Chapter VI · MISCELLANEOUS INFORMATION.

§ I. STINGS: THEIR PREVENTION AND CURE.

SOME of our readers may deem us neglectful in having, as it were, left them to struggle through their bee-keeping novitiate without informing them how to avoid the annoyance of stinging from their docile but well-armed flock. Of course, having described the bee dress, we have supposed that the apiarian was clad, if not "in complete steel," at least in the head-gear and gloves, which will render him invulnerable. The best safeguard from the anger of bees—as, indeed, from the malice of men—is a quiet and peaceable spirit. Never strike at a single one. The apiarian will learn to handle his bees not only as "if he loved them"—as the quaint angler says—but as if he fully believes that the bees love him. This they will do whenever he approaches and treats them gently. There are some cases of exception to this generally peaceable disposition of the bee; perchance a few bees are dyspeptic, and refuse to be pacified, let their master seek to bribe them never so wisely. Then, too, sometimes the bee-master himself may be dyspeptic, which the unerring olfactory sense of the bees speedily detects, and their anger is immediately aroused. Some few persons, owing to constitutional peculiarities in their breath or insensible perspiration, are objects of constant animosity with bees, who, by driving them from the apiary, are giving a physician's advice without charge for a fee. Some of the choicest perfumes used by ladies are offensive to bees; and one may feel very certain that the "fine puss gentleman," who disgusted the brave Hotspur with his "pouncet-box" and praise of "'parmaceti for an inward bruise," would have been speedily driven from an apiary in ignominious flight. For the same reason they will ferociously, and perhaps fatally, attack a sweaty horse, while they appear to have an equal antipathy to dogs. The hand should not be waved near them in sprinkling, as has already been remarked; nor should they so much as be pointed at when disposed to be out of temper. "Above all," says Mr. Cotton, "never blow at them; they will try to sting directly if you do." The distinguished success of Burnens in his examinations was attributed in part by Huber to his power of repressing his respiration. Confidence is another important specific: if a person covers his face with his hands the bees will attack and worry him at once and persistently; while a bee that is inclined to sting will often prefer a person who is watching at a supposed safe distance, judging such person afraid, and probably also seeing him better.

Again, when once a bee has stung, the scent of the poison has an infuriating effect upon others; therefore, says Butler, "you had best be packing as fast as you can." Höfler, who lived in the same century, gives the advice, "Never approach the bees with your hat off; for a bee which may chance to have settled upon the head becomes easily entangled in the hair, grows angry, stings, and moreover calls others to its aid by its hissing passionate note." They have a dislike for woollen gloves, also to some kinds of leather ones. If used to attendants in light clothes it is said they will attack a visitor whose dress is dark. Electricity in the air appears also to ruffle them; and when kept at home by rain, or at night or early morning, they will resent any interference. In very hot weather, too, those inside the hive are sure to be in a bad humour. Von Berlepsch states that to disturb the combs at such a time may perhaps, by breaking them, even cause a civil war in the hive, as once happened to himself when exhibiting an Italian queen and brood to some over-curious tyros, and when, out of some seventy or eighty thousand bees, one-half were slain in the course of an hour. Lastly, they are in a stinging mood when they are queenless and before they have got over the agitation; also when in excitement during her majesty's nuptial excursion. The best time to choose for operations is when, with the hive in a normal condition and the weather agreeable, the great mass of the older bees are out upon the wing. It is these that there is the principal occasion to fear.

Occasionally even a skilful aparian may inadvertently, crush a single bee; such a mischance is detected by the whole community with much more facility than by any "crowner's quest," and their prompt verdict decrees the summary punishment of the offender. There would be much less fear of stings if it were always remembered that bees are never aggressive. "Defence, not defiance," is their motto. They scarcely ever attempt to sting when away from the hive, and very seldom indeed at the time of swarming, for then they are gorged with honey. When molested by angry bees, do not attempt to beat them off; the safest and best retreat is a green bush. Thrust your head into this, or, if no such refuge is near, in an emergency throw yourself on the ground, and, with face downwards, the bees will soon leave you.

Yet some people appear to think they must inevitably be stung if they, meddle with bees, and for their sakes it is needful to explain why it is that a sting is painful, and how the wound inflicted by the bee may be cured. The weapon, as we see it with our naked eye—finer than a needle's point—is only the sheath, which lengthens or contracts like the tubes of a telescope (see page 104). The dart, as before said, is barbed on each side, so that the bee, when very angry, is scarcely ever able to withdraw it, but—

There are, indeed, some happy mortals whose "blood such an even tenour keeps" that a bee-sting is to them simply a puncture, and nothing more. But unfortunately, as Langstroth puts it, "they seem to take a mischievous pleasure in stinging those upon whom the poison produces the most virulent effect." Dr. Bevan has suggested that lovers should subject themselves to the ordeal of a bee-sting, in order to prove, we suppose, that their temper is proof against "the stings and arrows" of any "outrageous fortune" that matrimony can bring.

It is the infinitesimally minute tincture of poison injected by the bee which causes inflammation. The first thing to do is to remove the sting, which, even when detached from the bee, will continue to penetrate still further into the wound. Next press the hollow point of a watch-key exactly over the place stung; this will express a considerable portion of the virus. Then dip the hand into, or bathe the part with, cold or tepid water, for the poison is volatile, and will thereby be dissipated, to a great extent. On no account whatever should the part affected be rubbed; to do that will diffuse the poison and increase the inflammation. The specific remedy for a bee-sting is taught us by chemistry: the venom is an acid, which an alkali will immediately neutralise when brought into contact with it. Spirits of hartshorn will generally be found efficacious, and should therefore always be kept in an apiary. There are also several other remedies more or less effectual, according to the special constitution of the patient. A strong infusion of tobacco-water applied to the wound after the sting has been extracted is a specific for many persons; others find relief from the application of a sliced onion, while Frau Lieb, of Jassy, declares nothing so efficacious as one's own saliva. Two preparations may be named as made especially for the purpose—the "Ledum Palustre," and Dr. Pine's "Bee-keeper's Lotion."

We have heard the remark from several who have kept bees for years, that the poison from a sting has little or no effect on them; after receiving many inflictions their flesh appears to become so little affected that the swelling and pain at one time experienced no longer trouble them. Herr Kleine recommends bee-keepers to subject themselves intentionally to stinging, in order that in two years their system may become insusceptible to the poison. No doubt those who are, so stoically inclined will duly appreciate and gratefully acknowledge the advice.

Boiling water poured on to bees makes a bee tea which has been highly recommended in bad cases of strangury. Bee poison itself is a specific with homœopathists, but one bee-sting is not cured by a second, as Mr. Langstroth satisfactorily demonstrated at the cost of much personal pain.

§ II. POSITION OF HIVES.

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 recommend. 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 that they seldom venture out when the weather is unsuitable.

Columella gave a number of directions on this point, the essence of which may be stated as follows. If in a valley it will be easier for the loaded bees to return home than if on a hill; it must not be "exposed to noisome smells, nor to the din of men or cattle;" it should be near a shallow running stream with pebbles for the bees to alight on, but not near deep water with steep banks'; and the trees near should be low, and convenient for manipulation in swarming.

