1882 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



89 



rest in the leather loop, aud not be tied tight. 

 When they first put it up, the voice had a 

 harsh grating sound, which John said sound- 

 ed like ducks quacking. Friend M. said 

 they didn't Avant any "■' quacks'' of any sort 

 in that neighborhood, and so they looked 

 over the line for thetrouble. A loose end of 

 wire was found that jarred ; and when this 

 was twisted down light it did better; but 

 still, the voice sounded harsh and wiry. The 

 trouble was found in the wire being too 

 loose, and they did not get a clear, natural 

 tone, until it was drawn so tightly that it 

 fairly made it '' sing," as John expressed it. 

 When a great many friends were in, and 

 they wanted the telephone to make a sensa- 

 tion, friend M. used to sing "Only an Ar- 

 mor-bearer,'' with his powerful lungs, until 

 the little folks over at his neighbor's fairly 

 danced with delight. You know the house 

 now stands on a stone foundation, so they 

 could jump up and dovvn all they pleased, 

 without shaking the stove down, or making 

 the dishes roll off the table. 



MR. MERHYBAKKS TALKING TO NEIGHBOK JONES. 



Well, here is the picture. What do you 

 suppose friend M. is listening toV From 

 away olf through the frosty air, and along 

 that slender wire, from out of invisible space 

 as it were, come the familiar tones of John's 

 father's voice,— 



" All right ! we will be right over.'' 



" And I am coming too," comes the youn- 

 ger voice of John. 



" And so am I ; ma says I may," comes in 

 Mary's childish voice, it is this latter voice 

 that brings that pleasant look on his face 

 that you see, for friend M. loves children. 

 Did I never tell you he was superintendent 

 at the Sunday-school over at the church? 

 Well, he is, and I guess he is the right man 

 for the place too. J^erhaps you would like 

 to know why he wants them all to come over 

 just now. I will tell you. No, I won't 

 either. You may just come along and see 

 for yourself. Friend M. meets us at the 

 gate, and with the same knowing smile he 

 ushers us into the house, and then points the 

 way for us to follow^ him into the cellar. 

 .Strangely, he takes no light : and the con- 

 trast from the bright sunshine outdoors, 

 with the darkness here, almost makes one 

 feel he is going into a dungeon. A iter we 

 are all down he shuts the door after us, prob- 

 ably because his good wife has taught him 

 to do so, and then bids us all wait just one 

 moment. 



" Why, it must be he has got a door in the 

 wall, into somewhere," said Mary ; '• see the 

 light along the cracks.'' 



13y this time friend M. had approached the 

 door ; and when it was opened, an exclama- 

 tion of surprise burst from all the party. A 

 cosy little glass house Avas there— or at least 

 one side was glass, and the strangest part of 

 it all was, that it was full of humming bees. 

 The ground was covered with new soft saw- 

 dust, and several 25-cent camp-stools of his 

 own make were placed tastily around, invit- 

 ing them to take a seat. Up near to the large 

 glass sash, which sloped to the south, and, 

 m fact, formed the whole south side, were 

 two of the same pail bee-hives we saw last 

 Slimmer, and bees were passing out and in 

 as l)riskly as if it were summer. In the cen- 

 ter of the room was a large cluster of bees 

 that looked for all the world like a natural 

 swarm, only that the bees were going to and 

 fro from it constantly. A closer look, how- 

 ever, revealed the fact, that it was only a bag 

 of thick ducking filled with sugar syrup, 

 which continually oozed through the cloth in 

 bead-like drops, which were eagerly sucked 

 up by the bees, and carried to their hives. 

 Besides this bag of syrup, there swung, from 

 about the center of the sash, right in the full 

 blaze of the sun, a bee-hive cover containing 

 a little lieap of rye flour. On this the bees 

 were as busy as you see them on the soft- 

 maple trees in the spring, and the droning 

 hum at the mouths of the — pails, as bee 

 followed bee with his load of pollen, was 

 funny enough, with a cool frosty air on the 

 outside. 



""Why, what makes it so warm here?" 

 finally said Mary. " I don't see any stove 

 anywhere." 



"It is the sun that makes it so warm, my 

 girl. You see, we have cut off all the cold 

 winds, by the glass; and although the rays 

 of the sun come through miles of frosty air, 

 when they alight in this cosy little room they 

 so warm it up that we have a beautiful sum- 

 mer temperature. In fact, after the sun gets 

 up a little higher, it will be so warm I may 

 have to open the ventilator. I often sit here 

 in my shirt-sleeves and read the bee jour- 

 nals, even when it is freezing outside."' 



Freddie, w'ho had but just come in, now 

 took up the conversation. 



"O Mary! I'll tell you what makes it 

 warm. Pa makes the air all come a long 

 way under ground, and the ground thaws 

 the frost out of it. See? " And he showed 

 them pieces of drain tile, laid all around the 

 outer walls of the room, just a little below 

 the floor, and covered, so the sawdust would 

 not get into the open joints, by a long nar- 

 row box or trough, having holes at intervals 

 along the top. This drain tile was connect- 

 ed with the cellar drain, which was of tile of 

 pretty good size, and perhaps 2U0 feet long. 



" O pa ! light the smoker, and show them 

 how it works." 



Friend M. lighted his smoke)', and puffed 

 some smoke over the holes in the wooden 

 trough. It could be plainly seen that a little 

 air w^as oozing out of nearly all the holes. 

 Then he went to the ventilator, near the 

 highest point in the roof, and opened it a lit- 

 tle. The smoke now showed a strong cur- 

 rent outward ; and on going back to the 

 wooden trough, each hole sent up a little jet 

 of air. 



