November, 1915. 



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American 'Bm Journal j 



to quiet down. I called for some cream 

 and proceeded to put everybody in 

 good humor by serving a dish of honey 

 and cream. There were just seven 

 daughters in the family, so I had a 

 splendid time. 



At the height of the hilarity the mys- 

 terious man in the butcher's cart hove 

 in sight, then hitched up his horse to 

 the post at the gate, which was at least 

 50 yards from the house. Then he 

 swiftly advanced to the door carrying 

 a few books in his hand. Guessing 

 what was likely to happen I jumped to 

 my feet to give him warning, but at 

 that instant he suddenly stopped, 

 whipped off his straw hat, and fran- 

 tically fanned the air in all directions. 

 Then he rushed towards the house, but 

 at this moment his horse commenced 

 to plunge and kick, so he reversed his 

 engines and raced back to his worried 

 steed. All we saw for a moment was a 

 streak, above which something white 

 was waving vigorously. I wish I could 

 describe the unhitching. .\11 we saw 

 was a jumble of horse's head, heels, 

 and a straw hat. How he managed to 

 untie the rope and keep the hat going 

 at the same time is more than I can 

 understand. As the rope was set free 

 the horse started, the book agent tum- 

 bled into the cart; then we had the 

 finest imitation of a horse race my eyes 

 have ever witnessed. He held the hat 

 and whip in his right hand, and plied 

 them both unceasingly and unneces- 

 .sarily. At the upward lift of the whip 

 he waved the hat around his head, on 

 the downward stroke he hit the horse. 

 Crouched like a jockey, he yelled to 

 encourage his horse which to my way 

 of thinking had incentive enough. We 

 watched hira cover a mile in awfully 



fast time, an i then he vanished from 

 our sight. Afterwards I learned he 

 was peddling Pastor Russell's books 

 on the millenium, but he departed from 

 the district the same night. Moral: To 

 get rid ot book agents, let loose a col- 

 onv of vicious bees. 



My own getaway was hardly so ex- 

 citing, but the bees followed me for 

 nearly a mile. 



1 know that certain colonies of bees 

 are vicious all the time, but on the 

 other hand I have >et to learn why 

 some are occasionally so. Sometimes 

 I have wondered if the material used in 

 the smoker made any diflference. I 

 pick up what I can get as I go along, 

 and so have used cedar bark, sacking, 

 both new and rotten, old dresses, and 

 even old shirts, but I must confess I 

 cannot see much difference. Again and 

 again I thought I had found something 

 definite, but at the very next apiary my 

 theory would be upset. But speaking 

 of old shirts reminds me of an experi- 

 ence, the recital of which always brings 

 a chuckle of satisfaction to the most 

 serious minded femininity. 



One day while I was overhauling an 

 apiary belonging to an old bachelor, 

 rather noted for his dirty habits, I ran 

 short of ammunition for the smoker, 

 and on asking for some he handed me 

 one of his old shirts, which in many 

 ways was rather remarkable. The next 

 apiary was less than a quarter of a mile 

 away, so without taking off my bee re- 

 galia, I cut across the fields to the 

 house. Setting the live smoker on the 

 front porch. I rang the doorbell. When 

 the lady of the house appeared I ex- 

 plained my errand. She listened quietly 

 until I had finished, then casting her 

 eyes to the smoker she asked, " What 



do you burn in that thing ?" "At the 

 present moment I am burning one of 

 John Smith's old shirts," I meekly an- 

 swered. " No wonder it smells," came 

 the crushing comment. 



I have told the above tale many 

 times, but never to John Smith. 



Once I thought I was a hoodoo. It 

 came about in this fashion. One day 

 I visited an apiary consisting of only 

 one hive, but the farmer was away. His 

 better half, a finely educated and inter- 

 esting woman, was very anxious to see 

 the inside of the hive, and of course I 

 was equally willing that she should. 

 She had two children, one a baby, the 

 other a boy about 5 years old. Of 

 course, I advised that both should be 

 kept in the house. We had just started 

 to work when the bov broke forth into 

 a loud yell, and on looking around we 

 saw him in the middle of the road cut- 

 ting up many kinds of antics. The 

 mother rushed to his aid, and I went 

 on with my work. Soon she called to 

 me that a bee was in the boy's nose 

 and she could not get it out. I got 

 both into the house, but just as soon 

 as I began operations the boy gave 

 one big, healthy sneeze and ejected the 

 invader, who, by the way, had never 

 attempted to sting. 



Back we went to work, but soon the 

 boy was yelling again. Once more he 

 had broken bounds, and this time two 

 bees had stung him. 



Two months afterwards as I came 

 to the gate to see how the farmer was 

 making out. I heard a lusty yell from 

 the same boy, ne.xt an anxious enquiry 

 in the mother's voice, then " a wasp 

 stung me" in a wailing tone from the 

 child. I decided this was no place for 

 a nervous man, that may be the mother 



BEE DEMONSTRATIONS BY F. bUNDAS TODD. NORTH VANCOUVER-APIARY OF GEORGE DENNIS 