The vicinity of sugar warehouses, or other places of temptation of the kind, is certain to prove prejudicial if not fatal to an apiary. The beeish instinctive love for sweets, like all other good things, has its bad side, and here we see it developed into a propensity to acquire on the shortest and easiest though most suicidal method. Mr. Langstroth tells us that he once furnished a sweet-shop will gauze windows and doors, when the bees "alighted on the wire by thousands, fairly squealing with vexation," and in desperation they descended the chimney, which had to be stopped in like manner.

§ III. PASTURAGE FOR BEES.

Apiarians generally agree in the opinion that very little can be done in the way of providing any special forage for bees. Yet bee-fanciers are always interested in observing which are the flowers that the bees prefer; and there are certain well-established conclusions as to the kind of districts and seasons which are the likeliest to produce a good honey harvest. There is an old saying, that a country which produces the finest wool also yields the best honey; and a pastoral district is decidedly better than one under tillage. The principle of the matter is, that the bees are best suited with a long dry season—an early spring, a hot summer, and a late autumn. As not one of these blessings can be commanded by the apiarian, his art must be applied to providing some mitigation of the injury suffered by the bees when the season is short or wet. For early springs the crocus, the blue hepatica, and the violet all afford good supplies of pollen and honey, and, if cultivated near the apiary, will be of great service when the wild flowers are backward. All varieties of the willow and poplar furnish early supplies of honey, as well as of the propolis to be presently described; the blossoms of the gooseberry and currant are very useful for the bees in May. Wet, when it enters flowers of any kind, prevents, the tongue of the bee from reaching the secret source of honey. On this account it is well to know, as does the bee, that the drooping blossoms of the raspberry escape the effect of the showers, and honey is gathered from them when other flowers are drenched within as well as without. For a similar reason borage (Borago officinalis) is valuable for bees, and also because that plant continues to flower until the frosts set in. The honey both from raspberry blossoms and borage is very superior. Mr. Langstroth says, that "the precipitous and rocky lands of New England, which abound with the wild red raspberry, might be made almost as valuable as some of the vine-clad terraces of the mountain districts of Europe." The golden rod and also asters afford superior honey for autumn gathering. Dzierzon strongly recommends buckwheat being sown in the winter stubbles on behalf of the bees, and he tries hard to persuade farmers that it is to their interest to cultivate it. It should be named that all the ordinary fruit blossoms, especially that of the apple, supply abundant store for bees.

It is, however, to wild or field flowers that the bee-master must chiefly look for the raw material on which his myriad artisans shall exert their skill. The white clover of the pasture,[32] the wild thyme on the hill, the heather on the moors, the furze and the broom on the sandy waste, offer exhaustless stores for a greater number of bees than can ever be located near them. Lime trees, when in blossom, and mignonette are also most valuable resources; and there are two or three peculiar sources of honey which one would not have suspected, as, for instance, the blossoms of the onion plant, of turnips, and, in still greater degree, the flower of the mustard plant.

In those districts of England where mustard seed is cultivated so extensively, it would be well worth while for the farmers to keep large colonies of bees. Another, but a very uncertain, source of honey is the "honey-dew," which in some seasons appears in large quantities on the leaves of the oak, the lime, and some other trees (see below).

§ IV. HONEY.

All that need be said in this place is a few observations upon honey considered in itself. Practically, but not absolutely, it is destitute of nitrogen, which is the flesh-forming principle in food. It has been much contended whether or not it undergoes any transformation by being swallowed by the bee. Dzierzon and others have maintained that it does; Gundelach and Dr. Dönhoff have taken the contrary view, and Von Berlepsch has come round to the same, which it will be seen is also held by Schmid and Kleine, from whom we translate the following description of this article:—

"Honey may be of diverse origin: it is either nectar or bud honey, or leaf honey (the so-called honey-dew), or aphis honey [another form of honey-dew], or fruit honey. The sources of honey unfortunately do not flow with the same strength everywhere and at all times.

"For collecting the honey, bees are provided with tongues and honey-stomachs.... In the stomach the honey undergoes no transformation; only by evaporation in the cells does it receive its subsequent distinctive character. After sufficient evaporation the cells that contain it are sealed over with flat wax lids.

"Between different honeys there exists an essential difference in respect of aroma, taste, colour, and composition. Whether there is such a thing as poisonous honey is a question upon which opinions are divided.

"In trade honey is often adulterated with starch, syrup, sugar, and more pernicious ingredients, which can easily be detected by chemical and microscopical analysis. The crystallisation of honey differs essentially from that of sugar or of a mixture of honey and sugar."

On this matter of adulteration we have been favoured with some remarks from a well-known apiarian who writes under the name of "A Lanarkshire Bee-keeper." He recommends the purchaser to take a common test-tube, nearly fill it with water, and add about one-twelfth as much of the honey; when dissolved it will be turbid if the honey was pure, but clear if sugar had been mixed with it. Those who wish to proceed further may add a few drops of concentrated nitric acid, and then let the tube stand for a week, at the end of which time the honey will be precipitated, but the sugar remain in solution, and then by filtration the quantities may be found.

Honey, like most vegetable products, should be fresh every year. It may easily be kept from one season to the next; but after that, unless carefully stored in a warm temperature, it will crystallise in the comb, or perhaps ferment if separated therefrom.

Bees will often gather honey from the laurel, ivy, or other sources more agreeable to themselves than to us, in which case there is little choice but to leave the benefit of it to its producers (see page 97). Again, the fact related by Xenophon in the retreat of the Ten Thousand, that bees in Asia Minor extracted honey from plants which had not only a disagreeable but a poisonous tendency to man, shows that it is quite possible, where such noxious plants abound, for the bees to extract the juices without any injury to themselves.

§. V. POLLEN, OR BEE-BREAD.

Bees, when fully grown, feed almost wholly on honey; but the larvæ require for their development a more substantial kind of nourishment. Such solid fare is found by the bees in the pollen of flowers, a farina which contains the nitrogenous element of which honey is nearly destitute. The body of a worker bee is covered with hairs, to which the pollen adheres when, by contact with the bee, it is rubbed from the anthers of flowers (see page 88). Dewy mornings or humid bowers suit the bees for the gathering of the pollen. If the atmosphere be too dry for kneading it into pellets, they roll themselves in the blossoms, and on their return, with assistance from others, brush off the farina into the cells intended for it. A portion of this "bee-bread" is taken at once by the "nursing bees," who are supposed to subject it to some change before offering it to the larvæ; but the greater part of the pollen is stored away and reversed in the cells for future use. In April and May the bees are frequently busy "all the day" in gathering pollen, and often one community of bees will collect about twenty pounds weight of "bee-bread" in one season.

One of the objects of the apiarian is to assist the bees in providing for the nurslings of the hive. Dr. Dzierzon first suggested the plan of providing the bees with "unbolted rye meal" as a substitute for the farina of flowers. He had observed that, in early spring, before the flowers were open, his bees had entered a neighbouring cornmill, from whence they returned laden with rye flour. Since his discovery, some keepers, in early spring, have placed rye or wheat meal near the apiaries; to this artificial store the bees repair by thousands, and seek to rollick in the enjoyment of such plenty, many of them returning to the hive as dusty as millers. The object in thus supplying them is that the brood may be rapidly brought forward, and early swarming induced. In this way a few pounds of rye meal, at one penny per pound, may tend to the production of very many pounds of honey of twelve times the price.

