493 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



July 1. 



^RED hastPned to the cliff, 

 and, with his pocket- 

 knife, cut into the 

 chalky formation, mak- 

 ing the pieces fly down 

 in a shower. " Soft as 

 putty," said he. Toward 

 the cabin he then bent 

 his steps, and they were 

 rapid — much in con- 

 trast to the spiritless 

 gait that carried him to 

 the chalk butte. At 

 the cabin he found a 

 mattock and a spade, and was soon back to the 

 cliff again with his tools. 



Fred was one of those young men who be- 

 lieve there is a Providence and a guiding hand 

 in all the affairs of life; and if he had been 

 momentarily discouraged it was because he 

 failed to grasp the reason why he had been sent 

 upon this apparent fool's errand. Now he had 

 some faint idea as to why he had been sent 

 here, and at the same time recognized that the 

 plans of the infinite Mind are so great and far- 

 reaching that his own mind could grasp only 

 the little point within the circle of the present 

 day or hour. 



" I will serve to-day," said he, " and be happy, 

 and then see what the morrow will bring forth; 

 or, as Alfaretta has it, 'To the night winds 

 let me hark, and hear what they say to me;' " 

 and while divesting himself of coat and vest he 

 found himself singing Alfaretta's well-worn 

 song. 



"Now," said Fred, again to himself, "in 

 order to reach those bees I must cut a narrow 

 niche along the face of the cliff; and it seems 

 to me that it will not be a very big job, for it is 

 about as 'slantindicular' as Deacon Jones' 

 gothic roof back in Cornville." 



In his strong hands the mattock hacked out 

 a goodly chunk of chalk at every blow. At 

 first his progress was quite rapid, for he merely 

 cut out stepping-places; but after getting to a 

 point above deep water he cut a continuous 

 path, narrow, but ample for safety. After two 

 hours' steady chipping he came so near to the 

 entrance of the cave that the bees began to 

 show signs of aggressiveness; and after receiv- 

 ing a sting he knew the scent of the poison 

 emitted by the heroic bee would attract a score 

 of others; so he wisely withdrew along his 

 narrow path. 

 Fred, like all traveling bee-keepers, had a 



ight brussels-net veil in his coat pocket. This 

 he adjusted to his hat, and, taking an old gun- 

 ny sack, he formed it into a compact roll two 

 feet in length, and, thus armed, returned to his 

 advanced post. 



The near approach enabled him to realize as 

 he had not before the immense number of bees 

 that were in the cave. His knowledge of the 

 mysteries of the bee-hive taught him that one 

 queen could not be the mother of all of that 

 vast army of workers, and that there must be 

 many detached homes within. Pulling his veil 

 down over his face, as a knight of old would 

 close his vizor, he proceeded with his work. 

 When within a few feet of the entrance of the 

 cave he began to enlarge his path into a wider 

 causeway; and upon a still closer approach a 

 match was applied to the frayed end of his 

 gunny-sack roll, and, under cover of the smoke 

 that rolled up from it, he pushed his path close 

 up to the opening. 



Fred was a true bee-keeper, and, under the 

 excitement of the moment, he had forgetten all 

 about his recent troubles and perplexities. 

 Even the fair and mad Alfaretta was forgotten. 

 But what is that? a shout. The hum of the 

 bees was so loud as to nearly drown all other 

 sounds; but there was surely a shout, and then 

 another. Turning his eyes down toward the 

 river below he saw Mr. Buell and wife, and 

 Alfaretta, returning from the day's outing, the 

 latter shouting with mad excitement, and wav- 

 ing a red shawl. Mr. Buell was also evidently 

 interested, and tried to shout some intelligible 

 words to Fred; but the latter, with his head 

 near that vortex of bees, could hear about as 

 well as could a person who is attending a 

 thrashing-machine. He so tried to explain to 

 them, and waved them off with his smoking 

 wand. Seeing the uselessness of the effort, Mr. 

 Buell and family floated on down the river. 

 The red shawl kept waving until the boat was 

 out of sight. 



With mixed thoughts of waving signals, dark 

 hair, brown eyes, fair features, humming bees, 

 veils, and smoke, Fred peered into the cave. 

 "Just as I expected," he shouted with enthusi- 

 asm. From the opening, three feet in width, 

 the cave enlarged to fully fifteen feet, and of 

 circular form, and fashioned as though, at 

 some remote period, the water had circled 

 around and around here, wearing out not only 

 the main portion of the cave but numerous 

 pockets of varying size, in the sides. These 

 were occupied now by many colonies of bees, 



