strong opinions were expressed in favour of a northern aspect for hives. The chief reason given for those opinions, though very plausible, appears to us to be a very partial and inadequate one. It was said that, when the hives face the south, the bees may, like the incautious swallow in the fable, be tempted to fly abroad in the transient winter sunshine, and then perish in the freezing atmosphere when a passing cloud intervenes. But it is a very easy matter, if considered needful, to screen the entrance by fixing up matting so as to intercept the rays of the sun. At our own apiary we make no alteration in winter, under the belief that the bees will take care of themselves, and they seldom venture out when the weather is unsuitable.

With hives exposed in the open garden, it is a good practice to wind hay-bands round them in frosty weather, as such a protection enables the bees to resist the cold.

When a thaw occurs, everything, both in and out of doors, has a great deal of dampness about it. The combs of a hive are not exempt from this, so that it is advisable to have slight upward ventilation in winter. Holes the size of a pin's head allow of the escape of a good deal of bad air, which is generated by the exhalations of the bees, as well as by the dampness before referred to. These holes being small, do not create sufficient draft through the hives to be pernicious; if closed up by propolis, are readily reopened with a pin. With wooden hives in winter, a bell glass is often found to be useful; it should be placed over the hole in the crown-board, with a zinc trough to receive the condensed moisture.

In summer bees do much towards ventilating their own stock-hives. The observant apiarian will not fail to remark how, on a warm day, several of the little creatures will stand at the entrance with their abdomens slightly raised, and their twinkling wings in rapid motion, producing a current of air inwards; while another set are engaged in like manner, driving the bad air out, so that a supply of pure oxygen is conveyed to the crowded inmates. In this fanning operation their wings vibrate with such rapidity, that their shape is as indistinct as are the spokes of a wheel when revolving in rapid centrifugal motion.

This important office entails great physical exertion on the part of the bees, and they relieve each other in detachments.

Some bee-keepers find an adapting board convenient for placing underneath straw supers, as it facilitates their removal. These boards are made of mahogany half an inch thick, with a hole in the centre corresponding with that in the stock hive. We do not consider it necessary to fix cross sticks in the straw stock hives, as is frequently done; but if the apiarian prefers to have his hives so furnished, there is no serious objection to it. These observations refer to our Cottager's hive (page 34).

There is another little matter of detail that should be named here; that is, the necessity of the bee-keeper always having a common hive in readiness near the bees, so as to be able to secure any swarm which may unexpectedly start.

Here our pleasant task must close. We trust that all information has been given that is needful to enable the practical bee-keeper to begin business, and the scientific apiarian to commence his observations. By way of illustrating the two characters combined, we will conclude by quoting another simple idyl by the German bee-keeper, Herr Braun, whose winter musings we have already presented to the reader.

[From "The Journal of Horticulture."]

ON THE FIRST FLIGHT OF BEES IN SPRING.

By Adalbert Braun, Translated by "A Devonshire Bee-keeper."

Hark! what is so gaily humming
In the little garden there?
Hark! what is so briskly whizzing
Through the still and silent air?
Friend, it is our bees—the darlings—
Now enliven'd by the Spring;
Yes, the winter is departed.
And once more they're on the wing.
Happy he, who winter's perils
All his stocks brings safely through;
Thank Him, of all good the Giver—
Faithful Watchman He, and true.
Of my own are none departed.
All as yet unhurt remain;
Though no longer rich in honey.
Yet is Spring returned again!
Come, and let us view them nearer—
Enter by the garden gate;—
So—stand still, and watch their doings—
Light your pipe, and patient wait.

See how busily they traverse
To their pasturage and back,
That they may by toil unwearied
Save the commonwealth from wrack.
Look, O look! what loads of pollen,
Bring they in with heedful care.
Nurslings, fear not; for your cravings
Here's sufficient and to spare.
How they dart and how they hurtle
Through the genial balmy air!
To the mountains—to the meadows—
'Tis the scent attracts them there!
There they dexterously rifle
Nectar from each flow'r in bloom;
Toil they for our honey harvest,
For us fill the honey-room.
Yes, our bees, our precious darlings.
We salute you all to-day;
For your life is our enjoyment—
Winter's sleep has pass'd away.
Grant prosperity, Heaven!
To the new-born honey-year—
Give thy favour—give thy blessing—
To these objects of our care.
Now let each attentive guardian
In devoted service strive
For the proud, the Matron-monarch—
Sov'reign of the honey-hive.
So that we may learn by watching
Who that in the noon-tide glance,
Or in midnight's darkest moments.
Summons her to Hymen's dance.[10]
Ev'ry bee-hive calls for patience,
Whilst great Haller's lessons teach
Without patience Nature's secrets
None successfully can reach.

T. W. Woodbury, Mount Radford, Exeter.

[10] This point cannot now be considered doubtful, but it must be remembered that Herr Braun's verses were written eighteen years ago.

In conclusion, we would remind all bee-keepers who earnestly desire success, and who hope to draw pecuniary profit from their pursuit, of the golden rule in bee-keeping:—"Keep your stocks strong." In exercising the assiduous attention and persevering effort, which that maxim enjoins, they will not only be regarded as bee-keepers, but, as Mr. Langstroth says, will acquire a right to the title of bee-masters.