In the British Bee Journal there is a recommendation to sprinkle pea flour amongst deal shavings in any open vessel, and place this near the hives so that bees have access to it. We can endorse this recommendation, for we know that it is freely taken by the bees.

If the bee-keeper ascertains that for some interval no pollen has been conveyed into any particular hive he may regard it as a sure sign that no young bees are there hatching, and consequently that the hive is without a queen. Mr. Mahan, of Philadelphia, once met with a hive which no pollen had been seen to enter for twenty-eight days; he put a queen into it, took out his watch, and observed in three and a half minutes a bee come in with pollen on its legs—many more speedily following!

Some remarks on the services which bees render to flowers will be found in the section upon "Faculties and Functions" (page 55).

§. VI. PROPOLIS, OR BEES' CEMENT.

"Propolis" is a Greek word which originally signified "the outskirts of a city," but was adopted by Latin writers on bees to denote the sticky substance with which these city-rearing insects protect their outskirts. It is "a resinous substance, very tenacious and semi-transparent," which is indispensable for the bees as a cement wherewith to fix their combs and fortify their hives against intruders.[33] The bees, in working the propolis, often soften it by blending it with a portion of wax; but they have to extract it in its natural state directly from the bark and buds of certain trees. The bark of the willow, the leaf-buds of the poplar and alder, and the unopened blossoms of the hollyhock are very usual sources of propolis. In the case of a new swarm, as bees must have this glue before they can begin to build their combs, they will resort to most unlikely places to obtain it. Sometimes they will enter a paint-shop and attack the varnish, and it is said they have been seen to obtain propolis from the pitch and rigging of a ship. These circumstances afford intelligible hints to the apiarian, who, if his bees have not easy access to firs, poplars, or willows, will provide some glutinous or resinous matter which may serve for a substitute. The extraction of propolis costs the bees very considerable labour, which they should be relieved of as much as possible in order to facilitate their great work of honey-gathering. Bees choose the warmer part of the day during which to gather propolis, as then it does not so rapidly stiffen. Frequently when they arrive at the hive it has become so hard that the other bees are scarcely able to gnaw it from their thighs.

With propolis bees fasten down their hives, stop up crevices, to exclude moths and ants, and sometimes use it to narrow their doorways against the invasion of wasps. Extraordinary anecdotes are told of the prompt and ingenious use they make of this substance. Réaumur relates that, a snail having been observed by the bees on the window of the hive, they proceeded to glue the shell to the glass, and there sealed down the intruder in hopeless durance. In another case, that of a slug, the bees, having slain it with their stings, were quite unable to remove it from the hive. With wonderful foresight they then proceeded to secure their community from the noxious effects likely to arise from the decay of the carcase; and this they did by completely enveloping it with a coating of impervious varnish. Huish relates a similar occurrence in the case of a mouse caught in a hive by bees. Propolis yields benzoic acid, and contains some aromatic properties.

§ VII. SECRETION OF WAX.

We have already made some remarks upon wax in the Chapter on "Anatomy and Physiology." The subject is one that even yet has not been thoroughly cleared up, though the discoveries of Hornbostel and Huber have demonstrated that instead of being a vegetable product extracted from pollen it is a fatty secretion of the bees themselves. But later observers have come to the conclusion that though not obtained direct from pollen, that food is essential to their power of secreting it. Cases are certainly recorded in which combs have been built when the bees had for several days been deprived of the means of procuring this food, but it has not been shown that bees which have never had access thereto have still the power of secreting wax; Langstroth on the contrary asserts that some pollen is always found in the stomach of wax-producers. So Dzierzon: "Even if wax, as a fat, is [like honey] a substance destitute of nitrogen, and even if feeding upon honey or sugar is alone sufficient to enable the bees to prepare it, it does not therefore follow that pollen is not necessary for its continued production. For, as already remarked, the bees can prepare food for their young for a considerable time without pollen, yet no one would assert that this is unnecessary for the nourishment of the brood. In the one case as the other the bees are sustained by a certain store taken into themselves, but which by degrees becomes exhausted." To yield one pound of wax they require to consume from thirteen to twenty pounds of honey; so that it would seem as if honey was the food-forming principle of the wax, and pollen the stimulant that imparted to their own organs the capacity for effecting the transformation.

The bees, it need hardly be stated, elaborate this secretion by clustering themselves in festoons and curtains, in which they remain, the fore legs of one clasping the hind ones of another, perfectly still for some twenty-four hours, at the end of which time the scales are found exuding around them, as mentioned in our earlier reference.

The little plates of wax are withdrawn by the bee itself with its hind feet, and carried to the mouth with its fore feet, where the wax is made soft and ductile; vigorous shakes of the body assist in detaching the plates, and the floor-board is afterwards found covered with the pieces that have fallen. One by one some of them then leave the cluster and deposit their burdens in rough masses, which are subsequently wrought by others into the hexagonal form. But it seems feasible that the lower bees pass their secretions up the living ladder to the uppermost ones to undergo this double process. The rapidity with which comb-building progresses at such times would lead to the supposition that there is a division of labour of this kind among them, just as our labourers convey building material to the artisans on the scaffold above. This work of comb-building is carried forward in warm weather, for a cold temperature interferes with the secretion of wax. Von Berlepsch declares that he has known cases in which a hive has built three hundred square inches of comb in a single night!

The secretion of wax, and the method of its adaptation by the bees, are thus admirably described by Evans:—

§ VIII. ROBBING.

We have had many times to allude to the truly sad character which our little favourites bear in this particular. Directions as to the precautions necessitated thereby have been given pretty generally in connection with operations in which it is to be feared, so that one or two general remarks are all that need be added here. Von Berlepsch stoutly maintains that there are no professional robbers amongst the bees, but that all are ready to lend a hand in a job of the kind when it is to be had. This is probably true in great part, but not to the extent that there exist no individual differences in the strength of the propensity, and the remark quoted from Dzierzon on "black" bees (page 72) may be taken as expressive of the other side of the truth.

It is queenless stocks, nucleus hives, and weak colonies in general that have most need for protection against enemies of their own kind. By keeping the entrances narrowed, and feeding carefully without leaving a trace of food about, the enticements to plunder may be kept down as much as possible. It has been recently recommended in extreme cases to saturate a rag with carbolic acid diluted with water (fully half); this will effectually repel all except those who have no other home to which to betake themselves. But it will be obnoxious to these latter as well, so should not be lightly resorted to.

Mr. Langstroth has a capital little bit about a highhanded piece of audacity that has been occasionally observed in our insect. House-robbing, it seems, is not bad enough for them, but they will even go the length of acting as highwaymen and garotters. For thus runs the story of their waylaying and despoiling the humble bee: "Seizing the honest fellow they give him to understand that they want his honey. If they killed him they would never be able to extract his spoils from their deep recesses; they therefore bite and tease him, after their most approved fashion, all the time singing in his ears, 'Your honey or your life,' until he empties his capacious receptacle, when they release him and lick up his sweets."

