AUGUST 1, 1913 



543 



Langstrotli eight-frame hive, which I liave 

 used mostly since. I have used the ten- 

 frame, but not with signal success. 



Like a good many other beekeeper's I 

 passed through an inventive period, but 

 never had the disease so hard that recovery 

 was long delayed. I made the first honey- 

 extractor I ever used. A half-barrel with a 

 simple home-made reel to hold the frames, 

 two grooved wooden wheels, one about four 

 times as large as the other, a hard twisted 

 cord belt, an ufiright peg through the outer 

 edge of the larger wheel for power, and. a 

 few small wires wound around the reel to 

 hold the frames from flying oft centrifugal- 

 ly, and the extractor was complete. And 

 it worked. The chief objection was that, 

 with heavy frames, the belt would slip, 

 stalling and stopping. 



What changes time has wrought ! From 

 the box-hive days of my boyhood to the 

 frame, section, foundation, extractor, smok- 

 er, Italian bee, queen-rearing, queen-clip- 

 ping, etc., sounds like a fairy tale. From 

 a haphazard avocation, a pastime, beekeep- 

 ing has become an industry, a vocation re- 

 quiring energy, skill, capital, forethought, 

 and experience. The tinpan method has 

 developed into an ai"t to control and direct 

 and outwit the " Spirit of the hive." 



"HOW DOTE THE BUSY BEE?" 

 She " doth " the best she knows — 



Which isn't very much, to be exact; 

 She rises with the lark, and goes 



Sliylarking through the countryside, 

 Trying to wake the drowsy flowers 



Before they're through their nap ; in fact, 



She noses far and wide 

 Between the showers. 



She'll never see her first birthday, 



But keeps right on 

 As if she'd come to stay; 



And, copying forbears gone before, 

 She does a lot of work for naught ; 



When balm o' Gileads bud, anon 



She brings a store 

 Of gum she hadn't ought. 



She likes a hollow tree 



In spite of dovetailed hives ; 

 And she'll sting you or me 



Who feeds her just as she will sting a bear 

 That robs her nest through greed. 



She isn't wise beyond compare. 

 But does know how to make a seed. 



Forest City, Iowa. 



HONEY A CURE FOR SICK HEADACHE 



BY MRS. J. R. DARLING 



When I was a child we lived in a small 

 house on a large lot in a little village. The 

 country was beautiful, and my thoughts 

 ha\e often turned to the woods, meadows, 

 and streams of my childhood home. As 



we children carelessly played in the woods 

 we often kidnapped a bee from some flow- 

 er. I remember just how they looked as 

 they would crawl out of my closed hand. 

 What might we not have done with a few 

 hives of bees if we could only have realized 

 the opportunity which was ours! 



When very small I became subject to sick 

 headache. Father often had it, and I sup- 

 posed it was my lot by inheritance. We 

 moved to Kansas, where I married a Kansas 

 farmer. I raised some chickens and tur- 

 keys, wishing to add to our income, but 

 those dreadful headaches soon became en- 

 tirely too familiar. 



Later we moved to Minnesota, where the 

 sight of bees and acres of wild land covered 

 with flowers awakened in me a desire to try 

 stocking our table Avith honey. And now 

 this big brave husband of mine, who had 

 ridden all the wild bronchos that came 

 through our part of Kansas, and had often 

 boasted that he was afraid of nothing, made 

 various excuses about not wanting bees on 

 the place because of their tendency to sting. 



Of course I gave up, but still I longed to 

 try keeping bees. 



One day I learned that a Swede neighbor 

 living across the lake from us had bees, and 

 I began to negotiate for a colony, which he 

 promised me for two dollars. In order to 

 secure the consent of my English husband I 

 promised to care for the bees; and our 

 neighbor said, " Leave them alone and they 

 will leave you alone." I also promised 

 never to sell a pound of honey which we 

 could use ourselves. I gained his consent ; 

 but as it was then late in the season I did 

 not get my bees until the middle of the next 

 June. 



The next morning after the colony was 

 moved to its new home we were proud and 

 happy to see the busy bees at work. Two 

 days later, while hoeing in the strawberries 

 in front of the hive, one of these dear little 

 fellows stung my husband on the eye. This 

 either cured him or else his terror was pre- 

 tended, for he has never seemed to be very 

 much afraid of them since. Nearly all of 

 us were stung some time during that sum- 

 mer. We got no honey, and had to feed the 

 bees in the fall. 



The next spring I was anxious to save all 

 the swarms, so I began early to fret and 

 stew, and by May 10 I had two extra hives 

 at my command. All summer those hives 

 mocked me, for they remained empty, while 

 the original colony laid up all of 24 pounds 

 of honey. It was good, and I still hoped. 

 My " better half " enjoyed teasing me bet- 

 ter than he would have enjoyed eating any 

 quantity of honey. In spite of it, I kept 

 up hope, and the next yeai' a flne swarm 



