1908 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



689 



spread their chaste perfume all about. Behind 

 and above that wall, as if to shelter the sweet 

 fragrance from the north wind, rise the golden 

 broom and roses with their delicate colors, while 

 gorgeous hues of wild flowers and ferns fringe 

 vTith beauty the banks and braes and streams 

 around. Two rivulets of clear water crooning 

 under the ferns and trickling down from stone to 

 stone, in their gentle embrace enclose the apiary, 

 mingling their tiny voice with the aerial hum of the 

 busy throng, whilst hard by in the dim shadow 

 of its woody bank a mighty river, the Dart (call- 

 ed for its picturesqueness the English Rhine) 

 winds along its poetic course. A few yards fur- 

 ther lies a placid sheet of water, beautiful beyond 

 expression, in which monstrous salmons weighing 

 from 15 to 20 lbs. show us their glittering sihery 

 scales. On the northwest of the apiary, a mile 

 away, appears the imposing cone-shaped Hem- 

 bury Hill, once a Roman camp, and historically 

 connected with St. Mary's Abbey at the time 

 when the heroic Britons made of it their strong- 

 hold against their Saxon invaders. From its sum- 

 mit may be viewed a panorama of matchless 

 beaut}', especially toward the venerable abbey 

 among whose possessionsit was reckoned centuries 

 ago. Every year in late summer our bees ani- 

 mate its crimson-colored crest with their thousand 

 thanksgiving hums. 



The valley of the Dart is' one of the loveliest 

 parts of lovely Devonshire, and its nameless charm 

 casts its spell even on Americans, of whom sev- 

 eral come every year to spend their holidays un- 

 der the shadow of the old abbey. 



Buckfast, England. 



THE TROUBLES OF AN AMATEUR 

 BEE-KEEPER. 



A Fools-day Experience. 



BV F. DUN DAS TODD. 



[it will be remembered that Mr. Todd is the gentleman we in- 

 troduced in our issue for April 15, page 496. He has written a 

 series of articles telling the experience of an amateur. The story 

 he tells is very interesting, and will bring many a smile from those 

 who have " been there " too. While it is the experience of an 

 amateur, we feel sure that even the veterans, if they will read 

 down the first paragraph or two, will be compelled to read the 

 whole story. — Ed.] 



Trouble and bee-keeping are, in my experience, 

 synonymous terms. I bumped into trouble the 

 very instant I bought my first hive, and have 

 been in it more or less ever since. Any man who 

 can not enjoy troubles, who is not happiest when 

 he lives and sleeps with them — aye, dreams of 

 them — has no business to be a bee-keeper. I 

 never yet cared for a pastime that anybody could 

 make a big success of without mental effort; and 

 possibly it was because bee-keeping looked so 

 simple that I passed it by when choosing a new- 

 hobby. In a way bee-keeping was thrust upon 

 me, and it has filled up at least four hours of my 

 day or evening ever since I got the shock. 



My family have been for years big honey-eat- 

 ers, consuming at least two 60-pound cans every 

 winter, and often I would threaten to keep a bee 

 and raise my own honey. Then I got acquaint- 

 ed with a bee-journal editor and subscribed to 

 his journal just to get a general idea of what bee- 

 keeping looked like. Then, following one of 



my rules, I bought a book on the subject, read 

 it, and placed it in my book-case. Bee-keeping 

 looked easy, and I had no desire to waste time on 

 it. 



Then the blow fell. A neighbor moved his 

 home a thousand miles, and left his bee-hive behind 

 him — one bought the summer before. Nobody 

 in the village would touch the varmints at any 

 price, and at last they were unloaded on me as 

 being the easy mark that tackled almost any thing. 

 Surely I was not afraid of bees.? Of course, I 

 was not. Then they ran themselves, required no 

 care of any kind — all I had to do was to take the 

 honey at regular intervals. The best thing to do 

 with temptation, I have found, is to give in at 

 once and get the matter off your mind; so I suc- 

 cumbed, paid the small price asked for the com- 

 plete outfit, and shortly discovered that I had 

 found a big exception tp my rule. The little de- 

 mons got on my mind in short order, and have 

 been there ever since. 



It was April 1 when I bought the hive. I in- 

 spected it in the yard where it had spent the win- 

 ter, with practically no protection from the cold 

 blasts that circle round Lake Michigan. A few 

 bees were flying merrily, so I decided that night 

 vsould be the best time to bring them home, 

 since at that time all of them would be nicely 

 tucked in their little bed and I would have no 

 trouble — none at all. Just to make sure of them 

 I would nail a strip of wood over the entrance, 

 but the precaution was probably needless. 



At 8 P.M. that night I set out with a wheelbar- 

 row and a lamp for my hive. I nailed on the 

 strip in front, and was amazed to hear an awful 

 rumpus at the first stroke of the hammer. But I 

 had the wild beasts safely caged, so it was all 

 right. Carefully I swung the hive on the barrow, 

 without mishap. For a mercy the bottom-board 

 held, but no credit is due me, as I thought all 

 bottom-boards were an integral part of the com- 

 bination. It is not what we know that bothers 

 us, but what we don't know. Five minutes later 

 my ignorance brought the inevitable result; the 

 punishment more than fitted the crime; in fact, it 

 had enough surplus material left over to make 

 several extra habits, including one of strong lan- 

 guage. 



In my own yard I had placed four bricks in 

 the very worst location 1 could have selected — 

 one that was open to all the cold northwest blasts 

 for which Chicago is famous. As I was placing 

 the hive in position, aided a little by the feeble 

 light of a stable-lamp, carried without discretion 

 by my boy, I heard the bottom-board drop, and 

 then it seemed as if ten thousand needles had 

 been suddenly thrust into the points of my fin- 

 gers. A quick glance showed me an army of 

 black smudges rushing all over the sides of the 

 hive, so it was dropped into position and I beat 

 a hasty retreat. It was the worst April-fool stunt 

 that ever had come my way; but I draw a veil 

 over the rest of that evening's doings and sayings, 

 especially the latter. 



What had I done wrong? Now I turned to 

 my own book and the ones that came with the 

 outfit; but, oh what an awful tangle every thing 

 seemed to be in! even the catalog was confusion 

 tenfold — so many different kinds of hives; but 

 mine was unlabeled. Bit by bit I learned that 

 bottom-boards and hive-covers are unattached 