§ IX. DISEASES OF BEES.

Dysentery is a disease produced either by long confinement, by dampness, or by feeding in the winter. The first thing bees do when disturbed is to fill themselves with food, so that in winter weather, when they cannot get out to void their fæces, hives should not be meddled with, otherwise the complaint may be brought on. It is also engendered in many instances by the state of the weather in winter months, and is indicated by the yellow colour of the excrement, and by its being voided upon the floors and at the entrance of the hives, which bees in a healthy state generally keep clean. All that can be done for them when affected is to see that there is plenty of wholesome food in the hive, and to well clean or to change the floor-board, and so produce cleanliness.

The more formidable, but happily less common, malady of "foul brood" does not attack the bees themselves, but affects the larvæ, by causing them to putrefy in the cells, thus destroying all hope of the rising generation. Bees are exceedingly fond of their young, and are greatly dispirited when their hives are in this plight. In common with most pestilential disorders, no satisfactory cause is assigned for its first appearance. Some apiarians contend that "foul brood" is another name for chilled brood; others, that the queen, by a freak of nature, deposits some of her eggs the wrong way upwards, and that these putrefy in the cells, and contaminate the others. Whatever may be the origin, one thing is very certain—"it is catching:" there is, however, in the circumstance of the adult bees and of those about emerging from the cells not being injuriously affected thereby, a great help to its eradication, as will presently be shown.

There are two kinds of foul brood—one of which is dry and not contagious, the brood merely drying up in the cells; from which partial character it is probably within the power of the bees themselves to overcome. In the other kind, instead of drying up, the brood remains dark and slimy in the cells, and emits a most unpleasant odour, perceptible at some distance from the hive.

In the year 1848 Pastor Dzierzon lost a large number of stocks from this disease; he however was enabled to banish it from his apiary, and communicated to a German bee-journal very wholesome advice, which Mr. Langstroth quotes, and from, which we make an extract; "When the malady makes its appearance in only two or three of the colonies, and is discovered early (which may readily be done in hives having movable combs), it can be arrested and cured without damage or diminution of profit. To prevent the disease from spreading in a colony there is no more reliable and efficient process than to stop the production of brood; for where no brood exists none can perish or putrefy. The disease is thus deprived both of its aliment and its subjects. The healthy brood will mature and emerge in due time, and the putrid matter remaining in a few cells will dry up, and be removed by the workers. All this will certainly result from a well-timed removal of the queen from such colonies. If such removal becomes necessary in the spring or early part of the summer, a supernumerary queen is thereby obtained, by means of which an artificial colony may be started, which will certainly be healthy if the bees and brood used be taken from healthy colonies. Should the removal be made in the latter part of summer, the useless production of brood will at once be stopped and an unnecessary consumption of honey prevented. Thus, in either case, we are gainers by the operation."

In cases where the disease assumes a more malignant character—in other words, "has got ahead," through "not being nipped in the bud"—it will be well to take notice of another quotation from Mr. Langstroth's book: "In the spring or summer, when the weather is fine and pasturage abounds, the following cure is recommended by a German apiarian: 'Drive out the bees into any clean hive, and shut them up in a dark place without food for twenty-four hours; prepare for them a clean hive, properly fitted up with comb from healthy colonies; transfer the bees into it, and confine them two days longer, feeding them with pure honey.'"

The late Mr. Woodbury's apiary was severely attacked by this disease in the spring and summer of 1863. The writer happened to be on a visit to him at this juncture, and witnessed him withdrawing infected combs from hives that were literally masses of corruption, the brood-cells of which, on being opened with a pointed instrument, revealed the dark brown slimy matter before alluded to, and from which arose a most unpleasant smell. Mr. Woodbury communicated to the Journal of Horticulture, of July 21, 1863, an exact and graphic account of his misfortunes, headed "A Dwindling Apiary." Finding that the removal of the putrid matter must be simultaneously effected and the bees driven out and placed in hives that had undergone a complete purification, he set about endeavouring to accomplish his object, and was so far successful that he was able to furnish an article to the before-named journal of August 4, same year, under the more cheerful title of "Convalescent," in which he says: "First, let me endorse the opinions both of Dzierzon and Rothe, that, except under very especial circumstances, it is unadvisable to attempt the cure of a foul-breeding stock: better, far better, to consign its inhabitants to the brimstone pit; the hive itself, if a straw one, to the flames; the comb to the melting-pot; and appropriate the honey to any purpose, except that of feeding bees."

Mr. Woodbury further says: "Before starting, it was requisite to ensure the transfer of the bees to unpolluted hives; and here I found that Dzierzon declares that every hive that has contained a foul-breeding colony should be exposed to the sun and air for two years before being re-stocked. In my own case this was simply impossible, and I therefore adopted the practice of another German writer on the subject, viz., to scrape out the hive very carefully, wash it all over with a saturated solution of chloride of lime, keeping it closely shut up for twenty-four hours, and then, after thoroughly washing it with clean water, exposing it to the sun and air until the smell of the disinfectant had passed off. This method has the advantage of enabling one to use a wooden hive again after a lapse of a couple of days, and is, I believe, thoroughly effectual."

Mr. Woodbury then captured the queen, secured her in a cage, and placed her in a clean empty hive; all her bees were brushed from their combs into it as rapidly as possible, in order to prevent their carrying much of the infected honey with them; whilst the combs themselves were set draining out of the bees' reach, and consigned as quickly as possible to the melting-pot. After the lapse of three or four days, the queen (still imprisoned) and bees were again transferred to another clean hive, furnished with a few pure combs, and in this they were suffered to remain, their queen being released in a day or two, as soon as they appeared contentedly settled. Mr. Woodbury gives another important hint, that operations of this kind with tainted combs should be performed out of reach of robber bees from adjacent hives, lest they should carry the infection to their respective houses. By the before-mentioned process, he succeeded in completely extirpating foul brood from his apiary in 1863, and had no return of it afterwards. English apiarian writers have made so little allusion to this disorder, that some of our older bee-keepers contend that modern hives and foreign bees have something to do with bringing it about. To show that the disease made its appearance in former days, there is a chapter on this subject in Bonner's "Bee-Keeper's Companion," published at Berwick in 1798, entitled "An Uncommon Disaster which sometimes, though rarely, happens to Bees." Bonner, after recounting therein his observations of the dwindling state of his own apiary, for which he could not account, says: "He saw plainly that the young were all going backward in the cells, and that he looked down between the combs, but was unable to proceed for the stench that the rotten maggots produced." Mr. Langstroth writes that "Aristotle speaks of a disease which was accompanied with a disgusting smell, so that there is reason to believe that foul brood was known two-thousand years ago."

Our own observation leads us to the belief that foul brood is caused in many instances by feeding stocks with fermented honey or with syrup likely to ferment. All liquid food should be boiled before it is given to the bees, to destroy any impurity and to make it wholesome, for in several cases we have found stocks to be infected that have thus been incautiously fed.

