1890 



(CLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



407 



nent. He hopes ro secrets are divulged thereby, 

 for to tell secret 8 or to burglarize is not the forte 

 of the Rambler. 



Friend R., I am afraid that you trespass- 

 ed a little on the good nature of our Van 

 Deusen friends. I am somewhat acquaint- 

 ed with the father ; and, as you say, I have 

 found him a most pleasant and genial man. 

 Most of us have our peculiarities and eccen- 

 tricities, and our Van Deusen friends are 

 no exception. While I should not quite 

 agree with them in regard to the importance 

 of keeping their discoveries secret, I think 

 we can respect their wishes in this matter, 

 especially when they produce so nice an ar- 

 ticle of foundation, and at a reasonable 

 price. With their machinery they can 

 doubtless make a very great quantity in a 

 year if called for; but perhaps they could 

 not work at a much lower price and still 

 keep up the (luality. We have been selling 

 more or less of their product for several 

 years past. They not only send out a beau- 

 tiful, uniform quality of wax, but they will 

 make sheets two feet wide or more, and 

 make it just as thin, or thinner, than we 

 roll our narrowest strips. I have been told 

 that their rolls are made of brass, and of 

 large size, so as to allow of no springing in 

 the center. Will our good friend Capt. 

 Hetherington tell his man Sam that there is 

 a good opening for just such a chap as he 

 describes, in our own neighborhood? 



A BEGINNER'S EXPERIENCE. 



DOWN AT THE FEET OF THE LADDER ; FALLEN 

 PRIDE. 



Dear Mr. Uo<,t:—l am down at the "feet" of the 

 ladder again, in the bee-business. Last fall I got a 

 handsome, little, select tested Italian queen of you, 

 and she did nobly. I placed great store by her, and 

 anticipated the busy brood which she would turn 

 out this coming summer. I put three nice swarms 

 away in the cellar, to winter; and when imybody 

 said "bees," I would give him a cordial invitation 

 to see mine by candlelight. Alas for human expec- 

 tations! They tumble about one's ears dally, and 

 we build only to see our fabrics fall in shapeless 

 ruin, so often that one wonders at the fallibility of 

 all earthly things, and grows skeptical in contem- 

 plating the utter depravity of inanimate objects. 



In February, contrary to all precedent and the 

 laws in such cases made and provided, we had a 

 warm spell right up here in the Rockies, where it is 

 alwaj 8 supposed that winter lasts 9 months, and 

 the other three are late in the fall. A huge snow- 

 drift had made it necessary to sink a shaft to find 

 the cellar - door, to fish out potatoes, and, inciden- 

 tally, " to see how the bees were doing." The warm 

 .spell cleared the ground of snow, ail except the 

 deep drifts, and my cellar got too warm. The 

 moisture settled in huge drops, all over the combs, 

 and every thing molded; and one day, when I had 

 managed to get that refractory cellar-door open, I 

 found, to my amazement, two of the swarms en- 

 tirely dead. I lioitted the other one out, and set it 

 in a sheltered nook, and sat down to contemplate 

 the spectacle of about half a bushel of dead bees, 

 and my lovely little <]uccn, beyond the reach of 

 mortal aid. Too much care, too much solicitude to 



have them warm and comfortable like some pet 

 horse or cow, had done the work. Better have left 

 them out to endure the rigors of a Rocky Mountain 

 winter than this coeseting and consequent death. 

 It taught me a whole lot— those brief moments of 

 sad contemplation, and 1 said, " Whatever I do in 

 future, I intend to sec that you don't get too warm." 

 I am now just where I started last spring— about 

 a quart of bees, and a queen to come from the 

 HOme of the Honey-bees, to build up my ruined 

 fortunes. But, in the language of Mrs. Collins, of 

 Chapman, Neb., " I am going to succeed, if I have 

 sense enough." We look for a wet season, and. con- 

 sequently, plenty of grass, and tlowers in profu- 

 sion. It would do your soul good to see this coun- 

 try during a wet season. The ground is carpeted 

 with flowers, and grass, so green and inviting, 

 against the background of sage brush. Commend 

 me to " Jotham's wife." I like her sentiments. Man 

 should not be measured but by his worth to his fel- 

 low-man, and I respect and esteem the man who 

 grooms horses, or the girl who waits or bakes or 

 scrubs far more, often, than I do the people for 

 whom she labors. The bane of this world is selfish- 

 ness. I used to pride myself on the uprightness of 

 my character and conduct, and point to my career 

 as fio m!(c/) better than my neighbors'. Something 

 wrought a change— I won't say what— and I began 

 a microscopic examination of self. I found out 

 that my idol (myself) had feet of clay, and I took a 

 hammer (metaphorically), and smashed it to smith- 

 ereens. I found myself to be one of the most cap- 

 tious, selfish mortals living. I found that I exacted 

 from my family the best seat, the choicest morsels, 

 and the best of every thing, all of which I took with 

 the utmost self-complacency without a thought or 

 a care for other people's comfort, where mine was 

 concerned. I did not realize all this in a minute 

 nor a day; but when I did come to see myself in a 

 proper light, there was any thing but pleasure in 

 contemplating the spectacle. " What am I, that I 

 should demand or accept these things of my family, 

 or anyone else? " thought I, in the bitterness of 

 fallen pride, over a cherished character, so much 

 better than my neighbors'. I saw plainly, 1 hat, in 

 nine out of ten instances, I wasn't really half as 

 good as men whom I had looked upon with con- 

 tempt. At thi)f fme I do not allow my wife or any 

 of my children to vacate a seat or surrender a pa- 

 per to me until they have no fuither use for either. 

 I do not think that I am doing right, if I let any one 

 inconvenience himself in the least for my sake; 

 but, on the other hand, I am trying to learn to 

 render, without recompense, all the service to liu- 

 macitythat lies in my power. I haven't reached a 

 point yet when I am fit to have a pair of wings 

 grafted on, but I am not the selfish, exacting, disa- 

 greeable brute that I used to be. If a man will just 

 turn the telescope upon himself, instead of upon 

 his neighbors and the world generally, he will find 

 it a mighty interesting— if, perhaps, unpleasant- 

 study for a while, and then he will feel a good deal 

 like going out and hiring a six-footer to kick him 



for about six consecutive hours. 



J. F. Crawford. 

 Saratoga, Wyoming, Apr. :.'2. 



I am sure, friend C, we all sympathize 

 with you deeply in the loss of your last col- 

 ony, away up in the Rockies. Don't you 

 think you had better follow our plan of win- 

 tering bees right in the open airV— I felt 



