5-] 



AND HORTICULTURIST. 



227 



and flit through the blooming fieldsand gardens of 

 "Merrie England," as they are wont to do. It was 

 there the writer was sadly bee-deviled, some years 

 ago. Then, and there, I had charge of a "lordly 

 place," where good gardening was well carried out 

 and duly appreciated. The noble proprietor and 

 his gentle lady, living in luxury and ease, lacked 

 but one additional pleasure to make them the hap- 

 piest of earthly mortals. Satiated with every in- 

 dulgence wealth or power could command, and 

 sighing for novelties unknown, the new delight, 

 the bliss untasted, the crowning joy, so eagerly 

 sought for, was at last discovered— to be an apiary. 

 I'nhappy delusion I But no matter; their hearts 

 were set upon keeping bees. So, to complete the 

 sum-total of terrestrial enjoyments, began the hor- 

 rid business. 



Both " my Lord and my Lady " evinced anequal 

 enthusiasm for every branch of natural history, as 

 the various and curious denizens about the park 

 amply testified. But hitherto they had not experi- 

 enced the delights of bee-keeping. So it was de- 

 cided they would, and they did so. 



Books on the subject were consulted, such as 

 " Baxter on Bees," (I only wish the bees had been 

 on Baxter) "The Apiarian's Guide," (a treacherous 

 guide he proved) "The History and Management 

 of Bees," <S:c. In fact, all that could be learned 

 from bee maniacs about the bee business was 

 eagerly sought for. Inquiries were made of old 

 Bellows, the village blacksmith, and Mr. Whop- 

 straw, the thatcher, who were supposed to " know 

 a thing or two " about bees. The wiseacres both 

 declared "it would be the best thing his lordship 

 could possibly do." Their wisdom no one could 

 gainsay. The sages' pronunciamento settled all 

 doubts (but my own) and convinced everybody 

 (but the writer). 



A rustic structure was soon in progress, and 

 when completed and stocked with a number of 

 hives, was known as the bee-house or apiary; a 

 misnomer for " Inferno," as the sequel will show. 



For a time all went on well; the bees seemed to 

 flourish and so did I. As a bee purveyor I flat- 

 tered myself that I succeeded admirably. Almost 

 everything in the vegetable kingdom, from buck- 

 wheat to borage, was cultivated for their special 

 use and pleasure. The first flowers, if not the first 

 fruits of the season were for them. If they could 

 but find an opening into any hothouse or other 

 glass structure where beautiful exotics were bloom- 

 ing, fuchsias especially, they seemed to delight in 

 entering and destroying them. Whether it was j 

 from wanting honey or from wanton wickedness I ! 



cannot say. But it seemed more like malicious 

 mischief, from the wilful way they beat, buzzed and 

 banged about the flowers than anything else. 



Summer and autumn passed by, and at length 

 frost and snow put an end to their revels out- 

 side, and the shrill wintry winds blew gusty and 

 chill. 



Then the two bee oracles, Messrs. Whopstraw 

 and Bellows, conjointly advised that they, the 

 bees, should receive a daily allowance of sugar 

 and old ale during the winter months. They as- 

 sured me "it would warm the blood in their little 

 hearts and would cause them to love me more 

 than anything; else ; and would, moreover, be the 

 inaking of them by springtime." The two savants 

 had considerately put me in possession of a talis- 

 man that would protect me from every bane and 

 evil that might lurk in the hearts of bees. Follow- 

 ing their advice (I will vouch for it), no baccha- 

 nahans feasted or fared better than they. 



They must have had a jolly time of it. I have 

 often wondered since if it was possible for little 

 bees to get drunk and kick up a fuss, or play the 

 fool, after the manner of big bipeds. I am in- 

 clined to think so, and can only attribute some of 

 their strange vagaries to alcoholic excitement or 

 delirium tremens. 



The rigors of the winter season passed by and 

 gentle spring was ushered in, with March winds 

 and April showers. May, smiling May, had come 

 again and was lovingly opening the sweetest flow- 

 ers, and all nature seemed blithe and gay. All 

 hands in the gardens and grounds were busy, as 

 the slanting rays of the morning sun shone through 

 the apiary and warmed and wakened the little 

 workers within. 



Fain would I conceal what follows and " tell it 

 not in Gath." But a duty I oweto my fellow-crea- 

 tures urges me to dispel all apiarian dissimulations 

 I can and burst the bee bubble. The old and 

 fraudulent "South Sea bubble" was not more fal- 

 lacious than the modern bee fanciers' delusions. 



While dii'ecting some operations in the rosary, 

 between the aviary and apiary, and adjacent to 

 the mansion, I heard the dulcet notes of a lady 

 fair, accompanied by a harp, sing softly the song 

 "When the bee sips her sweets from the lip of a 

 flower." Fascinated with the seraphic melody of 

 the enchantress I paused, and while listening to 

 the voice of the charmer observed at my feet a 

 struggle between three belligerent bees. The com- 

 bat seemed unequal, two to one. As a lover of 

 fair play my sympathies went to the weakest side 

 as they always do, and dire was the consequence. 