Suspicion may be aroused of the existence of foul brood in any kind of hive, firstly, by the unproductiveness of the bees, also by the diminishing number at the entrance; and if very far advanced the odour will be very noticeable a few feet from the hive. But in bar-frame hives an experienced eye will on examination readily detect the malady if present by the dark unwholesome appearance of the comb, and by the caps covering the diseased brood being sunken rather than raised. Small perforations are noticeable in some, and in others the grubs may be seen rotting in unsealed cells. We know of no cure, but some foreign apiarians of experience recommend injecting a solution of salycilic acid into every diseased cell; others say that carbolic-acid will effect a cure; we know that the latter is very distasteful to the bees and therefore should not be disposed, to advise its use. The best thing to do is to break the hive up at once. The bees may be saved by being put in quarantine a short time, and the hive cleansed as before mentioned; but if the hive be a valuable straw one, after cleansing and scraping, the interior should be coated with shellac dissolved in spirits of wine. If a frame hive it will be best to have new frames rather than to attempt to cleanse the old ones. To allow a hive to die out is very dangerous, because the bees from other hives will rob and carry the infected honey to their combs, and thus every colony within bee-flight is liable to be polluted.

It may be well to give a hint about using old combs. Any that is very black should be rejected, because the disease is sometimes present in old hives, and also because each maggot leaves behind a silken film which lines the top, sides, and base of the cell, also a slight deposit of excrement which the bees do not clear away; thus the cells grow smaller and the bees reared in them are also diminished in size, although the bees do add a little to the mouth of the cell. On this account we would recommend all when purchasing stocks to see that they are not very old. The combs of a hive may be said to be the furniture and storehouse of the bees, which in long service wear out and to some extent become after a lapse of years unfit tenements for use. To remedy this, Nature, always true to her laws and careful to make provision for the perpetuation of the species, may have ordered that swarming should be the means of establishing fresh colonies freed from the disadvantages and contamination of the old. The late Mr. J. H. Payne, of Bury St. Edmunds, had a straw skep that had had bees in it without intermission for twenty years, but it is not advisable to keep them so long, although, with a little judicious pruning, much may be done to remedy the defects of old combs. Our own experience for keeping a stock does not extend beyond ten years.

When we take into consideration how sorely our farmers are perplexed by the cattle plague, known as the rinderpest, concerning which so many conflicting opinions exist (and the same may be said of the recommendations for its cure), can we wonder that our little favourites should occasionally be liable to disorders of this sort which puzzle even experienced bee-keepers? In the hope of allaying unnecessary alarm, we would just add that foul brood is not a very general complaint, and, so far as our observation extends, has been most fatal in large experimental apiaries, where extensive propagation has necessarily had to be pushed forward. With the experience and advice already gained, this disorder may now be said to be considerably deprived of its terrors.

We find several other complaints described at more or less length by Von Berlepsch, but to which a very brief allusion will here suffice. One he speaks of under the self-explaining title of "thirst-need," as to which he rightly remarks that it will be the bee-keeper's own fault or inexperience if his bees are ever allowed to suffer from it. Then there is "mad sickness," which consists in tumbling about as if intoxicated, and which Dzierzon says he meets with nearly every year, and conjectures to arise from partaking of poisoned honey—he suspects the honey to be naturally poisonous, since he observes this complaint almost regularly at the time when the mountain ash is in bloom. The next is "wing lameness," which the Baron' conjectures may be the real disorder just spoken of as madness. Lastly we have the "thread fungus," which is a growth found by Leuckart and Dönhoff in the stomach and intestines of several bees, and which they pronounce contagious. Our author does also include among the "sicknesses" of bees such irregularities as rising against and murdering their queen; but one would think that this was rather a political disorder, or else a case for a commission of lunacy.

The apparent fungus growths seen occasionally on the heads and bodies of bees have been found to be nothing more than the effect of smearing with the gummy pollen of orchids, or with other glutinous vegetable juices, on which afterwards ordinary pollen has collected and thus caused the appearance of tufts or patches.

§ X. BEE ENEMIES.

Bees have few worse enemies than wasps in autumn. The most effectual method of checking their invasion of hives is to have as narrow an entrance as the bees can do with. If a stock is not very weak in numbers the bees will be well able to guard a small aperture, and can repel the attacks of these insidious and merciless robbers. On this account the entrance to our cottage hive, as described at page 114, may be used.

The bee-keeper is interested in preventing the increase of wasps; it is therefore a good practice for him to set a price on queen wasps in the spring, the death of one of them at that time being equivalent to the destruction of a whole nest.

Should nests be found in the neighbourhood of an apiary, their annihilation must be accomplished either by blowing them up with gunpowder—an operation well understood by most country lads—or any other effectual method. The late Mr. Payne recommended that a small quantity of gas tar should be put into the mouth of a wasps' nest, and if then covered with earth, the total destruction of the wasps will be accomplished without further trouble. But to use blazing straw for the purpose is always dangerous in country districts. We have lately heard of a very ingenious and successful mode of entrapping and killing wasps. Place some sugar or strongly sweetened compound on the ground in a garden, and place over it a square hand-glass, wedged up an inch or so all round. On this glass, which should have an opening at the apex, lodge another, but a sound one. The wasps, attracted by the sweets, will soon crowd under the lower glass, and, when they have well feasted, will ascend into the upper, one; there, between the two, they soon become scorched and perish by the heat of the sun shining on the outer glass.

Some seasons are very productive for the increase of these prime pests of the apiary, and when this is the case many hives severely suffer by their depredations. When once wasps in any number have gained an entrance into a hive, the bees can seldom eject them, and the invaders generally remain until they have freely regaled themselves from the luscious store. They not only consume the honey, but cause a good deal of worry to the legitimate inhabitants of the hive, as well as killing the foremost defenders of it. Wasps being much superior in strength, it requires at least three bees to master one of them.

Having suffered loss in our own apiary from the attacks of wasps, we feel it desirable to give a detailed account of our troubles from that cause. An Italian stock was besieged and worried by wasps to such an extent that in September the bees deserted it in a body. Fortunately it happened that they chose a time for their departure just as we visited the apiary. An unusual turmoil was heard in the hive, such as is experienced at the time of swarming, and on immediately examining the entrance we observed that the bees were quitting in tumultuous haste. The usual methods that induce bees to settle were tried—amongst others that of throwing sand up into the air, so that it should fall down amongst the bees on the wing; but they were dispersed in disorder, and their flight extended over three adjacent gardens. We only discovered the clustered bees by diligent search, as the sequel will show. Permission being asked of our next-door neighbour, we searched his garden to see if our bees had alighted there; but found that they had passed over. Making a similar application to the owner of the garden adjoining, we entered, having a straw hive in hand, but no bees were there. After looking diligently all round, and climbing the wall, thereby gaining a view of the third garden, we perceived in it unmistakable signs of an unwonted commotion. The occupiers of the house were intently looking at a particular part of the garden, and there was a dust-pan and a key, with which the master had been "tanging the bees," to induce them to settle. We quickly made for the proper entrance to the garden, and soon discovered our little wanderers clustered to a large flower-vase. After brushing them into the hive, and leaving it propped up with a stick, in order that the stray ones might join, we returned home for an hour or so, to give them time to settle. Judge of our vexation when, on returning to fetch the hive home, we found that the refractory creatures had again taken flight, and that all the work was to do over again. The wasps were not to blame for this second flight of the Italians; we judged that the swarm had been disturbed by visits from a colony of bees that we discovered were living the life of outlaws under the roof of an adjoining house. Although much disheartened and perplexed, we at once renewed our search, and, upon enquiry, found that the missing bees had taken a southerly course across the turnpike road, and it was therefore necessary to ask permission to search the gardens of the houses opposite. From one of these we observed, on looking through the hedge, that the inhabitants of the next house were on the qui vive. On enquiring whether they had seen a colony of bees, the wary old dame replied that she "had no bees but her own," but added that "they were very much excited." Having asked permission to go through the hedge to look at her bees, we soon discovered our Italians on the top of the old lady's bee-house. There was no difficulty in identifying our own bees; their yellow rings were as good as a private mark. Quickly hiving the swarm, we took them home, and replaced them in the hive they had quitted. It was almost destitute of honey; but by liberal feeding, and lessening the entrance so that only one bee at a time could find ingress or egress, we succeeded in inducing them to rest in their old home. Thus nearly half a day's exertion was needed to save a fine colony, which would otherwise have been utterly lost by the power of the relentless wasps.

