THE APIARY. 433 



colony starved. I sold another, and by uniting others reduced the number 

 from 17 to 13. With these I began last summer my third year. Not wishing to 

 increase the number because of inability to properly care for them, I kept them 

 back as much as possible, making very large colonies. In the fall they num- 

 bered 18, and my account for the third year is as follows : 



Sjyring of 1876— Dr. 



To 13 colonies of bees @ $10 $130 00 



interest on the same 13 00 



7 hives @ 12 14 00 



honey for feed 4 00 



loss in wintering — 3 colonies 30 00 



Use of one acre of land for white clover 10 00 



Total $201 00 



Fall of 1876— Cr. 



By 903 lbs. extracted honey @ 16c $144 48 



550 lbs. comb honey @ 22c - 121 00 



125 empty combs @ 25c 31 25 



1 colony sold -. 8 00 



18 colonies on hand @ $8 144 OS 



Total Cr $448 00 



Total Dr 201 00 



Balance in favor of Cr. $ 247 73 



I began bee-keeping with very little knowledge of bees, — so little, that when 

 the first swarm issued and were circling in the air, I thought, as I remarked, 

 that they were "out on a frolic." But when they clustered on the limb of a 

 tree, preparatory to flight, I comprehended that 



THEY "meant business." 



I am asked how I can endure working out-of-doors in the heat of summer. 

 I reply that I find it more endurable than working over a cook-stove in-doors, 

 and much pleasanter and more conducive to health. By beginning in the early 

 spring when the weather was cool and the work light, I became gradually accus- 

 tomed to out-door labor, and by mid-summer found myself as well able to 

 endure the heat of the sun as my husband, who has nearly all his life been 

 accustomed to it. Previously, to attend an open-air picnic was to return with a 

 headache. I have great faith in pure air and sunshine as curative agencies, 

 and believe that many of our delicate and invalid ladies would find renewed 

 vigor of body and mind in the labors and recreations of the apiary. The 



DEEAD OF BEING STUNG 



is an objection I frequently hear urged. I have no fancy for it myself, but as 

 yet have found it no serious objection, nor the slightest damper to my enthusi- 

 asm. I am not one of the fortunate ones whom bees «ewr sting; therefore, 

 when from scarcity of honey, or from any other cause, they are cross, I pro- 

 tect myself with veil and gloves, and am so seldom stung, considering the time 

 I spend among the bees, that I never think of it as an objection to the 

 business. 



55 