Much watchfulness is needed to prevent the loss of swarms, and the foregoing incident may serve to suggest the necessity of having hives so located as to be constantly within view, either from the dining-room, or of those whose duties oblige them to be near the apiary. If we had not happened to be at hand at the moment this colony started, it would have been irretrievably lost to us, as is the case with many swarms and colonies simply because the departure takes place without any one to witness.

In the season of 1865 wasps were as few as they were numerous the preceding year; their paucity was attributable either to frosts in May or to heavy rains in June, which destroyed them in their nests. In general wasps are great depredators of wall-fruit, but in the autumn before mentioned the bees occupied the wasps' foraging-ground. Perhaps never in the memory of bee-keepers did bees feast upon fruit in the same manner. Various reasons have been assigned for this unusual occurrence; some thought that as there were so few wasps the bees were unmolested, and enjoyed the saccharine matter in the fruit without let or hindrance—for bees are about as partial to the company of wasps as mice are to that of rats. Other bee-keepers remarked the sudden and early termination of the honey-gathering, and conjectured that the bees, being anxious to make up their winter store, endeavoured to bring home nectar from the fruit because the weather was unusually fine. There was one feature which is worth remarking: as far as our observation extended, the bees did not, like the wasps, break the skin of sound fruit, but were satisfied with lapping the juice of the ripe fruit that had the skin already broken.

There are some birds that are given to preying around beehives, and if their visits become too systematically troublesome, it may be worth while to take active measures for making their presence scarce in order to prevent these devourers from taking up a position near the alighting-board and pouncing upon each bee as it makes its exit. The toad is a less formidable enemy, but if one of these creatures is found beneath a hive-stand it may fairly be concluded that he is on the watch for such bees as may drop to the ground under their loads. Mice, again, will make their abode in a hive for the winter, and devour the stores when the bees are too inactive to interfere. Spiders, ants, and other insects will also have to be guarded against.

Other formidable enemies of bees are moths. These insects are creatures of the night, as the wasps are of the day, and they make their way into the hives under cover of darkness, in spite of the bee sentinels. They deposit their eggs in any crevices in or near the hive that they can find. There the warmth of the hive, or of the sheltered situation, causes the eggs speedily to hatch, and then the maggots soon work their way to the comb and larvæ food, which they greedily devour, thereby often bringing about the gradual but certain destruction of the whole community of bees. The best method of keeping moths outside the hives is to lessen the entrance, as before alluded to. Also, in the early spring, the hives should be lifted from their floor-boards, which must then be made thoroughly clean; and all crevices and corners about the hive and stand should be scraped, so as to get rid of all eggs of moths and other insects before the warm weather hatches them or enables them to do mischief The bee-moth is not so troublesome in England as it is in America and some parts of Germany; but still its encroachments should be carefully guarded against in this country, for if not it may easily increase to a very serious extent.

§ XI. 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 these 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 a century ago a Mr. Wildman kept a bee-house and honey warehouse in Holborn, near to where Middle Row lately stood. 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. Several of his operations with them were regarded as feats of legerdemain by the uninitiated, as when he appeared before King George III., with a swarm of bees hanging in festoons from his chin, or suspended in a cluster at arms' 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:—

To recur to our subject. After the days of Wildman our own establishment in Holborn became widely known for beehives and honey. Although we never attempted to start a London apiary at all approaching in extent that of our predecessor, we have occasionally kept bees on the house-top, both in Holborn and Regent Street. At each of those situations we have noticed that the bees bring pollen as well as honey into their hives. One summer there was brought under our notice an illustration of the acuteness of the scent of bees and of their diligent search for food, proving, too, that if sweets can be obtained, even from unusual sources, the bees will find them out. A poor woman, who, at the corner of an adjacent street, vends "brandy balls," "toffee," "rock," and other saccharine compounds—all well known to most juveniles—used to receive frequent visits from our bees. Their visits to the old dame's domain were at first rather interesting, and if the few pioneers who had the sagacity to find such a store had kept the secret only to themselves, their company would not have been objected to. Such selfish policy does not, however, accord with the social instinct of bees, and these soon informed their companions of the good fortune provided for them in an archipelago of sugar islands. Day by day the swarms of these uninvited visitors increased, until all legitimate customers were beaten off; and the old dame had to see, not only her hope of gain destroyed, but her stock of "goodies" sensibly diminishing by the thefts of these brigands of the air. She could not, or dared not attempt to, drive the intruders away, so made diligent enquiry as to where the robbers were harboured. Having traced them to our establishment in Regent Street, she came to implore of us to move the bees if possible, or she would have to move her stall, and so lose her "connection" in the "toffee" and "rock" trade. Wishing not to hinder the poor woman in gaining her livelihood, we decided on removing our bees into the country.

Another special instance of bees being profitably kept in proximity to the busy thoroughfares of London is now before us. Two years ago we supplied a stock of English bees to a gentleman residing in the Strand, the back windows of whose house open on the Thames Embankment and the river. Thus the bees have a fine open flight, as their hive is placed against the sash on a third floor (an opening is cut to match the entrance, so that the bees have a covered way to their hive); from this they are seen taking their flight across the river Thames, to what may be thought the unattractive locality of Lambeth. However, they seem to reach some "green fields and pastures new," probably in the gardens of the archbishop's palace, for they return laden with pollen from flowers, and during the two summers that the hive has been so located, have yielded nice glasses of honeycomb as well as afforded a considerable amount of pleasure to the owner and his friends, with every prospect of going on flourishing.

It is difficult to assign an exact limit to the distance that bees will go in search of honey-yielding blossoms. It has been proved by various experiments that they will fly, say, five or six miles, if the supplies are scanty within a shorter radius; but bees well understand that first of all economies, the saving of time, and if they can find forage near at hand they prefer it. Hence, other things being equal, the quantity of honey stored will be in proportion to the contiguity of good pasturage. In this way it is that the systematic removal of hives, as practised in many districts, has such a notable effect on the honey harvest.

A novel sight for Londoners to witness occurred in June 1865. A swarm, having been ordered to be sent into the country the following morning, was temporarily placed on the leads at the back of our house, 149, Regent Street. The sun shining hot on the hive, or some other cause, induced the inmates to decamp. After a time a passer-by called in to inform us that some bees had arrested the progress of a cab. We at once conjectured that they were our missing swarm, the absence of which had previously puzzled us not a little; so we sent our man with a straw hive to bring the truants back, which he succeeded in doing, followed to the door by a crowd, who were amazed at the sight of the "'oney-bees," as the Cockney lads called them. Cabby had to be compensated for the loss of his fare, for the affrighted passengers had left him in a hurry, so that, altogether, no little commotion was caused—a crowd so soon collects in London streets.

During several years we kept bees in the Zoological Gardens, Regent's Park, and have there frequently taken full and handsome glasses of honey. The position of our apiary was on the site now occupied by the new monkey house. The visitors to the gardens found considerable interest in watching the bees in our glass hives, and were afterwards much disappointed at the absence of so entertaining an exhibition. The writer had the honour of showing and explaining the working of these hives to some of the juvenile members of our Royal Family who had come to the gardens on one of their accustomed early morning visits with their French governess. Their conversation was in French; and on entering the bee-room, "Regardez les abeilles! Voyez done la reine!" was soon on their lips. The young princesses took special care that their brother Arthur, as they affectionately called him (now known by the title of H.R.H. the Duke of Connaught), should observe the attention paid by the working bees to their queen, as well as to other points of interest connected with the busy scene before them, with which they all expressed themselves much delighted. A collection of these hives were also exhibited by the Acclimatisation Society of Great Britain, with living bees in them, at the Fish Department of the Royal Horticultural Gardens, South Kensington, and prospered satisfactorily until removed, the space being required for other objects.

A gentleman residing in St. James's Place has, for some considerable time past, kept bees in his garden there. He uses our improved cottage hives, and his bee-keeping is decidedly successful, as he generally takes some fine glasses of honey each season, besides leaving sufficient as winter store for the bees. For a London situation, St. James's Place is a very favourable one; the gardens behind the houses pleasantly face the Green Park, so that the bees have an uninterrupted flight to start with. They are also within easy range of the richly flowered gardens of Buckingham Palace and those of the nobility and gentry who reside around the Parks. To those gardens the bees of St. James's Place resort, without waiting for any licence or certificate from the royal and noble owners of the honey-yielding preserves. Being within a short distance of our establishment, when this gentleman's bees swarm he generally sends to us for assistance in hiving them.

The neighbourhood of St. John's Wood, and, indeed, almost all the suburbs of London, are favourable for the production of honey. We mention St. John's Wood because, from the fact of having kept bees there ourselves, we are able to prove by experience that they do well in that locality. We know of several bee-keepers on nearly all sides of the town who have each had a considerable surplus of honey in their supers, after leaving sufficient for the bees themselves in the lower or stock hives. Whilst referring to this part of the environs of the metropolis we take the opportunity of explaining that our own apiary (a coloured view of which forms the frontispiece of this work) is situated near Hampstead. The spot is not so easy of access as might be desired, being somewhat remote from the road, in a portion of a meadow between West End and Kilburn.

On looking at the picture, it will be seen that there are a large numbed of hives on separate stands, mostly bar-frame hives, at some little distance from each other, in order to prevent confusion when manipulating. At the back, near the hedge we have some hives on rails, which like the others are well protected from the weather, every one having its own covering. Besides these there are three bee-houses, which are so suitable for preserving from the weather hives with fixed combs, and where there is less need for manipulation, such as our straw cottage hives. One house will contain six hives, another three, and a third two. These houses are explained at page 166.

At the back, about the centre of the drawing, is the operating house, also forming a storehouse or magazine where apiarian appendages are kept, together with feeding syrup and combs, etc., so essential for use, and which yet must be secured from the thievish propensities of the bees, and access to which, if possible to gain, demoralises them so much that they make war and attempt to pillage each other's hives, as elsewhere referred to.

The shallow pans in front (earthen milk pans) have water in them, and are so placed that the bees may have access to moisture, which is so essential for them in spring for comb-building and breeding. Straight straws are floated on the water so as to admit of the bees imbibing without the liability of their being drowned.

On this ground we largely cultivate Italian bees, and unite imported queens to colonies of English bees, to be ready to supply swarms and stocks therefrom as pure and genuine as possible.

The district is not so good for bees as if it were farther in the country and more removed from London smoke; nevertheless we have had fine supers worked here, and find it a great convenience to have a bee-farm at so moderate a distance from' town to carry on this department of our trade.

Some time ago we exhibited in our window a super of fine honey from the apiary of Mr. Shirley Hibberd, the proprietor and editor of the Gardener's Weekly Magazine. It consisted of a box containing twenty pounds nett weight of honey, and was produced at Stoke Newington, only three and a quarter miles from the General Post Office.

The Times "Bee-Master," whose letters from Tunbridge Wells awakened so much interest in this pleasing pursuit, also commissioned us to exhibit a super produced under his own management in that locality. Mr. S. B. Fox, at Exeter, had upwards of four hundred pounds of honey, of excellent quality, though one of his apiaries is quite within the city.

§ XII. GENERAL REMARKS.

Book-Keeping.

Every bee-keeper should be a book-keeper, that is so far as to have a permanent record of the events of the apiary and the fortunes of his bees. A book similar to a tradesman's journal would be very suitable for the purpose. In it he should note down the date of the first swarm of the season especially, and those of other swarms also; and in autumn the quantity of honey taken from each hive should be entered, with remarks on the probable size and weight of the various stocks. These particulars will not only be interesting for the bee-keeper to turn to in winter, but will be of practical service in enabling him to know the exact age and probable strength of each stock. The bee-book may also be contrived to show the total amount of honey that the bees have produced for their owner, and the nett profits of the apiary. A simple and clear account like this—provided, by the bye, that it does show a satisfactory balance—will be very useful for inducing cottagers and farm-labourers to start bee-keeping. Nothing like ocular demonstration for this class. The "humane" apiarian will reason with them in vain until he shows them a monster skep of honey and mentions the price that it will fetch in the market. When convinced that the depriving system will pay, the cottager will gladly adopt it.

Advice for Cottagers, etc.

A writer in the Quarterly Review (whose article has since been published by Mr. Murray as a shilling handbook, "The Honey Bee") gives the following good advice: "Don't bore the cottager with long lectures; don't heap upon him many little books; but give him a hive of the best construction, show him the management, and then buy his honey; buy all he brings, even though you should have to give the surplus to some gardenless widow. But only buy such as comes from an improved hive—and you cannot easily be deceived in this—one which preserves the bees and betters the honey. Then, when you pay him, you may read to him, if you will, the wise rules of old Butler, exempli gratia:—

"'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.'"

These "wise rules of old Butler" are, however, in the main taken from Columella.

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.

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:—

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."

Instructions for New Bee-Keepers.

Bees may be very inexpensively and profitably kept in the cottager's hive (see page 110), 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 cottager's hive, described at page 112. If inclined to go to a little further expense, the hives described at pages 113, 120, 139, and 143, all afford constant opportunity for inspection of the bees, and allow of their working freely in the most natural manner. The Stewarton hive (page 146) is also a favourite with those who give the preference to honey stored in boxes, although the opportunities for observation are not so great as with some others.

Renfrewshire Bee-Keeper's Hints on Supering and Prevention of Swarming.

The mention again of the Stewarton hive affords us an opportunity of which we avail ourselves to put before our readers an extract from a private letter received whilst the foregoing pages are in type, from that successful and accomplished apiarian already alluded to, "The Renfrewshire Bee-keeper," which seems to us to contain a useful hint or two as regards putting on supers and the prevention of swarming, which, although practised with our friend's favourite hive, can be advantageously adopted with other hives. He says, "In working Stewarton colonies, I am seldom troubled with swarms, the secret being, in giving super space at the nick of time, before swarming mania seizes them; and when once they have taken to supers, I keep an ample supply of space in advance of their wants.

"However hot the weather may become, they somehow retire upstairs to this vacant room, and comb-building there affords them employment, and they do not readily think of swarming. For instance, in the beginning of summer last year (1876), the season was so bad that at first I gave them little room; suddenly the weather became hot and favourable, and one strong colony swarmed right off. I excised the royal cells, and returned the bees; no use—off they came again in eight or ten days' time; took the hive to pieces, cut out all royal cells, and in addition, the thought having occurred to me that maturing drone brood was an accessory to swarming condition, I excised every portion of that also. With seven supers (each four inches deep) they rested content and kept to work most vigorously, never attempting to swarm again."

From this extract the practical bee-keeper may learn much; particularly as regards depriving the bees of the inclination to swarm by cutting away the drone brood.

Perhaps we may here be allowed to advise the filling up of vacancies where excision of drone comb is made (whether with brood or without), by the insertion of clean worker comb, in order to prevent the construction of the former.

Bees Working in Supers.

There is a little matter here with regard to bees working in supers that should be noticed, and that is that when the ascending hole is round and in the centre of the stock hives, the bees sometimes start wrong and carry the comb upwards. This has two objections: the first is that the bees do not work so quickly as when they begin from the roof of the super, and the other is that the queen gains an easy ascent and deposits eggs in cells where honey is wanted. When this style of comb-building is observed, it is best to take the super off, cut the comb down, and endeavour to make it adhere to the crown of the super by using a little melted wax (page 261, or if a glass, as recommended at page 262), so that the bees may continue the work, as is their wont, downwards.

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 of a pleasing and instructive kind.

To the advanced and skilful apiarian we would especially commend the use of the 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 organised 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 is remembered that there are first steps in bee-keeping, as well as in chemistry, croquet, 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.

Ignorance Concerning Bees.

Many persons who are well-informed on most subjects are profoundly ignorant on all points of the natural history of bees; and as with old so with young. As an amusing illustration of this, we may transcribe an order we received a few years back from a seminary in the north of England: "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.

Superstition Respecting Bees.

Much superstition has existed, and, in some quarters, still exists, among the poor respecting bees. If a death occurs in the family of the bee-owner, these superstitious folk consider it needful to make the bees aware of the bereavement by "waking" them; that is, by giving a few raps at the entrance, and audibly announcing the circumstance. If this be not done, "no luck," say they, will come of the bees the following season. One summer, even near the metropolis, we heard a cottager bemoaning to his neighbour "his bad luck with his bees," when the other replied, "Ah! no wonder; you never 'waked' your bees when your wife died; what can you expect if you omit such needful duty?" In many parts of France, as well as here, it is a custom on such occasions to put the bees into mourning, by placing black crape or some such material round the hives. Bees also receive intelligence when a marriage or a christening takes place: in these cases the hives are draped with red cloth. In fact it is considered an essential element of "good luck" to inform the bees of any remarkable circumstance that occurs in the family of the bee-keeper. How would these good people manage with the newly imported foreign bees, for they can hardly be expected to have learned our "lingo"? This difficulty is, however, not likely to be experienced, for the keeping of superior sorts implies an intelligence that would be above any such pitiable nonsense. Fancy a man in this nineteenth century haranguing his bees after the above-mentioned fashion! Mr. Langstroth says that "some superstitious folk in America assert that the bees sometimes take the loss of their master so much to heart as to alight upon the coffin whenever it is exposed." A clergyman told him that he attended a funeral where, as soon as the coffin was brought from the house, the bees gathered on it so much as to excite alarm. Some years after this occurrence, being engaged in varnishing a table, the bees alighted upon it in such numbers as to convince the clergyman that love of the varnish on the outside, rather than any respect for the deceased within, was the occasion of their conduct at the funeral. Mr. Langstroth adds: "How many superstitions, believed even by intelligent persons, might be as easily explained, if it were possible to ascertain as fully all the facts connected with them!" Only a short time since an English clergyman informed us of a severe contest going on in his garden between Church and Dissent, for he had a hive of bees from a Nonconformist in his parish, and these dissenting bees persistently attacked his hives to such an extent that he really must get rid of them, and thus liberate his episcopal apiary from such discordant disturbers of the peace.[35] Another infatuation is, that you should on no account part with your bees for silver money—only for gold. This is so far sensible that it ensures a respectable price. Certain credulous bee-keepers cannot, on any account, be induced to part with their bees for money; they will barter, but not sell—to sell bees is, in their view, to lay themselves open to evil fortune. If these apprehensions are correct, our punishment will be a severe one, for we have been great offenders in that way, and seem likely to go on sinning.

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. We are told that some of this new honey so highly approved of is only golden syrup with a portion of the colour extracted, and possibly otherwise made up to be palatable; also that there is a factory in Switzerland doing a profitable business in this way. If such be the case, tourists are often taken in. Treacle will do no one any harm, but it is not pleasant to be gulled except for the reason that "ignorance is bliss."

Caution Respecting Flight Hole.

Fine colonies are sometimes destroyed by the entrance-way becoming stopped by some impediment or other, and care is requisite to keep a watch, that so fatal a catastrophe does not happen, because the bees (unless where very simple ventilation is given), excited by their imprisonment, make matters worse, by raising the temperature of their hive to such a pitch that the combs melt from their foundations, and the bees themselves are suffocated, presenting, alas! a most woful spectacle to witness.

We give this hint because of having ourselves suffered from a similar cause when workmen have been employed in the vicinity of hives; these gentlemen, thoughtless of the welfare of the bees, but most careful of their own convenience, have placed a piece of wood across, or otherwise stopped the entrances, to prevent the bees coming out. In summer weather a very short time of confinement in a close hive suffices to complete the work of desolation; but should the bee-keeper's attention be drawn to such a state of things, he must immediately raise the hive from the floor-board and let the poor bees, have all the air possible, leaving them thus exposed for the purpose of affording them a chance of revival. When bees are likely to incommode those whose duties temporarily oblige them to be near the entrances, it is better to cover the hive over night with net in the form of an inverted bag tied at the base, so that, the bees may be able to get air within the net and not be too closely confined. The objection to this is that you stop all labour, which of course harasses the bees for the time, but there will be no other bad results. The foregoing remarks more particularly apply to the summer season. In winter or in the spring, when the weather is cool and the bees are not so numerous, hives may be shut up even for a day or so without much ventilation, and but little harm will arise therefrom.

Hive for Swarming Needful.

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.

CONCLUSION.

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 extend his observations. 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.